I guess I am acclimating to Caribbean living. I now wear a sweater on breezy evenings and may only go half way into the water (not get my hair wet) when the sun is lower in the sky and behind the trees. Even the birdsong, crickets and waves have become the familiar background hum to my roving typing spot, be it the outdoor table under the metal roofed canopy or on the deck chairs when the roofline hides the sun and creates a shadow along the north side of the house. But after finding a sanctuary away from the wagging tails, the hungry cat, the half conversations of zoom school, or Dave's pace worthy work calls, the quiet lull was broken with my oldest's daily work out and his blasting playlist . It was Genesis' "No Reply At All" who reached into my writing time- my slim moment of reflection and silent stirring- and created a pang of annoyance along with a smile and spark of curiosity. The trumpets, the rhythmic drumming, the keyboards, Phil's smooth and earnest voice, all mingled with the rustling salt sprayed palm leaves under a dimming cloud spilled sky... a chorus for the senses. My best intentions to weave words, be witty and self-express, suddenly hijacked with the circling realities of what it actually takes to create during COVID in a house filled with creatures and beings I couldn't love any more if I tried, but make it difficult when seeking solitude.
The efforting to make and shape something that I can offer out to the world beyond myself, on a regular basis, is my best attempt at a self created "job". My paints and canvases sit mostly untouched in a storage room, while work I have created over the years is hung around the house and continues to bring joy and esteem to my state of frustrated blank slated-ness. I try to accept this fallow time, the distilled reality that my brush isn't calling to me to create from my new surroundings and gorgeous tropical palette. Witnessing my worry I see two sides to the coin. One, if I don't start painting again soon, I may lose my abstract talents and my lack of drive will seep into the sandy earth, start to root itself in stubborn thinking and I will forever remain uninspired and uninteresting. Two, if I can be kind with myself and meet my consternation with confidence and compassion, I can see this period through to wherever it takes me. Maybe I can assure myself that creative energy is coming through in other ways like trying new recipes, writing, exploring a new place and making new friendships. The fact that I love to paint hasn't changed and my not replying (to a call that I am not presently feeling) is okay. It will come.
But, I digress... before I got sidetracked into ego mind, I was describing my state of acclimatization. Between chin sweat (I have never perspired from my chin before) and losing lots of hair, though I am lucky that I have a lot to spare, I know that my body is figuring out how to manage 85 degrees (and lots of humidity) with as much ease as possible. It is shedding the grit that I needed as New Englander and letting go of the brittleness I felt when I saw my breath during 7am December dogwalks. My internal sleep clock loves it here- to bed early after stargazing and moon sitting, and then up with the sun (dreamy)! And as my 45 year old body surrenders to these elements, I am ever-present to the subtle nuances of this island's environment -day drizzles, cold fronts from the mainland that bring big waves, higher elevations means more dampness, the south side's desert like heat and the cacti to prove it. It is a feast of discovery as I behold these facets of the tropics- and it’s actually fun to learn from my mistakes (keep an umbrella in the Jeep for afternoon downpours).
And as my body adjusts, my mind is adapting as well. I continue to take mental notes on how to cross traffic when coming out of parking lots (look right!) and I try to remember unfamiliar details like that the mail center closes at 5pm AND fines you if you don't pick up packages within 4 days. Being new here, I meet the streets of St. Thomas with curiosity rather than a firm agenda. When I go grocery shopping my list is expansive and flexible, but if my intention is to get butter, I may have to go to a few grocery stores. (Yes, I did say “butter” not tofu or ricotta.) But I can find other cool things as I walk the isles- all sorts of hot sauces, star fruit, and tequila are all to be found at the local Plaza Extra! Going food shopping with a list or trying to find a notary (the local locksmith is one, we found out), is kind of like going to the Rowayton Post Office, or maybe any post office. You arrive to ship a box and there would be Kathy, overwhelmed and behind the times, doing her best to keep up with modern devices like credit card machines and digital scales. You simply have to decide if you have enough patience and compassion on the day you decide to do errands. Things aren’t necessarily overwhelming for folks down here, but having high expectations for things being "just so" simply doesn’t fly. Island time and the acceptance of it makes for a much ease-ier day. I recommend not taking business hours signs literally, such as "Dump Hours 7am-6pm." That way you won’t be disappointed when you show up at the dump at 4:45pm and the place is already shut down for the night. And definitely check the ferry schedules twice, because as we found out this weekend, the schedule you find online is different than the one posted in the ferry terminal, maybe call first?
OK- I’ve covered body and mind. Now, the fun part. My spirit loves it here! I am constantly greeted by hummingbirds who drink from our sugar water feeders. Their joyful presence and their intense agility (they are the only birds that can fly backwards!) astonish me. And I have a new love affair with pelicans. Their prehistoric silhouettes speak stories of grace and grit as they plunge into Magan’s Bay or coast along the cliffsides, proving that stillness in flight is possible. The volunteer Papaya plants on sidewalks… aloe looking plants growing out of tall concrete walls… Charlotte Amalie’s (the downtown) almost abandoned candy colored buildings… friendly honkers who thank you for letting them turn into your lane… 82 degree salt water.... There are just so many layers to uncover and I haven’t even been here a season. And my soul is alive with the new friendships forming. Just this morning, I was listening to an Oprah/Chopra meditation, and in Oprah’s introduction she spoke of how making friends helps one recalibrate herself, a space of balance and self-awareness that mixes both the sustained familiarity of older friendships with the spontaneity and energy of new ones. Abundance, anyone?
Truth be told- I am in a state of awe and awareness. This whole body/mind/spirit trifecta is gradually aligning and I am witnessing the blessings that surround me. Soft heart and strong back is my practice. If I get too far ahead of myself and start anticipating a next move (yes, our landlady said thinks she will be getting an offer on the house any day) I can’t enjoy the now. So, I will take today- do my best to feel its magic and participate with whatever stirrings or unsettledness comes along and be like the hummingbird- enjoy the sweetness of life, lift up negativity wherever it creeps in and express love in daily endeavors / resilient and adaptable while remaining playful and optimistic (thank you spiritanimal.info for the definition.)
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