With a last-ditch effort I threw him off me, but as I struggled and spluttered to get my head above water and collect some much needed oxygen two more climbed on my back.  I was pushed down into the water, as hands and feet and bodies worked their way up onto my shoulders and head.  I couldn’t hold it any longer, and gave in, legs collapsing, and my body plunging into salty darkness…

I came up laughing and whooping as the spluttering kids, flung off during my sudden dive, circled back to their tall boat/tree/jungle gym/gringo.  I watched James launch a boy into a front flip off his shoulders, as I scooped up a little girl in a sundress and positioned her on my hip.  We grinned at each other as she pointed at the pile of squealing children converging on James and me. 

We were on a 3/4 acre island off the Coast of La Ceiba, Honduras sharing Paradise with the 100 inhabitants. Chachuate Dos, one of smallest islands in the Cayos Cochinos chain, surrounded by protected reef, pristine ecologically, and only recently discovered by tourists.  World Wildlife Fund constructed a few huts on this island to promote eco-tourism, and a way for the island to benefit from the many visitors passing through on a daily basis.  Stuart, Greg, Meredeth, Montaña, James and I stayed in these huts for 3 nights.

I encountered something fascinating on this island, something that completely blew my scale of life away, redefined what is required to exist, and sent a cool breeze through my quest for meaning.  I sat there watching the island live and love, and wondered… How could 100 people live wall to wall in such a place?  How did government work? What about medicine? Info-structure? Sex? Birth? Death? Discipline? Purpose?  I saw the clash of worlds, the American flag shirt on the fisherman, WWF wrestling being watched by the whole island on a tiny TV powered by a generator running on precious diesel used to run the fishing boats. Beer that cost more to make and import to the island than it cost to buy there.  Men paddling out to fish in dugouts while tourists photographed them from modern luxury yachts.  Coconuts imported to this palm island and sold to the tourists.  Someone raking the beach in the morning, burning trash on the windward side of the island, a dog with a fishhook stuck in it’s mouth, but no one with the know-how to remove it.  A disposable diper clad infant playing in the ocean, a set of well crafted drums hanging from the rafters, never played, except for the tourists.

We stepped off the boat and removed our shoes, discarding them in the hut for the duration of our stay.  As we stayed, played, and lived, some of the questions were answered, some changed, and others ceased to matter. 

We drifted into a slower,

calmer,

more peaceful,

stream of life,

framed by sunrises and sunsets,

and matted on tides and weather patterns. 

The island left me with an experience uniquely amazing, and yet hard to put into words.  I would love to bring you all there to observe and experience the magic of a culture based in love, sunlight, and calm waves.  A group of humans who naturally shares, helps, smiles, and plays, but all I can do is write and hope that some of the words will strike harmony in you, and tempt you towards peaceful adventures.

We observed the island, and they observed us. We got up and watched the men and older boys rig the bigger boats and head out to the further fishing location.  We watched the young boys and girls and old men pile into the leftover dugout canoes and paddle out to the nearby fishing spots.  We watched relatives arrive from the mainland (18 packed in a tiny boat), and we observed the social dynamics of the smallest children, leaders, troublemakers, care givers.  We watched the women cook, the old men make things, hut repairs, boat repairs.  We watched the men come back, daily island heroes with their victorious catch.

They watched us eat, watched us read, watched us play, watched us watch.  We smiled, they smiled.

Quickly the walls started to come down.  The little ones came through first, smiling, and joining us in rompus ocean play, as we delved into the world of children’s games, and imaginative creations. These children were special, in a way I am tempted to describe as resulting from being raised by mother ocean and father sunshine.  I have rarely experienced such joy as those moments, surrounded by happy kids, all of us splashing and laughing in the warm Caribbean waters.

The strength, friendship, and beauty of this island and the people that inhabit it have embedded them-selves so strongly in my person I am certain much of the recent developments in my outlook on life are directly resultant from the few days I spent there.  Many times a day we looked at each other with that “Is this really happening??” grin on our face, and then turned back to the peace and love around us.