tedwords

"I've seen that movie too..." Elton John

Sunday morning came far too early--we had to be at the excursion meeting place at 7:15, meaning a wake up call at 5:45. And, with the change in time, it really meant 4:45. And of course, me not being an early-to-bed kind of person, I hadn't exactly gone to bed at nine the night before.

We were heading to the Crystal Caves, which for some reason is marketed as the 'Crystal and Fantasy Caves.' I guess the insertion of the word "fantasy" makes it extra magical or something. The location of the caves are in Hamilton Parish, which was about a thirty minute drive from where we were, at the other end of Bermuda.

Our tour guide was a talkative guy with a quirky sense of humor that was exactly the kind that drives Corb crazy. "I don't think I can do tour guides any more," Corb said afterwards. "First off, the guy was obsessed with money. All he talked about was how much this cost or how much that cost. Second, his facts were wrong. He said Bermuda was five miles wide, but he is wrong. It's 1.7 miles wide at its longest. Bermuda is a really thin island."

I thought he was an okay guide. He definitely did like to repeat things. He sounded like a cross between a male Niki Minaj and a talk show host. Liked to identify a location and then repeat the name of the location in a kind of amused drawl. Not the greatest, but definitely not the worst. I liked our glass bottom guy and his brother better from the night before. I find pirates more enjoyable. I desire theatrical flair.

The guide for the Crystal Caverns was an interesting cat. Rather military like, with a kind of droll sense of humor. Liked to shepherd us through the caverns, which were amazing. Designated an older lady as his sidekick and a "natural born leader." He must have said it fifty times. I thought it was fun and it certainly made her stand out afterwards, particularly since she was quite late at the end of every other stop afterwards, poor thing. For one, we almost drove off without her, until the guide remembered, with some encouragement from the passengers, he left her behind.

But something occurred to me, in the middle of the cave tour. It was a reference the guide made to two teenage boys who dropped a cricket ball into a wellspring and discovered the caves in the early 1900s. That story...sounded so familiar.

Oh, wait. Right. I've done this tour before! With Josie, 30 years ago.

It's kind of strange, happening upon a place that a younger you had visited in another lifetime. Back then, I was just starting out my life with Josie, we were full of hopes and dreams, and I was keeping a secret deep inside (even if she was somewhat aware or had a feeling, having read my diary). I had visited the same cave, seen the same stalagmites, walked down the same 50 feet under the ground, seen the same crystal clear underground lake. And amazing to think, as I dwell upon how long it takes these formations to form, that it takes 100 years for them to grow an inch, meaning they are basically the same exact size as when I left them 30 years ago.

And I thought to myself, as we stood there: have I grown more than an inch in these 30 years since I last visited?

I would like to think I have. Certainly I have physically, since I weigh about 50 more pounds more than I did back then. But mentally? Experentially?

I want to think so. Finding Corb, accepting who I am, yet keeping Josie in my life and raising three kids together is certainly one sign of that. Having a story I can tell and pass on puts me in a place in this world that not everyone can boast of--and a 45 year continuous story at that (that's why I keep trying to upload my printed journal stories). Some people I think find me rather cranky, but as someone once said, I don't suffer fools gladly. Still, who am I to judge?

What have I done in my life? What crystal formations have I created? Steven (another recurring stalagmite in my life, but a more critical one than Corb or Josie, and one who will probably frown on being mentioned here) said (or texted, him being in London) a few months ago that I am six degrees of separation from so many "important" people, and that's probably true, and a kind way of saying I didn't become a famous writer the way I wanted to be. But I did get two books published and did direct twenty years of wonderful plays for the Eldredge Singers and have done pretty darn well in my professional career, so there is that. I have never failed at anything important, really. And like the steady drip drip drip of a forming stalagmite, every year I have climbed a little higher.

Actually, I like the crystal and fantasy cave...the existing situation and aspirational trajectory...that has been my life. I think we all have both within us. And I think there is more there for me to discover. I want to say another thirty years more. Well, dare to dream. Aspire higher, I like to say.

I think I have something to say, words I am looking to form, bridges I am looking to cross. And I hope, if I return to Bermuda another 20 or 30 years from now...if such a thing is possible...I hope to look back on these words and feel proud of the further growth achieved.

That's a decent trajectory for the next few steady drip drip drips that are ahead. Onward, salt formation.

Oh, enough of that. Here are some additional photos from the rest of the day-a zoo and Gibb's Hill lighthouse.

The Bermuda Aquarium and Zoo