Slowing Down

December 18, 1930 ~ At sea
A good day to rest, nothing but sea. Played shuffleboard for two hours without either side running up a decent score. Capt. D. was called away so Percy took his place but the score was still poor. Visited the bridge with the Capt. In the chart room we saw the instrument recording the course of the ship showing every deviation to port or starboard by means of a wavy line. There was also a depth finder which does away with heaving the load over the side. The ship was rolling as usual, so was glad to leave the bridge.


In the afternoon thought it a good idea to do some reading. Percy had pulled my deck chair behind lifeboat three, alongside the rail. It was so nice to just lie back and watch the sea and sky that I just couldn’t read.


April 26, 2017 ~ Captain Cook, HI
After a long morning of tending to the crops and farm, I welcome a quick thirty minute window to exhale and relax before finishing out the day’s work. Not having wifi in our cabin on the Big Island is a blessing, it’s broken me of a digital habit and clutch. I’ve turned to books for entertainment, but more often than not, I can’t sit back and enjoy until the sun goes down. Words on a page don’t hold my attention when the scenery is as beautiful as it is. I’ve learned to just sit and be present, admiring the view, a hard task in today’s frenetic world.


My mind is unusually calm when staring out at the clouds and peekaboo sea from my second-floor patio. I don’t have useless thoughts and worries churning in my head. I’ve slowed down. I notice the air is filled with the aroma of flowers and citrus. I savor the sweet and slightly acidic flavor of my mid-morning pick-me-up, whether it’s a piece of homemade papaya-orange-lime fruit leather or a cup of our farm grown coffee, instead of mindlessly funneling sustenance into my gullet. I close my eyes and listen to the meditative sound of the wind or far off waves. The coqui frogs are singing, joined by birds and our neighbor’s cows. The fronds on the palm shimmer and shake in the breeze. I hear a thump and visualize the avocado falling off the tree. My lizard friend scurries across the deck railing. Gosh, isn’t he beautiful?


I allow the sun to fall onto my skin, warming me again after the sweat and breeze have cooled me off. I’ve grown fond of the rooster’s squawk, it makes me feel at home. Ironic since my “home” had no animals to speak of. I am in their company and am happy with that. I don’t feel a constant need to busy myself with things and I certainly don’t feel as if I’m wasting time either. Hawaii is a practice in meditation and gratitude, for which I am thankful. It’s nice to just be.