Getting the Shot - the Delicate Business of Earning Trust

Earning a wild animal's trust is a remarkable gift.  Especially within predator and prey roles. On my dive site, an octopus's relationship with humans usually ends with a spear gun. They're so rare, I see one in every fifty dives for a good reason - they're tasty. Everything, including the average male, is out to eat them.

I quit eating octopuses years ago when I truly got serious about scuba diving. I cherished my interactions with these highly intelligent creatures, so I just couldn't be a part of their demise. I still eat seafood, just not the characters I've made a personal connection with.

I recently upgraded to a serious new camera with an involved underwater housing and this week took it diving for the very first time. I was so excited to get it in the water, and wasn't sure what I would shoot. I was hoping for a nudibranch (sea slug) that would hold still while I fidgeted with the settings and experimented. I mean, there's bound to be a huge learning curve with the new toy, right?
What I met was so much better.

She was about thirty feet from me when I spotted her, and I approached slowly. She did the same thing all octopuses do when they see a diver and tucked down, reducing her size to hide in a hole. Because they don't have bones in their body, octopus can really make themselves shrink.
Before she disappeared, I took this photo. This is what most of my octopus photos in the past (that I have felt really lucky to capture) have looked like. (Hint: She's that perfectly camouflaged reddish bit in the center.)

Usually, I leave, and when I get twenty feet or so away, the octopus will come halfway out to check and see if I'm gone. They're curious, they can't help but watch us go. But this particular morning, I decided to try something different. There was a sand patch nearby so I lay in it, careful to keep my fins up from touching the surrounding coral. And then, silly as it seems, I put it out there. I explained to the octopus that I had no intention of hurting her, or eating her or molesting her by pulling her out of her hole. I made my energy as small as possible and tried to tell her I was not a threat. I was in wonder of who she is, I wouldn't touch her or disturb her at all - I merely wanted to see her, to photograph her.

She peeked a black eye out of the hole's entrance and looked at me. I held very still, and yet, you just can't hide bubbles. But other than breathing, I was the epitome of peace.

In my experience, all octopus hide until you've gone, but this one got my message. She rose slowly, cautiously out of her safe haven and watched me watch her. After a few minutes, I chanced it and moved closer, taking photos.

The more she realized I wasn't a threat, the farther she came out of her hole until I could see all eight legs and watch her hearts beat, watch her breathe. She changed texture, but not color unless I moved another inch forward.

Soon we were about two feet from one another. I could see the individual chromatophors (color changing cells) on her skin. I was awestruck. Because, well, let me put it this way - on my official nametag as an employee of the Westin Hotel, under my name it states my passion as: cephalopods. I'm fascinated by them and here I was, having a staring contest with an older, more experienced, curious one.

They say octopus have a vivid memory and can recognize specific humans, even when those people change clothes.  I hope she remembers our agreement next time too.

The octopus allowed me to stay and hang out with her for half an hour. I felt blessed, ecstatic, grateful, and was the first one to leave. She obviously had important octo things to do, after all.

I find this same principle to be true while traveling. When there is a language barrier, it is the energy you exude that makes a connection, that tells someone if you are dangerous or safe.  Without speaking a word, you can be of peace, show your respect and make a new friend.

What Guiding Means

After working in close proximity and sharing office space with another dive company, I have been watching how others operate above and below the water. As a dive instructor, I have been struck by the huge variance in guides. And after shadowing my husband Tim today at his dive site, watching him lead dives and teach, I am inspired to write about it.

Google defines a guide as: “a person who advises or shows the way to others.” For many companies in our little section of land in the Pacific, a dive guide is someone who leads an underwater tour. As I have observed in the company working nearest to me, they go in at the same place, the same time, following the same routine: take a group in, swim with their back to the participants looking for some cool wildlife to show them, often handling said wildlife. Sometimes they do a dive briefing, sometimes they don’t. For some guides, the class is an opportunity for them to show you how much they know. So basically, a guide here on our island, with few rare exceptions, is a person who takes you in the ocean and points out cool stuff. There is nothing wrong with that kind of guide. Hundreds of people have had fun in the ocean with guides like that this year alone.

It’s just that what we do is entirely different.

Who we are at heart as well as our intensive training reflects in our guiding style. For Tim and I, a guide is someone who is with you from square one, addressing your concerns, tailoring the dive to your needs and abilities. A guide is someone who holds your hand if you are unsure, helps calm you down and gets you to breathe through the learning curve. A guide is someone who is watching so they can reach out and gently lift you before you skin your knee on corral. A guide is someone who teaches you not only the basics, but also in depth information about the physics behind what you are learning. They have studied what is harmful to the creatures of the sea and they don’t do that, they show you wildlife without harassing them, they inspire you to also protect what you love. But underwater, for us as guides, you are the number one priority. You may see great things while we are keeping you safe, but our attention is on you.

For us, a guide is someone who inspires, who believes you can do this, someone who encourages you and is proud of you for trying new things.  A guide is someone who monitors your air closely and increases your dive time by working with you to swim efficiently.  A dive with us is not just tagging along with a knowledgeable person, it is experiencing the ocean with someone who is there diving not for themselves, but diving for you. This is why it’s entirely different. How and where the group enters the water, how we weight you, the pace, the depth, all this is different every dive because we realize we are taking out individuals. 

For us, being a guide is a responsibility to our guests, but also to the ocean. We pick up trash when we see it, we stop people from touching turtles because we see the tumors that causes, we talk to people spraying on sunscreen that poisons the reef.

Sure, it’s a cool job and we get to work outside in a beautiful place, but for us, it’s more than that - we are caretakers of you and of the ocean.  I guess being a guide means a bit more to us than the average Scuba Steve - it’s about educating, encouraging, inspiring, watching over, assisting, believing in and yes, advising and enthusiastically showing the way to others.  

Feeling the Rain

Wind-generated waves rose up quickly as the storm hit us. I had called my divers early and explained that today would not be a safe nor fun day for diving as the visibility was then five feet and decreasing. Since I wasn’t diving, I used the extra time to walk the beach in the wind and collect Styrofoam, plastic, beer bottles, cans and trash.   

Now, with the storm full fold, I walked towards the beach to take a video of the impressive conditions. Waves were consistently crashing on the shore, the wind was howling and dark thunderclouds threatened rain at any moment. As I was taking a short clip of this craziness, I noticed four black spots in the water. People?! There were scuba divers coming in towards shore on the surface. I found this odd, as they were sinking and disappearing over the crest of every wave. Certainly, it would be more calm to swim in underwater, but perhaps the visibility was reduced to nil.  Quickly, I kicked off my shoes, tucked my phone in a dry location and ran to the beach to see if I could assist the divers' exit from the ocean. In the harsh conditions, they were getting pounded by the waves. The first diver lost his fin in the boiling sandy mess and his expression told me he was just going to let it go – it was more important to get to the safety of the beach. I blindly located his fin and retrieved it for him. The first two divers made it out okay, and the one looked surprised to see me as I handed him his fin. There was no one else on the beach. The tourists had gone in, and the rain was coming down steadily now, blown sideways by the wind.

I could see there was a woman in the group who had yet to make it out. She was getting tossed by the waves and pushed down every time she stood. Luckily, she had kept her regulator in her mouth so she could breathe as the sea churned over and around her. Their dive master was attempting to walk to her through hip high water, but with his fins still on, his progress was slow. Her eyes were huge and she was shaking as I offered to help. Together we each lifted an arm and braced to support her through the last persistent beating waves.

All the while, the scuba instructor for the hotel, Steve, stood above the beach taking a video for his own enjoyment, laughing. He’d rather watch amused and point fun at these people than help them. As I walked up to rinse the sand off he said, “You have too much compassion. I figure if they don’t have the sense to remove their fins, they don’t deserve my help.”

Well, that’s Steve for you.

As I rinsed my feet, he followed me, still talking. “I wasn’t going to help them, it’s too funny to watch. I’m sorry.” He shrugged.

“No,” I told him, “You wouldn’t. And you’re not sorry.”

He agreed but I didn’t look back at him after that.

Instead, I eyed this group’s leader/dive master curiously. Why were they out there? Why would he take a group out in limited visibility and huge waves like this? Enjoyment at that point had gone out the window and their safety had definitely been compromised. What could be more important than guests’ safety? As I watched him lead the group through the hotel grounds with a strange smile on his face, I knew the answer. Money.

Not at all the instructor I strive to be.

I returned for my shoes and as I looked around the beach, not a soul in sight due to the rain, it was cleaner because of my cleanup walks earlier that day and still beautiful. I watched the power of the sea in awe and mused that while Steve stood and laughed, I ran to assist. I suppose that’s what you call making a difference.

And it was only because I had run out to the shore to help these people that I saw them then – amongst the whitecaps, four whales were peeking over the water. At first I thought they were breaching, but they stayed still, somehow holding the top half of their enormous bodies out of the sea, above the waves, just balancing. I looked around me wildly for someone to show, someone to share with, but Steve was long gone and it was just me in the rain. I turned back and studied the whales, squinting in the thick downpour. What could they be doing? While the ocean churned around them, they were perched upright, holding still, faces up to the dark sky, feeling the rain, experiencing the other side.

The Power of Choice

As adults, we make thousands of choices everyday. Some are little - should I enter the turn lane now or go after that black car? Others are big - what career path do I want to begin next?
When you look up choice in the dictionary, Webster uses a very key word in the definition - "Power." We have the power to choose. And when we use this power, every choice we make starts to create our reality. Even in the most simple terms: you are in the room you are in now because you chose to walk into it. Where you are now is because of path you chose.

Sounds wide open, doesn't it? We all start out with this power to choose absolutely anything, but then we limit that power.  Our choices are swayed by internal variables like our beliefs (what we believe we are capable of, what we believe we deserve, etc.) and also external variables like our physical surroundings. I worked a lot in my twenties to become aware of all the variables that swayed my choices and to break free from them. I found that my decisions were often based around what society dictated the "right" thing to do was, the fear of not being accepted or liked for my decision, obligations I had accepted, and my past programming from parents, teachers and the dream of the planet. By getting outside of these molds, my choices ended up being more unconventional, having more possibility and were more my own. This helped me shape a life that is truly tailored to me.

On my latest trip to England and Scotland, I found one more huge variable I didn't realize still swayed my path: Attachment.
But before I tell you the story, I'd like to give you a visual to help extrapolate how these variables I am talking about narrow your choices, lesson your power.

So, let's say that every line on this page is a path you can choose next, a direction you could possibly go. Picking any line from the bottom of the image and heading up or out.
That's a lot of options for you to choose from.

Now let's add in the effects of past conditioning from your parents, your teachers, your role models. Your choices are affected by what they would do, what they have taught you is the safe route, the best route to go. Let's say the shaded red areas (in the image below) are all the choices you rule out because it wouldn't be in alignment of what you have learned, how you have been conditioned.  The lines in the white space remaining are the only choices you would make, naturally, not going against your conditioning into the red zone.

Next, let's add in your beliefs of what you think is possible for you. People rarely choose to undertake something they think is impossible, something they know is out of reach. Beliefs are something intangible that actually keep us from physically doing many things. (Ever been asked - what would you do if you thought nothing was impossible? Opens up a lot of choices, doesn't it? ;)
Let's say that the green shaded areas are paths that are off limits in your mind because you don't believe you can achieve them. See how that green color of belief blocks most paths from reaching as high as the page goes? Now your power of choice is limited to only the paths in the white space because you won't go against your conditioning, and you won't go against your beliefs. These internal aspects are limiting your power of choice to just a few center lines.

Okay, now let's say when you go to make your choice you hesitate because you feel obligated. This is the pink line. You will only choose the pink line as your path because you feel obligated to do something. All other options are ruled out because you are going to choose to do what you feel you have to.  Same goes with attachment. When you are attached to things going a particular way, you will only make choices that align with that one single direction, so you will only choose the single path illuminated in pink. See how powerful attachment can be, and how limiting?

Now here's one to fry your noodle before I move into the full story: You choose to accept obligations - you choose to allow someone to make you feel obligated or not. When someone is making you feel obligated, you no longer hold the power of choice, they do. They are steering your ship. Also, on some level or another, you choose to be attached to an outcome. The greatest limits are self induced.

On my last trip, I was reminded first hand of how much attachment affects my choices, and I was able to overcome this and choose again. This trip was a solo one, which I have found exhilarating in the past. But this time, something had changed, and I couldn't sleep. Not for a glaring reason, I wasn't stressed at first, I didn't have anything on my mind, there wasn't anything that was unresolved that kept me awake. I was happy and excited to be there and increasingly tired, but sleep alluded me. Those of you who know me well know I am ruled by sleep - with less sleep I have a tough time focusing, navigating, speaking coherently, and am not myself. Nights in a row without it in Europe and I had a hard time enjoying where I was. I tried so many different things - herbal remedies, sleepy teas, vigorous exercise, counting 2000 sheep, counting 2000 sheep backwards, reading, meditating,  even a pharmaceutical prescription to knock me out. Nothing touched it.

When traveling as a solo woman, you've got to be on your game: aware, focused, have a plan. Days without sleep and I wasn't meeting any of those requirements. And I was doing some big stuff too - renting a beast of a vehicle and driving on the opposite side of the road long distances to remote locations, navigating alone through the underground maze of public transportation all in a foreign place, etc.

After a week of just a few hours of quality rest, the insomnia was affecting my ability to have a good time, and I became very stressed out. It was an uncomfortable place to be. I thought that at this rate I'd need a week after I got home to catch up on sleep and relax, but worried it wouldn't be possible to take yet another week from work. In focusing on home - Maui - I couldn't think of anywhere more relaxing. And I realized, if I wanted to go home, I could. I didn't need to wait a week or keep moving forward just because my ticket dictated that. People change their flights all the time. Sure I was attached to seeing Scotland, but the state I was in surely wouldn't yield much enjoyment.

Sometimes we choose to do big things, we choose to take on huge responsibility, or big projects, and they don't always pan out. Sometimes they drain us instead of feed us, sometimes we aren't happy with our choice, and sometimes it's just not where we are supposed to be. That's okay. No matter what's invested, you can always make more money. Plans are just a course we follow until we choose another course. I realized that when I have money invested in something I feel obligated to stay.  Likewise, when I've invested a lot of time and energy in something that isn't working, I still feel obligated to stay. But time is even more valuable than money and is more finite. The present moment is one of the most valuable things we have. if you're not enjoying your time doing something, instead of looking back at where you've spent it, look to how you could enjoy it now and make another choice.

I think in the past I've been guilty of beating a dead horse going nowhere because I was so attached to where the horse was originally going. They say you either roll with life or you get run over. Rolling with it often involves being flexible. You're always free to choose something different. That's the power of choice.

As soon as I let go and chose to go home, everything became easier. Tickets were quick to reschedule and when I called to cancel the bookings for the next week, businesses were very understanding and refunded me. So although I had felt obligated to stay the plan because of all I had invested even if I was unhappy, it turned out that I lost nothing in changing my plan to go home where I could relax.
 
16 hours of flights later, when our plane descended through the storm clouds and I could see Maui out my window, I started to cry. I was overwhelmed with gratitude to live here, so incredibly happy to be coming back home here. I've taken countless journeys and come home to three states, but this time was different. Although I was often happy to return, I had never been this moved by seeing familiar landmarks.  I have been drawn to jungle places, and while flying in for the first time to explore tropical countries, I have wondered beyond the airplane window what it would be like to live there. Looking out this time, I remembered that curiosity, and felt so grateful that because of a choice I made, this beautiful tropical place is my home.

When we get outside of our attachments, we can more effectively use the power of choice. Our choices can be limitless - they don't have to be bound by our past programming, our social learning, obligations or even where we applied ourselves last. Only when you give yourself permission to let go, can you live into new possibilities. 

How about you? When you set out to make another big choice, pay attention to what comes up in the decision making process. One of the things I learned around all this is that every part of our self is with us because we choose to hold on to it. If you come up against limiting programing, or limiting beliefs consider re-writing them.  After all, the greatest limits are self induced. And, if you feel obligated to do something, definitely look into that obligation. Re-evaluate your attachment. It is ruling your choice and, as I have found this week, it doesn't need to.  Remember, you're the one steering this ship. No limits have to apply and no one else decides where you go, unless you let them.

The Pizza

Ah, traditional margarita pizza, made with buffalo mozzarella. The secret is all in the cheese. If done right, it should be squeaky between your teeth, boiling hot, floating in a homemade sauce of tomatoes you just saw in the kitchen whole - a pizza that blooms over the plate like a giant tomato garlic flower. This has become something of a tradition every time I come to Europe. I sat before a pizza like this in Italy fifteen years ago.  My, how I was different then. The pizza, oh the pizza's still the same of course.  But as I sit in front of it, I reflect on how the woman I am now is different from the girl I was on that first trip out of the country. I hadn't yet seen the world, so how could I know my place in it? I was just starting to learn who I was, I wasn't aware of my own value and therefore didn't defend it. I didn't have the confidence I do now. I had the makings of the adventuresome gutsy gal but hadn't grown into them nor explored the limits.

The last time I enjoyed a pizza like this it was my very first time outside of the states. As I sit before this pizza I reflect what I learned on that journey, and the journeys abroad since then and how they've helped me become who I am today. Many things in London are the same fifteen years later: the tube packed at rush hour, the double decker busses, the early morning bakeries with proper croissants. I return to this city changed by life, by experience, by the journeys. I turned 18 in this city. That night, I took a cab to a bar and ordered my first legal drink, 'Sex on the Green' (the Green is a large park here, and this drink is similar to 'Sex on the Beach,' but more polite). While waiting for said drink, the man next to me at the long wooden bar struck up a conversation. He was a musician, inspired, fun. This was big for me - to talk to a complete stranger, as I was still painfully shy and introverted. My sense of humor was the same but you'd never know it because we wouldn't get far enough into a conversation for me to joke with you before I retreated into my shell. I remember being struck by the creative spark in his eyes. I'd never spoke with a professional musician before and he reminded me of an artist, naturally.

Weeks later on a train through the Alps to Switzerland, my mind returned to the conversation and how inspired that man was in his chosen profession, I realized in a variety of ways, I wanted that. Where did that spark show up for me? When I was teaching someone. So I made a list of goals. Which was, I realize now, basically my 18 year old self talking to my older version in a journal. I wrote: #1 marry an artist  #2 become a teacher  #3 seek to understand and capture beauty.

I see her clearly, that young naive girl in a train, the rose bud yet to bloom. The essence is the same, but I've learned so many tips for traveling as the solo woman like: Always walk like you know where you're going. Don't count your money in public. Italy taught me don't make eye contact with men you don't know and smile. Don't arrive after dark and try to navigate. Never tell any man where you're staying, even in casual conversation. In a crowded subway,  put your back to the wall, hold hand over bag zipper. Never take a taxi after dark that doesn't say TAXI on the side. You know, the basics.

Since learning these things, London is more comfortable. And funny thing, as I know myself better, the world is also more comfortable too. I return to the same place as that girl, digging into the same incredible pizza, enjoying the same things in life, just with new eyes.  What ever became of that timid redhead? She grew up, found herself, became a teacher, met and married an amazing kind hearted creative artist, and is still traveling, still tinkering with the camera, most inspired when capturing beauty. Perhaps on the next train ride, it's time to make a list...to my next future self. I wonder what she'll be like?

The Everyday Teachers

Lately, I've been toying with the idea that everyone comes into our lives for a reason. Rather that's to help us remember, help us understand, give us guidance, meet a need, teach us, support us, tear us down so we can build back up better, or just to be a companion along the journey.  If you were the only one on the entire planet, you wouldn't have the opportunity to learn some very valuable lessons. You can teach yourself a lot of things, but other lessons, like forgiveness, can't be learned without others. Others teach us about ourselves and about life, they are a mirror that helps us become aware of our own perception. Sometimes we don't realize how we are limiting ourselves, or don't realize that our observations and impressions are skewed by our outlook until another points that out. Often others are the catalyst for our own growth.

What if, hypothetically, you were able to clearly see the connections? If you could review your life and understand the purpose your parents, your friends, your lost loved ones, your dog, your ex-partners, your business partners, even the girl who made you coffee had in your life? How powerful it would be if there was a way to know what impact each person made on our life and their reason for being in our world.  I'm finding it to be a fun game, actually, looking back and finding the unique ah-ha principle behind the characters in my story.

Some were there to encourage me to take another path. I've had bosses who were there to make the current path so difficult I had no other option than look for another way and that ended up being so much better. I've had deep loves leave so that I could question my priorities. I had people get disappointed with me so I could learn that you can't please everyone. There have been people whom I loved that judged me, who insisted on being negative so that I could choose relationships that felt better, that were uplifting instead.

I've had beautiful female friends who taught me I could be strong and elegant at the same time. I've had regular customers who taught me languages that later in life helped me make a lifelong connections. I dated someone who challenged my morals until I stood up for myself, taught me to not tolerate anyone taking me for granted. I've had people who couldn't meet their own needs drain me until I realized that if I don't take care of myself, I can't be there for anyone else.

I've had teachers who gave me life skills that made my journey more interesting, and gave me outlets to capture it in words and images. I dated a man who loved to tell me no, who drew in tight limits on things that brought me joy and he taught me how good it feels to say yes. I had a father who showed me that taking risks can help elevate life - get more juice out of it. I had an amazing man teach me the beauty of living big and I was ready for it because I had started to take risks and was willing to say yes.

Life and experience are fantastic teachers, but I find that when I look, many valuable lessons have been introduced, accented, started, and clarified by the power of others in my life. I am grateful for the ordinary, every day teachers. I find that the best connections are the symbiotic ones - where each party learns something or gains something from the other. Like: I'm here to show you being kind is more important than being right and you are here to teach me patience. Or: I am here to help support you as you reach for your dreams and you are here because I need a friend.

In life coaching, there is a special type of listening where you hear what that person is telling themselves, you hear where they are limiting themselves and you understand the piece of wisdom they need to propel them on their journey. We are often too close to our own version of this to be able to listen to ourselves, and it is only others who can point it out to us. We all are waking up at different times in different ways. The dream is that this is all there is. The reality is that you are writing your story and can make anything happen; if you want more to life, all you have to do is reach for it. And the characters in your life around you, each of them are there for a reason, rather you are aware of it or not.

What life lessons have others helped you learn? How have friends, coworkers and family impacted your life and aided you on your own journey? Who in your life has helped open your eyes or alter your perception and therefore your reality?  What if these connections were not by chance but purposely in the right place at the right time to assist your inner growth and happiness? How can you do the same for the characters in your life now?

Life lessons 2016

Every year around this time, I reflect on what I learned this year of being alive. It's an old tradition, started by one of the most inspiring women and gifted writers I have had the pleasure of knowing, one I am lucky enough to call grandmother but really should call more often. :)
This year, it seems there are fewer little lessons and more big ones. I am one lucky girl - I live in a place I absolutely love and have had the opportunity to share my love of the sea with over 600 people as I took them diving this year. Naturally, a lot of my lessons are water based as I've been dry about 20% of the year. My hope is that in sharing, some of you might learn something as well, or at least see a lot of good reminders.

It's your life - Get creative with it. Do things for you! Shortly after my last birthday, my friend Colby asked me, “What do you do for fun?” I didn’t have much when he asked me. I made excuses of being too busy. Of not having the same reliable days off.  Of being too new on island to know what there was to do. Of loving my job so much I’d rather work. But then, all I had to do was reconnect to creativity. Find inspiration. Do the work to re-connect.
Shortly thereafter, I delightedly jumped in doing creative projects in preparation for my best friend's wedding.  In the middle of this, with hot glue and peacock feathers on my fingers, I suddenly understood how much I missed this kind of thing! I loved having a creative project, I just didn’t know what to do, where to start. I was out of touch with inspiration. I realized the creativity was in me all along, I just had to build a bridge to let it come over, burst forth. No great writing comes from an unwrapped pen. In the projects that followed that summer: Peacock earrings, metal sculpture, t-shirt painting, portrait sessions for my neighbors, I found that if you cultivate creativity, then it's all possible.


When people have made up an opinion of you, nothing you can do will change that. You can tell them straight reason, rephrase a hundred times, tell them the real story, your side of the story but it will change nothing. (Unless in those rare instances that someone can be mature enough to remember every story has two sides.) Once you are a character in their story, it's their story, they are writing it, they will write you in however incorrectly they choose. Best to just let it go and laugh.

How this transpired: At work, a young man working in another watersports field saw me as a threat. I was shocked - really? Me? But to him, I could be four feet tall, sweet as pie and still be a threat. Nothing personal, he said. He hates that I make a killing at sales and therefore is threatened by me. Which I find funny because a) we are selling two entirely different things, and b) when I first started doing this it was painfully difficult for me to talk to people and ask them to pay money to dive with me. Sales had been a weakness for me, not a strong point.
Now I am just bright and shiny and guests talk to me and ask when we are going out.
I thought -how huge of a milestone for me that I have come so far at sales that I am threatening a grown (immature) man! Awesome really. 
And then, during Spring break, I blew all that out of the water. I broke the glass ceiling. I did more in sales than any employee of this company in 20 years, and happily accepted the largest bonus ever paid out by Shoreline SNUBA. I used to think I could do anything but be a salesman. And now I have learned it doesn't have to be scary or awkward or pushy. I just be myself, show my passion for what I do and invite people to come do it with me. And they do!

 

What we want for people and what they want for themselves are often two very different things. When my step mother came to visit, I wanted her to see these lovely gentle beings - sea turtles - underwater. But she's not really comfortable in the water and what she wanted out of the vacation was something completely different. It took me a while to learn this because it took another type of listening than I had been doing to hear what she really wanted.  We cannot listen to the needs and desires of others when our ego is in the way. Our ego is our wants, it is us controlling what kind of experience the other person has. This is different from truly listening to what they want - separate from us - outside of us - and then seeking it with them. When I set my ego aside, I didn't give her turtles, I gave her photos and she was delighted.

The following week, I had the opportunity to dive a little boy named Leo. When I asked what his favorite fish was he said, "honu!" So we went diving and I found him a tiny honu (turtle.) The normal routine of a dive is to see turtles, have two minutes of photos and watching and then continue the underwater tour around the reef. Part of me wanted to do this because it is what we always do. But people are individuals, dives by awesome guides cater to individual desires, not the routine. So instead, I let Leo stay very close to the turtle, following it around, spending 35 minutes of quality time with his favorite fish, keeping snorkelers in the herd from kicking him as we did so. What I would have wanted the tour to be and what he wanted it to be were very different things, but I could feel where he was happiest and kept him there.

The same day, I met Reese, age 9. (Her mom said, do you realize my daughter loves you?) She's the extremely shy twin, highland dancer, who does hours of very serious backflips in the pool. I asked if she was a gymnast but no, she just loves those. When I offered to take her out, I discovered it was her very first time in the sea. She’d never seen fish out of aquariums, never felt the ocean’s embrace. But although I found Reese her very first turtle, I also found her a soft stretch of sand to do backflips in. We did so many. In sync, away from each other manta style. She came up glowing, still shy but gave me a huge hug and thanked me.

I adore this girl, the queen of backflips, more than words can tell you and look forward to her return visit. It was epically brave of her to join me, and a big step for her, and her eyes were HUGE going in, but because I listened to what she really wanted, and gave her the experience she longed to have, she had fun. I think this is part of being a great guide. This is how I imagined myself being as a dive master when we were learning years ago - to ask the client what they want to see, and have them help me manifest drawing that to them. It crosses over to daily life as well, a whole new type of listening.

This December, I dove a celebrity. He booked online using a fake name. He purposely filled out contact details half way, giving me half his phone number, a vague address with no street, etc. His lady was dressed to the nines with an incredible painting of makeup masterly applied and she was very nervous. When people pulled out their cell phones to take photos of the tropical view - not of him - on the beach, he winced, and quickly shielded his face angrily. But underwater, as I held his lady's hand and gently guided her around just a couple feet below the surface, I looked down and saw him swimming excitedly back and forth from things that interested him, just delighted and completely in his own world. I realized, he is just a big kid. Celebrities, I have learned, just want to be treated like normal people, normal divers, just any average Joe. They are hiding from the attention, not seeking it. And even the Godfather of actors is just a big kid at heart.

I had an interesting experience with guests who live an entirely different reality than my own this year. I connected with three daughters and a fun Californian mom who were jazzed on diving and wanted to go out with me. The mother is a certified diver who has waited years to be able to dive with her daughters and finally they are the right age! But when she asked her husband who clearly controls the finances, if she could sign up, he told her no. "Absolutely not. I am not spending money on that." His tone with her irritated me as much as his words. She reacted like a kicked puppy.
The mother and the girls where so disappointed until I decided I was taking them all for free, and oh, too bad, there was not any room for the husband to come along. I don't give dives away often, but it was the principle of the thing. The mother saw me stand up to him, and authoritatively make the decision to make her dream come true. She got the point, even if he didn't.  When it is something you are passionate about, that you really want, don't let others tell you no. Find a way, make your dreams come true. Don't put your dreams in others hands by allowing them to have control over your life. The joy in that mother's eyes as she shared the world under the sea holding hands with her excited daughters was priceless.

This year I became certified to teach teachers. Which is completely different from teaching students.  I learned that it does not benefit trainees to mother them. I learned I cannot be their friend and their teacher. And I found a balance the hard way. I once had a teacher who was too strict, too critical with me and offered no positive feedback. So naturally, I decided never to do the same myself. But in doing so, I swung too far in the other direction and was over-building my trainees up, compensating for their self doubts with too much reassurance. I thought I was being compassionate when I was actually filling in the holes that didn't work for them with my own effort.  This kept me from seeing that this career wasn't working for them and having the blunt hard talk about it.

I learned to ask my trainees - why are you doing this? Why do you want to teach? If they really love it, then we can get beyond the obstacles and circumstances and work through and make it work. But giving them my love for it, and nurturing their ego is not actually effective in the long run. You can't do a career for long because your teacher loves to do it and that's contagious. Diving isn't just ANY job - it's rewarding and challenging and critical at times. You have to sincerely love it yourself in order to make it work.  Since I learned this, my trainees have stuck around longer than those I was compensating for and mothering. The best teachers are those that make you think; who give you enough information for you to have the ah-ha moment on your own, not those who give you all the answers thereby taking away the challenge of mastering a new concept.

I learned basic Hawaiian pronunciation, and two beautiful songs in Hawaiian about love and gratitude. I will continue to build upon this next year.

Christian Heeb taught me that the best photographers can do quality work outside of the studio, outside of the controlled environment. They show up, evaluate, and use what they can to their advantage to capture the moment and accent the most interesting part of the scene. Usually this involves changing perspective by climbing on a fence, car, tree trunk, chair, rock, etc. :) Christian taught me it's not always about having a plan, it's about making the most of what is there. And when you see a photograph that moves you, consider part of the magic in the shot is actually the perspective of the magician who took it.

I learned that sea monkeys (remember those mail order pets from when you were a kid?) are actually brine shrimp.

I learned that a seahorse is a romantic soul and mates for life. Every single morning, the two seahorses change color to match shining silver frequency and take a leisurely swim together, holding tails like a couple holding hands.

I have come to terms with just how sensitive my body is. Some huge scary health things this year made me re-think what I want out of life. I am so much happier when I am in balance. And that balance is actually a delicate thing. You have to tend your body like a garden. After a couple rough winters, it takes a time for things to come back. I think we often don't appreciate our body for all it is capable of, we ignore it unless it becomes sore or sick. We don't think about how strong we are, how healthy we are and rarely take time to thank the vessel we dwell in, we experience life through for all it does for us. I'm getting better about this.

Life is precious. Allow yourself more of the things you love. Live fully, live deeply, truly interact with life. Don't just listen to the music, if it makes you happy, get up and dance. If someone has inspired you, been a great teacher, improved your journey, changed your life for the better, reach out and let them know. Appreciation is never wasted, trust me. Go beyond words, let your actions show those you love how you feel.

I've learned that when you love someone, whatever time you have together is time enough.

This year, I've spent quality time with old friends. I have so many I treasure and so much to thank them for, but I will keep it within this year or their piece will be pages longer. Thank you Heidi for your beautiful heart, the magical yoga retreat, the quality brainstorming sessions and for making me a better teacher by teaching me about ego. Thank you JC for the REI talk, for always being willing to share what I need to get when I need to get it, for making time to meet up in odd places and eras, for your friendship and your wisdom. Thank you O for being up for crazy adventures, for still making noises when we kiss, for holding my hair back, holding my hand during The Goonies and encouraging my heart to continue to seek what feeds it.
 
This year, by truly getting out and experiencing life, I've also met some new friends - I shook hands with a seahorse - they hold on tight. I held a dangerous spiny sea urchin, they crawl and tickle. I got high-fin from a turtle. I met a whale face to face. I held eye contact with a giant barracuda and tried to see him as just another fish, and not focus on his teeth. I raced dolphins in a mermaid tail. I rolled around on the surface with an endangered monk seal who seemed delighted that I also knew not to take myself too seriously.

This year I have felt more at home in my own skin, more in my own element in the ocean. Perhaps this is what growing up is like. It's not about being more serious and restrained, it's about knowing yourself better. And when you really get that, get deep down into the heart of that notion and live there, you find that in knowing yourself better, you really know others better. Because you're not projecting yourself onto them. This year, I'm better with letting others be themselves and letting me be me and really reveling in the magic of that. The more comfortable I am, the more comfortable everything else is too. If you haven't been there, it's a difficult notion to explain. I have said in years past that when you are at home within yourself, you are at home in the world, anywhere. It's like that, but on a more intimate scale. You decide when you grow up and you determine what that means. (Remember, it's your story that you are writing after all!) For me, I'm 33 years young, and so grateful to be me, here, now.    

Photo Courtesy of Christian Heeb