First Post — Addiction

Well, I’ll be darned. Here we go…

I‘ve become an addict. Probably not as bad as for many, though I’m convinced it’s hopeless. I can’t believe it either sometimes. Becoming the slave of something I didn’t know much about until 30 some years on this earth. Now I can only go without feeding it for about 4 weeks. Most think I live “normal”ly, then. After awhile it kicks. First, the sweaty palms. Then, the itch. The dreams. The uncontrollable thoughts. Fantasies. “Crazy talk”. And I finally cave in. I find the required tools to help me sink, only deeper each time — open that app, book the flight(s). Have to be with the ocean. Were you thinking something else? Not sure why. Sinking my feet first would be too gradual, I dive in.

Never want to come out from underwater. The beauty. Peace. A world that is so unlikely to be real. Hidden from our daily lives by just the surface of the water. 24/7 mystery. Colors giving you the feeling you just found the rainbow’s inspiration. The synchronicity. Rhythm. Calm. Peaceful curiosity all around. The law of respect to all.

Finding things I love. Amazed. Inspired. Act. Come closer. Life, like I’ve never seen it before. Breathe. Better, inhale. Notice? It’s a cry. See down, deep. Looks like ashes on the ocean floor. Impact. Those used to be living corals. Were colorful. Now bleached. Coral suicide. They, are tires. Used to be on the trucks that carried away these whales’ previous generation. That’s a fishing line, it stretches about 30miles. Slashed off one of the boats who caught a big portion of this pod of dolphins three years ago. Numerous bottles. Cans. Straws. Plastic spoons. Plural. A plastic bag, whole even! I don’t want to see any more. Get back onto land. It’s harder to breathe now. All at some point touched human hands. Us. It is literally our hands.

Debris washed up by the beach in Bonaire

Change. To live the way I always dreamed of and never thought would be possible. Pledge to do what others don’t. Get away from that grind, hamster wheel, rat race, cubicle prisons, and all the other cliches used to describe the situation of our great societies who love to hate the very things ourselves create, enable, then worsen and amplify only to turn around and complain about it without daring to attempt a change… Go ahead. Measure success with just how much money is made — regardless of overall health, well-being and contribution, impact or damage to anything lasting in the universe. Learn it is the wrong spiral of predictable events to spend our most valuable gift of all. Hope it’s not too late.

Instead, I choose to, use at least a portion of this gift — on my addiction. Cure a portion of it. Travel the oceans. Find communities who need support. Use my skills and expertise on this side. Setup recycling programs, educate, improve some ways... Learn about what others are already doing. Collect and share the knowledge, the actions taken. Awaken a few others along the way to see how beautiful we can all make things together. Inspire anybody to change their “I don’t matter” to “I DO matter”. It’s the butterfly effect LIVE! What we do here, makes the biggest impact there. The oceans are one. So are we.

Idealistic is just a label. Otherness. It’s opportunity. To inspire change. To BE the change. Yes, my brain is big on cliches today. Realism brought our earth to this. Einstein said, it’ll have to be a different way that will solve the problem. Yes, unlikely that we’ll actually save all of the oceans. At least some of the problem, then. Who am I to question him? I can only dive in, and let the magic work its way.

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