The Distracted Zen

We were on passage from St. Martin to St. Lucia aboard “Scud”, our St. Francis 44’ performance catamaran. And we still hadn’t snagged a fish after an entire morning of waiting, waiting, waiting. Beans and rice are the norm of our diet, being largely vegetarian, but enough Mexican and green stuff - we wanted a big one!

“Why haven’t we caught one yet?” I asked Adam, our handsome 17yr old son, official angler expert. In addition to his brother, Warren (age 16), both were reared in the Caribbean on boats, and are famous for their hand-crafted lures constructed from pink and yellow plastic bags foraged from island markets.

“I’ll check the lures, in case we snagged seaweed,” he said inattentively. Odd. Normally, he’s intensely focused on the status of his rig - the set, and proper boat speed to land a fish.

“Sweet!” Warren exclaimed animatedly, as he appeared in the open doorway of our cockpit.

Turning forward, I followed his gaze - my eyes danced with merriment. “Scud” was approaching a charter cat; on the stern gracefully posed a ‘sheila’, donned in an itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny, neon pink bikini, combing her blond hair. Long tendrils streamed behind her in the stiff breeze, as the cat gently lurched forward in the light chop. “Wild Leopard” trumpeted in large golden letters across her quarters.

My husband Peter, a stealthy tactician, tightened his grip on the helm to out-maneuver and overtake her. Sheets were tweaked, as his eyes twinkled with the thrill of the chase. “She’s definitely a TEN!” The guys chorused together. (The cat or the Pink Bikini, I wondered!)

Warren launched onto the other sugarscoop to join Adam, as “Scud” charged the “Wild Leopard”, a formidable prey. We’d stolen their wind! (There would be hell to pay for outwitting the king of the seas!)
Once coming abreast of the cat, the boys languished astern; sun glistened off their toned bodies, earned from years of challenging watersports. They were posing for Pink Bikini, angling this way, then that! Ah, the antics of the young! (I made sure Peter focused on the helm, and not the sex bomb flashing our way.) Soon, we left the charter cat in our wake, floundering in dead air, and we plunged forward, passing scenic coves fringed in palms, silhouetted against towering verdant pitons.

“Hey guys,” I said merrily, “you know - dinner. A fish? Did you do the chat?”

Their High School courses had included the philosophical hunting precepts acquired from Buddhism, and the North American Indians. They teach one to cultivate compassion for all animals, to ask for your gift from Mother Nature, then apologize to the kill when acquired, thanking it for coming.

So we gave it a go: Gazing up into the azure blue sky and cobalt-blue sea, we ‘pushed’ forward loving intent, asking for a fish to feed our family. We promised to follow the universal laws of protecting the oceans: save our trash until landfall, catch only legal-sized fish. We whispered how we loved the waters – the dour smiling groupers, the playful dolphins that darted across our bows. We promised to steadfastly protect the oceans, standing tall to defend it. Last, we sent appreciation for the fish we hoped to land, and especially for the opportunity of being here, in this moment, sailing in paradise.

After our little ‘chat’, we forgot about it, and Pink Bikini. Very soon, though, the clothespin alarm went flinging across the cockpit, smacking Adam in the face; the line raced into the depths of the sea with an energy all its own. “We got a big one!” He yelled.

Once aboard, its size was impressive (and meant to be shared). I spoke gently to the magnificent mahi-mahi, thanking it for coming. “Be still, sweet one. You are splendid in your colors; don’t suffer,” I cooed. Suddenly, it went quiet, and its life gently receded.

Adam proudly held up our prize on the stern, as I shot the photo. In the viewfinder, I noticed “Wild Leopard” sneaking up close behind. She’d gained the advantage, when we’d slowed to land the fish. As they passed, Adam held aloft his prize - they exploded in applause and Pink Bikini waved earnestly. Adam’s grin split his face in two.

“When we reach port guys,” I said, “we’ll invite them to join us.” Two beauties at the table are far better than one.