We’re born. We live. We die. That’s pretty much all that we can really agree upon about life. And… maybe that’s because that’s all there is to it. Maybe we made up all the stuff we disagree about. The special meaning. The great purpose. The rules. That’s where my money is anyway.
Though we don’t seem to see it, we’re all sharing the same ride. Born to die on a rock that’s floating around in a small galaxy that’s floating around in a universe of unimaginable size. We are seven and a half billion people sharing the same life boat. Every one of us directing and playing the leads in our lives, supporting roles in others, and bit parts in every remaining story. So much in common, but we just can’t seem to get the others in this play to agree on the plot. And they in turn share the same frustration. Can you imagine how good the show would be if we could all just agree on a simple plot line… like… it’s not cool to poke holes in our life boat?
Like a single stroke of lightning in a never ending storm… our lives are incredibly brief. We all say that we know it… so I guess that’s another thing that we agree on about life, but so few of us live like we believe it’s true. And we’re always surprised when the end comes. Maybe that means that we’re full of shit. That when we say we know we’re gonna die what we’re really saying is that we know you’re gonna die. Meanwhile we’re secretly thinking that… well, we’re special… after all isn’t this whole thing about us? So maybe we won’t have to deal with the dying thing. Or… maybe it’s because we spend so much of what little time we have on waiting… for “the” one, “the” call, “the” opportunity, “the” right time, “the”… , that we can’t believe that we did so little when the end comes.
And… now that I think about it, maybe that’s the plot. Seven billion people convinced that they’re all supposed to be the center of attention… that this whole thing is about them. Finding out that that’s not the case at all.
But then again… maybe not.
Speaking of lightning strikes… the rainy season in Mexico has now officially begun. And… there was no maybe about it. For weeks we barely saw a cloud and suddenly one day we watched large thunderheads spawn around us. They increased in size and number, moving shoulder to shoulder until they consolidated their hold on the horizon, made the sky darken early, and deprived us of our sunset. We cleaned up camp in anticipation. Around 10:00 it rained pretty hard for about twenty or thirty minutes and abated. No biggie… we thought.
Just a couple hours later Copper D. Dawg… our official T-storm / fireworks alert system, woke me up. The sky was flashing like a strobe, and distant rumbling told us of a storm that was steadily gaining on us.
The storm introduced itself on a more or less friendly tone… a few flashes of lightning accompanied by a throaty rumble here and there. But shortly thereafter it’s manners started to slip, and then it became a common ruffian. The rain grew heavy… the lightning and thunder put us under siege.
Just when things seemed to be calming down one incredibly brilliant flash stood apart from the rest. It was instantly accompanied by a noise beyond thunder… not a rumble but a snap so loud that it hurt our ears. The hair on our bodies was standing from the electricity in the air.
Some minutes later all was quiet. The moon was revealed again. And the jungle insects resumed their serenade. The morning was born sunny, warm, and perfectly clear. And the streets were completely flooded.
Later in the day I was giving the play by play of our “big” storm to Manuel, who owns, operates, and lives at this beautiful facility. “No, no”, he said… setting me straight, “That wasn’t really much of a storm.” “It was merely the beginning of the season.” “We had only one close strike that maybe hit one of these palms.” He motioned directly above our heads. “The real storms come in a few weeks and we have many of these kind of strikes, and the ground shakes (he deepened his voice) for two… or sometimes three hours.”
So… we’ve got that to look forward to.
Lo siento Copper!