Gaining a Deeper Appreciation for the Intimate Moments Shared with Others
By Jackson Keener
Photo: Knox Kronenberg
Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap. The spawning shrimp at the end of my line meandered its way through the school of bonefish before catching the attention of one overzealous fish. The fish eagerly ate the fly and took off in a hurry, soon leaving me on my backing in a mad scramble to keep the line off the coral as he took every possible turn he could to free himself from my grasp. I could only do so much to keep the fish in my control, reeling in when he took a break and letting him run when he wanted to run. This fight lasted only a couple of minutes before the fish took the turn he needed to run the leader against the sharp coral, and just like that he was gone. There I stood empty handed yet exhilarated to have even felt such an incredible fish on the other end of my line. It was the small moments like this that I gained a much deeper appreciation for during my time on the island of Guanaja. As more days went by and more conversations were had, I began to reflect not only on my own story leading up to those specific moments, but more importantly on the story of the person or thing that I was sharing that intimate moment with. The opposite side of any interaction always has a story that must be reflected on and considered in order to learn and grow from any given situation that you are in. Putting your biases aside and understanding what it took for the other side to get to that same moment not only fosters a deeper connection for those involved, but also allows you to appreciate their perspectives, even if they may have values that oppose your own.
The dichotomy of the two ends of any fight with a fish must be considered by an angler when they do experience such an intimate moment. In my fight with the bonefish on the flats, on one end of the line stood an inexperienced saltwater fly fisherman fighting the fish purely for pleasure, while on the other end lay a fish that was in yet another fight for its life, doing everything it could to escape my grasp. The differences don’t stop there, however, as the events leading up to that short fight varied greatly between me and the fish. I was in that position, casting at a school of bonefish in Guanaja because of the good fortune and privilege that allowed me to be there. A few months before that moment, my dad had reached out to me about a program called Fish for Change that did an annual trip to Guanaja. I took one look at the program and that specific trip and knew that this was an experience that I could not miss out on. I filled out the application form, and soon enough I had a flight booked to Roatan and would be fishing the flats of Guanaja in a few months. The steps leading up to that moment almost felt too easy, considering that I didn’t even have to worry about the logistics or expenses of taking such an incredible trip because of my position of privilege and good fortune. The fish, however, had to go through so much more to get to that moment. From the day it is born, the bonefish is prey in a predator's world. It is constantly on edge trying to balance the necessity to eat during good tides and avoid being eaten by the sharks and barracudas that roam those same waters. The threats don’t stop there, as changing ecological and environmental conditions from human influences also play a major role in the dangers that these fish face every day. Not to mention that when they do feed, they must be wary of the ambitious angler trying to lure them into a fight that would put them at further risk of being eaten by predators after it’s over because of fatigue and exhaustion.
Photos: Heather Harkavy
The stark differences between the paths that a fish and angler go through to get to the single moment where they are connected as one are commonly overlooked by the everyday angler. All too often we take the fish on the end of our line for granted, as though it is just another object at the disposal for our pleasure. We have a tendency to ignore the intimacy of the moments that we get when we connect with another beautiful creature that has gone through its struggles and established its story, just like us. Whether it’s the trophy fish we finally land after years of pursuit, or a fish that spits the hook before we can even see it, there is a connection made every time the presentation of the angler’s rig entices a fish enough to bite. While I do believe that all anglers share a similar respect for the fish that they pursue, I think that as time goes on, and more fish are caught, we can too easily become desensitized from the fact that we are connecting with another living being. This flaw, however, is not unique to just fishermen. We as human beings are all prone to this desensitization of intimate experiences with other humans, animals, places, objects, or even moments, often failing to consider the story behind the opposing side of that experience.
While the time that I spent on the island was limited to a meager 7 days, the myriad of conversations that I had with others on the trip and Guanacans living on the island gave me a new appreciation for the small, intimate moments that hold significantly more value than the material items that society often places far too much weight on to indicate one’s success. One quote that stuck with me from this trip was from Bryan Medina, one of the guides for Fly Fish Guanaja. “I don’t do this job for the money, I do it because I love it”. Akin to Henry David Thoreau’s idea, “That man is richest whose pleasures are the cheapest”, this is a representation of the collective mindset that exists in the Guanacan community. A community that doesn’t base their values on materialism and consumerism, but rather on love and respect for others and a strong sense of pride to be a Guanacan. Every conversation that I had with those on the island allowed me to gain a better understanding of what it means to be a Guanacan and gave me an introspective insight into the values that I have developed through a life that is much different than those that live there.
The stark differences between myself and all the fish that I managed to hook into on this trip are, in many ways, analogous to the contrasts between my story growing up as an American citizen and all the stories of the Guanacan citizens that I spoke to during my time on the island.
As a United States citizen, I never had to question whether I could feasibly travel to a place as incredible as Guanaja. Many of the Guanacans that I talked to had dreams of visiting the United States at some point in their life, but their path to get there was much more difficult than it was for me to do the reverse. One of the islanders told me a story about how he had planned to take his children to Disney World but was unable to after his application for a travel visa was denied by the embassy. In my naivety, I had never really considered how difficult it may be for others living in countries such as Honduras to travel to places like the US. I had always taken my ability to see new places and meet new people for granted before coming on this trip. For many on the island, Guanaja is the only place that they have ever known, and likely will ever know due to the inhibitions that restrict them from traveling to new places.
While the time that I spent on the island was limited to a meager 7 days, the myriad of conversations that I had with others on the trip and Guanacans living on the island gave me a new appreciation for the small, intimate moments that hold significantly more value than the material items that society often places far too much weight on to indicate one’s success. One quote that stuck with me from this trip was from Bryan Medina, one of the guides for Fly Fish Guanaja. “I don’t do this job for the money, I do it because I love it”. Akin to Henry David Thoreau’s idea, “That man is richest whose pleasures are the cheapest”, this is a representation of the collective mindset that exists in the Guanacan community. A community that doesn’t base their values on materialism and consumerism, but rather on love and respect for others and a strong sense of pride to be a Guanacan. Every conversation that I had with those on the island allowed me to gain a better understanding of what it means to be a Guanacan and gave me an introspective insight into the values that I have developed through a life that is much different than those that live there.
The stark differences between myself and all the fish that I managed to hook into on this trip are, in many ways, analogous to the contrasts between my story growing up as an American citizen and all the stories of the Guanacan citizens that I spoke to during my time on the island.
As a United States citizen, I never had to question whether I could feasibly travel to a place as incredible as Guanaja. Many of the Guanacans that I talked to had dreams of visiting the United States at some point in their life, but their path to get there was much more difficult than it was for me to do the reverse. One of the islanders told me a story about how he had planned to take his children to Disney World but was unable to after his application for a travel visa was denied by the embassy. In my naivety, I had never really considered how difficult it may be for others living in countries such as Honduras to travel to places like the US. I had always taken my ability to see new places and meet new people for granted before coming on this trip. For many on the island, Guanaja is the only place that they have ever known, and likely will ever know due to the inhibitions that restrict them from traveling to new places.
Photo: Jackson Keener
The ability to travel freely to other countries isn’t the only luxury that I have always taken for granted as a United States citizen. If I ever fall ill or injure myself, I know that I will receive the proper health care needed to improve my health. The story of those living in Guanaja is much different, as there is no reliable health care that they can utilize if they ever experience a health mishap. Some health concerns may be serious enough that it requires travel off the island to receive proper treatment. This isn’t feasible for many Guanacans, as finances often do not allow for such an expensive trip or treatment, leaving many to deal with their physical and mental ailments that impede on their quality of life. One woman on the island that was nice enough to open her home to us one night for dinner told a story about how at the age of 16 both of her parents died, leaving her to take care of her two severely autistic younger siblings. The lack of a uniform foster care system forced her to drop out of school to take care of them, relying heavily on the communal support of those around her to make it through the tough times. While listening to her story, I never felt there was any sense of resentment that she had to give up her ambitions to take care of her siblings at such a young age. She was just grateful for the support that she received from others that allowed her to get to that moment to share her story.
When reflecting on the differences between my story leading up to my time on the island and the story of all the islanders that I spoke to, it has allowed me to understand that the everyday struggles that I complain about at home are often trivial in comparison to the struggles that many people across the world go through in their everyday lives. However, it’s important to note that one’s quality of life is not totally dependent on the environment and conditions that they are born into. The Guanacan’s that I spoke to are fully aware that the hardships that they must live through may be more intense than the tourists that they see on a weekly basis, yet if you ask them whether they would leave Guanaja for another life, they answer with a resounding no because of their pride to be a Guanacan. These people are grateful for what they have, such as the natural spring that provides them fresh water throughout the year, and do not yearn for something more. They do not resent those that travel to the island with more wealth than them, but rather accept them with open arms and an eagerness to share the intimacy and beauty of their home.
Every one of us experiences a new interaction with someone or something every day, yet we rarely ever go into that interaction with consideration about how our own story may differ from their story. Whether it’s a fish on the end of your line running for its life or another person that you’re in the midst of a heated political argument with, it’s important to understand that even some of the most divisive interactions are worth reflecting on if the opposing party's story is considered. The stigmas that we have built from our prior experiences often lead us to make premature judgments about people who may have opposing values or live different lives than our own. Just as it would be ignorant to assume that Guanacan’s aren’t happy because they don’t have all the material items you have, it would also be ignorant to assume that someone’s fundamental beliefs are wrong if they oppose your own. Taking the time to truly reflect on the opposing side’s story not only allows for personal growth, but also allows for a newfound appreciation of the intimate moment that you are sharing with a person or thing. I personally am eternally grateful that I was able to share such an intimate experience with those that live on the island of Guanaja. I found that there is so much more value to this small island than just the exquisite fishery that it provides. The beautiful people and their stories gave me insights and taught me lessons that I will pull from in my life for many years to come, trying to carry myself with a similar acceptance and respect for others that I felt from every single person that I spoke with during my time on the island.
When reflecting on the differences between my story leading up to my time on the island and the story of all the islanders that I spoke to, it has allowed me to understand that the everyday struggles that I complain about at home are often trivial in comparison to the struggles that many people across the world go through in their everyday lives. However, it’s important to note that one’s quality of life is not totally dependent on the environment and conditions that they are born into. The Guanacan’s that I spoke to are fully aware that the hardships that they must live through may be more intense than the tourists that they see on a weekly basis, yet if you ask them whether they would leave Guanaja for another life, they answer with a resounding no because of their pride to be a Guanacan. These people are grateful for what they have, such as the natural spring that provides them fresh water throughout the year, and do not yearn for something more. They do not resent those that travel to the island with more wealth than them, but rather accept them with open arms and an eagerness to share the intimacy and beauty of their home.
Every one of us experiences a new interaction with someone or something every day, yet we rarely ever go into that interaction with consideration about how our own story may differ from their story. Whether it’s a fish on the end of your line running for its life or another person that you’re in the midst of a heated political argument with, it’s important to understand that even some of the most divisive interactions are worth reflecting on if the opposing party's story is considered. The stigmas that we have built from our prior experiences often lead us to make premature judgments about people who may have opposing values or live different lives than our own. Just as it would be ignorant to assume that Guanacan’s aren’t happy because they don’t have all the material items you have, it would also be ignorant to assume that someone’s fundamental beliefs are wrong if they oppose your own. Taking the time to truly reflect on the opposing side’s story not only allows for personal growth, but also allows for a newfound appreciation of the intimate moment that you are sharing with a person or thing. I personally am eternally grateful that I was able to share such an intimate experience with those that live on the island of Guanaja. I found that there is so much more value to this small island than just the exquisite fishery that it provides. The beautiful people and their stories gave me insights and taught me lessons that I will pull from in my life for many years to come, trying to carry myself with a similar acceptance and respect for others that I felt from every single person that I spoke with during my time on the island.
Jackson Keener, 22 years old, Seattle, Washington
Jackson is currently studying Economics and Pre-Med at the University of Washington in Seattle. He dreams of attending medical school and practicing psychiatry in the future. Jackson grew up in Colorado where I originally found my passions of skiing, fishing, and spending time outdoors. He was fortunate enough to attend the 2022 college week in Guanaja over the summer time, where he was able to find new perspectives and meet new friends that will last me a lifetime.
Jackson is currently studying Economics and Pre-Med at the University of Washington in Seattle. He dreams of attending medical school and practicing psychiatry in the future. Jackson grew up in Colorado where I originally found my passions of skiing, fishing, and spending time outdoors. He was fortunate enough to attend the 2022 college week in Guanaja over the summer time, where he was able to find new perspectives and meet new friends that will last me a lifetime.