Shades of Blue
Beyond Wild Blue Yonders
During much of 2015, I found myself frequently waking up from disturbing images, frantically swimming amongst a school of sharks, barracudas and lionfish in unfamiliar and foreign waters while struggling against a strong current of common sense. A series of serious real life blunders so pummeled me in 2014, I felt as if I had lost myself in a bottomless blue hole abyss.
Mystique sailing blue
Belize's coastal reef poses a coral question mark around a blue bottomless chasm.
Most sane / salty types might clamor "Henry, you got trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea." Close friends and relatives have suggested I misplaced my priorities, mistrusted my true compass, lost my mind and even sold my soul. Some more mystical minds have proclaimed my fall the spell of a blue moon where I blindly lost myself in a wild blue wonder. And a few more enlightened types have suggested I became blue because I self-sabotaged. All these explanations ring true on various levels.
Playful porpoise frolicing next to my dinghy in Manatee Pocket,
Port Salerno, Florida during my tumultuous 2015.
A barracuda hanging around Mystique's port hull waiting
and watching to scavenge in 2015 near Cambridge Cay
The blue tale all started so innocently, but gradually the playful porpoise became a smaller, more pernicious lionfish and then came out from hiding as a prey-full barracuda. I got caught up in playful, seemingly innocent banter, then tried to help someone, then got tangled in a net of deceit. What once appeared like clear blue sky, became so twisted and tied up, the blue hue nearly disappeared from view. The once imagined blue light gradually morphed into a shadowy blue feeling.
My blueful tale: I eventually discovered my reactions to these events were actually cyclical and had begun many, many years prior to a woman's departure to return to her home state of PA. Though her departure felt like another bolt from the blue, it knocked me sideways, scattered my thoughts in more ways than I could imagine. I was left with dashed dreams, an empty house, a lonely catamaran in a foggy and watered-down reality. Not only did I lose my perspective, I misplaced my priorities and compromised my security. My blue-sky thinking had once again burned a hole in my soul as well as in my pockets.
Mystique points towards Stocking Island near Georgetown, Exumas in January 2015
In retrospect, I felt so dizzy, dazed and disoriented, I discovered I had experienced PTSD
PTSD's blue symptoms: After feeling heavy-hearted, completely exhausted, thoroughly-depleted and empty-handed, my recovery took many months to regain my perspective. I had became so discombobulated, I could barely comprehend what in the blue blazes had come over me. There was a time in 2015, I could barely recognize myself or my actions. I was a shaken blue blur.
When my choices finally all blew up, I had to face and feel my blues.
Returning to True Blue: The color blue has always lured me to places, sounds and sensations. If I ever feel blue, I seek outer blues. Returning to the magnetic blue-green seas and azure skies has now restored my perspective, peace and harmony with the watered world.
Mystique motoring northward from Flamingo Island
in the Ragged Islands to Great Exuma January 2015.
Keeping blue in perspective
A solo mangrove shoot in the Turks and Caicos.
Sandy Cay in the Turks
Near Sandy Cay, Turks
Paddling a blue near Cambridge Cay in the Exumas Land and Sea Park 2015.
A sundowner blue near Sandy Cay, Turks