Here is a sample of the photographs people have asked me to make as prints for them. Let me know if you’d like one! All of them are available as 3×5 magnets as well.
A friend sent me a blog post, which led me to another. Both extremely relevant to me at this point in my life of trying to figure out where I want go and what I want to do. And who should accompany me on this journey. (Read them both, they could be life-changers for you, which is how I was introduced to them).
Another friend, Bill, someone I’ve only recently met, shared his blog with me, and we talked about living life exactly how we want, and accepting nothing less.
It seems amazing to me that after the amount of time I spent working on my personal growth, these are concepts that I haven’t gotten right yet. I’m not saying that in a disparaging way, but in the light of having an old concept presented to me in a way that makes more sense, with more of a concrete example to follow. There are a few things to which I say ‘Fuck yes,’ but the major decisions of my life are always based upon a lesser of evils; this doesn’t make sense anymore.
I justify my major decisions in various ways: if I don’t take this job, I might not make enough money to survive on my own; if I don’t rent this house, it may be months of begging friends to live on their couches before I find somewhere I want to live. Making money and having a solid place to live are a couple of the most important decisions that are a part of everyone’s lives.
I had a discussion at work with my boss a few weeks ago, we talked about my future and what I want to do; he had offered me a solid position doing something that I’m good at, but which, after thinking about it, I knew would be unexciting and unfulfilling to me. A couple days later, I declined. He was perplexed, because in his mind it would be a good fit for me, given the skills he sees in me when I’m at work. Somewhat frustrated (in my mind), he asked, “what do you want to do?”
“Buy a boat and spend my life taking pictures of dolphins.”
It just popped out of my mouth without thought.
That’s my Fuck Yes, I guess.
But instead, I took a different job, somewhat half-way between taking pictures of dolphins and working in an office.
Several days later, I had a short discussion with Bill about life, and living it to the fullest. His only stand on the matter is to follow your passion, no matter what, and that’s how you live a completely fulfilling life. I objected with the usual “it costs a lot to live here” and “I don’t want to starve and be homeless.” Bill had absolutely no pity on those statements. Do what you love and if you’re happy doing it, the money will follow. The universe takes care of people following their dreams.
To most people that see my “highlight reel” of posted pictures on facebook, they see a happy girl doing great things and don’t guess that I still haven’t gotten this basic life concept figured out yet. Maybe I’m too scared to give up the tenuous hold on security that I currently have. Tenuous security is still security. It takes a giant leap of faith to start something new and believe that it will work, while giving up what I know is working even though it’s not perfect.
I’ve made some major changes in my life in the past few years, partly in thanks to Shanti and Andy convincing me that I should take time off work and travel, to see what’s outside my comfort zone. But settling back into the security of my comfort zone happened almost immediately when I returned, in terms of jobs and housing. I’m more aware of what’s “out there,” and what makes my soul happy, and these things don’t happen in my current comfort zone. Just when I think I have so much figured out in my life, it seems that it’s time to shake it up again. It’s scary and exciting, and it’s time to embark on new adventures. It takes courage, which doesn’t always appear when it’s needed. I have to make it happen. And this might be the journey I’m meant to take now. And make it stick, at which point the scary dream will become my new comfort zone.
An excerpt from Wandering, from the Great Barrier Reef:
I went with the same company but still had to fill out all the same paperwork about experience and medical conditions and such. All the certified divers were grouped together, again only about 20 of us. One English woman with a high-pitched, whiny voice had dozens of questions for the crew. One of the questions in the paperwork was “Have you ever dived in the ocean?” and she immediately flagged down a crewman and asked, “Which ocean? This ocean? What if I’ve dived in a different ocean? Does that count? Are all the oceans the same? I did dive in one but maybe it doesn’t count?” She had endless questions about the basic paperwork and the crewman sat down, realizing that he wasn’t going to get away from her any time soon. I was sitting with a Canadian woman, Tamara, and we were practically rolling on the floor laughing.
When we arrived at the dive site, the certified divers were called back to gear up and my gear was set up next to the crazy woman’s. She had trouble with her regulator, but not really, and called several crew members over to look at it. They all said it was fine, but she demanded that someone switch it out. Then we were seated, strapped onto our tanks and ready to go, when the boat ran over and severed the mooring line, which meant we had another 15 minutes to sit in full gear while they fixed it. Crazy woman started making small talk with me. “Have you dived here before?”
“Is this ocean salty?”
“Um, I think that’s what defines an ocean, there’s salt in the water.”
“But is it really salty?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
“I’m asking because I’m really thirsty.”
At that moment I knew that she would be assigned as my divebuddy. It was my fate.
Crazy did ask me to be her buddy while we were waiting for the mooring line to be fixed. I tried to weasel out like before, crossed my fingers, and told her that we get assigned and couldn’t choose. I wished I had asked Tamara but completely forgot, and we were strapped into our tanks far away from each other. And, as luck would have it, I got Crazy for a buddy. I’m sure the crew was chuckling about being rid of her for a while. It was a group dive, but she was still my responsibility.
It was time and we finally jumped in. The first thing Crazy did was swim over and grab my arm; the dive hadn’t even started and I was already annoyed. I did my best with hand signals to let her know that at no time was she welcome to touch me, and I headed to the bottom. In the minute it took to get there I received six OK signals from her.
I like to dive with a little space, so if people are crowded around the guide I’ll hang back, or if people are doing their own thing I’ll go up front, just as long as I can see what I want and not bump into people. Crazy never got more than two feet away from me at any point; no matter how hard I tried to make some room she would swim over and touch me. Every time I looked up to see what was touching me, I’d see her flash the OK sign. I wanted to give her the finger but thought that might be a bit much. She went so far as to swim up to my head and throw an OK sign in front of my mask. I wanted to turn off her tank.
I’m not a bad dive buddy, but partners need to check on each other only so much. I was always aware of where she was, even when she wasn’t touching me; I looked back many times since she refused to swim in front of me, and she always seemed fine. That, in my opinion, is what was required of me.
There was a lot of great sea life on the dive, but my annoyance level was pretty high and I didn’t enjoy everything as much as I could have. Forty minutes of OK signals.
We were back on the boat for our surface interval, getting our tanks refilled and our gear ready. I only wore a skin suit for the first dive and was kind of cold, so I was trying to find a half wetsuit to wear as well. Crazy sat down and started to lecture me on the proper way to be a good dive buddy. She didn’t think I was doing my job.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d give me the OK sign more often when we’re under water.” I think I had given her one for the entire first dive. I let her know that I always knew where she was and she looked fine and I didn’t feel the need for constant OK signs.
“How do you know I’m OK if I don’t give you an OK sign?”
“Well, you’re swimming along normally and looking at stuff and look pretty OK so I don’t feel I need to ask.”
“But how will I know if you’re OK if you don’t tell me you’re OK?”
“Well, if I’m swimming normally and looking at stuff and I look OK then you should just assume that I’m OK too.”
“You need to give me more OK signs on the next dive, I need to know that you’re OK.”
I had to turn and start talking to the woman on the other side of me because I was afraid I was going to hit Crazy.
We jumped in for the second dive and immediately I had my shadow throwing OK signs at me. I refused to give her even one for the entire dive; I get a little stubborn when I’m annoyed. I looked back at Crazy several times; I did my job. But this time I concentrated on the reef and all the wild things living down there and ignored her as much as possible. There were squid, white-tip reef sharks, turtles, rays, unicorn fish, another giant Napoleon wrasse, and huge groupers; completely excellent.
We had about seven minutes left to dive when I felt Crazy grab my leg and pull me backwards. That’s fucking enough, time to turn off her tank for real. Her ear felt funny, she signaled, and I didn’t give a shit. I got the guide’s attention and signaled that my buddy was sick, then swam away in hopes that he’d send her to the surface. But she wasn’t sick, there wasn’t anything wrong with her ear, she just wanted attention, and after several more OK signals we resumed our dive.
During our lunch break I made it very clear that she was not to speak to me again.
The third dive was spectacular; I started it off by getting attacked by a good-sized triggerfish. It was mating season for them and they actually build nests and defend them ferociously. It would have been nice if the crew had warned us, since they dive at the same mooring every day. I was descending, minding my own business, when a big fish with pointy teeth charged at me. It was more funny than scary because trigger fish are so cute, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried to swim away but he kept nipping at me, and I could see Crazy having a minor underwater heart attack from the exertion of all the OK signals she was throwing at me, which I ignored.
Most surprisingly, though, on the third dive she mostly left me alone. I looked back for her here and there and she had given me several feet of personal space. Aaah. And when we surfaced, I never had to see her again.
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