Blog #670: Machetes and Motorcycles

Living.

I have this magical opportunity to be here.
I believe I get one shot at it.

I get to do this ONCE.

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There is HUGE power in that thought for me.

It’s where my courage comes from.

Every bold action I take in my life centers on that single thought:

“I get ONE.”

It’s what takes my feet to new countries.
It’s what takes me up trails I’ve never walked.
It’s what allows me to risk embarrassment.
It’s what pushes me to say “hello” to people I’ve never met.
It’s what gets my legs moving when they wake up slower to move.

AND…

It’s what got me on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle in a strange country.

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As I shared last week…

I’m hanging out in the Caribbean in December.

While here…

I’m doing my walking thing and seeing places that tourists don’t often see. I know most people are not drawn to my sense of adventure, but I like getting a glimpse of real life as the people really live it.

Still…

As I walk in every new place around the globe, my head is constantly on a swivel as I do my best to be safe and see what’s coming at me before it arrives.

Today, however…

I didn’t see it.

I was walking up a small town’s narrow street, and a guy popped out a few yards in front of me carrying a machete.

Ummm…

“Yes”…a giant machete.

Of course, I went on red alert.

“Oh, shi*!”

My brain immediately stopped my feet from moving in order to see what the guy was going to do. He read my face and action, stopped moving towards me, and started shouting in broken English, “Is okay! Is okay!”

He started miming the machete was for trimming bushes.

I started breathing.

Again.

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Thrown slightly off balance…

I continued walking up the street.

I soon passed a local shop that was blaring a familiar song by Aretha Franklin. When I heard the words, “I’ll say a little prayer for you,” my brain hinted: “Maybe…it’s time to quit using your sneakers today.”

So I did what the locals do.

I jumped on the back of a motorcycle.

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For the first two hours of walking that morning…

I had seemingly dodged tens of motorcycles…many with three riders. And now after hearing Aretha Franklin’s lyrical hint and feeling a bit uncertain about where I was and what I was doing, I thought it was time for me to go EXTRA local.

I hired a moto-taxi for two hours.

Santiago showed me parts of the island that my sneakers could never have walked. It was a day well lived. I will sheepishly admit, however, after riding on the back of a motorcycle much of the day, it was not my feet that hurt later, but instead, a much different part of my body.

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I get it.

You and I are probably far different in how we live our lives.

I KNOW not everybody sees adventure the same way I do.
I KNOW all of us have different passions and comfort zone limits.

But what should 100% connect you and me is a single thought:

“I get ONE.”

May neither of us ever forget it.

S.