When each thing is lived through to the end there is no death and no regrets, neither is there a false spring time; each moment lived pushes open a greater, wider horizon from which there is no escape save living.
– Henry Miller
In 2002, I packed the remains of a life I no longer wanted into the back of my silver Nissan pickup and drove west across Canada, South down the Pacific Coast Highway and across the border into Mexico. Stopping just short of the tip of the Baja Peninsula, I settled in the tiny village of Cabo Pulmo where I learned the ins and outs of off-the-grid living and community-based conservation. While following my dream to learn to surf, I’d stumbled across a unique coral reef in the Sea of Cortez that needed protection. The resulting adventures I had with waves, sea turtles and the “occasional” man are the focus of a memoir I’m writing.
Today, 13 years after moving to Mexico, I still live on an isolated beach, just a little further south on the peninsula, with a posse of four dogs and an illiterate, sometimes savant gardener who often speaks in a tongue that even the locals don’t understand. I surf as often as I can, kiteboard when the wind blows, and otherwise write, do yoga, hang out with a couple of Huichol shamans, and contemplate just how much life has changed since the days when I worked long hours in Canada as an environmental biologist. In addition to my memoir, this personal blog, and the odd poem, I’ve written a few things for The Scuttlefish, an ocean-focused online magazine and read for The Rumpus, home of Cheryl Strayed’s “Dear Sugar,” occasionally. I hope my musings, shared here, will inspire others to follow their dreams…change their lives…contribute in some small way to their finding the happiness we all seek.