I camped on an island one night. It was a rough night, I had neither a tent, nor a bug net. I had no permit for camping; I could not even find two trees whereupon I could sling my Eno. I had my nothing but an insatiable desire to catch a fish and to experience the great outdoors in all of its fullness. Regrettably, I had no luck in achieving the former, but I had more than enough success in achieving the latter. As I lay under the stars that night, I was far from alone. The solitude I hoped to achieve was thwarted by hundreds of bloodthirsty mosquitoes who seem to have no regard for a proper bedtime, but only increase in their intensity through the deep watches of the night. On account of this phenomenon, I slept very little. In fact, I do not even recall sleeping at all. As I lay there in the company of my hundreds of buzzing friends, I could not make the hours of the night pass quick enough. Yet finally, after the sun had deemed I suffered long enough, the first hue of pink tinged the sky. At this sight all the ducks and I quickly arose, and I made haste in forsaking my campsite while the ducks made sure all the other creatures knew it was time to wake up.

Within a few short minutes, I was off of my campsite and once again paddling on the open water as the sun begin to reveal herself in her true beauty. This sight alone made me almost forget the colonies of itching bug bites all over my face. I even started to enjoy the morning despite the horrors I had suffered the night before. But nature was not done yet. I still desperately wanted to catch a fish, so I turned around and reached for my fishing rod, yet as I did this I bumped my baseball cap and watched my expensive aviators find a new home at the bottom of the bay. I cursed my carelessness and lost my appreciation for the beautiful morning. Yet as I was brooding over my loss, something miraculous happened just before my eyes. The water was still. The ducks had flown away, and it was now deathly quiet. Nothing dared interrupt nature’s silence. Then, before my very eyes, the stillness of the water gave way to a violent eruption. Flying from the deep came a majestic gray body twisting gracefully through the air. The shark was the size of my boat and could have easily made a meal out of me, but I did not care. The shark was beautiful. I loved that shark because I got to see that shark do what it does best: attack. So many people live their lives doing not what they do best, but doing the things they think will work out better. Imagine if that shark envied the clam and copied its behaviors. Not only would the shark die, but it would be incredibly boring to observe. That shark was beautiful because it did what it knew it could do, and it did it well. Everyone has their own unique gifts and passions -- do them, and do them well. Don’t envy the talents and behaviors of others, but use the gifts you have been given to be beautiful.