Observe what’s normal, accepted, and celebrated.
Then swim like hell against the current.
“It’s so packed you can hardly even get to the water.”
At least a dozen times over the last 17 years, we’ve found ourselves in those waters.
The white sand, the Gulf breeze, and the sunsets that quite literally lead to standing ovations.
Like seemingly everything in this “get me out of the house” quandary the world seems to be in, this year our break in spring seems a bit more bloated.
More traffic, jammed airlines, restaurants struggling to keep up, large crowds even in the holes in the wall.
On one hand, it’s incredible to see.
People living. Choosing adventure. Being together.
And on the other, it’s made for a good metaphor 🙂
Today, we wanted to buck against the crowds a bit.
We were in search of solitude.
It took a rented boat, and the humiliating (at least for me) pulling in and out of the dock in front of yachts (and their owners), and a bit of exploration.
“Let’s try this spot, there’s another boat or two tied off to the mangroves.”
Just a couple miles south of the shoulder-to-shoulder seashore, we anchored, climbed out of the boat, and found the trail.
A couple hundred yards into the not-so-well-worn path through the sandy forest of mangroves, it opened up to the same Gulf, the same white sand, and thousands fewer people.
It felt like our own private island. Well, us and about 20 other people, along a mile of shoreline.
Aren’t our souls craving a bit of this?
Enough silence to sit with our inner dreams and turmoil?
Enough space to wrestle through work that will actually matter instead of ping-ponging emails back over the net all day, all while scrolling through someone else’s work?
Enough security to swim against the current of frenzy, distraction, and hurry?
Enough solitude to get clear on what makes you come alive?
It’s going to take a bit of bravery to walk a not-so-well-worn path to find it though.
Better swim like hell.
Because the current is ripping all of us in the precise opposite direction.