I find that the first few weeks back from trips to Jamaica I feel more like myself. I am, at heart, laid back...creative...fairly care free...and then THIS place starts to tear me up again, and make me operate more like a shark, out to eat all in its path...competition...speed...work work work...that is valued more than a soul...
Within a month...because of work...the commute...meetings with the suited clan I belong to...the knowledge I need to make my mortgage payment to be close to work so I can pay for my mortgage payment...that unholy cycle...stresses me...wears on me...it works for me on paper but inside I'm a mess.
Somehow...and it's not an easy life...I think even the most poverty stricken Jamaicans I've met have it RIGHT. I can't put my finger on it...
That's the magic, for me. The spirit...a feeling that I get nowhere else.