iselle and julio

there’s something in the air. a change. an eeriness. an energy i can feel and sense and taste.

a hurricane is coming. well, two hurricanes are coming. i feel nervous, a little scared. a little worried, sure. but part of me feels like it’ll pass without a worry, in this bubble of paradise and perfection. it’s like the winds i’m feeling and hearing right now, i’ve felt and heard before. but this seems different. because we know what’s coming. we can see it: on radars and weather channels, on news reports from near and far; in the closing of businesses, the empty shelves where bottled water is usually stocked; in the eyes of people, so nervous, so over-prepared. so intensified by the emotions and paranoia of the locals and the media and the tourists. it saturates the island air.

there is so much going on, in all the people on the island where i’ve kept my heart for the best part of this year. i can feel it. vibrating, pulsating, echoing against the walls of fear built around homes of weatherboard and plaster. on the coast, waiting for the storm. waiting for the rain. waiting for the wind and floods and chaos. waiting for the damage and the fallout and the disaster and the worst.

well what pointless waiting that will be.

weather the storm. it’s wild and wickedly yelling all its secrets in spurts of showers, sun and empty sky. for now.

we wait.

moments

it’s dusk and people start to leave the beach. they scatter off in twos and threes and families, they retreat.

the sun has set, the show is over. but this is when the magic happens! this is the in betweenness. before the moon and stars. this is a moment just for you and me and us! just stay. after it all seems done, stay. nothing’s changed and no one knows better so stay.

while the air is light and the clouds glow off-white, the sand still feels warm, you’re all i need til dawn.

stay, you know it too.

my beloved

the people here, they get me. they get what i’m about and so they get all of me. the conversations were what i missed most when i left. and they’re what i’m most grateful for, being back.

it has been a while now since i started realising the force of these islands. realising where we all stand in the greater, grander, more powerful way of life. realising how we create a collective energy and feed the vibrations of all that surrounds us. in the fibres of the leaves on the trees so old or young. in the petals of the flowers that hang from branches, that rest behind ears. in the simple creation and dissipation of a single raindrop and the rain and storms from rainclouds and storm clouds in a sky so wide.

we are the everything we find in the spectrum of a rainbow. we’re all the colours, all the brightness. we’re all the stopping and staring, the awe and the wonder. and it’s here that my energy finds your energy and you don’t ebb to my flow but we swim up the rivers of our lives as one, single, pulsating devotion to all that is beautiful, for all that exists with or without us here.

because life goes on. but life on these islands works like magic. it ticks with the hands of a watch built in history, mythology and indescribable happenstance that only lives alongside hearts wide open and souls ready to be filled to the brim with the all of it.

this island, you all, get the all of me, like maybe no one has ever known. so go, find me in the valleys, find me on the ridges. find me in the ocean and on beaches. find me where you need me and know that i’ll appear, in glistening sunsets and never-ending horizons that seem so close as we watch them fall away with the push and pull of the sun. know i’ll be here, for you with you in you.

dear friend

i’ve been up for hours.

i was up before the sun. before the roosters screeched hello. before the neighbour’s hungry baby and before the chirping birds in trees above, in trees below. i was up and it was dark as i rode my bike. the street lights turned off, one by one, above my head. my phone was a flashlight, a yellow raincoat kept me dry.

i met her in the darkness at the coffee shop down the road
(you’d love her, you know).
we drove.
and light took over night and turned the dawn to day.

we stopped.
she ran across the street and picked a bag full of plumerias – her face deep in her task, her smile wide as she raced back to the car. excited and alive.

we reached the beach, its water washed with the sky’s delightful pastel pinks and blues of perfect morning hues.

and then we saw them swimming. off the coast, a pod! so many! babies and mothers and fathers and brothers. families of dolphins jumping and playing.

we swam to join the fun.
we swam.
and swam
and swam.

we dove, we chased, we played with them, deep in the blue and through the haze of that underwater world.

it’s sunset and we’re all we have. i’ll know it better soon.