Under the Sea

I come from a large family of educators. Hard working people with strong values who believe that learning is a lifelong endeavor, that we must be open-minded, compassionate, and tolerant. That we must teach, mentor, and guide others as we not only bestow knowledge, but also evolve, redefine, and transform our own way of thinking…constantly challenging paradigms, looking at things from different perspectives, and in courteous and gentlemanly fashion, debate opinions, beliefs, and schools of thought as opposed to just accepting the status quo, or blindly accepting information as fact or doctrine.

The photograph in the picture you see before you is one of my favorites. It is of me and my father during a family beach trip when I was just a boy. As I was looking for Captain Morgan’s treasure snorkeling, my mask kept fogging up, causing me to surface and momentarily halt my meticulous scanning of coral and rock along the clear, ocean floor. Seeing my frustration, my dad patiently came over to help. He showed me how to ensure a proper seal and fitting, but he also taught me that you could spit onto the glass inside the mask and spread the saliva (preferably not with your fingers), to prevent the moisture build-up. I watched intently as he dipped the mask in the water after coating it and then had me put it back on.   

I never questioned this unconventional problem-solving method because it hadn’t been the first time that he’d shown me how to troubleshoot on the fly. Miraculously, my mask didn’t fog up anymore, and I was able to get right back into the game, gazing at tropical fish, looking for seashells, and of course, the hidden treasures awaiting my discovery.

As is the case with most of these teaching moments, in hindsight, I realize how much more my father was really imparting than just that singular lesson. It wasn’t so much that one could simply prevent a mask from fogging up with spit, it was also, beyond the surface, a series of life lessons that I would eventually carry with me for the rest of my life. In the moment my dad took to show me a life hack, he embedded in my mind a way of thinking and looking at the world. He showed me that oftentimes there are unusual or unthought of ways of problem solving…essentially, how to think outside the box as it were. He demonstrated, that even out in the ocean devoid of tools, you can solve a problem using your immediate environment, or even your own body, but that you have to look, be open-minded, and willing to accept that your answer might lie where you least expect it.

This picture is on my dresser for the specific reason to remind me at the dawn of each day to remain open-minded to new ways of thinking, to challenge conventional paradigms, to seek and impart knowledge, and to be compassionate and patient with others who may be struggling. This photograph serves as an aide-mémoire to always look in unexpected places for a solution, to help others whenever possible, and that even out at sea, without tools or technology, you can defog a snorkeling mask, and that oftentimes, the greatest treasures in life are not buried in the sand or even found under the sea at all, but waiting to be discovered within us. 

Great Expectations...

The past few days have been a mixture of disappointment, contemplation, reminiscing, and revelation. I've had a chance to spend a considerable amount of time with my Dad driving around taking pictures and thinking about the old days. I can't express how much things have really changed here. Many places we go, the ones we can get to anyway, no longer look the way they once did. Skyscrapers, overpasses, shopping malls, casinos and the like now pepper once sparsely populated areas. Prices have shot up, along with toll roads, and construction sites. A subway station is being built, large sections of the city's inner sanctum look as though a giant worm has tunneled his way across town. A metro rail is good in many ways, but the project is long, and strains an infrastructure already bursting at the seams. An old tropical landscape slowly transforms into a formidable metropolis like it's Northern counterparts.

Much of what has changed saddens me. It makes me feel even more out of place in life. This was the one place on the planet I felt like I was inherently a part of...at least more than any other. And now, this too has slowly turned its back on me and has begun to walk away. Nostalgic epiphanies notwithstanding, today was exceptionally nice. I went out with my Dad taking pictures, and hiked up a hill that overlooks the whole city...letting the juxtaposition of being in a jungle that towers over a booming city marinate in my mind. After the hike I had fresh empanadas and a papaya milk shake, the familiarity with the native food was comforting...as well as the price.

Earlier in the day my Dad and I had gotten haircuts together. He doesn't have much left, but I admire that he likes to keep what remains well groomed. For only four dollars, I can't blame him. My haircut was as good as I remember them being, but the service was not. I have been sobered by the realization that people do not have as much pride in their jobs as they used to. Difficult to say if this is due to a new generation, a loss of faith in the economy and government, or a result of wealthy foreigners and drug dealers inflating prices and alienating the poorer class.

Taking pictures of my old neighborhoods and those of my childhood friends brought with it a great sense of peace, happiness, and fulfillment. Although I couldn't remember exactly which houses everyone lived in, I could remember how I felt spending time there, which is a million times better. Much of my longing for these earlier times is not entirely because of how the Panama Canal Zone was physically, but also because it represented a simpler life, unfortunately one that no longer exists. I think I'm coming to the realization that this trip has a lot to do with letting go...surrendering to the shift in the cosmic current and shedding regret or desire of an imaginary place on the spectrum of space and time. I too must grow, construct new beginnings, blossom, and to stretch towards the infinite...ever hoping that the foundation holds steady.

Cool Runnings

A lovely rain fell today. There is a phenomenon that I have dubbed "the cool before the storm". The sky darkens and the temperature drops considerably. You can actually feel the cool moisture in the air, the foreboding wind often giving you goosebumps. The clouds become swollen and heavy, like the bulging bellies on many Buddha statues. The atmosphere instantly makes you sleepy. Then....the voluminous rain drops begin their descent, saturating everthing in their path. Plants glisten, puddles form, streams and currents carry off the day's litter, and droplets chase each other down window panes...

Raining Cats and Dogs

I've never been a huge fan of cats. I'm a dog-lover to the bone. However, Minga is different. I don't know if it's because she's Panamanian, or if the humidity is getting to me, but I like her. She doesn't have this entitled pretense in her mannerisms. She lets me pet her, and genuinely seems to like my affection. She does her thing, and I do mine, our paths mainly crossing either while I type at the computer, or when she meanders past my legs as I watch the television. She is like that cool, carefree person you meet at a party and instantly connect with. There's some engaging conversation devoid of commitment or pressure, neither person with an agenda...just enjoying each others intermittent company.

Her food and water is on the computer desk...presumably to keep it away from the dogs, and because it's next to the window. The window is her portal to the outside realm, and all of us are trained to slide the screen to facilitate her passage. She often sleeps on the balcony, and on hotter days under the shade of my Dad's car. She has a small frame; a black and white cat that moves silently...never exerting more energy than what is necessary. I haven't heard her speak a word the whole week I've been here. She gives an inaudible meow, only mouthing her intent and waving her tail as she looks in your direction and then at the window, trusting that you know what she wants, then patiently waiting for you to comply.

Minga is refreshingly easy to look after. In fact, there isn't much actual looking after. A stark contrast to my 80 pound doberman. I love him to death, but he is the antithesis to Minga...always on alert, anxious, pacing....a sentinel awaiting his next command. His bark is loud and frequent, he consumes a lot of food, requires copious amounts of attention, and must be exercised regularly. These responsibilities are mostly fulfilled with affection and willingness, but at other times I wouldn't mind a nap...or only having to slide open a window screen.

Musings from Panama

I'm not sure rain is the proper word for it...the sky has opened...spewing forth a deluge that apparently has been accumulating for months. The verdant landscape drinks, the jungle's inhabitants taking refuge beneath the broad leaves of the tropical flora that bend and sway under the weight of the rain's onslaught. 

The downpour is vigorous, but short-lived, as is often the case in Panama. During the rainy season, on even the most beautiful and sunny of days, dark and heavy clouds will often seize the sky in moments...tormenting the prepared and unsuspecting alike. A few minutes after the rain has subsided, parrots and parakeets become vocal, but are wary of venturing far from their refuge.

They must know the fickle weather well, for a second wave of rain begins...not as powerful as the first, but steady, and accompanied by a low and rolling thunder in the distance. My mother's cat, Minga, lies lazily next to a window, enjoying her slumber, undisturbed by the torrent just outside. The heavy raindrops pound the roof and cement creating an orchestra of sound as the rain picks up again, falling as punishingly as before. It doesn't appear that venturing out today is feasible. Perhaps I should take a cue from Minga, who only stirs to change positions...