I spent most of the day writing, but realized a break was in order to glean some perspective into a reality that doesn’t involve the ridiculous book ideas being pumped from my brain.
So what am I doing?
A break from writing to write more… yeah, weird…
I was unsure of how to play out this day when the sun rose, but I headed to the lagoon to put some pen to paper, or more accurately, fingertip to laptop. The sky was magnificently blue, with nary a chem-trail in sight (it warms the heart to see real clouds again), and I spent several hours toying with new ideas and doing much needed proof-reading.
My food supplies have run low, but my body wasn’t crying out in any desperate famished state, though I knew an amble back to Poptun would be necessary before long. As I debated cave tours, hikes, or lounging lazily in the sun as possible options to fill my day, I decided to head back to my room and give a shout out to the Universe for an effective suggestion to maximize my time.
I originally decided to make a stop in Poptun because I wanted to find some Mayan ruins off the beaten path. I found a website that mentioned Machaquila, “a small Guatemalan village several kilometres from a ruined city of the Mayan civilization bearing the same name,” which is walkable from Poptun.
I took a bus to Poptun and grabbed a room to unload my stuff, get my bearings, and make some archeological adventure plans. Turned out the “several” kilometres mentioned in my piss-poor research would have been more accurately described as “many, many dozens.” Unless I rented a vehicle of some kind, I wouldn’t be playing Indiana Jones on this leg of the tour.
It’s a bit crummy outside, so let’s take a brief intermission from adventure to talk tales of destiny and fate.
The concept of having your entire life predetermined by a higher entity never made much sense to me. If existence were fated, there’d be no purpose in playing this game. Decision making would be the pointless exercise of imagining irrelevant details to add a touch of a colour to a completed tome carved in stone.
People love commenting on the intentions of the Universe. When outcomes match expectation, results are clearly “meant to be.” When objectives end in failure, consolations of “it wasn’t meant to be” help ease the pain.
Both sentiments are worthless. We only consider them after events have transpired, in full witness of the existential results. Hindsight will always make the distinction between what was or wasn’t “meant” to be — it either happened or it didn’t. The technique is oft used by people to disconnect failure or absolve personal responsibility — a slightly different take on the equally worthless “it is what it is” statement. Yeah, no shit, what else could it be?
Humans are an interesting breed. On the adventure thus far, from Belize City, to Caye Caulker, Flores, Rio Dulce, Livingston, and now Poptun, I’ve come across much diversity, yet so much similarity.
Each area I travel into unfailingly reveals new bits of insight, not only into the nature of a world that is becoming more closely connected every waking second through technological advancement, but also into my own egoic fears and prejudices.
Here in Guatemala, I’ve encountered people who greet me warmly, and people who look at me like Hitler walking into a synagogue. There are those who are empathetic of my minimal communication skillset, and others who ignore my attempts at discourse like fungus under their toenails. Some who make eye-contact, but many more who stare vacuously into space, fixated upon whatever important agenda might currently be guiding their actions.
There’s something about stepping into a body of warm, salty water that makes a day worth living for.
Though this Caribbean-side beach is little more than a narrow strip fronting the occasional “hotel,” abandoned property, or humble homestead, I take immense pleasure from having walked its 6 km stretch to a miniature waterfall-pond that marked the end of its briny trail.
There doesn’t seem to be a lot of swimming done here by the locals. Actually, none that I’ve seen. But that’s a common product of taking environment for granted, no matter where you are in the world. It’s easy to formulate the thought, “Fuck, if I lived here, I’d be in the water everyday.” But I’m just a visitor, and if I grew up here, I’d probably be just as apathetic of this glorious gift as anyone else trying to scratch a living in town.
Just a quick shout out to new and old subscribers — Daily Bread has always been served with a side of butter. Click on the image you receive in your inbox, or click on the button at the Bonerfruit site. It won’t guarantee a more palatable meal, but it’s done wonders to ease queasiness after digesting some of the baking done here.