Staring off, into nothing. Spacing out, focusing on the sound and the feeling of the sun beating down on my arms. I don't know what it is.. but when I see others relax at the beach I can't help but feel like everyone's missing out on the nothing around them; tasting the surface level pleasures of the place and missing the deeper meaning in front of them.

The infinite. The stillness. I love the feeling of being nothing; a tiny spec of sand that the ocean would bowl over and the heat would melt were I only to stand there long enough. The connection with nature and centering myself seem to always align, yet I never notice till I'm in that moment.

To touch and climb on rocks worn over several million years. The waves crashing against them, wearing small holes and sharp points in them. These senses are what I long for and fall out of consciousness when I get to experience.

They cause me to lose track of my thoughts, my mind wanders freely and to exploration over the next commit to push. I push forward in the cove not because I know what'll be at the end but because I want to see what'll be along the way.

I swam with my wife out to a small coral reef just beyond where we could easily stand and were greeted by many striped fish that swam so close I felt them bump into me multiple times. My hands pulling aside the water that they so effortlessly live in, it was one of those objective-less journeys that I need to fully reset.

And I have. 1/2 way through our vacation, I have fully reset. And the reason I know I have is that vacations always start out and I'm exhausted. Happy to just be sleeping, eating, and not thinking. I had the luxury of getting access to a Sauna and steam room which I continue to meditate and oscillate between frequently.

It's been great for clearing my head and resting my brain... but it's nothing compared to swimming and chasing fish. The unknown. Peering through a rock sliced by the weather to see whats on the other side.. *sigh*. I'm still here writing from the deck and I dream of going back.

There's often a prize in exploring the unknown. Sure, I have no idea if there are sharks here or where jelly fish are, and those thoughts cross my mind as to why no one else is pushing out into the waters I was wading.

But while pushing forward cautiously, not knowing what I'd find while snorkeling, I saw a fish the size of my chest. A gorgeous shimmering blue and green fish that I then followed along. It was amazing to see up close and wanting to keep my distance a bit to not scare it away. Watching it feed on rocks in the cove and then being able to watch it from shore 30 yards away later because of how clear the water was... I won't soon forget it.

I am reset once again by the infinite void. The ocean. Calling me back to be re-centered. I know the climb I've been on this year has been more insane then usual. I know my family, understanding as they are, have suffered by my lack of being there mentally even if I have been there physically.

I'm grateful to have this opportunity of solace just my wife and I. I'm happy for my boys knowing that when I return to them I will be fully focused on them. I'm no longer burned at both ends, borrowing time from all sides to plug the holes in my leaky schedule.

I need to take more time like this in smaller doses to just travel into the woods and take the boys for a bike ride or a walk. They need the full me and I apparently need nature far more than I realize. Stillness. Wholeness.