Jamaica:Peace of the Mountains



The second to last day I was in Jamaica, a bunch of 16 white people party animals crashed where I was lodging in Jamaica. I tried to discern who they were...not U.S. citizens (thankfully) but from what I could tell ex-Pats from various European countries (some obviously Germans/Dutch by their gutterality) and caucasian natives from the Jamaican lowlands. For about 5 hours, the mountain peace was disturbed by excessive drink, saccharin 80's Pop music blasting, and bawdy jokes. English was the lingua franca.

BTW, I am going to be on a Jamaica jag for a while. Great experiences crack us open with ideas and reflections.

I wondered why any group of people would travel over 3,000-4,000 feet up to party their brains out when any hovel would do, with dangerous ride to boot down the treacherous road to Kingston. It wasn't a case of sour grapes of me wanting to join the party. The older I get, the more I go for quality in relationships and conversation, not quantity. I am not looking to score...I am 53, so that game is over, unless I want to marry a chica with two kids in college. No thanks. I had my chances and I whiffed. God never promises grand slams.

So, I am content in my singleness. I have nothing left to prove to anyone which has released me from an enormous burden of trying to adhere to societal expectations of companionship of a romantic nature. I just wish I had the courage earlier to recognize that singleness was a legit way to live life. What do I love about being non-attached? Freedom from others' expectations. My accounting is only drawing from my existence. Period. I owe no man or woman.

After the party mercifully came to an end, with the resultant wreckage on all of the other non-boisterous guests' experience over, the air was purged of Babylon (a Rastafari term for the corrupt world system). I get that establishments have to have crowds swarm into its orbit to rake in some cash, but I could tell that the group's behavior was stressing out all of those associated with the establishment in an official sense. It struck me that the group was not at all aware that a greater number who came to the restaurant that day were adversely affected (obvious from the non-verbals) by their exuberances and excesses. No clue, no awareness, no care.

The morning after, as I sat at the cafe alone, reggae music was back on the playlist, and I enjoyed the solitude and coffee. I tried to reflect on how forbearance is often a difficult discipline. Patience is not in our nature. The bruising of the serenity the day and night before had dissipated. I guess I felt more sorry for the crowd than anything. Maybe sorry is a tad too dramatic. Perhaps a sense of meaninglessness. I let go of the irritation. A lot of our inconveniences from others are not intentional.

People, on the whole, look to pleasure to compensate them for their lack of peace. Peace comes from God.    

  

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