The sun followed its Apollonian trajectory, and the heat rising from the sand became unbearable. We sought shelter in one of the food shacks, where we found a great spot overlooking the sea. The gentle breeze, and the mesmerizing waves of the sea, smoothed our brainwaves, and we fell into a Goan trance.
We ordered a couple of local beers and some spicy dishes. The spices popped and sizzled in my mouth. Every bite was an exploration and a discovery of the culinary territories of South India.
As I sat there happily munching on my meal, I looked up and saw an unusual sight: a white horse. He was leisurely strolling down the beach all by his lonesome self.
I was so enthralled by the magic of the moment, I did not have the presence of mind to take a snapshot.
“That’s just the most random thing,” I said. “I hope it’s a good omen.”
How could it not be? I’m not the superstitious kind, but there was something comforting about having an old white horse chilling out with us on this mystic far away land. Back home, we had been warned of India’s many dangers, but no one told us about the lonesome white horses on the beach.
A pack of dogs kept a weary eye on the horse and did not seem at all pleased by the creature’s aloof presence. Once they saw the horse disappear down the beach, the dogs scattered along various strategic points around the shack, including beneath the tables. Neither patrons or staff seemed particularly bothered by these unexpected visitors. Some tourists playfully patted the calm creatures.
One particularly industrious dog, made himself a nice little hole in the sand beneath the shadow of a lounging chair across from our table. From time to time, he would raise his head and survey his domain. At one point, he began to growl. His companions perked up and looked in the direction he was looking. He stood up. The others followed his lead. Then they all took off in a run, barking and raising a cloud of dust.
I leaned over the table to get a better look. “There’s another pack down the beach, and they’re going at it. I guess they are not welcomed in this part of the neighborhood.”
Ah yes, the territorial brain. We all carry around the space-delimiting and space-defending neural structures that have allowed us to survive for this long. While useful in the past, the territorial dimension of our behavior has now become a hindrance to our growth because of our astonishing capacity to blow each other up to smithereens. Unfortunately, we don’t have a good grasp on the behavioral and neural parameters of this mammalian dimension of our personality. Fight-flight (passive input), self-mastery (egocentric integration), and collaboration (output to network). The concept of territoriality doesn’t even really exist in the zeitgeist of institutional psychology (with the exception of ethology, which distances itself by focusing on non-human species). Therefore, we’re still slaves to territoriality, as various conflicts around the world clearly demonstrate.
The pack of dogs came back and took their positions under the restaurant tables and lounging chairs. Our intrepid canine leader lay in his sandy foxhole and rested.
After lunch, we followed the lead of these fearless pooches and went back to our own little slice of territory in the shack and fell into a deep mammalian slumber.
Dive into another day:
1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, 2.1, 2.2, 2.3
Images by @litguru