Starting from Scratch

The past few days have been hard, yet good honest work.  I never imagined my life to be like this or to enjoy it as much as I have.

After I first met Isaiah, I told Styles (that runs the campsite grounds) that I had no money and had been staying in their camp illegally. This was not easy for me. I prefer to be reticent and cagey. Also, Styles has never been very friendly towards me for some reason. He didn’t make this task any easier. He asked where I was staying now, which did not go over well. The conversation ended quickly with I had a week to come up with the money.  He was like a loan shark.

Mervin returned and I told him the entire story, too. Though his response was positive, this was not easy for me to tell, either. I am not sure why, except that it was so traumatic for me. He thought it was pretty cool about the dolphins and recalls the other dolphin-rescue story in Brewer’s Bay. He said that he would go around the bay (over the next week) to look for my boat. He did not say one way or another about Isaiah.

Isaiah put me to work right away. It was probably the size of a large garden, but by the amount of work I did, it felt like a farm. He had me pull all the weeds, which was no easy task. I also had to gather rocks that created rows of sugar cane on his hill. I liked being amongst plants and life that nourishes us. I also have a sweet tooth!

What I liked most was starting over from scratch!  After the peril of my boating accident was left behind me and I had way to sustain myself, I found profound joy in having no belongings! I know I wanted to live off the land, but I never planned to have no possessions at all. It wasn’t what I planned, but what freedom! The possibilities appeared endless. What will I acquire first? What is the most important item I want? The last time I was starting from scratch was when I was an infant and now I am doing it with the choice of an adult. It was profound and thought provoking.

I thought intensely on the subject while I worked. The work felt good. I liked getting my hands dirty, covered in earth. How long had it been since my hands were in the mud like this? It was a big week for me! It was like being reborn after my near death experience.

All I Own is a Sarong and Bathing Suit

I am so stubborn. I would rather be a bit hungry than ask for help.  When I am around other people at the campsite, I pretend everything is ok. I don’t let on that I do not have but this one swimsuit and sarong.  It is not uncommon for people at this campsite to wear the same bathing suit for days on end and I can tie my sarong in several different ways. I never offer my story and can tend to be guarded.

While deep in within the valley of the bay gathering coconuts today, I met another member of the Rymer family. He is ostracized from the family due to being the “pot grower” and serving time in jail. “I was a subject of the Queen”, he said. He is a Rastafarian and grows “ganja” for his spiritual sacrament. He also lives off the land and showed me his home down the gulch deep within the bay. I was immediately taken with his lifestyle.

All of his relatives know he lives on their land, but they leave him alone. Unlike me, he shared his story instantly. He was born with the name Peter, but rejected his “slave” name and is now called Isaiah. His Caribbean patwah (accent) was thick and he pronounced words in the Rasta way. Instead of me, he said I. He showed me his campsite and his farm, where he grew sugar cane, bananas and marijuana.

To me, he was living the life I wanted to live. It was simple and beautiful. He spoke philosophically and about his beliefs. Then he asked me about me and I spilled the whole thing to him, I somehow just had to be honest and open with him. It was a relief.

After I confessed everything, he talked for a long time. It was a cool cocktail of advice and Rastafarian teachings. He said that I shouldn’t stay in a campsite, unless I tell the owners my situation and am honest. He offered me the opportunity to work on his farm and he would in exchange provide me with food and shelter. He told me that we need to help each other because we are I and I. He said, “ I and I is an expression to totalize the concept of oneness, the oneness of two persons”. It wasn’t in my language, but he seemed to say that his spirituality means that he wants to help me for the simple reason that we are actually one.

He also said that the dolphins rescuing me were irie, which meant good vibes. This has happened before to a man whom a shark was attacking while he was spear fishing just outside of Brewer’s Bay. Dolphins are from Jah (God).

It was the first time I had really thought about the dolphins, being too preoccupied with how to survive. I didn’t know what to think, except I know I almost died and without them, I would have perished.

How could I resist his offer? What other plans did I have? Besides, he felt like a teacher, a master and I enjoyed his company. I made my new home with Isaiah

We ate the most delicious meal with food he grew and picked that night. It made me feel high, but not in a marijuana way. I felt the nourishment of the food. Since it grew to ripeness, it was filled with the most energy. I felt very aware and good. I believed at this point, everything was going to be okay.

 

The Day After I was Rescued by Dolphins

I awoke traumatized. I didn’t really know what to do, so I thought something familiar would soothe my nerves. I went to the beach. I put my feet in the water and found that I was a little afraid of the water. I went all the way in, but came right out. I sat on my sarong and thought about what I was going to do. I didn’t want to call Eddie. I didn’t want to tell him that I got myself into such a mess, that I almost died, that all our possessions were gone and I didn’t want to ask him for money. I don’t like asking for help. I am very proud.

It was still early, but I went into the shade under the palm trees. No that knew me would think twice if they saw me here. They would think that one of the other family members had checked me back in. I was safe for a little bit. I took a long nap.

When I was stirring from my nap, I wondered about my boat and what should happen if someone found it. Who knows what condition it would be in, what contents would still be in it, would I be in trouble for being negligent? I decided that the only person I could trust to tell the story to was Mervin. He knew everyone by being raised on the island and he also worked in conservation.  Maybe I could ask him for a bit of cash, so I could survive.

Luck was not on my side (or so I thought) since Mervin was away in Virgin Gorda for a few days, working. I survived by eating coconuts, mangoes and accepted every camper’s BBQ invitation.

What the hell should I do? 

Should I leave the Caribbean and head back to NYC? It sure seems like all the signs are pointing in that direction. Eddie leaves, I get an offer to work if I return and now I’ve lost everything I own.

Should I become a cocktail waitress in Road Town? It’s a lovely town and I could just work and live the simple life here. I could even save up and then return to NYC.

Should I get my savings account in NYC and live at Brewer’s Bay for the rest of the year? The money would just get me by for the year. I could just make it financially. But this option means I have to tell Eddie or one of my close friends how badly I screwed up.

{I don’t think a thought of the dolphins entered my mind once today.}

 

The Day I Was Rescued by Dolphins

The day began relatively ordinary for what became the most extraordinary day of my life. I woke up by myself in a cute hotel in Road Town, which is the main city of Tortola. Eddie left two days ago and in my attempt to not torture myself with memories of him, I hitched a ride yesterday to the populated side of the island for some distraction. I carried all my belongings, checked into a classic Caribbean hotel with a friendly staff and began drinking. Rumor has it that I was doing the limbo and reading everyone’s palms who entered the bar. Good times.

I awoke with a painful hangover and left the hotel to bite the hair of the dog that bit me, so the saying goes. After I had kicked back a few over brunch, I meandered around town. I purchased a few sarongs, bathing suits and some sunscreen. Then I passed by a boat shop. I went inside and found my dream boat that soon became a pipe dream with the price tag of $15,000. I left the store, but my head started to spin (and not from the cocktails I had earlier!)

I inquired with my hotel of where to find a boat within my budget. I figured, I would need money for gas, etc and should spend half of what I had left ($4934) on a boat - $2500. The hotel manager laughed a hearty laugh and repeated my number aloud while he chuckled and giggled. To clarify (I thought), I said, “ this is not for fishing or diving or anything but getting from one boat to another”. He continued to shake his head with snickers. I left, but I was not discouraged. In fact, I was determined.

I felt like lightening had struck me. I was resolute that the reason Eddie left is so that I could live out my “Walden”.  It would be my ticket to living out goal off living off the land on a remote island. I got out my stash of cash and set out to buy a boat.

Road town is a large town  and there is no hitching here as it is filled with tourists . I must say that it is amazing that Brewer’s Bay, Rogues Bay and the entire other side of the island can be remote with the size of Road Town.  This is simply because of the road that leads to the other side of town is so treacherous. I heard that many places where cruise ships dock are like this. Alaska is wilderness, except for where the cruise ships docks.

Soon after I arrived at the marina, I had several options of boats that were even less than my budget. Yes, most of them were covered in patches and hardly looked landworthy, let alone seaworthy. And the owners – yikes! Something about life on the water wears a person down and soon they are missing teeth and have leathered skin. But, I am a sucker for a colorful character. I cannot resist someone who walks to the beat of a different drummer and has had many unusual life experiences. Guess it’s from all the interesting people I grew up around.

I picked the grand prize fruitcake of them all – Captain Willie. He introduced himself to me by proclaiming that he doesn’t drink alcohol, while a bottle of rum stuck out of his pants. No, never touches a drop. He then went off on a rambling tangent which sentiment was lovely about how everyone should stop judging one another. He took off his rasta cap to reveal long dreadlocks and reassured me that Rastafarians don’t drink. I told him all about my plans with the boat. He was the first person that genuinely seemed to not only understand what I wanted to do, but was sincerely encouraging. What does that say about me?

I felt powerful, smart and courageous. The boat looked good. It looked new. He would even help me launch it. All for $2500! I thought to hell with the hotel manager, Eddie, Styles of Brewer’s Bay and everyone who doubted me. I was going to really do it and they would eat their words. Captain Willie drove me up to my hotel and I literally threw all my possessions in the boat. “Good for you”, he said as he drove me to launch the boat. In veracity, I was bold, stubborn, foolish and lucky.

I felt glorious! Having my hand on the motor, driving my own boat was the greatest feeling. I proudly waved at other boats leaving the marina as if I had done it all my life. Fact is, it was my first time, though I have always felt comfortable in water. My first spoken word as an infant was "water." I learned to swim before I could walk. How quickly my arrogance was about to change.

Just out of the marina, I cranked the motor to full speed. I was flying! Then I got out of Road Bay and the waves became large. My saxophone and tent that were gently placed at the front of the boat were thrown into the middle of the boat. Replaying this over in my head, I now remember thinking at the time that this was not good, but I just forged ahead at the same speed.  With each wave, there was a hard landing and all my things became jostled. Any decent sailor knows to tie down their belongings, but I neglected to do so (big mistake) and my tent went overboard. I jumped in after it (nearly fatal mistake) and became separated from the boat.

I swam as hard as I could, I tried swimming under water, parallel to the boat, but try as I might, I could not get back to my boat. The current had carried my boat out of my site and I had drifted, too. The tent was somewhat buoyant, though not exactly a life raft. I started to scream out every expletive I knew. My circumstance was bad, but I wasn’t convinced it was dire. I decided to try to swim towards shore, though it was extremely far in the distance.

I swam towards shore.  At this point, I was tired. Exhausted more like it. I thought that I was in a pickle and that it was going to be a major hassle, but I was not in danger.

By the time I got near shore, it was too late. The waves were pulling me into the cavernous rocky shore. This is when I got scared, to my core of my being. With each wave, I was closer to the sharp and pointy edge of the shore and I was afraid of being skewered or knocked out. I was trying to protect my head with each wave that pulled me all the way into the caves. One time, I came up for breath too soon and drank a mouth of water. I was coughing up water and it became difficult to tell where the surface of the water was. It was about at this point that I went unconscious.

I think I passed out for a few minutes, though I'm not sure how long I was out.

Things were extremely distorted when I regained consciousness. I was coughing up water and gasping for breath. I did not know what was happening, as all I could think of was trying to get some air. My next moments were panicked. I couldn't tell what was pulling me; I flailed my body around, terrified, only to become more frightened by feeling something slippery beneath me. My mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. I was in shock. I had gone to the edge of desperation about survival and had surrendered to death. 

Then, I once I could breath, I felt like I was body surfing a wave toward shore. There was three dolphins swimming briskly, lifting me to the surface. I was near the shore, but they were swimming parallel to the shore. There was a moment of relief that my ordeal was over. I couldn't recognize the bay I was in. People had gathered at the beach, down the bay, the equivalent of a couple of New York City blocks.

They were trying to see exactly what was happening. When I came within speaking distance, a man said, “Jesus”. Then were all saying things to the effect of “can you believe that?” When the water became shallow and I could stand, the dolphins swam away. I didn’t get a chance to somehow acknowledge what had happened or thank them before they were out of sight.

The fisherman and tourists that were gathered at the shore were asking me questions. I am not sure why I lied to them, but I did.  I think its because I was so scared and been so traumatized that I felt like I had done something wrong.  I told them I was swimming by myself and got pulled by a current. I couldn’t even comprehend that dolphins rescued me, mostly because I was in extreme survival mode. I almost died. I didn’t have anything, except the clothes on my back. I didn’t have even passport. I was so scared that I just wanted to get back where people knew me and I knew people.  I decided I needed to get back to Brewer’s Bay.

I had no idea where I was (now I  know it Brandy Wine Bay), so I told them I just need to get back to Road Town. No problem, a couple of tourists were on their way to Road Town. Then my plan was to hitch to Brewers. It was getting late and I was fighting the sun, because its harder to hitch after sunset. I had no money and no shoes. I was in a terrible situation, but I was acting as if everything was fine. They all wanted to know how it came that dolphins were rescuing me, but I dashed off with the tourists that were on their way to Road Town and had stopped to take a picture of the view.

I was worried that the tourists would ask me all sorts of questions and I wasn’t prepared for chitchat or talking in general. I was in shock and had one focus. I told the couple it was no big deal that I often swim to that bay and dolphins are common in that bay. This explanation worked and I it was a quick trip to Road Town.

As soon as I said goodbye to the tourists that gave me the ride, I fell to my knees and wept. People stopped to ask if I was ok, and I said I had a fight with my boyfriend. I didn’t want to tell anyone what happened. I didn’t expect anyone to really help me and I thought I had to keep my wits about me to figure what to do to get out of my predicament. I started to walk onto the road out bay to Brewers. I walked for hours, as I cried, thinking of what I was going to do. A car finally came by and could take me further than they planned, because they were concerned about me walking alone in my state. Finally, I arrived at Brewers Bay late and everyone was asleep. I snuck into a campsite and slept a sleep that tethered on the touching the other realm.

 

Eddie left today

Eddie left today. I failed with all my girlfriend battle tactics to keep my man at my side. I did what every good girlfriend does when she doesn’t get her way. First I struggled to be supportive of his dreams. Then I tried to be the dream girlfriend, so he wouldn’t want to leave my side. I accidently broke down and cried a puddle of tears a few times. Desperate, I brought us into the court of law and accused him of perjury. Then I did the only thing I could do; create a fantasy that he wasn’t leaving (what others crudely call denial).

I was heartbroken and it hurt. Badly. I cried incessantly. It was the worst abandonment I have ever experienced. I tried to do all the things that made once made me happy, like swimming in the aqua blue water, so clear that you just cant believe your eyes. But it didn’t work. Like the great Velvet Underground song, I thought, “Who loves the sun, who cares that it makes plants grow, who cares what it does it does since you broke my heart”. The sun shining didn’t seem to matter since Eddie left.

I contemplated packing my bags and returning to NYC – maybe I could still do the film I turned down. But this was deeper than just being with Eddie. This was the fact that he left. That he would leave paradise and me! That he had priorities that were so different than mine. I became mad. How dare he?! Then I realized in all fairness, he never wanted to come here for an entire year and live exclusively off the land. I was forcing him into it. How dare I?

I felt dreadful that I had manipulated him so much and because of my behavior, he left with us on rocky terms. I began to miss him. Terribly. Everything, absolutely everything reminded me of Eddie. It was obscene, there were too many memories flooding me. It was ubiquitous where I looked.

Finally, the feeling was insurmountable and I ran into the center of the beach and cried, begging the heavens to help me. I became conscious that I pushed Eddie away. The nature of my pain could not be addressed with any companionship. The pain I speak of is that I don’t trust myself or my feelings or my experiences or my philosophies.

To speak psychobabble for a moment or two: I had projected so much onto Eddie that belonged to my parents. I needed to be a separate entity from them. My childhood was all about their trip and now it was my turn. Yes, I could even believe everything they believed, but I wanted to make that decision myself! What freedom! I slept the night under the stars happily with just myself.

 

 

Movies

I was offered a role in a movie today. It came through a phone call to the main line of the campsite. They had been trying to reach me for over a week. It was something I auditioned for a few months ago, but the project did not have its financing in place.  It is a very interesting project in so many ways. It will be filmed in High-Definition on one of the only two cameras exists in the world, in Germany.  The film would utilize old film clips (you know how much I love old films!) and I would be super-imposed in color onto the black and white movie backgrounds. I would play three different roles from three different eras.

It is an actor’s dream part. Yet, I don’t know if I want to do it. I have too many questions about acting, about my motives, about art and its purpose that I don’t have answers.

“Art is a lie that shows us the truth about reality” Picasso so eloquently said. It is a powerful and truthful statement, but my question is: does art ever truly change a person’s life? I know that art affects people and provokes endless discussion and analysis, but does it actually evoke growth of the heart and soul? Or is it the people in your life that can make a difference? Is it by witnessing someone who is living their life by their principles that can in fact change how you live your life?

Is it more important to focus on the growth and healing of your soul?  Is it then that people are actually affected that is exposed to you and open for change? An artist, political or religious leader can carry with them a beautiful message. They might express it in a very charming, often hypnotizing way, but if they do not practice what they preach, could it still change your life?

I have been exploring these thoughts for quite some time as the urgency I once felt to be an artist has dissipated. The lack of importance for me to perform is due to healthy growth of my soul and some questions I have about the significance of art. It is not for all the other usual reasons, such as hopelessness, laziness, insecurity or desire for security. These questions have preoccupying my thoughts and I really want some answers. I need to know my own internal answers, not the general consensus to these questions. I would surmise that most people would say without question that art could change a life. They could identify at least one creation, a book, movie or song that has altered their path and guided them to where they are today.

I am attempting to discover what attracts me to be an artist. I want to know my motives are to express my creativity. Is the purpose in the result of touching another spirit? Or is the purpose in the process of creating? Or do some people have a burning need to express themselves?

What is talent? And furthermore, what is the purpose of talent?  Why does it matter that Charlie Parker can play the saxophone so magnificently? What is the point that Michael Jordan is an extraordinary basketball player? They are masters of what they do, but how does that affect us to listen or watch them? By witnessing this talent, what does that do to us?

What is the role of art?

I need to be able to answer these questions before I can entertain the thought of dancing or acting again. I am saying no to my offer.

 

Saving the Rainforest

There is a rainforest on this island! As soon as I found out, I wanted to go. I am so passionate about saving the rainforest. I imagined what it would be like to be surrounded by this entity I have been obsessing about in NYC for the past year!.

Andy and Theo hoped to see the Killi Killi bird, but I was hoping for some answers. I meditated before we drove up to the top of the mountain there that I would be open to the answers. I prayed that I would hear the wise voice of entity that is 30 million years old. I hoped that it would be clear on what I should do to save the rainforests. I have been lost at what exactly I should or could be doing about the destruction of the rainforest.

The earth has many ecological problems, but I believe none is greater than the protection of the Rainforests of the world. It is the air we breathe, it is the lungs of the earth. In addition, there are millions of species that are killed to extinction. Species that have the right to exist, but also might be a unknown cure. The situation is so alarming to me, I just don’t think everyone knows the urgency. I think if everyone knew that it was serious, they would change their lifestyles accordingly and donate their time and money to environmental organizations.

My generation seems to be apathetic and have a general hopelessness. We are the age group that was raised by idealistic hippies (my parents) and then became depressed and angry by the lack of changes. Look at our popular music: Nirvana and Pearl Jam. I will never allow myself to feel hopeless. Either the destruction of this planet’s ecosystem and temperature raising will occur as a massive cleansing and we will cease to exist in this form – or – we need to fight to save this planet!

I had a large-scale plan to save the rainforest that comprised of mostly education and organizing all rainforest groups to create a powerful voice to put pressure on political powers to make it illegal to sell rainforest. All further deforestation would be illegal for any logging, to make room for cattle or for any reason! Non-profit fundraisers for the rainforests are well intended, but have not made an impact on changes.

With all this on my mind, we entered the rainforest. It was wet and cool. I wore everything I owned and was still cold. I found it amazing that such a different climate could exist just minutes away from the tropical beach we call home. We saw many birds, bugs, plants, and trees. It was different than I expected. I thought it would look like it was 30 million years old and more like a jungle, with vines and monkeys.

Eddie was making his usually jokes. He cannot help it; he is a very funny person. I was not in the mood for humor. It felt important to me to be here and I wanted to listen to any messages of enlightenment. I saw a mahogany tree and didn’t recognize it, though I know what it looks like as a table. I know they are endangered trees and I went up to be close to it. My friends were beginning to think I was seriously crazy, but I asked them to leave me there while I talked to the tree.

I asked it, what does a person like me do? I have passion, heart & insight. But I don’t have the power to change things; really what do I have the power of? I have the power over my reality, my conscious and my actions. There must be so many others out there like me. What do they do with these concerns? It is becoming increasingly difficult to imagine myself returning to my old lifestyle in New York City. The purpose of life in NYC seems so out of context to life at the moment. I need some solutions for peace of mind.

The tree was very compassionate with my frenzied plea. The tree told me I was on my journey and that something big was about to happen to me that would change the course of my life, but don’t be afraid. The tree said that the destruction of the rainforests is an important issue, but there is a larger issue for human’s to be concerned about. The tides will change, the next generation will care and they will begin to care about saving the planet in about 20 years.

When my friends returned, I could hardly speak of this super-natural experience. Nature actually answered me! It was clear and it was comforting. How could I tell them that the tree spoke to me? No one would believe me. But why not? Why don’t we speak to trees?

That night, I told them everything. How could I not? Turns out, they told me it was beautiful.