How Not to Island

Friday, May 31, 2019 | 0 Comment(s)

It was one of the most amazing snorkels I’d been on.  
It is Christmas Day, and there isn’t a person in sight. My wife and I enter the placid Caribbean waters like a secret, our only company silence and stillness. The visibility is crystal clear, and the ocean is alive. My wife and I work our way along the left side of the cove, searching for unexpected beauty and octopuses’ dens. As a matter of fact, when searching for octopuses, the tell tale sign to look for is a small pile of shiny white discarded mollusk shells, most often clams, just outside any cave-like opening or overhang. Often you have to dive down to even have a chance of spotting an hourglass shaped eye peering out from behind the defense of a large tentacle, blocking the entrance. On the other hand, if you are looking for unexpected beauty, I have less advice. Be still and try to find a calm. Admittedly that is more or less good advice for finding unexpected beauty anywhere. 
Snorkeling, for me, is extremely meditative. While I don’t ignore my swimming buddy or anything, with my head submerged, I’m tethered tightly to my present. And in this case the present is an underwater seascapade, brimming with bolting colors and oddly shaped marine life. Being in that present for any amount of time is a real gift in a world of computers, cellphones, and the internet. Getting to snorkel alone, sans noisy tourist groups, is a particular treat.
I see the barrel chest of a massive barracuda, at least 5 feet long, gliding between my wife and I just as I am made aware of the even larger barrel of a kayak, stopping short just a few feet from where we were floating. As I took my face out of the water to alert Erin to the massive sea beast passing through, I instead hear, “Oh Hello, HI!” 


Wednesday, May 15, 2019 | 0 Comment(s)

At all

Long since given up defining myself
Borders are too malleable. moveable. manipulatable. 
Now I can’t even figure out how I’m being defined
I don’t even know the me that they say I am.
So I don’t know who to be
At all.


The elation of giving everything
is rarely fed when falling short.
Failure is growth
and growth is a son of a bitch.
a real hail storm.
fight club.
sea sickness out on the open ocean.
just jump in already. 
there is no movement underneath
the crest of the waves. 
That kind of growth.
rarely fed
by the deflation of giving everything
and falling short