Bright Bright Lights - an Experiment in Being Memorable

Tim and I watched an excellent episode of Fringe this weekend that got me thinking about what it means to be unforgettable. The man in custody was saying, “ There are these people you come across. These bright, bright lights. They drift across life, effortlessly. Unforgettable. I'm not one of them.” He went on to say he knew he wasn’t one because he was easily forgotten when he left his loved ones. He regretted not being a bright light and yet seemed unaware that he still had so much life to live, so much time to become one, if he chose to.

There’s a difference between being memorable and being needed. Its easy to confuse the two. Some people feel that they are only important in the lives of those around them if they feel needed. They teach their loved ones to be dependant up on them. So if they disappeared, yes, there would be a void and they would be missed. (Until their loved ones found someone else to do those same things for them.) It is different to be missed because you brought something to the world. Not that you pointed out a void you could fill, a problem you could solve or a hunger you could feed. But to be such a bright light that you bring others up - raising their vibration a notch. It’s as simple as making eye contact and smiling at people. Treating others kindly. Practicing random acts of kindness. Being jovial with others and making them laugh. Laughing in turn at their jokes. Feel good from within and others will feel good around you. Not everyone is born glowing. It’s a choice to do all these things, a choice to be a bright light.
  

But the point is, it’s a matter of free will. There are many different versions of yourself waiting out there as possibilities. Unaware versions, exciting versions, tired versions, enthusiastic versions. It is what we choose to be that we show up as.

We constantly form our personality by choices. Your character is the hero of your story - you are writing both your personality and your story by your design and habits.

I have been meditating on the idea of choosing to be memorable, being bright light. I decided to act upon it and do a little experiment. To be memorable, you can’t just float through on autopilot, going through the motions of life. You do have to be awake, interacting with the world to do so. And it's funny, just carrying the idea with me, greeting everyone who passed my path with a smile and a happy greeting, was recognized. I passed a guest at the hotel on Tuesday and he said, “Do you realize you are always smiling?” The idea in action.

I treated everyone in this manner - not just my close circle, but strangers as well. On the bus, I noticed that the driver called out the names of the stops and then people would pull a cord to signify they’d like him to stop there. A little light kept illuminating saying, “Stop Requested.” In this way, the passengers could remain asleep and not need to interact directly with the driver. I felt bad for the guy up there saying the stops over and over, just talking to himself all day. So when he called out my stop, instead of pulling the cord and letting machinery speak for me, I called back, “Yes, please!” Days of this pattern went by, and at the end of the week, as I got off the bus and wished the driver well, he let me know that he would hear me say “yes please” at my bus stop every hour, even if I wasn’t on the bus. And that it made his heart smile every time he could physically hear me say it. Amazing how two little words like that, interacting instead of being passive, can give someone something to look forward to. The experiment didn’t take long to show that after I made the choice, I became memorable - a bright light.

So after a week, I’ve stuck with it. The sales representative at the beach activity hut I pass several times a day at my hotel has taken to calling me “Smiles.” So here are some tips Smiles has learned about being memorable: It’s a choice. Sure it takes some extra energy on your part, but I’ve found that energy comes right back to you. A gracious person is a bright light. Someone who makes eye contact and smiles but also listens to others - shows them respect and makes time to hear what they have to say. Don’t multi task when others are talking - hold eye contact instead of texting. There will be time to text later. You always have time because you own the time in which you live. Make time for yourself so you can recharge and glow and then make time for others so they leave your company glowing also. As I’ve said before, be a bright light by being jovial with others and making them laugh. Laugh in turn at their jokes. Feel good from within and others will feel good around you. This is where a reputation is born from, and that lingers long after you have left. As Maya Angelou said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."
 

Quinn - The Little Mermaid

This is Quinn. She's 5 years old, and while not the youngest girl I have taken out diving, she certainly is special. I had the opportunity to be the person who took Quinn into the ocean for her very first time. She'd never been snorkeling or swimming in it, and suddenly she was going diving with me.  Okay, not diving in the traditional sense - I run the Snuba program at the Honua Kai hotel and with kids ages 4-7, we give them a little life vest with the regulator built in so although they are breathing like a scuba diver, they primarily stay at the surface. That is, unless they really work hard to dive down overcompensating the flotation of the vest, as Quinn spent the majority of her time doing. Why would a five year old want to dive deep in the ocean? Usually kids are 8 before they want to swim beneath the surface. But Quinn isn't your typical kiddo... she's also a mermaid. 

When we first met to get geared up for Quinn's Snuba dive, I told Quinn we looked like we belonged to the same club - with freckles and hair in braids.  Quinn's mother shared with me how nervous she was about her daughter going into the ocean.  "I'm primarily a pool person." She said. "And her father is an ocean person."  

"Ah, so we have yet to see what type of person Quinn is - pool or ocean, right?" I asked. I then assured her that I would be watching her daughter the entire time, and listed my qualifications in rescue diving and teaching to reassure her. "Oh, she's excited, I'm more nervous than she is! I have no desire to go out in the ocean, but you don't get turtles in the pool. Will you see turtles?" 

"We will have our turtle-ray vision switched on." I said, winking at Quinn. 

"Maybe we'll see dolphins." Quinn said. "maybe we'll see whales."

"I've always wanted to see those underwater." I told her. "I keep inviting them. Maybe today is our day." Much to Quinn's mother's amazement, it was.

We got geared up and I let Quinn pick which palm tree shadow would be our classroom. She chose one and we sat in the grass and I explained Snuba in five year old terminology - how Snuba is just meant to be a fun thing, so we wouldn't take ourselves too seriously, and other important things like how fish and turtles are friends, but not the type of friends we hold hands with.  

Then we went to the beach and Quinn rode the raft out past the break zone and hopped off into the water.  She was holing my fish ID card, where she had picked out a favorite fish we would look for.  Pretty soon I got to call her over - "Quinn, I see your fish! Come look!" We chased the poor Ornate Butterfly fish around for several minutes and the Quinn began to try to dive deeper to see it better.  She gave it a very valiant effort.  Her father just shook his head, laughing. "I've never seen her try so hard at anything." he said. 

"How wonderful is it that she is having so much fun she wants to interact further?" I said. "For most kids her age, just to be out here is huge. Quinn wants a deeper experience." 

Then I heard a strange sound. Like someone clapping slowly. Like thunder, but on a perfect blue sky day. I looked up and around. People on the beach were cheering. I looked back out to sea and a giant whale rose all the way up out of the water, twisted and fell heavy against the surface, creating a huge splash. 

"Quinn! Whales!" It took some serious persistence just to get Quinn to put her head up out of the water. When she did, I held her up so she could see two male whales jumping and tail slapping in competition for a female's attention.

"I've been on whale watching boats and never go this close!" exclaimed her father. The whales were about 50 yards from us.

"Let's go over there!" Quinn said, pointing excitedly at the whales.

"Um..." I hesitated, loving her spunk, but knowing two male humpbacks competing were not something to get close to. "It's not..." I had to be careful with word choice here. You can't tell a child who is in the ocean 'it's not safe.' 

"It's not polite to go any closer than we are. And besides, I don't think we have enough air left in our tank to swim over there and clear back to the beach." I told her. She accepted that and went back to chasing her Moorish Idol.      

On the way back in, Quinn didn't want to ride on the safe platform of the raft. She wanted to body surf the waves up to the beach.  I shouldn't have been surprised. Once on the beach, she asked if we could stay and just swim in the sea without the regulators. What a wonderful compliment - she had so much fun during her hour and fifteen minute dive (most dives with kids last 35 minutes) that she wanted to stay and play.  I looked at her father and smiled.  "I guess that settles it.  You have an ocean girl."

Most Snuba dives end there. I was very happy to see Quinn later when I was at the pool doing my daily demonstration.  She had come to do Snuba some more, obviously hooked.  But when it was time to give other kids the mask and regulator, after going one turn around the pool, Quinn declared, "I want to stay with you." So she did. She stayed by my side and by the raft, helping me check the air and telling newbies the rules - "Breath through your mouth. Be happy. And never hold your breath."

At one point, her pool mother came over and yelled at her - "Quinn! Leave Sara alone! She has to work! Get away from the raft!" Exasperated, her mother gave me a pleading look and said, "Sorry!" 

"No reason for sorrow." I told her, and then continued, "Are you kidding?  We've obviously made a connection.  I see this as a really good thing. She's fine here with me. She's helping."

Quinn grinned up at her mother, who just shook her head.  Her mother didn't get it. She didn't have to. We both understood and that was all that mattered.  

After the line of children waiting to try Snuba died down, Quinn wanted to go again. There was no one to go with her, so she went alone, in her mermaid tail, happily staying along the bottom of the pool out to the deep end.  As I watched her, I had an idea. I strapped on a regulator and a mask, hooked up to the tank and slipped under the water.  I swam up to surprise her in the deep end. Quinn's eyes got big in her mask and she waved wildly and then held out both hands to greet me. And then she invited me to play a game of collecting tiny blue tiles loose on the  bottom.

  

When we came up, Quinn's mother had a surprise for us. "Quinn, you get to go out with Sara again on her 1;00 dive."
"If you don't mind, I won't come on this one." her father said. "I don't think I am really needed out there."
Quinn was bouncing up and down.  Looking at her, I had the quiet realization that she hadn't just fallen in love with the ocean.  For Quinn, the sea and I were inseparable. You love one, you love both.

It was a good dive, different from the first. We had a strong current that pushed us down the beach, so when we came out of the water, we had to walk back a few minutes to the hotel in the waves. I looked back to see Quinn walking in my footsteps.

I smiled to myself later, thinking of our connection as I was alone on the beach dismantling the gear and gathering the rafts.  An elderly gentleman came up to me and said, "I saw you out there. It seems to me such a wonderful thing that you get to share that with your daughter.  How amazing for her to be able to go diving in the sea with you at such an early age!"

I grinned at him, nodding in agreement, and he continued, changing to a serious, mock-warning tone, "I think you have a future scuba diver on your hands there. Your daughter is going to grow up to be a fine scuba diver." 

I laughed, and although we were talking about two very different little girls, the statement was the same.  "You're absolutely right." I said. "She sure is."

I Saved The Life of the Devil and Now I Can't Stay In Malaysia

Daily I get asked why I chose to move from Borneo, Malaysia to Maui, Hawaii. I list a couple creature comforts, and try to explain how the differences there made daily life uncomfortable, but seldom do people understand.  And that always makes me think about a little Ritz and this piece from June.  It's a story that deserves to be told, before I move on too far and post multiple lessons and stories taking place back in the states. It's different from my usual stuff, and it's a long one. (Can't say I didn't warn ya, Peg!)

 

*

June 1st, 2014





I saved the life of the devil last night. It was an innocent enough gesture at first. I wasn’t really aware of what I was getting into and then things started to escalate. And now I find myself walking down the street searching for a body, praying I won’t see one.

Our diving boat pulled up at the Semporna jetty (Borneo, Malaysia) and I thanked the customers for spending their day diving with us, then loaded my arms and back with their gear, preparing to carry it to the dive shop. Both hands full of BCDs and Regulators, I climbed the steps and exited the harbor. I looked down and instinctively cried out - “Oh, baby!” in sympathy. In a large crack in the walkway was a tiny body curled up, holding still, hiding. It was a young puppy, no bigger than my palm. I kept walking, but the image wouldn’t leave my mind. I thought it over as I rinsed and hung up gear in the shop. There was no way we could have a dog. Tim and I are only going to stay in Malaysia another 3 months, and we live in a bedroom above the dive shop, and we have absolutely no free time to spend with a pet. I don’t really want a pet - its just that the pitiful image struck me hard. Dogs are hated here. Several nights I have heard them cry out as bands of men beat them in the dark. Many times while crossing the street I have seen cars swerve towards dogs purposely trying to hit them. And the times I have approached a dog with bread, hoping to temporarily ease the gnawing ache of exposed ribs, the dog thought I was trying to hurt it and wouldn‘t come near, acting as though the food I threw closer to him was a rock aimed to harm.

This tiny puppy really stood no chance as soon as it was discovered. So I decided, I would go back but guard myself to not get attached, not take it home, just sit with it for a moment and give it some love - something contrary to the rest of its existence. I went home to drop off my backpack, briefly told Tim what I had seen, grabbed some Ritz crackers and walked back out to try to get there before a local did. Tim, being the soft hearted man he is, came with me. We sat on the grimy walkway, and talked gently and soothingly to the puppy cuddled between plastic bags and discarded rotten fruit. It didn’t look up, didn’t move when we gently petted it. It did show a little interest in the Ritz cracker I brought, but could only get down one bite before resting its head back around a curled tail. I understood that it only had a matter of minutes to live as I looked up at a group of contractors staring at us as they exited the jetty. They wouldn’t move in and harm it while we were sitting there, but they would wait.

Tim left me with the little one and went into the office to ask if any of the staff there could adopt a puppy. They could not. Its not the same as other countries where you can just adopt a shop dog and everyone takes turns taking care of it. There is so much more danger here - people kill dogs on sight if they are able. They urged us to leave it, saying they had buried too many puppies that employees had adopted over the years.

We looked at the contractors with their cold eyes and back and the little one. My intention had been just to give it some love before it met its sure and soon end. But we found we couldn’t just leave it, so Tim and I brought it back and put it in a box outside the door with some food and water.

When our roommate Berta found out about this, she went into veterinarian mode - sanitizing and cleansing the puppy’s wounds and wrapping them gingerly in gauze while I held it still. Either out of sheer exhaustion or inability, the puppy - who we named Ritz never made a sound.

Later that night, we awoke to it crying. Which left Berta and myself out at 1:30 AM on the porch in our pajamas with the great debate. If we let our little dog out in the world, it stood only a fraction of a chance of surviving. However, it wasn’t fair to the rest of the roommates to have a crying dog keep them up at night when we weren‘t allowed to keep a dog in the first place. So I took the box downstairs, opened it and left quickly when I saw a group of men in the shadows on the jetty watching me.

I didn’t expect to see it in the morning, and was trying to dim my hope for it’s survival so I wouldn’t be hurt to see it’s body abused and empty later on. Wrestling with the nightmares, I tried to be okay with the fact that I had given it a good meal, some love and tenderness and from now on, it had to be responsible for its own fate.

But bright and early, there was little Ritz, waiting for us at the base of the stairs, trying to follow us across the road to breakfast. When our co-workers met at 7:30 to load boats, I was touched by how many of them bent down to pet the puppy or played with it for a few moments -that is- the Western employees. The local employees, not so much. Ritz was doing the typical puppy trick of chasing toes and biting shoes and she bit the wrong one. When she clambered up the four inch stair and started playing with Nasi’s shoes, he jumped and yelped and then kicked her away. We were all shocked.

“Nasi,” I said, “She is just a baby. You have to be gentle with her.”

“I don’t’ have to be anything with her, Goddamit.” He said.

Nick piped up, “But she is just a puppy. How could you be so rough with a face like that?”

“It is the Devil! It is unclean. You see a problem with the way I treat it but tomorrow you will not have that problem because I will throw it out. In the ocean.”

“Nasi, please.” I said, reeling, unwilling to believe he would kill the puppy, shocked to hear it as a suggestion from him. “See how the people here respond to it, love it. You don’t like dogs, I know, but you do like these people, and these people love you. It would really hurt them if you threw it into the sea.”

He scoffed and walked away, motioning that the conversation was over. The rest of the day I tried to wrap my mind around Nasi wanting to kill the puppy. I knew him to be a fun loving, kind person. But he was a fun loving kind Muslim person whose local Malaysian culture insists that dogs are the Devil incarnated. Therefore, they must destroy all dogs on sight of them. How could I respect his culture and also preserve a life?

During breakfast, I watched Ritz waiting for us on the other side of the road - extending her four inches of height to try to see us in the restaurant windows. A man on a motorcycle saw her too and swerved over to the side of the road. I thought maybe he was veering to park. No, he kicked the puppy with his boot. She yelped and disappeared underneath a car and he kept driving. And so it begins, I thought.

When we returned home from work that day, there was no little friend waiting at the base of our stairs. The box had been thrown away. I was the one who had to tell Berta, and saw a door close in her eyes. “Oh.” she said simply and looked away, growing cold. And now some bit of hope in me looks for a tiny wagging tail, wanting to know she is okay, while the realist in me tries to divert my eyes up from the ground, up from the sea on the sides of the dock so I won’t see the body. As much as I have closed down to get used to living in a Muslim country, I still I don’t think I could bear to see her floating lifeless, or worse, in pieces.

As Tim avoided Nasi with a new found certainty, I still tried to understand, not willing to ask if it had been him.

Up until now, I have thought of myself as an open person. I never thought I would say that living in another culture was so hard. I always thought I could respect the foreign culture that I was in. I used to talk about how much fun it was to experience new cultures. I have never run into this. I guess the differences are more in your face when it's life or death. When you go out of your way to rescue something, something that in your culture is adored, and here others are going out of their way to hurt it, trying to kill it. It's interesting how one little life form can change our entire view of a country. How to sum that up? I saved the Devil and now I am having a hard time staying in Malaysia.

*

On my next boat ride out, I sat next to Ash from the dive shop office and asked her, “You have lived here 6 years, how do you understand the local culture when it goes so harshly against your own morals? Like the dead manta ray the villagers paraded through town. I love those creatures so much that it hurts my heart to see people celebrating their death. I am trying to find peace around that. Is it because these people live in so much poverty that that manta is enough food to keep a community fed when shared? Or is it because they see mantas as an evil creature of the sea who has been defeated?”

“I think it is more about the food.” Ash said, “They don’t eat the manta but sell its fins for the shark fin soup. The money from that will feed their family for an entire week. To be able to relax and not need to worry intensely about having enough food for that long is reason to celebrate. But no, I am still not used to seeing them paraded through the streets dead. By the way, Nasi didn’t kill your puppy. I have heard Tim thinks he did, but he didn’t.”

My heart jumped, I was still trying not to ask then who did? Its best not to ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.

“Some kids surrounded your puppy, giving it a hard time. We have seen them hurt too many animals. It kept trying to come in to the office. Trusting humans here is deadly for dogs. So Dave drove it outside the city and dropped it off in an area it might have a chance.”

That’s why you see Jon clean the office with a face mask on. The last time he breathed in just one of Ewok’s hairs, he had to go though an intensive internal and external cleansing process. I guess what the doctors do for cleansing here is very painful and makes you weak and sick. Muslims see dogs as so dirty that anytime someone touches a dog, they have to go to a doctor and be cleansed.”

“Oh I didn’t understand that part.” No wonder Nasi was upset and frustrated the puppy had touched him.

“Part of living here is becoming open enough to see their side. It would be easy to just get angry and say they are wrong. It is a lot harder to try to understand things culturally from their point of view.”

So where does that leave me? Can I understand beating an innocent puppy that has no defense to death, or going out of your way to drown one? Can I possibly wrap my mind around a trauma like that for something I care about and get far enough removed to see their reasoning why? It sure is a new perspective - I’ve always said that travel expands your worldview. If I can get so far outside of the situation that I can see their belief that that puppy is the Devil/evil/disgustingly dirty and at the same time see my own morals, my own loving reaction to the same life form and not see either as right or wrong: Just what I would do and what they would do and why. I come back to how all I can control is what I would do. Then do my best and leave it at that. Oh, and get out of Malaysia as soon as possible.

Living in the Flow - Full Immersion in Life

 

 



Lately I have been thinking about the concept of embracing. I find it incredible how much one person can change during a lifetime. Things that once terrified us, we can actually grow to embrace fully and in that action, we open up and expand. For example: when I was nine, my brother David stepped into the muddy water of a lake. With one giant step, he disappeared over a drop off hidden in murky water. I was so afraid of the water that I couldn’t dive in to save him. I stared at him floundering, his head disappearing repeatedly and although my mind wanted to reach out to him, I was paralyzed by my fear of the water and my body wouldn’t budge. My father had to run around the circumference of the lake and dive in to lift him up. David was fine, but I the idea of me taking childhood swim lessons died that day. It was much later, in my adult life that I sought out swim lessons and became competent at moving within a body of water of which the bottom I could not see.

Which seems so odd, even to me, as anyone who knows me well will point out how much I love the water. And I would gladly tick the box entitled ‘Water baby’…whilst having a craft to glide over it from. Kayak, paddleboard, surfboard, jet ski, wakeboarding, skipping stone, etc, I love it. And yet, while these are all water sports, they are not fully embracing. They are still clinging to something of the land that carries you over, allows you to get wet with your fears intact, but not truly indulge in the act of being enveloped. It is different to just dive in. No lifejacket, no mask, just yourself and the liquid flow of life: allowing it to move you, or releasing yourself to move with it.

 

My last summer before leaving Bend, Oregon to live abroad, I became closer than I ever had with the Deschutes: a river that had long been more home to me than any person, any house, any landmark within the city. The Deschutes is a lady of secrets - she rarely reveals her depth - keeping her secrets hidden, touched only by sparkles of pumice stone swirling up from her dark ducts.   How often I had only gone in knee-deep. How often I had rolled the kayak and righted it again. Or sat on my board and let my feet dangle in the refreshing calm. Engaging with the river, but on my own terms, not fully embracing.  In little steps, I opened to her and would weekly dive and dip - first gasping at the chill and then relaxing enough to let the river absorb me and move me downstream. 

Maybe this is one of the wonderful things about growing older. Lately I choose to interact so much more fully with life. To fully commit myself to the adventure of living - to design it how I want it to be. To dive in head first. In the past, I have toyed with dreams - allowing myself to wade in for bits of time, but not have the full thing. I have traveled more and more, stayed abroad for weeks and yet this year I actually lived abroad. Visiting a place vs. living there is just as different as wading from swimming.  Ah, full immersion.

When I was a little girl I knew I wanted to live by the sea. I told myself I would settle for living within walking distance from a body of water, and even a stream or lake would do. I have rented houses by the sea in the past, again toying with my dreams, letting myself taste them for little time. And I realized yesterday while walking up the street from the sea of which I work to the house in which I live - wow! I am living that little girl’s dream. By getting beyond my fears holding me back from what I wanted, by opening up and embracing life - by going with the flow I have ended up exactly where I wanted to be, living a grand adventure of my design.

Tim and I started a business here in Maui and to be successful in this, I have to be so comfortable with the ocean that I can make others feel comfortable in it too. My job is to introduce people, often children, to what there is to love about the sea. You can’t really do that from a knee-deep perspective. As we were deciding upon a business name, we came up with Living In The Flow, LLC., and we are doing just that, dry for only 10 percent of every day. For a girl who loves water, it really is living the dream.

 

So my question to you is this: what are you toying with that you only allow yourself little bits of? Which dreams are you wading in? What areas of your world are you partially participating? What dreams are you passive about that you could be actively living? Can you open up to fully enjoy more? What would it mean for you to whole heartedly commit to the adventure of living?

What fears are holding you back from fully having the things you love? Trust me - doing the work to move beyond the fear is so worth it. You've got this one life, embrace it, make it count, enjoy it!

“Embrace life, and all the many paths it takes. Embrace life, and those paths will lead where you truly want to go.” — Ralph Marston

 

Things I Learned This Year of Being Alive

It has been a very good year, and that makes this a rather long piece. Every year, after my birthday, I reflect and try to write about what I learned. My life lessons lists seem to be getting longer. What a fabulous trend! A lot of what I learned this year is centered around being in the water... and for a good reason: Tim and I completed the PADI Divemaster training as well as the Instructor training and are now working in Borneo as Scuba Diving Instructors. DREAM JOB!  I lived on six different islands in Asia this year!

 

I worked closely with people from 17 different countries, and had to cater my teaching style around different languages, learning styles and religions. For example, I met two wonderful Muslim people whom I was not allowed to touch. Try teaching someone how to scuba dive without being able to touch to aid, correct, assist or demonstrate the elements of a skill. It is possible, just very different.

There were months in a row where I was only dry for 10% of the day.

I drove a scooter on the wrong side of the road because that’s the custom in Thailand. I rode an elephant up to visit remote hill tribes in the jungle.

I stayed out past midnight with my father. Walking in the moonlight around an ancient Buddhist temple.

 

I went surfing in Bali. Dug my shoe out from an Indonesian mudslide during an epic storm. Had lunch in Vietnam with my best friend.

I gave up my phone and car and managed to somehow appreciate my friends and family even more than I did when they were reachable by phone or car.

 

I learned a lot about what I don’t need and what I really do need. I don’t need a cell phone, a car, a couch, an oven or a mirror. I do need my passport, clothes with pockets, swim suit bottoms that fit, friends and family, quality coffee and good shoes.


I lost 3 pairs of sunglasses, 22 pounds, and 2 water bottles. I gained treasured memories, unique experiences, a new last name, and a beautiful array of friends around the world and connections on almost every continent.

Things I learned this year of being alive…in no apparent order…

Shrimp love to clean. If you put your hands out by them and hold very still, they will hop on and move around your fingernails picking off any dead skin or debris. Shrimp manicure!

The male Frog fish is significantly smaller than the female. When he meets the right girl, he attaches himself to her back and in time, grows in. A flap of skin grows over him and he spends the rest of his life inside her, communicating with her chemically. When she feels it is that special time, she releases a hormone into her bloodstream and he in turn releases sperm to fertilize her eggs. I have met guys that really grow on you, but frog fish take it to a whole new level. 

I learned how to swim - and actually get somewhere! Like another island off the coast. And back. Without stopping.

How to tie a bowline, a double half hitch and the sheet bend knots. With my eyes closed. Underwater. And then later, how to teach students to tie them.

That when you go several years without eating something you disliked, if you try it again you may love it. Like Watermelon.

That hydro flasks loose their thermal quality when you drop them repeatedly.

That a teacher-student relationship is just that: a relationship. An unhealthy relationship (with your instructor) can make you doubt yourself and begin to minimize your self esteem. Through this, I learned how I want to show up as a teacher. And later, from my students, I received feedback and learned that I show up as patient, enthusiastic instructor, and have earned the nickname “Super Safe Sara.” I like that.

I learned when to tell my students to give themselves permission to give up. Sometimes something just isn’t for you, no matter how your boyfriend, parents, friends or fellow students think it is. Put your energy where you really want to - and don’t waste time giving yourself a guilt trip over it. It’s okay to give up and walk away from things. 
 
The skill that I found hardest when I was learning to dive 6 years ago was removing and replacing my mask. Water used to sting my eyes. It still does, it just isn’t dehabilitating now. I learned how to become so comfortable with my mask off that I can make it look easy swimming without it underwater and replacing it.

That the best thing I can do when in transition is trust. And keep moving forward.

That if I want a birthday to be special, or epic, or enjoyable, I actually have to plan it to be that way and act on that plan. I suppose life is like that too. If you are disappointed with how things are, plan something different. Ask for what you want. Make it happen yourself. No one else, no other outside circumstances are going to make it epic. Just you. So stop waiting and plan something amazing!

I have known there are sacred beautiful things in the world, things I seek out, longing to be near or just to glimpse and this year I learned there are people who are overjoyed to destroy them. And I have opened my mind to see their side and understand why.

 

I have learned that yes, you can tell your friends everything... but you may regret it. So think it through first! Ask - does this need to be said? Does this need to be said by me? Does this need to be said by me right now?

I saw my first epileptic fit this year, and learned seizures can last for hours straight. And I was reminded afterwards, after the hospital releases them, that all those people want is to be treated normally, like it never happened. Not as fragile or weak or as victims. Treat them like normal people and find them a turtle and you make their day.

I learned that at rest, a turtle can hold its breath for five hours, slowing its heartbeat to once every two minutes or more!

I learned that mango makes an excellent pizza topping when combined with chicken, red peppers and cheese.

When I was in college, I wanted to be an elementary school teacher. I used to think the hardest part about teaching children would be seeing the signs and aftermath emotionally/physically/mentally of abuse. It's part of why I chose not to teach children. This year I learned every student - no matter what age - has a young child inside them. And yes, that is the hardest thing I have encountered while teaching. My reminder to them was: You forgive someone for you. Not because they deserve it, but because you deserve peace.

I learned that who you are reflects in whatever you do. The qualities that made me a good barista also make me a good dive instructor. Being patient and kind with people, always doing my best, attention to detail, going above people’s expectations - I realized that I create an environment just by how I show up. See, a room is a room but you make it comfortable for others or awkward for others by what you bring to it. In essence, you are the room - you are the space and whatever career you choose to do has the same output effect because of who you are as a person. Different job, different work attire, different country, same self. 

After loosing 22 pounds in 7 months on the Dive Professional diet, I learned that if you loose a high percentage of your body fat, it actually alters your chemical makeup and hormonal balance. I learned peanut butter will help restore this chemical balance in the body.

Visualization is instant manifesting underwater: When you think “up,” you actually move up!   When my students see a turtle above them, they look up and watch it, unaware they are all rising. (If only that worked on land! It is true diving is as close to being able to fly as I have ever been.)

I have experienced what it is like to get a custom made silk dress created just for me. No surprise that it fits like a glove. Now that kind of shopping - getting measured and fitted with your best friend in a store where their first language is Vietnamese - selecting shades of silk and embroidery patterns - that kind of shopping is actually fun!

This year, I was publicly shamed for assisting a life less fortunate than mine. Without thinking first, I automatically showed kindness to a suffering being, and was looked down upon for it, was told to stop several times by others. I let this go, because really its not between them and me. Keep being kind even when you are told not to, keep being friendly even when you are shot down, keep being yourself even if it doesn’t culturally fit the mold. Being authentic is important, and kindness is one of the best things we do.

Surrender leads to peace. I had to surrender the things I could not control - like when the water would come back on in our apartment, or when the ferry was going to run again, when the bus was going to come, to accept I couldn’t change difficult cultural habits of littering and would just have to keep picking up plastics, walking through trash. Other things are important details that I should control - like making sure my new student connected their air hose before they roll backwards off the boat into the water.

I can’t control a lot of things, but I can control my disposition, my focus, and my attitude. Show up alert, paying attention, making eye contact, and warmly greet the same grumpy staff member morning after morning.

I learned that being with the right person is magic. And that things that are supposed to happen go smoothly, even big things, even at the last minute.

I have learned when to act. Knowing when to let people self-correct, and when to swim over to them and dump the air out of their buoyancy control device to stop their rapid ascent. Know when to give them more time to find their breathing apparatus that is dangling over their shoulder and when to give them my own alternate to breathe from. To see what is going to be a danger if left un-controlled, and what is just someone exercising their own power of choice. A sweet girl named Maggie thanked me several times for saving her life at 60 feet deep. I don’t know if it was life saving as much as it was knowing when to act.

This year I have had more teachers than ever before and I am grateful to them. I am grateful to all my instructors, my course directors and evaluators, and my students.



I started out as a student, learning from teachers, then became a teacher shadowing more experienced teachers. And then started teaching where every class made me reevaluate what I would do differently the next time, learning how I could have more prior proper planning to manage my time. And then, after many classes I ended the year being requested by students, showing I had become good enough at what I do that people choose me, ask for me. That is a great honor! What is that they call it in the dive industry? …ah yes, “zero to hero.” If you want it, ask for it, pursue it. Be yourself and do your best and you do become, in your own story (and sometimes others) the hero.

 

 

Reef Clean

 “Don’t you get exhausted, after doing this for two years? Don’t you feel overwhelmed, like the problem is just too big to do anything about?” Someone asked our group leader, Dave.

“I’m just more reasonable than I was two years ago,” Dave replied. “Instead of setting huge goals for others, I just focus on what change I can personally bring about.”

Today we are a group of seven individuals working where we can make a difference and I have to agree with Dave - there is so much out there that needs changing, there will always be duality, there is much suffering, and if you focus on it as a whole, it can lead to deep depression and feeling powerless. But if you focus on what is in front of you and know where you can affect change and just stick to that, it puts the problem into workable terms. Reminds me of that Serenity prayer: "God give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

During beach cleans and reef cleans, we work on reducing the trash problem in our home ocean: the Celebes Sea off the coast of Borneo, Malaysia. I know somewhere out there is a documented island of garbage floating in the Pacific Ocean - a huge mass of plastic and rubbish the size of Texas. But here, in Semporna, there is just everyday litter - just people who do not understand that some things like plastic lids and straws and styrofoam containers will not degrade in their lifetime. Plastic bags float down the street as I cross it to come to work at the dive shop. I step over sewage as I carry our dive gear to the boat. I hold my breath as I pass the rotten food and damp clothing and piles of wet plastic shopping bags on the side of the jetty. I try not to look at what is floating in the water as I warn our customers to watch their step and try to guide them around piles of human waste where our boats pull up. It took weeks to get used to this, and now I still don’t like it, but Semporna is my home and it just melds somehow.

Last week I chipped in with two hundred local Malaysians to clean up their city. The guest speaker gave a very inspirational speech about how with our efforts, we could “save Semporna!” People cheered, and readily accepted plastic bags and pulled gardening gloves out of their plastic wrappers and dropped the wrappers on the ground. As I watched the plastic pile up around our feet, I realized that these people really have no idea what litter is. Sure enough, as we made our way into the separate zones of the city to collect litter and clean the city, the team of people I had been placed with cheerily collected sticks and swept leaves into piles and bagged them - ignoring the cans, fishing line, cigarette packs and straws on the ground. I did my part to gently explain what we really were hoping to collect.  After seeing me wading in to collect handfuls of Pepsi bottles from the sea, my cleaning companions started to understand.  Four hours and a lot of hot labor later, the city did indeed look better. And, well, that was last week. 

 

 

 This week, the city has returned to its normal state and I ask myself, 'are you exhausted, do you feel overwhelmed, like the problem is too big to do anything about?'

No. Because after walking the customers around land mines to the jetty and fitting them in life jackets, the boat leaves Semporna and crosses a strait of hope, past five different islands, some large enough to have three trees only, others wild with jungle. The ocean we dive in here is alive and well. The creatures are thriving and beautiful and teaching diving is my dream job. Sure, our boats have to stop every half an hour to untangle plastic bags from the motors, but then we are off again on our way to the island of Mabul. And today, our team of seven are not guiding trips or teaching classes. We are devoting our day and three dives to making a difference doing Reef Cleans and Beach Cleans.

Reef clean involves the same burlap sacks that bulk beans and rice come in, one neoprene glove, and an hour diving underwater. We drop in at Pan Lima, on the tip of Mabul where the currents converge and bring floating garbage from both sides of the island and where the Semporna drift empties out.
 

 

 

It is awkward at first - trying to swim with a huge white bag acting as a sail on one side of me - trying to grab water bottles and beer cans without touching the reef around them and struggling to open the bag to put in my collections as the current pushes it closed. But then, after a few minutes, I adjust and find a stystem using my metal rod to pull up coffee packets and plastic bags and point them into the bag.

 

After it fills halfway, I set my heavy bag it on a patch of sand where it will not be crushing any delicate aquatic life and make trips back and forth. We work in buddy teams, picking up diapers, coke bottles, lids, straws, books, clothes, right shoes and Styrofoam. We gently untangle fishing lines and cut them away from the coral. Turtles cast us sideways looks. Tiny fish who have made their home in a diaper argue with me but move on. Our rule is to do more good than harm and if anything has become a part of the reef, we leave it. Anything that is growing and supporting life can stay.

 The hour goes by quickly, and following our plan, our team of divers moves to a depth of fifteen feet on a sandy strait to stack our bags and shoot up a signal marker buoy for our boat and do a group ascent.


My bag is bulky and heavy and the ascent is slow, but I am proud of that. The captain smiles and helps us lift the bags out of the water and we back away as they drain over the side to reduce weight.
 Then after lunch we go out for another round. By the end of our second dive, the site truly is looking better - more natural without shiny reflective satchets or bags clinging to it.

 

 

This is Reef clean and I absolutely love it. I adore this ocean so much and yearn to caretake it. I see it as the treasure the local people haven’t yet learned to. So that makes me the obvious candidate for conservation. I love working for a company whose values match up to mine - Scuba Junkie does reef clean projects and beach cleans every single week. They are the only resort on Mabul that transports trash off the island, and pay close to 70,000 dollars a year to transport collected rubbish to recycling centers and landfills. I am proud to be a part of an organization that finds the environment worthy of time and attention. So, sure, somewhere out there is a huge floating island of trash the size of Texas, but on my boat we have seven bags full and we are going back for more.

    

 

 

Transition: Moving Through The Unknown to Security

Why is the unknown scary?  For the same reason that night is more frightening than day.  In the day, you can see where you are going. But at night the unfamiliar could be dangerous .  Even if that’s leggos left in the hallway – when you cannot see where you are going, it’s a little scary. My personal theory is that the unknown is scary because we cannot control it.   So it’s natural to feel lost when you don’t know what’s next – when your future is unknown.  I think we have all had times in our life where we are making a change – rather that's the end of a relationship, the end of a job, moving through transition, moving to a new city or a personal shift within - when we don’t know what comes next, the future is suddenly very open.  Many people who find themselves in this position focus on the scary aspects of the situation rather than the openness created by it.  Perhaps it is a human trait to crave security – to not be able to operate unless we have it. The security of having a home or knowing at least where it will be, feeling we can safely meet our needs, having enough to eat and knowing where your next meal is coming from – these are all part of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs which do, in our society revolve around the next paycheck.  So when a regular job ends and the paycheck is not promised nor reliable our security is compromised and we slip into the unknown.  When you change your routine – no longer head to work every morning for example – there is a space that your job once took up that is now a void in your life.  When you are no longer putting your energy into something, the energy comes back to you and you wonder what to do with it.  Some people immediately put this energy into worry, which, rather they realize it or not, is a choice.  And therein lies a key to feeling better.  In all this unknown, what we can control is our mind and our emotions – we choose our reactions and our attitude.  You can’t always choose what happens to you but you can choose your attitude about what happens to you.  I am not saying that’s easy.  But it can be done with a lot of diligence and practice.  Why do it then, if it’s difficult?  For starters, hopelessness doesn’t feel very good.   Some of the most beautiful things in life take practice – a violinist doesn’t just learn the notes overnight – he has to practice, several times a day, develop the skill, learn to tell his fingers to move in particular rhythms with his mind. It takes practice to control your attitude.  And remarkably, your attitude determines what’s next for you. 

I am currently experiencing all this first hand.  Taking a risk – leaping from the comfortable security of a country I know, a job I know and a home I know to embrace the unknown in hopes that something different will come, something better.  I am taking this risk to have the experience I want of living and working outside of the country.  Tim and I just took an 11,000 dollar course – investing all we had into becoming Scuba instructors.     After the class, we were elated, and then that slowly wore off  and we were left wondering when does our career begin? Where do we want to be? We started applying – daily checking the dive classifieds and sending off resume after resume.  Weeks of this and not hearing back started to pick at the edges of my consciousness and I fought my mind not to play the ‘what if’ game as I watched our savings dwindle.  One morning we were both quite stressed about it – not knowing how it was all going to work out and trying to stay positive.  So we went for a swim. 

Here in Thailand, the ocean is about 81 degrees and our little island has several other tiny islands off the coast, so we swim to a neighboring island and back.  It’s a great form of exercise.  I moved through the soreness in my shoulders on the way to the island and just kept going.  Finally my breath evened out and my body found a routine that was sustainable with swimming and I reached the island and turned around without stopping.  I realized that yes, it was uncomfortable not knowing where we were going to end up or when.  But transition is always uncomfortable in the middle.  I felt like I was mentally and emotionally between two islands as well – having left something secure, relying on myself to stay afloat until I reached the next solid footing.  But what’s in between is beautiful – warm and clear green ocean, shimmering with fish, under a bright blue sky.  When swimming in the open ocean, if you focus on the risk of drowning, or dwell on the ‘what ifs’ that could harm you, then you miss the beauty of the sea.  I remembered that it’s important to embrace where you are.  Find what is working about where you are now, see the beauty in the open space that is the void, and keep moving forward. 

I started thinking - We are on an island in Thailand for goodness sake!  We should be savoring it, living fully in its beauty and taking advantage of where we are while we are here!  Sure we don’t know how long we are here, but why not shift our focus to being right here right now and enjoy.   Then I immediately remembered that I was in control of my attitude and my emotions.  Sulking around worrying in the house all day wasn’t helping us find a job.  Being afraid wasn’t helping.  All I could do was my best: keep moving forward, keep exploring options and applying diligently. And control my attitude – stay hopeful and control what I focused on – focus on trusting that it’s all going to work out in the best possible way.  Surrender to not knowing how it works out or where, just trust it will.  I remember being in transitional places like this before in my life and I got through them – something good always came along.  I always found a job, my needs were always met.  So I relaxed mentally and by the time I had swum back to my island, I felt better.  I had something I could control – my attitude and direction of focus.  Rather than living in fear and lack, I decided to shift my focus from finding a job to enjoying where I was and living in the beauty of the moment, to trusting it would all come together. 

When we returned from our swim, we made arrangements to go out and play on the island – to create delicious meals from organic vegetable farms nearby, to go to yoga in the mornings, to take a scooter road-trip on the beach roads to explore, and I got busy with enjoying life. And that’s when we got the email response from Borneo saying they would love to have us come work with them guiding trips and teaching in a completely new place!  A place that is in the top locations to dive in the world, once explored by Jacques Cousteau!  When we received the job offer,  I fully understood that it was shifting my attitude that created the opening for good things to come into my life and for the next island to appear in the distance knowing that I have everything I need with in me to swim the distance to get there. 

That being said, here are some key pieces that I found helpful to getting through transitions and dealing with the unknown.

Keep moving forward.  Like Dori says on the kids' movie 'Finding Nemo,' "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." Exercise helps! Stay active. Instead of standing staring at the door that has just closed in your life, turn around! Keep exploring options. Keep breathing.

Trust. Know that you've been here before (several people have) and it worked out. If you are  trusting, you are staying open to possibility.  See the open space as a chance for things to come that are even better than they were.  You know that old saying- This or something better. 

You won't be in this place forever.  Make sure you are not missing out on the life happening around you while in transition.  What is there in this day that you could enjoy? What is still working in your life? Relationships with friends, family, pets, etc?  How can you give energy towards what's working? Focusing on these things helps you reach for something that feels better.  It's just like using a muscle - you can get better at directing your focus if you practice.  Use mind diligence and come back to seeing what is working again and again.  Remember - similar to swimming in the open ocean - if you are focused on drowning or being eaten you will miss the colorful fish, the beauty of the water, the freedom of where you are at.  Focusing on what's still working - even if it is something as simple as being grateful for your health - helps you calm down. 

Choose your attitude.  Sometimes the unknown is scary because you cannot control what is happening to you, cannot know what comes next. Take responsibility for knowing that amidst all this that you cannot control, you still can control how you react to it and your attitude towards it.  That is completely up to you.  Remember your attitude determines what happens next!