From the lost island

I believe that if I had a scale on my island, it would tell me that I have lost weight again this Christmas season, in spite of the fact that Gypsy Queen brought goodies with her. Nothing like a little seasonal depression to make one lose interest in food. It's the rainy season, and besides, Christmas with no family does tend to make one feel a bit lonely, and who wants to go fishing in a downpour?

Balance

I do not understand a world which makes such a fuss over fleeting things. We are spiritual as well as physical beings but we have forgotten the spiritual. That emptiness, that void inside us, it cannot be filled with physical things.

On one hand, I am a physical being. I take pleasure in simple things, coffee that tastes just right, raindrops on my nose, the sound of waves crashing on the beach, the feel of sand between my toes.

On the other hand I am a spiritual being. I need spirit to spirit contact. Long talks with close friends, philosophy, a song whose lyrics mean something, a poem, a conversation with God.

There is balance to be had. A life filled with carnal pleasure alone is a very lonely, empty life indeed. On the other hand, a life empty of carnal pleasure is a very sad, boring life. One cannot replace the other.

In the same way, a mariage based on only one or the other of these two poles is an incomplete mariage.

I wonder sometimes, just how does prayer work? How can you ask God for the conversion of another person when God leaves us all free? If prayer is so strong, how can God give us our freedom? Or is praying for someone actually kind of like your soul appealing to the soul of the other person. Is it in a way, a silent calling of one soul to another? Does the other soul hear even when the person does not?

A new year...

It has been three years now since that boating accident that took the life of my husband and stuck me on this island. I still miss him, in spite of enjoying the solitude. One does not care for a person and forget them so easily. It was on New Years Day three years ago that I ended up here, the result of a carribean holiday gone wrong.

It is funny how a person can be lonely, yet not alone and then turn around and be alone but not lonely. Perhaps it is because in my solitude I feel the presence of God even more and I am never alone. When life is reduced to the basics, gathering food, making shelter, getting fire, it puts life into perspective. Everyting else is superfluous.

I have become more effective in gather food in the past years and now I have time to dedicate to such things as weaving. I have tried weaving different grasses, and I have gotten so good that I have invented different patterns of weaving. The floor of my hut is full of grass mats. It is art, it is creative, but most of all it is useful.

I sing all the time out here, because there is noone to hear me but the monkeys. I sing to hear my own voice, any voice, a human voice. I sing to praise God for the beauty of this creation that I can no longer ignore.

Yes, some persons do stop by from time to time, and I am mostly glad to see them, but I am more often alone than not.