Islanders
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Stefan’s thick matted hair shifted in a tunnel of wind. The shades of blue and green appeared layered, the ocean water clear as a crystal ball. His yacht carved through the hypnotic water, leaving a wake in its path. He could spot his island in the distance, a mound of green, sitting there, waiting for him. The tidal data recorded over the past twenty years indicated that it was unlikely his island would flood. If so, it was of little consequence. The insurance on his assets on the island came at a reasonable premium due to said data. If insurance ceased to exist, it still would not have caused much worry. Lost millions would be replaced with more millions. As silly as it sounded, he had felt himself changing after the second meditation session he had tried two years ago. It was miniscule, but there was a shift. It was easier to see that now. Throughout extensive meditation training, he had taught himself to supress the satisfaction he would get from feeling secure due to money or the tools that protected his money. No matter how small or minor the situation, it was important to experience things free of assured outcomes: something as simple as cooking a new meal for the first time; walking in a neighborhood with the graffiti, buildings with decaying facades, and the smell of marijuana; going on a road trip without GPS; or investing in a new start-up company because he believed in the owner and not necessarily the business model and its market. Baby steps.