Life is full of petty worries

I’m sitting on a dock looking out across a rippling Caribbean Sea, the reflection of the turquoise sky and white clouds rippling like an oil spill over the aquamarine lagoon of Half Moon Bay. The usual bustle of tourist traffic is more subdued today, as Sundays are typically “transition days”— that crucial gasp of fresh air and solitude when before the insane fumes of the next Continental flight descends on the inept slab of concrete known as Roatan International Airport (RTB). A kayaker cascades across the bay, leaving perfect V-shaped cuts across the endless lap of waves. A dive tube extends in a far corner of the bay, marking another Coconut Tree Divers PADI Open Water Course in session. Local fisherman come in on the far corner, carrying a lonely yellow snapper on from a line.


I love Sundays on Roatan. It clears the mind. Life, after all, is so full of petty worries. Despite living in a Caribbean paradise, I stress. Way too much. It’s the unbearable weight of genius (or so I tell myself). And Sundays remind me of that very fact. Life is bigger than me and my worries.

Funny how stress finds ways to creep into life no matter where you are. The inbound flight is full of people from all walks of life and all areas of the world who, for a week or a month or even a year, are seeking to find respite from stress. Roatan is a haven for those seeking carefree living and relaxation— all accentuated by incredible scenery and 27C/80F January temperatures. And for a while, escape is found.


The relief, however, is effervescent. I marvel at how it creeps back in such marvelously petty ways. Here’s an example:

I finally have true wireless internet, meaning I can work (like I am right now) sitting on a dock in the middle of the Caribbean. While writing this blog, I wanted to take a picture of the stunning scenery. Except, oops!, I just remembered that my camera is FUBAR. And for a second there— wham! wham! wham!— a whole cascade of worries comes tumbling out. Stress had somehow invaded the private sanctum of my personal heaven. All for a bloody picture.

I find it wild how the mind can become so fixated on the cascading chain of unalterable past events and imaginary future crises that we become completely blind to the simple natural beauty unfolding before me. What a waste of energy.


Boat’s coming in. Time to go take care of these petty worries.

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