The first days of 2023 were very pleasant.
I spent New Year’s Day on the beach, first exploring around shallow rock piles with a snorkel mask, and later setting up a hammock in the shade so I could achieve my long-time goal of taking a nap beneath some palm trees. It’s wild how infrequently I visit the beach, despite living in walking distance from the Atlantic Ocean. What a backwards, spoiled life I live. Spending all my time inhaling dry, processed air, peering occasionally at the sun through tinted windows while the artificial lights drain the color from my skin. I’m so blessed with an abundance of shelter that I’ve completely removed myself from the outside world, despite it being pleasant and accessible in a manner not available to the majority of people in my country at the moment.
It’s winter right now. Today, I complained of it being too hot for the pants and closed-toed shoes I wear to work. Had I still been living in Minnesota, I would be pulling on layers of waterproof warmth every time I dared to venture outdoors.
It’s good to live in gratitude. Also, it’s important to acknowledge just how ridiculous it is for me to live amongst such riches without taking full advantage of them.
Alas, I digress. I did get the opportunity to enjoy what South Florida has to offer in the first days of the year, particularly thanks to the tenacity of one of those people who just doesn’t know when to give up. My friend Billiam asked if I wanted to go snorkeling in the Florida Keys, and I said yes.
Billiam was my partner something like 6 or 7 years ago, the first time I came to live in South Florida. We met at a drum circle, and immediately commenced with a codependent and unbalanced relationship that ended up taking us on tour across the US, ultimately living together for a time in Michigan. It was a bizarre and uncomfortable time in my life. We maintained some semblance of a relationship long past its expiration date, and continued to live in the same home after breaking up. Terrible, terrible mistake. By the end of it, I couldn’t stand the thought of him. The sight of his face, the sound of his voice, even the mention of his name drove me into a rage. Yet it seemed like I couldn’t escape him. He was friends with my friends and worked for the same people I worked for. I resorted to cruelty as a last-ditch effort to regain my personal space.
It worked, for a while. But for whatever reason, he was still determined to be my friend. He played the long game, and waited for the right opportunity to make a move towards striking a peace. When he heard me mention snorkeling, he saw an opportunity and lunged. If you know me well, you know that I can’t resist the opportunity to hang out with “fish friends.”
So, a few days into the new year, I was headed down to the Florida Keys with my ex boyfriend that I still kind of hated, preparing for a morning snorkel tour on a dive boat. It just so happened to be the most beautiful day they’d had in weeks, and with only 6 people on the boat. I had an amazing time.
Ohhh there’s nothing in this world that can compare to the serenity I feel underwater. I struggle with mask squeeze, having sinuses that are perpetually blocked, so it’s not always the most comfortable thing to do. It doesn’t matter. I’ll push until I see stars if it means glimpsing an eel poking its head out from under the reef, or following a nurse shark as it cruises along beneath the shelves. The clicking cacophony of live corals is music to my ears, a symphony of survivors that give me hope for the future of the oceans.
The world is crazy, and the reefs aren’t healthy like they once were. But there are still fish darting in and out amongst soft corals, going about their business without paying heed to the concerns of humans and our perpetual access to the Internet.
Do they know that their universe is shrinking? Do the fishy elders tell tales of the old days, when the corals were thriving and food was plentiful?
Nah. I’m pretty sure they just live in the present, and focus on what’s around them.
Maybe that’s why I love spending time around fish. I have some lessons to learn on being present, and on going with the flow.
Well, once again, here we are, hours later than I intended on going to bed. I suppose it’s time to do that, and slot in sleep where I can. Goodnight, diary-blog.
