Sanibel Island

The natural world is where I live. Even when I am staring out of my office on the 17th floor of my work-a-day office building, I am always attentive to the ever changing environment in the sky, on the street, and on the horizon. It's the habit of those who can't let go of the beauty and wonder of creation. Here in Sanibel Island, the variety of natural phenomena starts to produce nature overload (NATLOAD) for short. This phenomenon is not limited to "nature nuts", as some of my uninitiated colleagues like to caricature me, as there is no shortage of the content that we humans create around the natural. This is not a new phenomenon. It is the fundamentally primitive survival function at work. The skills of the cave man are still with us, as we hopefully evolve in the grand scheme unfolding.

So why do we play at the water's edge and stare vacantly smiling at the continuous gift of the sea-thrown bric-a-brac, searching for...what? a meditation on the marvel of evolution, the symmetry and iconoclasm of tiny shells, the reason for it all? Or is it just the desire for physical reminder of a place, of a life most of us can only enjoy in these times away from labor and strife, the expectation of solace, the clearing of the mind in the shimmering sound of the tiny waves, softly clattering, always replenishing, and yes, the raucous cacophony of the shore birds, the caspian and the royal, the peeps, the improbable gorge of the pelican (even when you think it's a pelican't), so voracious a maw, mining for protein, and a wish to steer clear of the fouling net, the human inconsiderate, and the jocular feast of the dolphin. We are not so far from you, our kin, nor are we so generous as to eschew the heavenly feast of the grouper, the meat of the tuna, the delights that we obtain, and hopefully, protect. Hic finis est.