Island Farewell

My last morning to wake on pohnpei. . .  The sky was ambiguous, with dark clouds to the south east but dazzling bright colors to the north east.  So many thoughts and memories.

Time is perspective.
Last July, looking forward, promised -- and delivered -- the exclamation point.

Now May, looking back,  provides gladdened hearts overflowing with melancholy thrown in as an accent.
A year, so short a time . . .

Memories are flashes and splashes of color.  Sunrises and sunsets of countless hues. . .

Sunrises in particular -- perhaps due to the quiet, the hint of solitude, the still, slumbering inhabitants unaware . . .



 I am sure there are other places with just as spectacular  performances each morning and evening,

but this year, this islamd has been singularly supreme for me.









 Colors!  The skies provided endless displays, reflected on the land and the water.  Lushness abounds in all whelms. 



So many shapes.
And food. . .
I continue to marvel at the abundance -- not merely coconuts and bananas -- breadfruit, papaya, sour sop, guava, avocado, lime, ginger. . .







There is nothing sterile here,
nothing isolated, nothing abandoned, nothing sequestered.
Life teems!  Everything is prolific.










Donne got it wrong:  "No man is an island . . . a piece of the continent. . ."
Ironically,  it is only on the continents that one can indulge in isolation and the illusion of separateness. 











And that brings me to people.















Perhaps the plants have infused the inhabitants with understanding of simple truths.  Community!  Strength!  Love!  Concern!











So many with open hearts, welcoming us! 







 I will always feel miserly in comparison. . .



I have learned so much!   Received so much!  And always with smiles, joy, and laughter!
There are so many to whom I owe thanks!



No commentary, no reminiscing, would be complete without a mention of  daily occurrences, encounters, and memories.

What morning  could dawn, alone, unannounced, a surprise?

  What week could pass without the bountiful color of the ocean and reef?

What night could dance quietly through our dreams?

 

 





What month could pass without the community gathering for the fun run? . . .










And what fun run would be complete without the enthusiasm of our students?










And the rains. . .








What location would spontaneously contribute a country line-dance performance by strangers on a small street on a sleepy, early afternoon?











How better to enjoy cultural activities than by knowing some of the performers!



























What month could be complete without a celebration?

The landscape does have impact,
but the presence of friends and companions crystallizes our memories. . .











those faces, the spirit, the inner warmth. . .












Volunteers, host families, friends,

associates at work, companions at play,

all have enriched my year and my life.

The colors of the islands, the feel of the wind, the rush of waves: the textures may fade with time,

but we cultivate the friendships . . .

long after our farewell hugs have emptied our arms, . . .
after salted droplets have dried on cheeks,  . . .

                                    Kalahngan!
                         Kalahngan!
            Kalahngan!

I know my next year in Colombia will be flavored by this special island. . .I am forever changed by this incredible island year with it's many faces, it's changing moods and colors,  it's love of life, and it's warm acceptance of all who come.  So many leave with me!  And my heart is not crowded. . . Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Curvature Existence

The last records and last papers are being dispatched, the last loose ends tied, the shuffling of  i-should-keep-these items but i-don’t-remember-why are drowning the desk.  Not a lot of year-end business to complete.

 Reflections are big for such times of transition.  For this particular year, they are significant, at least for me, and since the universe has no meaning without my censored viewing ports. . .

 

Roads here curve, -- not just an occasional twist – all of them.  This may seem an obvious requirement of an island community, but, until living here, I rarely considered the impact of curvature.  

Those first weeks of arriving, the layout was disorienting.  The first clues occurred when I went out walking, trying to discern cardinal directions, and attempting to find my way home or to a previously visited landmark. How often did I take a turn, thinking to come closer to one destination, only to realize I had overshot my goal or completely circumvented it.

  

The curve does more than thrown off my sense of orientation.  Curves disrupt the western approach of cause / effect, of problem / solution, of goal / accomplishment.  In some ways, curves encompass many of the philosophical differences of island approaches to life -- much like the leaves and fronds interrupt the expanses.  Even the trees curve and bend and twist,

 

 

 

Some of the differences are obvious.  Lines begin; they end.  Curves return without marking either a beginning or an end.  How can one gauge accomplishment, success? Are such terms a manifestation of linear thought?

 

Some differences are more subtle but have incredible impact. Direct approaches are not well received here.  ‘Direct’ rarely acknowledges peripheral support and assistance.  ‘Direct’ often bulldozes passed bends, dips, chuck holes, and minor dwellings.  ‘Direct’ bolsters the linear, analytical, and evidential.   

Big pictures bloom in brilliant solitude with eye-catching lighting, unencumbered by basil shoots, suckers, mycotrophs, or the impact of inter- and intra-species competition and mutualism.  

Here, such isolated displays result from controlled depth-of-feild manipulation or artistic cropping, beautiful but artificial.

 

 Once my own disequilibrium subsided, both navigationally and psychologically, I became enamored by the lushness of this alternative model.   Curved and direct both function.  Both provide viable models of existence.   

As I prepare to leave this island, I appreciate the intricate patterns and am saddened by my cursory understanding of those that I have glimpsed.  There are so many mutual and competing relationships.  It is no surprise that these find viable resources in our human outlook.  Are we not a product of our environment?

I wonder what my future discoveries might be of another existence, given this alternative view. . .