This week I worked from Tampa Bay. Or St. Petersburg. Or Clearwater. Or Largo. Somewhere in the more tropical, more relaxed, still sprawling east coast that mirrors the sprawling west coast I know well. Allegiant offered a $117, round-trip chance to accompany my wife to her conference, and I said, “Bye winter.”
On our last day, Wednesday, check out was at eleven, and my wife was done at noon, so I walked loops around our Hampton Inn to burn time. During loop one, I thought, Huh, haven’t seen much wildlife here. Weird. Thought I’d see more lizards. These are indeed the things I ponder; and I was perplexed, even disappointed in the lizards’ absence. Florida’s lizard population must be declining, I knew. But on loop two, I spotted one, about an inch and a half long, emerald green, and soaking in that tropical sun. Then, he was gone under a blooming hedge of pink hibiscus. Wow, those flowers are beautiful too, I thought, having walked right past them minutes before. By loop three, I sighted dozens of those emerald lizards everywhere. Florida’s lizards are doing just fine, I thought, shaking my head at my ignorance.
In life, I’m often wrong; I make horrible initial assessments. These off the hip judgments are often fueled by a desire to own a high level of certainty about my life experience. If I label it, I can move on to the next thing to label, again incorrectly. And on and on and on, achieving a level of false, delusional certainty that does feel good in the moment.
But this habit sucks the magic out of the next moment. By filling my mind with certainty, I miss the small, sustainable beauty around me. In Florida, I saw things I’d never seen before, knew things I’d never known before, and felt more alive because of it. If that can happen in a Hampton Inn parking lot, maybe joy isn’t so complicated. Maybe it’s right there, in every moment, if we walk enough loops to see it.
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
(P.S. On the beach this week, another certainty appeared to me: I wasted a decade of my life doing something I didn’t love. Thankfully, it was a long stretch of beach, and I walked out some understanding, ultimately penned in this week’s essay.)
