Clearly, my reentry to the mainland from Maui is not going well.
When I look at the choices I’ve made to bring me to this life I have now, I know that I have actually done a lot of things right. I’m living in sunny California, I have had two books published, I get to be a copywriter in a super great advertising agency, I’ve had spiritual experiences that a monk would envy, I didn’t marry that guy or that one or that one (thank God), and I’ve have had plenty of totally decent experiences zipping around in my daily life. Yet when I saw how one sea captain was living his life, a voice from deep inside me rose and said clearly, What the fuck have I been doing?
I could have been living a quality of life like this guy. Sunshine, happy people, whales and sea turtles.
Up until now, the go-getter in me has been running the show. She’s got an “in it to win it” attitude, she’s been all about striving and saving, measuring up, and making calculations in the margins of her notes. If I save this much by April… by September… pay this off… sell that… I could live for two months… seven months… a year… or so… if I really scrimped and saved.
Then there is the sea captain who is having fun sailing with a sweet crew and happy tourists. Is he making calculations in his margins? Doubtful.
The margins of my life have become juicier than the page. That is not cool.
What the fuck have I been doing?
I have been doing a lot of sighing since I’ve been back. I read once that sighing is part of the grieving process. The sighs happen because the person is so focused on the grief that the body forgets to breath.
I don’t mean to whine or be ungrateful. I’ve got it good and a lot of people have it bad. But…
“The day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
— Anais Nin