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.

Endless highways and the like

Juana is back... after a few storms and such. I have managed to power up once again and the wind is just right out here in the Bermuda triangle. (Sometimes I think my own mind is a Bermuda Triangle.)

Ahhh, Bon Jovi, one of my favourites. Yes, I could go down that endless highway, and gladly too.

Gollum has been acting up again, I try to explain why I feel the way I do about things, but his eyes cloud over and I know he is tuning me out. "My precious" he mutters and no longer hears me. Thankfully I do not have to put up with him too much, as he does not come to visit too often.

The Gypsy Queen was here around Christmas time and although we do not always agree on everything, it is always nice to have someone around who understands you, in spite of your differences.

A new person has come to visit me on my island, a certain Mr. Tumnus. A very likable fellow, in spite of his having hooves and horns. I invited him for tea, forgot that I didn't have tea leaves, but he had happened to bring some for his own tea, so that worked out alright, although I was a bit embarrassed over the whole thing.

If there is one thing that I have learned in recent months, about relationships, (funny how much one can learn on a desert island about relationships), it is that if you want to marry someone (which I don't, been there done that - but for those of you that do...) you might want to make sure that you have fun with the person first.

When I say fun, I don't mean s/he cracks a joke, you laugh. It's not enough to think that a person is funny. Joking helps, but it is far from being everything.

You want to share similar interests. A LOT of similar interests, one or two is not enough. You want to be able to talk about just about anything, and still get along. You want to be able to have inside jokes and share the same weird sense of humour. You know this is happening when you speak the same language as the people around you but noone has a clue what you are saying except yourselves. You want to be best friends. So I say, lay off the sex for awhile and find yourselves a best friend first, one, of course that you at least find attractive, but take it slow, because marriage lasts a looooooong time.

Oh, and by the way, your best friend should also share your faith if you have any, or lack of it if you are an atheist. Unless you really want to live with a certain void every day, knowing that only half of who you are is in fact in that marriage and the other half has been rejected, or is being ignored. Just ask Elizabeth Leseur.

Gypsy Queen and I were discussing this quite a bit recently, as she has had to deal with some men in her life.

El Alejandro came by the other day to see how I was doing. He is always very refreshing. Ahh to be young and uncynical again. Wait a minute! I WAS cynical when I was young. I think I may have actually mellowed out a bit! But still, it is nice to see the enthousiasm of the young. We played a bit of soccer before he left, off to conquer foreign lands again.

Aquaman swam by again, it's hard being a superhero. One doesn't always make ends meet on a superhero's salary.

Moving up

It's not that the satellite phone hasn't been up and running, the real reason why I haven't posted here in awhile is that basically things have been going well, and nothing extraordinary has happened. It's like they say, no news is good news. Or like Tolstoy said about all happy families being the same and unhappy families having the ineresting stories... or something like that.

Unless you count that I have moved my hut halfway up the volcano. I found a level spot on higher ground that would accomodate a hut and moved there instead. The monkeys don't hang around there so much and there is a waterfall nearby. It is just above the abandonned monastery.

I still come to the beach. I have to fish for food sometimes. But the wind doesn't blow so hard in the new hut, and the rain doesn't get in like before.

Populus, qui ambulabat in tenebris, vidit lucem magnam

Christmas is coming. I am waiting for it. Advent is a time of waiting, of hoping, of dreaming, like the people of Israel, long before the promised Messiah came. I too, walk in darkness, I dream, I imagine things different from what they are, I even dare to hope a little. Christmas is a time for rejoicing, a time of fulfillment. Christmas is light banishing the darkness, happiness banishing sorrow, a promise kept. I wait patiently for Christmas to come on my island.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light,Upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone. Isaiah 9:1

Nightmare

I dreamt I was back on the boat last night, as it was starting to sink. My husband was helping me into the rowboat, when he slipped and fell overboard. I dove in to try to find him, but it was dark and windy and raining, and I kept swimming around in circles and swimming around in circles, calling his name...

My husband and I had rented a sailboat so we could go sailing for a month in the gulf of Mexico, visit some of the small uninhabited islands (my dream) and go fishing (his dream). It was supposed to be a second honeymoon, (although technically, we never really went on a first honeymoon) but also it was supposed to be a fun adventure, rest and relaxation after the long illness and death of our daughter. It was supposed to bring us together, not separate us.

My husband was trying to get the rowboat untied when he fell overboard. In the dark and cold, with adrenaline rushing through him, he fumbled at the knots and instead of coming esily untied, they became hopelessly knotted. I had gone to get a knife to cut them, while he stayed to work at the knots. He leaned too far over and lost his grip on the slippery edge of the boat...

I slashed the ropes and dove in after him, but I never found him. He could not swim very well, and in those conditions it would have been even harder.

It has been two years now. I have been on this island, mostly alone, for two whole years. I have had lots of time to think. I have had lots of time to pray. I have had lots of time to be alone. I think I would not go back now. I have come to appreciate solitude.

Island Tales

Some days I think I'd like to go back to civilization. And then suddenly, I am reminded of the brainless chittering that goes on in our consumerist society. Instead of going for what lasts, society prefers disposable. Disposable diapers, disposable "swiffers", disposable relationships, disposable sex.

And then, suddenly I prefer the quiet of my island. I have no desire to even have a romantic relationship. I think I no longer believe in love. Or at least, I think very few men out there prefer the non-disposable kind of love. I am dis-enchanted. I prefer to be single than to even try having some kind of relationship. I believe I am better off alone.

I had a husband once. He didn't make it to the island, he couldn't swim very well. He's gone on to a better place. I hope. Yes, I had a husband once. There is a time for everything, and for everything a place. I do not believe I am called to go back to that. I do not desire to sacrifice myself for someone who misunderstands me. I think few men would understand me now.

I had a child once. That I miss. There is nothing like holding your baby for the first time. There is nothing like teaching your child to pray, holding your child when he is tired, sick or hurt. There is nothing like looking apon the angelic face of your sleeping child.

But not even for the gift of holding a child again will I give up myself.