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**Axel** · 11-26-2021, 01:51 PM

Outstanding 🤜

**bored383** · 11-26-2021, 02:14 PM

your tale made me think of the song ‘the banks of newfoundland’, in particular this part

Well we had Jack Lynch from Ballynahinch, Mike Murphy and some more
And I tell you well, they suffered like hell on the way to Baltimore
They pawned their gear in Liverpool, and sailed as they did stand
But there blow some cold nor'westers on the Banks of Newfoundland

**AnarchicArctic** · 11-26-2021, 02:20 PM

Keep it up man. Nothing like real world experience to better appreciate the normally mundane.

**Big Phil** · 12-04-2021, 11:55 AM

Glad to hear things are going well!!

**bellicose** · 12-06-2021, 04:10 PM

I am happy to hear you are doing well, and by such poetic delivery! I envy you that you are on the sea so much. I love being on the ocean, but get terribly sea sick, and it gets worse the older I become. Do you get to do any scuba diving on the boat?

**Bigtuana** · 02-17-2022, 06:25 PM

The Idle Isle from https://brettdanger.com

Fran Coe, a mentor of my mother’s, was a wise, peaceful woman that I spent a lot of time around growing up, and I have a very fond memory from the age of ten of her explaining to my mother her understanding of how people experience time differently. She began by describing her experience of “linear time” juxtaposed to “seasonal time” and “pulse time.” I honestly cannot describe to you what linear time is like. Seasonal time, as you’d imagine, is much like a sine wave that flows up and down. Fran described pulse time by gesticulating her fingertips as a facsimile of a flashing light and prompted ten-year-old Brett to think, “oh yeah, that’s me.”

I feel fortunate that instead of lengthy seasons I have short lived and intense pulses immediately followed by rest. Firstly, because I have had an exceptionally condensed short life, and I’ve been able to glean many lifetimes of experience from ancient teachers and present mentors. Secondly, there’s a peace of mind knowing that during intense situations it shan’t be long until rest finds me, and if I start getting itchy feet I know that the author of my story is waiting to push the button and send me off on a new roller coaster with fireworks. I am grateful that I’ve acquired insight into the nature of human experience and how to properly navigate the perils of life in times without guidance.

It’s not often I meet other peoples on pulse time. My typical reconnections with loved ones go as such: screech to a halt while skidding sideways at one hundred miles an hour, then take a sigh of relief and say, “Whew! Since I’ve seen you last I’ve lived a few lifetimes, and I have grown so much I can’t recognize myself.” To which the typical response is: “Good to hear, Brett. I’m in the same season since we last met.” Then we proceed to get deep and meaningful and solve the world’s problems. Sometimes I am jealous of stoic, grounding people like Fran that have less uncertainty on their horizon, but since life happens for us and not to us I’m just doing my best to play the cards I’m dealt. Opportunity comes out of chaos, and supplementing with an appropriate amount of order has put one of my feet firmly planted in the known and the other firmly planted in the unknown.

It has been a fortnight or five since my first post in Ketchikan, and after living in the shadows of my sea faring ancestors I flew from the frigid rainforest of Alaska to the idle isle of Maui. The residents of Maui described “island time” to me and how the entirety of the island isn’t in a rush. Well, except for watching the sunset. Kevin and Ashley had alarms set half an hour before sundown, and when it went off everything was put to a halt so we could hustle down to put a blanket out on the sand and watch the colors of the sky reflect off gentle waves. Additionally, eight o’clock in the evening is affectionately called “Maui Midnight, and activity ceases as if it was a curfew.

My purpose for meandering to Maui was because Kevin has a condominium on the island that needed to be repainted between tenants, and since one of my past lives was at Sherwin Williams I was able to help him save a whole lot of money and have a much better end result. The prior tenant was an artist that painted each wall something different: forest green, pastel pink, safety orange, and a burnt mustard were to name just a few. At the end of the ordeal the walls were a spearmint white that matched with a rich laminate floor and tropical plants outside the large windows made the place feel like a tropical zen temple. ’Twas a job well done if I do say so myself.

Someone wiser than I said something synonymous to, “you don’t accept an invitation to a rich man’s house because there will be an extravagant meal. You accept the invitation for fellowship.” And it was just that. Sure, sipping espresso on ice from beans grown up the hill with my feet in the sand before taking my daily swim in the coral reef a stone’s throw from the front door is something from a dream. Who doesn’t want to have a private scuba diving instructor take you on both a day and nighttime dive on Christmas Eve? But my fondest memory is of Kevin, his girlfriend Ashley, Rachel the roommate, a couple little littermate pups, and myself in a cuddle puddle the couch celebrating Christmas Day with Holiday Hip Hop and presence instead of presents.

Good meals were still to be had. Kevin made fresh macadamia nut butter Christmas morning for French toast to go along with some local ohia lehua blossom honey, berries, and mimosas. Kevin makes curry as good as any Thai mother; so good you’d never tire of it. For our union breaks while painting we’d slurp on fresh passionfruit like oysters and munch on Maui Gold Pineapples like it was our job. The passionfruit was euphorically stimulating, and the pineapples were so exceptional even the cores were consumed.

Another person wiser than me once said (My father quoting Glenn Aubrey), “relationships are the decisions you make for the other person’s well being.” Perhaps you know this about me, but I rate well above average in agreeableness in the Big 5 Personality traits. So, I’m predisposed to negotiate on the other person’s behalf. Kevin was a bit bashful several days in to our painting endeavor because we hadn’t gone out to scuba dive or surf yet, but he couldn’t know how much I thoroughly enjoyed listening to jazz fusion and painting with such a good pal. Kevin reciprocates and makes it a high traffic two way street. Having a friend such as Kevin that won’t let you fly back home without taking his Tesla from 0-60 a few times, calling an Uber for you to get you to the airport on the other side of the island in time, and spontaneously taking you surfing is such an anomaly in today’s world where attention is sought instead of legitimate connection. Kevin, if you’re reading this: I love you, man, and I’m privileged to have you as a friend.

Kevin and I got our scuba diving certifications together along with our German traveling buddy, Lars, on the island of Koh Tao in Thailand back in 2015. We’ve kept in touch since then, but he’s been hopping around the globe via planes while I’ve been navigating North America with my dogs in my car. For the first dive we jumped off the remains of an ancient pier into an underwater wonderland filled with copious amount of funky looking fish, sea turtles, creepy crawlies, and reef sharks.

Diving with reef sharks was reminiscent of seeing wild boars in Texas while riding my bike. I remember a time where a wild boar was hauling ass across the road in front of me, and I thought to myself: “wow, that thing could seriously fuck me up and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.” That’s how I felt about these huge fish casually swimming around us like we were long time neighbors, and later I learned shark attacks only happen when there is feeding involved in the situation. About halfway into the dive Kevin prompted me with his pointer finger to look underneath this cavernous void underneath a large rock, and I obliged. A grinning reef shark then poked his head out to say hi and nearly bumped into me like an older brother startling you from around the corner. I nearly shot a brown torpedo… My startled scream was muffled into bubbles and we proceeded onward to continue speculation of the diverse species of the sea.

I had never gone on a night dive before, and when the sun goes down the night life of the sea turns into a party of dancing eels scowling at you like an angry old fart yelling at you to get off their lawn. Some of the eels had friendly, lobster like prawns for roommates, and some we saw fighting other eels. We came across three other divers clad in black wetsuits, fins, and masks. As we swam by them exchanging underwater Shakas, and they did a double take at Kevin and I wearing nothing but trunks and a speedo, respectively. Sixty-five degree water is pleasant but still sucks a lot of thermal energy from you when you’re in the water for the larger part of an hour. However, were acclimated to the Alaskan winter so it didn’t phase us one bit and it might as well had been spa water. Speaking of spa, after our dive we proceeded up the beach to an epic resort, stashed our gear in the shrubs, and walked up to the bar and got a couple cocktails to bring to the hot tub made of boulders and decorated with waterfalls. I do declare it was a textbook perfect day.

In the next installment of the Brett Danger Blog: starting a photography business, kicking back in Discoville, and the Musselshell Steakhouse in Martinsdale, Montana.

**the_matrix_guy** · 02-17-2022, 06:39 PM

This is a great read. I feel like you should be writing a tale or autobiography or something. Your style of writing is attractive and the stories are captivating. I wish you the best on your journey

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Where the F- is Bigtuana?

Where the F- is Bigtuana?

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