I danced on my super-secret stretch of beach in Guana Reserve.  I was trucking along to my island playlist, thinking great thoughts, when a reggae version of the old classic came on.

 

It’s important to be drunk when entering an Electric Slide Contest…

Kim and I won an Electric Slide contest in Beaver Creek, so I know what I’m doing.  We won t-shirts and coffee mugs. The host invited us to the front of a huge barroom, where we drank simultaneous, celebratory shots of brandy from glasses glued to a ski. People cheered.

I’m not drinking anymore, but I can dance.

 

I don’t want you to think that every time you see a photo of a beach you’re going to get my sophomoric ramblings about faith.  But I warned you it is where I reflect.  And I am becoming more alive and aware these days. (Like Frankenstein’s monster after the lightening bolt.)

 

It occurred to me that dancing all alone, feeling very large and very small at the same time, is a great way to celebrate life’s small victories. I hope no one is watching me while I reflect and sob and pray and dance on this lonely beach.  But I am also reminded of those time lapse cameras that show us a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Or clouds scuttling across a cornflower sky or a flower blossoming from a bud.

The beauty of what can become…