Inspiration

Articles to inspire authentic living on the topics of resilience, spirituality, and self-growth with touches of storytelling, depth, and humor.

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Alfonsina Betancourt Blog

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Like a fish out of water...an into the frying pan
storytelling storytelling

Like a fish out of water...an into the frying pan

While on vacation, I stayed by the shore making sand castles with my son. The transparent water brushing our skin, the soft sand on our feet and the shade of a palm tree over us. Next to us, a british man, his fit body adorned with tattoos, was building sand castles with his daughters. We had not crossed words but they seem like a nice, loving family. Suddenly a flapping sound called our attention. About eight feet away from us and to the left of the British family there was a ten-inch white fish with blue stripes that had been (apparently miraculously) being brought out of the water by the mild waves. The fish was flipping and struggling in the sand. The British man used every inch of his fit body to run towards the fish. In the meantime, a local man who worked at the kayak rentals was running towards the fish from the opposite direction. The local man gets to the fish a few seconds before and the British man is obviously relieved. However, the man grabbed the fish and quickly ran away. The British man opened his arms in disbelief and turned to me. “Why did he do that?” he says with a sweet voice. I didn’t know. The truth was that I was kind of shocked as well. When I first saw the fish out of the water I felt bad for it, seeing it ran out of air. The British man repeated the question and shook his head. Suddenly a colleague of the “fish-stealer” was looking at us with a smile on his face. The British guy repeated the question. The man responded with a huge grin on his face, “he was going to make himself a fish sandwich for lunch.”


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Things that happen in a commuter train....

Things that happen in a commuter train....

Rush hour train from New York City to Connecticut. I am lucky enough to find a comfortable seat on a busy ride. Commuters are carrying their briefcases, their coats, hats, umbrellas, laptops and tablets. Lots of noise cancelling headphones.

I decide to write for a while until I get distracted by a fellow passenger. In front of me, three people share a bench, their elbows and knees touching. In the middle, a man probably reaching his 70s is on his phone, what is left of his white hair carefully arranged. It is not that I am curious, but his phone is held high on plain sight, so I read as I always do.

He is on a dating app, don’t ask me which because that is not a domain I am familiar with. Now he has my full attention.

He goes to see his daily matches. A full list of women come up. I find myself judging along: “this one seems trustworthy,” “too much plastic surgery,” “too young for him.”

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