In the corner of the cove, shallow with smooth rocks and clear water, a pelican swooped down and landed on the surface. He floated for what seemed like an eternity, letting the waves move him about. He didn’t fight the current. He didn’t paddle. While I stared intently at him, he stared intently into the clear water around him with almost no movement. The pelican I had yet to name, was simply God’s creation imitating a buoy.
Then, in an instant, he transformed from buoy to sniper.
Immersing his head and opening his bill the water rushed in and something else, too. He held his head under water for awhile, bill closed, body still. Until eventually he lifted his neck out of the water, tilted his head back and swallowed several times enjoying and ensuring his catch was nowhere except for his belly. Savoring his lunch he floated awhile longer before taking off down the shoreline.
Lessons surround us. Sometimes they are packaged up in one of God’s best fishermen.
4 Lessons
Avoid the crowds.
When you’re on a mission, with a purpose, sometimes it’s easier to make progress where the market isn’t crowded. It’s easier to focus on your goal when you’re not being interrupted or distracted by your surroundings. The pelican found a corner of a cove without competition, or tourists. He was in the right environment to be his best.
Be where you can see opportunity.
The depth was shallow. The water was clear. The sun provided light. In a vast ocean with big waves, occasional boats, and deeper waters of uncertainty, the pelican chose a place where he could see opportunity clearly. With a clear purpose (find lunch), he chose an environment ideal to achieve it.
Observation is a skill best paired with patience.
The environment was only part of the process. It was an important part. But the pelican had a role to play. His preparation now required action. But not the action typically praised by the outside world. He did not rush. This was not an exercise in efficiency or speed. Allowing the waves to move him about, he appeared to be nothing more than a buoy, a floating unassuming, non-threatening object to any fish who might be near. He waited, he watched, and he did not act until the time was just right. Poor observation, you eat a rock. But good observation with patience?
Hold on to a good catch.
Having your head underwater may not seem like the ideal place to be. But that was where his opportunity would be, and he was willing to not only do what it took to be patience and observe, but to take the risk and go under. He held his position, and struck when the time was right. But again he didn’t rush. He held on to the moment.
Perspective
I am prone to move on to the next moment, without savoring the one I’m in. I’m always looking for:
- The next checkbox. Thinking about what I haven’t done.
- The next vacation. Thinking about where I haven’t gone.
- The next goal. Forgetting how far we’ve already come.
There is joy in the journey if you choose to sit in it.
Float in it for a while. Observe the wind and the waves that carry you. Observe what is above you, beside you, and under your feet (recognize if your feet are paddling furiously and pause for a moment.)
There is joy in the achievement.
The little ones seem bigger somehow when you choose to sit with them for a moment. To savor the little victories… including a well earned seafood lunch.
Written on Monday, January 22, 2024 at Hawksbill Resort in St. John’s, Antigua.
jessica lynn shull 
thoughts go here... be nice... be thankful...