Hopeful and Thankful

The wall of windows are open. There are no screens here. The sultry ocean air is thinned and circulated by the ceiling fans. The ocean is blanketed in black but I can hear and smell it to my left. From the little pullout bed in the beach studio I have direct line of sight into the windows across the alley. They are all dark. One by one having faded into the peace of the evening. My mind dances. Here I am. A little older, a little wiser but not too much.

I am back in San Juan a little over a year having passed since I was here last. Much has changed- in life, in the world; almost as much as has stayed the same. There was a hurricane here. I came  to the Island much to show support for the island and for the people. I was also curious. The media tells a story that sounds tragic and frightening. I wondered if it was true. Sensationalized I believe is the word. There is evidence of destruction. A change in the attitudes of the people, a bit less carefree a bit more hardened in the eyes, yet stronger. The people have been gracious, happy to see us. They knew that coming required of us a willingness to not shudder and turn away from the scars. But I knew that the best way to show support was to show up. So much of life is about being willing to show up, and in this case, pour tourism dollars back into the economy. We stayed local, ate local, ubered local. Connected on a human level. We wanted to give support, they showed us how to pour love into the thing you love. It is beautiful on both ends.

It occurs to me that this is a metaphor for how my year has gone. I have lost some, I have won more. But mostly I have spent the year learning how to pour love into the things that I love. I have learned that love in it's pure form isn't centered on romance but on sacrifice. Like Jesus. My 2017's goal for the year was to Be More Love. That is amazingly harder than it sounds. But also more rewarding. 

I lay in this bed and I can reflect on all of the people that make my life special. I think of the babies that I have had a share in loving their Moms. I think of the visits to the hospital that meant nothing more than I am here, I love you, I care. I think of the monthly dinners where we bare our souls in order to feel connected in this existence. I think of the camping trips, the Vegas trips, the NASA trips, the NorCo trips- I don't think that I know of anyone but my friends who vacation with their friends as much as we do. We live life and love loud. I think of the friends in different time zones, countries, and contenients. Why did no one tell me sooner that love like this is such a breathtaking thing?

I went to the Bacardi Factory today in an attempt to learn more about how rum is made. I learned that the strongest proof made is 95%. I learned that is is illegal to sell because it is considered dangerous. To bring the proof back down to the legal limit of 40% they add distilled water. That's interesting right? To create the alcohol you need to evaporate the water out of the cane sugar in the form of molasses. In order to sell it you have to add the water back. This also reminded me of relationships. I wonder if it's possible that not everyone can handle 100% proof love. They pretend that they want it, they crave it but they actually are afraid of the impact of something so strong. How many of us distill our love to a tolerable level? How many of us are love lightweights? Am I? Are you?

I think we give and desire distilled love in our most meaningful relationships- marriage mates, siblings, family. These are harder to desire 100 proof because we are afraid that if we get the full effect we will automatically turn into an addict. And what if- ya know? What if you make them mad and they leave? What if they are torn from you by circumstances in or out of their control? Then what? We become lost love junkies in need of a hit of something that will never come back? How much courage does love take? I mean really- when you think about it, to accept love at 100 proof requires courage. A willingness to accept a harrowing loss. I am honest enough to admit that I am not that brave when it comes to romantic relationships. Yet.

2017 taught me how to love at 100%. I am hopeful that in 2018 I will learn to accept love at 100 proof. I am hopeful that I will find that kind of courage. I am also thankful. I am thankful that my family has always loved me- a constant so constant that it's impossible to not take it for granted. Like oxygen and gravity. I am thankful for my friends who are teaching me to accept love in gradually less distilled forms. I think I'm probably up to about 80 proof. Twice the legal limit; not too bad for almost, almost 40.

Here's to holding my liquor. 

Cheers,

Dewberry