Island time is real, or maybe I should call it island timing. And I am not just talking about how things move slowly down here- cars, turtles, mail, power lines, contractors, servers, bank tellers, notaries... Sure, it can be quite hot and one way to respond to such heat is to slow down. But what I am referring to is more of a Stateside mentality vs. island mentality. For instance, public works projects in the USVI will use two to three men and a back-ho to fix a collapsing retaining wall instead of a crew of 20+ and multiple types of equipment on the mainland. In both cases, the job gets done and probably in the same amount of time.
My second example of island timing comes from this past weekend when the biggest store on island, think Costco, was closed. It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Upon walking up to the sliding doors with mask on, list and shopping bags in hand, all you could find was a 8.5x11" piece of white computer paper with the words "Inventory Day" typed in black. All doors locked. No people to be found. No turkeys to be purchased. Forgive me for wondering, but isn't there some sort of Black Sunday for grocery stores in the land of holiday marketing?
Now, there are many responses to what in that instant felt like insanity. (And maybe I am being harsh on island time for even using the word "insanity.") But let me remind you, there are not a ton of options on this island. And the options will be smaller stores, with smaller inventories and higher prices. (Have I ever told you how much a half gallon of organic milk costs? $7.99, and that's at the Costco version on island.) So, moving on, one might think that this kind of ill-advised closure (for shoppers and money-makers alike) might make a recovering type-A personality meet her edge. Instead, it makes me laugh. It makes Dave laugh. I mean, what else can we do? And who is going to tell Cost-U-Less that it's losing big time? (Not the white girl from Connecticut who can't buy her shallots and gravy mix.) You have to admit, there is something plain awesome about the fact that the largest store on island doesn't give a hoot, Black Sunday be damned!
St. Sunshine apparently has a lot to learn from island time/timing, laughter included. You've read about her struggles with patience, letting go, finding new pursuits, going with the flow and seeing where the current takes her. And for today, she finds herself with her own kind of "Inventory Day." She is reminded that there will always be lists, priorities, multi-tasking and safe-keepings. And then there will be days when these methods of control turn and run every-which-way out of reach, leaving her standing there with a sensation of groundlessness and frustration. These days are her greatest teachers. Days to say "Fuck it." Days to get creative with what she has. Days to eat frozen pizza and taquitos for dinner. Days to call a friend to vent and laugh about her great plans and dashed hopes. Days to wonder what "improvement" means in her life. Days to paint instead of cook. Days to start a book. Days to give herself permission to let it all come apart. Days to let the dogs sit on the couch with her. Days to stop doing and start being.
When she lived in Connecticut, she was much better at filling time, getting shit done, knowing what to do when plan b, c or d didn't work out, making lists, keeping busy. Now, there are days when she worries that there is not enough momentum to keep her going. On these days she has to remind herself that she's working at a different pace, in a different place, and it's all okay. She is not the sum of her efforts or failings, she's enough as she is. And to help get her there she starts a list of gratitudes in the stillness and writes them on her heart. Her blessings counted, her inventory full.
Wishing you and yours a Thanksgiving filled with blessings.
With so much gratitude,
St. Sunshine
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