Because on this desert island, is not a resource. It is a communion. And I have finally stopped talking long enough to receive it.
This is the first entry of what I have come to call my Enature —a word that did not exist in my old vocabulary. In the city, we had ‘nature’ as a concept, a postcard, a weekend escape. But here, on this desert island, Nature is not a backdrop. It is a person, a force, a liturgy. I am learning to spell it with a silent, holy reverence: . Holy Nature - Enature - On The Desert Island -1...
Theologians speak of Mysterium Tremendum —the terrifying, fascinating mystery of the divine. I have found it inside a sea turtle’s eye. I have found it in the geometry of a spiral shell. I have found it in the moment when a school of silverfish leaps from the water simultaneously, a liquid explosion of syncopated life. Because on this desert island, is not a resource
I have begun to keep a journal on the back of a salvaged life raft diagram, using charcoal from burned mangrove roots. Today’s entry is simple: The tide brings. The tide takes. I am the thing in between. On a desert island, the ego dies a slow, sunburned death. In society, I was a collection of résumés, anxieties, and social masks. Here, I am simply a vertebrate trying to find lunch. This is the first entry of what I
I am on (I suspect there are many islands within this one—the island of thirst, the island of loneliness, the island of bliss). I have named this first phase "The Unfastening." Every day, another rivet of my civilized personality pops loose. Part V: A Letter to the World I Left To whoever finds this bottle:
End of Entry -1...
Let me explain. When the ship went down, I prayed to a God of stained glass and steeples. Three weeks later, alone on a sliver of sand and volcanic rock, I pray to the God of the rising tide and the coconut embryo. I have discovered that a desert island is not a place of lack. It is the world without a lid. The term Enature came to me on the seventh night. I was starving, shivering, cursing the stars for being so coldly beautiful. In the city, I used to pay for "green experiences" — a yoga retreat, an organic smoothie, a walk in the park. That was performative nature. A transaction.