Life on the pebble

Angry African and Coffeedude would probably be appalled but I've not had a cup of coffee since Saturday, my last was at the airport while waiting for my flight. Honestly, it is the one thing that I miss here on the pebble. You can't exactly run down to the corner Rituals or whatever to pick up a cup of joe. You can get coffee at the ice cream shop but since everything on this island is geared towards the moneyed, the price for a tiny cup is more than good sense dictates you pay.

Once you're not part of the 'set', there is not much to do on this island, especially since I am without transport, other than my two feet, the dreaded bike and rides from various people. I don't mind, it means that I don't feel the need to rush around doing things or seeing things or whatever it is that 'they' say you must do on a vacation. Mostly I'm content to putter around, stroll down to the beach or ride past Tommy's house to the curve of the hill, then decide whether I want an undignified huff and puff to get past it and down the other side to the slightly less hilly stretch. I don't go far on the bike, I'm a little afraid of it with all the gears and the fact that my feet barely touch the ground when I get on.

Having all this time on my hands for a change also means lots of time to think. About the choices I've made, the things I don't do or want to do. Yesterday, contorting myself into various yoga poses on the grassy verge on Macaroni Beach, the cool sea breeze ruffling my hair, the evening soft to the touch, it's been five years since I did any serious yoga. My body groaned through the once familiar asanas. It's disheartening, I've done yoga off and on since I was fifteen, every time you stop you have to start all over, from the beginning. The older you get, the harder it gets because your body loses tone and flexibility.

I'm reminded about how much of myself I've given up and the resolution to make changes every time I snatch one of these breaks. This time it's closer to reality than ever, if I do not make some changes my body is going to pay dearly but so is my mind. You see, like not doing yoga if you don't work at relationships you stop having them. It's easy to lock yourself away under the guise of liking to be alone or not wanting the bother and hassle of dealing with people. I deal with people every day, I don't have a problem with my own company or being alone in my house. But that's not living, because you see,if all you are doing is self preservation then where is the room for all the other things? I look at my life and think that it's become rather empty. Where are all the things that I was so passionate about, the ideas, the passion, the interests that made me interesting to me and conversely, to other people.These are not material things, I'm not into that, they are the essence of what makes us real. Here I've found a semblance of that, I want to hang on to it lest it be subsumed into the grind of existing.

In the last few days I've once again reveled in being outdoors, feeling the sun on my face, burning the back of my neck, tanning my legs so dark. The relentless lap of the sea against my skin. No, I don't want watersports, I want to float on the waves in Yemanja's womb. My fellow blogger Angry African often writes about his family, the times he cooks with his girls, or other things, there are days when I envy him that. To have someone to share things with, sure there are good friends but sometimes, you need someone and that's the other thing that's missing. While it's always great to be around my brother, he has a life, one I only drop in on briefly while I'm here. We're still very close but he's busy and I hardly see him. Ah well, maybe a trek down to the beach now....

Life.