The Island

You can see it in the feet. The tan lines, the little cuts, the dirt under the toenails, the weathered soles. “Island feet.” Shoes are optional. Flip flops are the norm. Barefoot works often as well. Feet on dirt, feet on grass, feet on sand, feet in saltwater, feet on the warm deck wood. All feelings we lose in contemporary society as adults. Unrestrained feet. It’s strangely freeing. I am reminded of this every time I go to the island to spend some extended time. The roads are all dirt. There are no cars, just golf carts, fat-tired bikes, and legs for transportation.

Tee shirts are the norm. The more eclectic the better. Collared sport shirts are considered dress-up. Clothing decisions are simple. Getting dressed takes a minute or so. Shorts, shirt, flip flops, go.

Most weekends, just put on the bathing suit and water gear in the morning. No need then to change. People understand. No one really cares or judges by clothing choice anyway. It’s the island.

Islands have their own rhythm. Wind, sun, rain, tides, sunrise, sunset, fish movements, all are variables that impact the rhythm. Weather has a lot to do with it. The more remote, the more impactful these realities of nature. Sun up, sun down. What’s the wind speed? Is it a beach day or bay day?

The island I am referring to doesn’t have a bridge, so it takes work to get there. It’s only accessible by boat. When I say boat, I mean a private boat service, or your own boat, not a public ferry. So if you’re there, you’re there for a reason. For an island, the more remote, the harder to get to, the less infrastructure, the more intentional a person’s presence becomes. This creates a culture; a certain common thread. People there for a reason. Certain mindsets.

Friends get together on “island time.” Island time means “go ahead and drop in,” or “come on over.” Island time means “sometime around 4:30,” but it’s not rigid. Island time is fluid. It’s less restrictive.

“Friendly” is a big value on an island. If you don’t need someone now, you’ll need them at some point for a tool, a boat ride, flour, an extra set of hands, and for a hundred other things. Mutual dependence is normal. Community creates a much better experience.

Tired at night is really tired. Island tired. Days are long, nights are dark, fatigue settles in quickly. Physical fatigue, not just mental and emotional. The fatigue of being out in the elements, using the body heavily. The fatigue I remember as a kid in the summertime after running all day from early to late.

It’s an island. The feet know it. The body feels it. It’s simpler. It’s slower. It’s freeing. It’s life giving. Once experienced, it’s tough to live without it.

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