Travel

December 31, 2017

There’s something liberating about stopping to watch a sunset. Something refreshing about planting your feet in the wet sand, and forgetting about the rest of the world that exists beyond the horizon line. Embracing feeling little and surrendering yourself to that grand painting of light in the sky, and watching it unravel the way it chooses to before your eyes. One might even call that brave.

I would.

As I witnessed one of the final sunsets of the year last week in Maui, I stood there in awe – my eyes wide and my heart full – curious to see how the sun would decide to make its exit that day. I was stunned by the beauty in front of me, but even more so, by how poignantly something as simple as a sunset bears the perfect opportunity for reflection, if you let it. Pink clouds turned to orange flames and what was once a canvas of blue became covered in gold brush strokes. I stared at the sun, and so many hints and traces of 2017 stared back at me.

The past year was full of rewarding triumphs and joyous celebrations, fresh faces and unexpected romance, growth, progress, failed attempts at long bred aspirations and new dreams discovered, endless laughter, and losses that took pieces of my heart along with them. As I looked up, I looked back – and somehow, I saw it all again in front of me.

Maybe I’m crazy for seeking clarity about life by gazing at the sky. Maybe I was just picturing things. Maybe I was just imagining New York’s skyline floating in the blue – my sweet escape for the past five years. Maybe the bottle of champagne my friends and I popped on the first night in my new apartment didn’t truly take shape in a Hawaiian cloud. Maybe I was mistaken when I saw my future soul mate’s eyes in the sun. Maybe my great grandmother’s face that I said goodbye to this past year didn’t actually emerge above the sea, and my mind – and my heart – played tricks on me.

Or, maybe life is more like a sunset than we might expect. Maybe we are too.

The more I think about it, the more I realize how 2017 shattered me a bit. But if it weren’t for the breaks in the clouds during a sunset, the sun wouldn’t beam through on its way down. In the same way, perhaps the parts of our hearts that chip and break away over time don’t necessarily leave holes or gaps, but rather spaces, for new light and life to pass through. I’d like to hope they do.

I think the only thing more beautiful than what you see in a sunset, is what you don’t see – the parts of the sunset that are not yet visible in the sky, that we can only imagine. It seems there’s even a sense of mystery that comes about when watching a sunset – a pleasant, freeing feeling of not knowing what colors, textures, tones, and shapes are going to appear next. Perhaps life itself can be as beautiful as a sunset if we let it be, if we don’t control it and just watch with awe as it unfolds.

As the sun sets on 2017 one last time, my wish is that we enter the new year feeling as open, reflective, inspired, little, humble, mindful, mindless, and even brave as we do when we watch a sunset reveal itself. And as we step into 2018 and leave the last remnants of 2017 in the dusk, I hope each day is filled with as much wonder and excitement as the first time we stepped onto the beach, squeezed the sand between our toes, and felt the water brush over our feet – and with as much presence, value and appreciation that we’d feel as if today is our last walk along the shore.

Because life is full of sunsets – but no matter how the sun decides to leave us each night, no matter what emerges in the sky before us, and no matter how life proceeds, by the end of it, we’ll all be basking in moonlight.

Happy New Year,

Love,

Whenever I’ve thought of the beautiful island of Bora Bora, from all the postcards and photos I’ve seen, I’ve instantly imagined waters of vibrant sapphire and bold indigo. Shades of deep violet mix into its ripples, framed by the island’s explosive sunsets – a palette of oranges, yellows, and pinks blended amongst opaque clouds that inhabit the sky like small, floating islands themselves.

When I arrived to Bora Bora on my family vacation this week, I became face to face with the bay and the sky I’ve pictured in my mind for so long. But, even so, I was reluctant to leap off the planked wooden deck out through the air and into the water. As I stood there, getting ready to jump in at the start of our trip, my feet kept motioning forward, but my mind kept holding me back: “Is the water cold? Is it salty? How salty? Will my eyes burn? How deep is it? Are there lots of fish? Will it be wavy?” – and the list of silly questions that held me back for a good, long couple of minutes, goes on.

Finally, I swallowed my reluctance, caught a running start, closed my eyes, and jumped as high as I could into this slice of paradise waiting at my feet. And when I made that splash into the water and soared downward, I felt free – as if all my hesitations, all my inhibitions, and all the doubts I had in my mind prior to my cannonball, washed away into the water, deep down into the postcard that had come alive before me.

Now, I know that a simple jump into the water on a family vacation doesn’t quite make the cut as a dramatic, momentous, life-changing experience. But for all of you who know me well, you also know that I’m naturally a dramatic person. However, as I reflect on that quick jump and splash, its significance continues to resonate with me, especially at this point of new beginnings and exciting uncertainty in my life.

This specific part of my trip wasn’t about diving or swimming, or even about stunningly picturesque views. It was about taking a small chance, and soaking in the moment that followed. The realist in me can also affirm that the water could have been uncomfortably cold and too salty. But it wasn’t; it was actually warm and not too salty at all, and had just the right amount of motion to it. And more importantly, if I hadn’t chanced it and jumped in, I wouldn’t have known what it would have felt like.

I can confidently speak on behalf of us all that we don’t have to be standing on the edge of a deck in the island of Bora Bora to feel emotions like doubt, reluctance, and hesitation. In one context or another, we all experience these emotions daily. But, no matter how deeply we fear, how still we stand, or how long and timidly we wait, we have the choice to jump. Life – and tropical family vacations, as it seems – are truly about overcoming our hang-ups and the obstacles we create in our minds, to take chances and to see what lies on the other side of our doubts.

So – jump. Close your eyes and leap forward. Because even when you find yourself mid-air, in an open abyss of uncertainty, if you have enough faith in the moment, it can feel like you’re flying.