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.