I am leaning to the left, trying not to let water drip from my matted hair onto the keyboard. I don’t know why i just bailed from the studio here on Crown Mountain, stripped down on the porch and danced in a tropical rain shower. Maybe because my body was still caked with salt water and sweat from this morning’s dive. Maybe because I knew the only eyes in the rain forest belonged to coki’s and iguana’s. Or maybe it was something more primal. For some reason I felt compelled to call Rob in California. How primal is that? Crouching, naked, under a banana tree, sharing the rain on speaker phone with someone on the other side of the world. It began to pour so hard that the seven foot banana leaf wasn’t working, so I peaced out, stashed the phone and started walking into the jungle. I felt clean, cool rain washing over bug bites and coral cuts. I felt my pace quicken, soft mud squishing between my toes, and suddenly stopped… “What the f$#k am I doing?” I looked up and gazed into the stinging drops of water. I opened my mouth and started peeing… “I am a human being on planet Earth.” The thought resounded in my mind. I am both a father and a son. I am both crazy and sane. A guide and a follower. A loaner and a borrower. I am shallow. I am deep. I am certified, vilified and mystified. The mountain was steep and I was slipping. I stopped myself, looked down and saw that I was leaking onto a tropical flower only God or Dr Suess could have created. I felt bad and leaned to the left, letting my stream flow into a little run off that disappeared down the mountain. It is quite possible that my urine will end up in someone’s cistern down in Caret Bay. If you are ever in the Virgin Islands, drink bottled water. Better yet. Get naked in da rain. Look up. Open your mouth… and think.