You have got to be kidding

You have got to be kidding me.

This is a common phrase, right? And generally associated with something negative happening.

Something you say after someone cuts you off in a car. Sometimes followed by 'Seriously?' and your arms up in the air with a gesture of 'what gives.' 

Said when you are listening to the news, and you hear a statement by a politician, which you know is completely false.

Or maybe you say this after you open your credit card bill and hold your head in your hand.
Or when you are trying to fix the font and spacing on this blog and it simply does not work. 

It is something said after a long week of work, when you have come home, pour a glass of wine, set your self up on the couch to watch a movie and the power goes out....you have got to be kidding me!

It is something you say after you have been on a 1.800 line for more than 30 minutes, trying to get help to your simple query and just when you are about to get the solution, the line drops. 

This week I used the phrase while snorkeling in the Indian Ocean. Warm, clear, aqua colored water. I spent hours with a snorkel, fins and mask, floating across coral, sea-grass, fish and a kaleidoscope of colors. I tried not to think about the demise of global coral reefs and our government's criminal denial of the cause. I tried not to think about coral reefs as the protein factories for the world and the millions of people dependent on healthy reefs for their own health. For me, when faced with such beauty, I often think of the ramifications of their loss, the 'what if' it goes.

So, I tried not to think about the recent report on the demise of the Great Barrier Reef. In the salt water of the Indian Ocean I focused on the riot of colors below me. Blue, pink, orange, black, magenta, red. Orange and white striped clown fish, yellow, black and white angel fish and brown and white blowfish. Fish of all colors, patterns, shapes and sizes. Darting about looking for food. Within arms reach, but never able to touch. Black, sharp urchins hidden in the coral. Listening to the cracking of the coral, I relished the buffered sounds of the under-water world, trying to let the thoughts of work and stress leave my mind like a wave. 

As I swam I spotted a fish that made me say to myself 'you have got to be kidding me.' Followed by 'seriously?' The pattern of this fish was meticulous, magnificent. How can such a creature be so striking? The colors poignant, the royal blue and black strips between its eyes perfect in alignment, its soft looking fins, yellow plump mouth, an incredible species. A trigger fish.

The beauty of nature is endless. Irreplaceable. If we'd only open our eyes. See the colors. See the brilliance. Notice the patterns. Perhaps then, and only then, will we choose to reverse the decline. For it is a choice, a distinct choice, in our control, and we are now making the wrong choice. 

'In the end we will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand; and we will understand only what we have been taught.’ – Baba Dioum, Senegalese Poet.

If we do not open our eyes and notice these amazing creatures, we will not understand them, nor will we love them; therefore, we will not protect them. The time is now.