#1: skinny dipping with complete strangers ... again

So right about now, you might be thinking that I'm taking this idea of putting flesh to my dreams a little too literally.  ;)  I guess I should explain a little bit.  

Around Memorial Day in 2005, I was burned out from the strain of my divorce in 2004 along with trying to fulfill commitments for work, church, and unfinished home renovations.  I'm not sure this is exactly how it went down, but I remember walking into my supervisor's office one day and saying, "I won't be here next week."  He must have seen something in my eyes because I think he asked where I'd be week after that.  He relaxed a little bit when I told him that I just needed a bit of a vacation.  

A few days later, I packed up my camping gear and a few other necessities, hopped on a plane, and made my way to the British Virgin Islands by myself.  I'd had my eye on a small island named Jost Van Dyke since I first heard about it on my honeymoon in December of 2000.  I remember being told about Jost's spectacular seaside camping.  I don't think Kenna would have ever gone for this plan, but the adventure seemed perfect now that I was single.  By early evening, I had made my way by airplane and ferry to Jost.  I hitched a sailboat ride to the other side of the island with a lovely British couple (and their pets) returning from a grocery run on Tortola.  

That first evening, I set up my tent at Ivan's Stress Free (a wonderful beach bar and campground) and made my way to dinner.  I was exhausted and becoming increasingly aware of all the anxiety that I had carried with me from home.  I was anything but "stress free."  On the walk home from dinner, the fun began.  The first friend I made on the island offered to sell me some weed for my trip.  He was very polite, and he never asked again after I declined.  We headed back to Ivan's where I began to meet my neighbors for the week.  

Ivan's is an honor bar, so if nobody is around, you just make your own drinks and keep your own tab.  Somehow the stress began to melt, and I actually had a bit of fun.  The highlight of the night was the group decision to go skinny dipping by moonlight in the beautiful Caribbean waters of White Bay.  Even though this idea was pretty far outside of my comfort zone, I decided to go for it.  As I played in the water, I quit worrying about being "seen" -- probably too dark for that anyway -- and I let myself enjoy the moment.  I wondered why I had never allowed myself this sort of freedom before.

I won't recount every detail of that trip, but I can tell you it was quite an adventure.  I thoroughly enjoyed the favorite drink of Jost Van Dyke, the aptly named "Pain Killer."  I made some interesting acquaintances, enjoyed some delicious meals, turned down plenty of pot, chased sea turtles, and got a touch of sun on my pasty white body.  There was even a night stranded off the shore of St. John in an 18 foot Boston Whaler with no life jackets, a dinky anchor, a drunk couple from Puerto Rico, and a resident of the islands named Tal.  I couldn't get too comfortable on the little boat, so I spent most of the night staring at the stars and laughing at myself.  We got a tow early the next morning, and I had to hitch a ride back to Jost since I didn't have my passport to board the ferry.  On the final morning of my trip, I woke up early to tear down my tent and enjoy the freedom of skinny dipping one more time, this time on an empty beach.

The week was a turning point for me.  I never came close to releasing all the stress I carried to the island, but I never would have come as far as I did without such an absurd adventure.  I unexpectedly discovered a new side of myself, my shadow as Jung would call it.   It was the me that thrived on adventure rather than predictability and control.  It was the me that knew there was nothing nothing bad about getting naked and playing in a beautiful ocean with total strangers.

My shadow has really started to come alive in the three years since I visited Jost.  He has introduced me to my strength, to my creativity, to my joy, and to my desire.  He teaches me to honor my own doubt, my anger, my grief, and even my shame.  He's marked me with one tattoo ... so far.  And I'm pretty sure I'd never have thought twice about attending MHGS without him.

Looking back even just three years, I see how far I've come.  I want to celebrate that turning point.  I want to commemorate it with another adventure.  It doesn't have to be Jost Van Dyke, but a return certainly feels appropriate, and possibly affordable for my new graduate student budget.  So I'm giving myself two years to make it happen.  And when it does, you better believe that I am going to swim naked again in the waters of White Bay.