ALmost Perfect

Peering over the cliff that is eighty feet from the aqua blue water below, I pause.

I'm at Rick's Cafe in Jamaica and the locals are pissing me off. They're climbing up a tree on the top of the cliff and diving off. So they are about eight feet higher than me. I turn around looking at them. They're asking for tips. I'm giving them competition.

A tall thin black Rastafarian leaps from the tree, twirling around in front of me laughing in my face as he falls. Then he cannon balls into the water.

People applaud.

Money is placed in a jar.

They're standing there at Rick's which is a bar on a cliff. It's a tourist trap and the drinks all have umbrellas in them. The vast majority are wearing Birkenstock's. Several dozen also have on black socks. Strange people indeed. Tour buses wait to take them to the next stop.

The tall thin black Rastafarian pops out of the water looking up at me ... still laughing.

"Son of a Bitch," I say out loud.

Then I spread my arms like an eagle and jump off of an eighty foot cliff into the cove below. It is a swan dive. My chest is pointing towards the sun. My legs make their way over my head. I become a pinpoint missile coming straight into the cove that the tall think black Rastafarian is swimming out of. He watches me approach. I feel perfect and hit the water beside him with the slightest of splashes.

Had this been the Olympics, I would probably have received a score of 99.

Yeah ... it was that 1% ... the slightest of splashes.

My legs hurt for a week.

But thin black Rastafarian dude never knew.

When I surfaced, he gave me a high-five yelling "RESPECT MON! RESPECT!".

I slapped his hand and said, "Respect."

We made our way up the cliff laughing together.

There are costs in life. Everything has a cost. I'd pulled off the dive earning his respect but the back of my legs hurt like hell. At the bar, someone handed me a beer and lots of people slapped me on the back. The celebration of almost perfect began.

That's the lesson right? Nothing is perfect ... though some things appear to be. And when they're not, we act like they are ... though deep down inside of our selves ... we know better.

I've come to accept that in life. It's mostly perfect. Those things that aren't drive me nuts and keep me up at night. Why do I focus on these things?

It's mostly perfect.

Tomorrow is a big day. I'm hitting the water again having already done this perfect swan dive off of a cliff. Diving into beauty.

I've tried before and failed.

But I know with everything in me ... that this time ... it's perfect.