The Island//.irl

Water lapping blue cobalt waves either side of the boat, engine churning white behind, island growing closer and closer.

Holy Island.

Should be travelling with monks and nuns and acolytes, be sharing this boat with the calm faced deep eyed follwers of a secret ancient religion not a cult not quite not sharing with tourists grannies wearing beige like all people do past a certain age and here we sit sailing towards the island

the island

the island

the island is a mountain where we’re greeted by soft speaking residential volunteer in earthy colours weather beaten no weather caressed face foreign accent can’t remember her name telling us the history with christians with druids with buddhists and it’s all the same really in the grand scheme of things and people of all creeds or none are welcome as long as they respect the customs and the residents of the island

the island

the island

the island has a path running around the west side from north to south about two kilometres and nothing on the east side that is for the wildlife the brown sheep the eriskay ponies please be careful near them you can never tell the temperament of an animal we walk under the burning sun following the path north to south between ferns ankle high waist high head high passing rocks with buddhist pictures on them maybe pictures of Bodhisatvas or however you spell it whatever you call them the believers the followers of buddhist values bright murals on the rocks and you wonder we wonder I wonder if in a hundred no a thousand years people will abndon this island and in a thousand years more new people will rediscover the island and the paintings and attribute them to an ancient religion with strange iconography and who knows where religion will be at that point or whether it will be there at all but for not it is now and the sun and the heat and the soles of your feet of my and the scrambling up rocks and jumping puddles and staring out across the water and thinking how perfect. How tranquil. How big, how blue, how beautiful it would be to stay here. It would be good for the soul, this place. This life on the island

the island

the island

the island is a place to get away from everything¬† to escape and work the land and get away from the materialistic consumerism of the rest of the world and find some inner peace but you have to have the money have to havr the five hundred pounds spare to spend five nights on the island not counting travel not counting how expensive it is to take a week off work these are the things that would be considered a waste of money and can only the rich have peace of mind only the wealthy can have inner calm and for us for you for me it is impossible we cannot afford to align our chakras balance our chis we have to find inner peace between minimum wage twelve hour shifts between broken families and cheap rented rooms between the cracks in the pavement and drags on a cigarette we don’t belong on the island.

The island.

The island.


One thought on “The Island//.irl

  1. So young, so cynical!
    From my own experience it is harder to deal with plenty than it is to deal with little. After being in third world countries I wrestle with abundance and poverty, it used to trouble me but now I meditate on these words and it helps.
    “”I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want”
    Keep up the writing but don’t forget to edit it.
    Blessings Bridget


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