Life in Micronesia is mellow, unstressed, relaxed. I’ve written and said this often but I have difficulty explaining why.
I am unlikely to build a small shelter of tin and scrape wood, so it’s not the ease of having a home.
Though I enjoy bananas and coconuts, both of which are plentiful, breadfruit, taro, and yams holds no great enticement, so the readily available foods might leave my table somewhat bare. The weather is warm and rain is a frequent companion which make hammocks a bit like flag ceremonies, but raised and lowered with the clouds rather than with the sun.
Quiet moments are elusive between the shouts of children, the crowing of roosters, the squeals of pigs, and the off-key choruses of dogs.
I notice the faces of children, so open and filled with warmth. But like children everywhere, Micronesian children are happy to be noticed, to win attention, to have pictures taken.
Surely this does not define a special quality separate from the rest of the world.
I notice how resourceful the children are. . . a trait practiced by their parents. The spare-parts auto becomes a ‘taxi’.
A flip flop is also a paddle for a ball game.
A flat ball can still be a soccer substitute.
A pile of fresh cut branches can serve as a soft landing for superhero “cliff jumping.”
Everyone on the island seems to enjoy fun.
Volley ball can be a street game or a tournament in a neighbor’s yard.
Young and old can play.
And the young are good at practicing to be ready for the next opportunity to impress the adults with their skills.
I notice the sunrises and the sunsets more frequently here.
Perhaps the special quality I have been discovering is an innate joy, a welcoming acceptance of life, a quiet appreciation of the present, the “Now.”
No comments:
Post a Comment