In this day and age it appears that we've all come to accept a hectic lifestyle as the norm. It's almost as if we feel worthless or lost if we're not constantly involved in something. I find it hard to understand how our country leads the world in obesity when a fair percentage of us can't sit still for even ten minutes!
To say my life has been busy lately is quite the understatement.
Between my full time career and my time at the firehouse I barely have enough ticks in the clock left over in a day for myself. And if it wasn't for my son's never ending racing season or my daughter's athletics I probably wouldn't see my family much either. Now try and toss in a fitness schedule, a new class one night a week, and a plethora of other personal issues I have going on and I quickly find that I have the recipe for a ten gallon stress stew with only a five gallon pot.
A rare opportunity presented itself to slow our lives down (if only for seven short days) when my wife and I visited the Cayman Islands last week. An absolutely beautiful place with plenty of people who let's just say don't move very fast nor do they envy those of us who do.
I'm ashamed to say that I started my vacation as one of these people. Once I mastered the art of piloting a right hand drive car on the left side of the road I felt myself pushing the pedal further and further into the floor boards on my daily trips. I wasn't on the island for more than twenty four hours when I began passing some of the locals like they were standing still. And with the exception of one fouled attempt at a roundabout (and a near head-on miss) I felt that I was the undisputed king of the road.
But then in an instant it was gone. The need to be somewhere right now. The desire to move faster then the next guy. Wanting to get in line before the others. It didn't take very long to throw out old learned ways and adopt this new system. Island Time.
Maybe it was the sun or the sea air. It surely could have been from the lack of outside distractions like news, movies, television in general. Or it could very well have been from the the indigenous distractions like rum. Something happened in a very short period of time that took me from someone who constantly checked his watch to someone who had trouble recalling what day of the week it was. Did I already mention alcohol?
Surprisingly for the first time in this control freak's life I can honestly say that I wouldn't have had it any other way. No co-workers or deadlines. No pagers, sirens or phones. Just a book case full of books, 450 feet of beach at my disposal, and not an idea of what was going to happen or what I was planning on doing until... well, I was doing it!
And to all of you with minds like me, get them out of the gutter! That wasn't the only thing going on there.
I came away from the week completely relaxed and a bit more culturalized and enlightened. I read a fantastic book that solidified my respect for the Dalai Lama and made it all that more important to me to slow down and be eternally thankful for the little things in life. I came to the conclusion that I am not a fan of Rachmaninoff (actually his music scares the hell out of me) and that my wife is a bit of a princess. Sorry babe I had to say it, but let me rephrase that by saying you're not as hearty of a soul as I am. Even though our little beach house was growing on her by the end of our trip she would take the Ritz Carlton over it any day.
So now the test begins. I'm back home in my own bed. In my nosey little sub division with people who are more interested in my business than their own. I'm back at my desk, telephones ringing and people asking you to move the earth for them. And somewhere in all of this I have to stay true to my vow made last week that I'm going to be a more peaceful and patient man. To those of you who know me well you know that this is not going to be a simple task. After all I did overreact and get totally bent out of shape within the first ten minutes of my return. The dog had an accident...again!
But I am driving on the proper side of the street again. My kids aren't 1,679 miles away from me any more. I'm still employed, and (touch wood) I'm finding myself above ground every morning. It may not be a tropical paradise but it's the only real paradise I know.
Life is good.
