On the Mediterranean Sea and Missed Opportunity

Photo taken by Chaos - Jamie,

It was April 2010, and I was standing on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea. Sunny, blue skies, and a pleasant dry heat made the water all the more tempting. I had waded in a bit already, and now found myself walking along some ancient ruins that jutted out into the sea. Looking down, I could see colorful tide pools hemmed in by stones that had been there for 2,000 years, and suddenly felt the urge to jump in. I didn't have a change of clothes, I wasn't sure if anyone knew exactly where I was at that moment, and I really didn't want to bash my head on rock. These thoughts (fears) raced through my brain as I stood, staring at the water. I didn't jump in. 

Within a minute, others from my group came over. We had some great conversation about the history of this site, Caesarea. I began to notice a techno beat drifting over the breeze, apparently from a concert a few miles down the shoreline. Needless to say, the moment had passed, and while what followed was beautiful and lots of fun, I couldn't quite get out of my head the feeling of regret for missing a perfect opportunity. I don't think there is anything else that I regret from the whirlwind adventure that trip was but that one moment at the sea.

This is the moment that comes to mind for me when facing a new opportunity, a new experience and the threat of the unknown. I want to be aware of the voices in my head, and how they might be driving my perceptions. More than that, I want to respond to that spark of life, whimsy and possibility. There will be plenty of opportunities to respond with a no, but I want to jump in with abandon to the things that call my name.

I probably won't be there to coach you when a similar moment shows up for you, and I don't want to project a fear of regret and have that be another voice to face, but I do hope that we will embrace the moments of whimsy, fun and possibility with open arms and a leap of faith. Whether or not it is a seaside adventure, I'm jumping in.
Benjamin FaderComment