So, as you know, I’m on Island Time right now. Mostly metaphorically.
It’s adding vacation-like aspects to my life this week to make it seem like I’m on holiday when in fact I’m doing much of what I normally do.
On Day 2 of this island thing, I went to my morning dance class. And then headed over to a favorite cafe to eat a beloved and looked-forward-to sandwich. Sandwich! Just as spectacular as I’d remembered.
I sat and wrote for a while in my bright green designated Island Time notebook. Until it felt like I was done with that.
Why not.
Heading to the bus stop, it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t have to bus at all.
This was a very Island-ey thought, too. It wasn’t: “Oh, taking a cab gets me back to work that much faster!” Nope. I could walk.
It might be an hour and a half. Possibly a bit more. But I wasn’t in a hurry. Yeah!
By chance I was wearing sturdy walking shoes instead of hot pirate queen boots. I had sunscreen on and a full water bottle. Nothing in my bag but dance shoes (super light) and the green notebook.
Plus I’d even brought a skirt to pull over my workout clothes, so as not to be all “Hey Portland, why don’t you check out my ass in these crazy-tight tights!”
It wasn’t that hot out. I didn’t have anything else planned, because ISLAND TIME! Why not? Why not, indeed.
Berlin.
Walking happily in the sun, swinging my water bottle and humming a little hum under my breath, I was transported back to Berlin. To when I lived there.
At that time, money was … tight. And I don’t mean that in the casually always-pinched way so many people I know refer to money being tight. It was different than that.
Here was my life:
An abandoned building in east Berlin. We stepped gingerly over the passed-out junkies in the stairwell. And the needles they left behind.
There was no heat in the winter. Well, you could haul up coal to burn from the basement. But in an empty building with no warm neighboring apartments to seal it in, the heat didn’t last. And when you were out of coal, that was it.
That was it.
My expenses — for getting to stay in the apartment and contributing to food and the occasional emergency — came to maybe a hundred dollars a month.
Which often was exactly as much as I had. Sometimes more than I had.
I taught yoga and Shiva Nata when and where I could.
In a variety of unlikely makeshift locations:
A preschool that was actually a squatted electrical company building. The basement of an old age home for Alzheimer patients.* A dance cooperative. An empty school that had been converted into artist studios.
* With sweetly baffled old nazis who couldn’t remember being nazis and were full of love, but that is another story for another day.
Shaky.
At the time I was still recovering from the bloody, messy inner ear infection that had laid me out for months and nearly been the end of me.
I was pretty much deaf in my right ear for the better half of a year.
Shaky. It was all a bit shaky and I was learning how not to shake so much. Or at least, how to not fight it.
Anyway.
What was it about walking on a sunny early afternoon, water bottle in hand, not being in a rush to get anywhere?
Ah, right.
So I didn’t have money back then. But what I had — in glorious plentitude — was time.
As much as I wanted. And I wanted all of it. I rejoiced in it.
Money was this precious, limited thing, always carefully put aside for the absolutely most vital things: shelter and sustenance.
But time! Time was this expansive, spacious, beautiful currency. And for the first time in years (ever?), no one else had a claim on it.
Here’s the thing.
The truth is — and it pains me to remember this and share it but I will tell you anyway — I had been poorer than this before.
I had lived through tightness. In tighter, scarier and much more difficult circumstances than these.
But this was really and truly the first time in memory that my time was my own.
So the idea that I would even consider spending two whole euros on taking the train across the city to get somewhere was preposterous.
Two euros?! An actual, visible fraction of my rent.
If it took me an hour or two hours or even three hours to get somewhere by foot, what of it?
I liked walking. Berlin is a marvelously walkable city (no creepy neighborhoods, no hills, easily-identifiable landmarks everywhere), and I had time.
Time was for breathing.
Breathing and thinking and making plans.
And I had just … okay, I need a verb here… just received the tiny-sweet-thing germ idea of The Fluent Self:
A comprehensive, creative, personalize-able system of destuckification and learning how to work on your stuff.
I was using it, practicing it, writing it, documenting it, dreaming it and processing it.
It was an incredibly exciting time for me. A very healing time.
And again, I had time.
This work of processing and sorting out could be just as easily done while ambulatory. So I walked.
It didn’t matter.
Before my illness — when I didn’t know that I wouldn’t be able to work for four months — I’d bought a pass to a local yoga studio where I’d hoped to teach. And part of my walking through the city was to help me use that pass.
It took me just over 90 minutes to walk to class. A 75 minute class. And over 90 minutes to get back.
That’s about four and a half hours in order to have a yoga class. Some days I did it twice.
It didn’t matter. I had time.
Back to the other day.
So here I am, in Portland, now, walking in the sun. Invoking Island Time.
Not a care in the world. No rush and no deadline.
And for the first time in the six years since I launched this website and started my company, time was readily available again.
There was this sort of cha-chunking sound reverberating through me as everything switched.
Switch? Like the switch on the train tracks being pulled.
The gears of interaction between that thing that is time and that thing that is money shifting into a different relationship.
Or a different place in their bigger relationship.
I have to stop the story here for now.
Because there is so much more to tell and we’re already long past anything that could be considered a non-ridiculous word count on this.
I will come back and tell you about what happened next and about what I was wrong about (wrong twice!).
And we will talk about the complicated relationship between time and money, between us and our stories, between us and our stuff.
We will remember that just as there are situations of ohmygod-no-time and ohmygod-no-money, and (tfu tfu tfu) situations where both these things are true or feel true, there are also times where it is not either one or the other.
We will explore.
In the meantime….
Comment zen for today.
Talking about hardship (past or present) can stir up pain. It can remind us of so many things.
So if reading about my stuff has reminded you of your stuff, you might need to pause (paws!) and give legitimacy to whatever you’re feeling. Or create safe rooms for past versions of you.
Or take a deep breath and remind yourself that things get better and that now is not then. You have internal resources now that you did not have before. You can help sad, scared you from then in ways you couldn’t at that time.
Or you will experiment and see what you need.
I know you will find a way to meet your pain. And I have love for you-who-has-pain. Being in pain is never fun.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We take responsibility for the fact that it is ours and we remember that it is temporary.
Things that would be lovely today: stories about island time, love and appreciation, a flower.
There will be a part 2!
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ah, island time.
I just drove across country with my sister, as she moved from memphis to portland (right down the street from you I think!)
we had no set agenda other than to visit the 5 US states she hadn’t been to yet. so we had time to drive, wake up whenever we wanted, stop wherever we wanted, laugh as loud as we wanted and enjoy each other’s company as much as we could.
it was wonderful. so much beautiful country, and sharing it with a beautiful, loving person made me so happy!
I can’t wait to go on island time again 🙂
I love this:
“And I had just … okay, I need a verb here… just received the tiny-sweet-thing germ idea of The Fluent Self:
A comprehensive, creative, personalize-able system of destuckification and learning how to work on your stuff.
I was using it, practicing it, writing it, documenting it, dreaming it and processing it.”
It makes me excited… and wishing for such a germ idea myself…
{{hug}}
Ahhh…i say words a lot around lack of time, money, brain cells, etc… and yet, when I really listen to myself, I realize, I’m not complaining. I kinda dig it. Why? Because all the things I have to do, well, most, are things I’ve chosen. I’ve dreamt (fantasized? feared?) for a long time about living life on my own terms, and now I am.. providing for myself, though not quite on my feet. But every day is full of opportunities to meet that challenge the way I want to, and I love having so much to do.
Most of the time (could use a weekend retreat… 🙂
So, yay! Love and appreciation!
island time is the best time. i think an invoking of island time is needed today, thanks for the reminder!
What a wonderful exploration you have begun. I’d forgotten what that sense of space in time feels like, and you have given me a glimmer of it again. Even though the period you write about was hard, it seems to have produced so much good. I look forward to seeing where the discussion goes.
I don’t have any stories about Island Time. But I do have appreciation, lots of it. Thank you for writing this blog, and thank you for writing about your past.I would have never been receptive to things like mindfulness had it not been for your writing about your past hardships.
So once again, thank you.
For us “Island Time” is about taking sabbaticals (together and from the relationship) and artists dates. This weekend I’m heading off on my own for some much needed me time. And then in October I persuaded my boss to let me work remotely for two weeks, so I’m off to Cape Town on a work holiday! You’ve got to grab your Island Time when it presents itself. And with both hands! So looking forward to Part 2! 😉
“Or take a deep breath and remind yourself that things get better and that now is not then. You have internal resources now that you did not have before. You can help sad, scared you from then in ways you couldn’t at that time.”
Slightly Future Me’s then is now. There’s a me who isn’t worried about the monies and the job thing… Bing. Oh, sweet sweet bing……
This is mind-bendingly interesting. (Of course.) And gives me pause (paws!) about the ridiculous amount of stuckness I’m in right now.
Currently, 1) There is enough money for necessities, and 2) I have all the time in the world to myself.
Moving ahead on my Thing requires 1) Potential debt (less than enough money), and 2) Less gloriously wide open pockets of time to do whatever I want.
Stuckness, indeed.
Island time is such a counter intuitive business. It’s more conducive to the production of brilliance than anything else, and yet can be harder to pin down than a 4 year old getting her flu shot.
Thanks for the reminder that you started somewhere too. Looking forward to part deux.
This is beautiful. *dandelion*
So beautiful… thank you.
I am currently on island time myself! I am on a quiet break from family and work and home and i am very interested to find out what it’s like. Thank you for sharing this story (and I can’t wait for part two!) because it reminds me that maybe I can try writing about the memories and resonances of being-away-to-seek-solace. Because the resonances are so important.
My island massage is later. I have two island cupcakes with me. Island time is truly miraculous and I hope I am able to remember the good parts even if my stuff comes up.
Xo Havi. Thank you thank you for sharing this.
lovely *dahlia*
You are such a good writer. This was my favorite line:
Shaky. It was all a bit shaky and I was learning how not to shake so much. Or at least, how to not fight it.
Cause that’s how I feel right now.
Cheers!
A flower for your hair, my dear.
Island time, ahh. Years ago when I waited tables, my jobs were at the types of places where if you had your shift covered, you had the day off. Or maybe I was between jobs, I can’t remember. My friend was flying me up to visit him for a week, and on the day I was meant to leave, I wasn’t ready. And not like I’d been running around crazy packing or anything, I just wasn’t there yet, to be cabbing to the airport and spending a week in a strange place. So I called him and said I would be arriving the following day, couldn’t wait to see him.
He thought I was nuts. Luckily, he loved me so it was the kind of nuts as in, you’re crazy and hilarious and who does that? To me, it felt like the most natural thing. Aaah, island time. A different rhythm.
I have another one! Oh, I am loving these memories!
Once I spent a whole day reading a novel. That’s all I did. On the bed beneath the window, with the cat. I don’t remember which book, but it was Alice Walker. Time was measured by the turning of the pages.
Then I got up and drove home for Christmas.
Appreciation. Flowers.
Island time makes me think of porch time. In the summer, if I get up before it’s hot, I love to sit on the porch, reading, writing, thinking, drinking something cold, and not “starting my day” until I have to. Sometimes my day doesn’t start till 2 pm. Bird song, gentle sounds of wind in the trees, bees buzzing.
And the quiet being shredded by the sound of lawn mowers and leaf blowers. Because there’s always something. (Sigh.)
Time to think my thoughts, to explore ideas, to relax into the day. Aaahhh! Island time might be better because it doesn’t have to depend on the weather.
Once I went to New Hampshire, having plans of hiking but right before I left my heart broke and all I could do was lie in a field and read and cry and listen to the voices of the people gathered at the Inn for a wedding, and watch the gliders take off and land, and flick away the bugs every so often. Total Island Time, in the mountains.
Beautiful post today
I’ve been reading for a while and this one was really heartfelt
Thanks
I love island time. I think it’s one of the most healing things there is. Come to think of it, my weekly artist dates are a kind of island time.
Havi, you’re such a beautiful soul. Thank you for sharing this.
And I’m totally going to borrow Lauren’s Island Time: I can’t remember the last time I spent an entire day reading a book.
that’s where I am. I have 100$. I just bought groceries – just in time- and I desparately want to know what I’m doing … and how to do it. But long walks? oh yes, every day. I’m on island time…. and I didn’t know it.
I am feeling this right now. I think this connects to my VPA that I posted yesterday (thanks to VPA amnesty!). I think part of what’s happening is I don’t feel like I have time. And that’s pretty stressful and frantic-feeling.
I’m taking the day off on Friday, and I’ve already set a couple things in motion vis-a-vis Island Time. Or Margaritaville. Or whatever you want to call it. I just know it’s a day to keep still and fret a little less about time.
And the money thing…that so does bring up my childhood stuff, which bleeds into my adult stuff every day. The “now is not then” reminder is so soothing and helpful, and you’re so wise about how important it is to nurture that sad, scared self-from-the-past.
Thank you as always for sharing yourself with us.
Time and money are such obstacles for me. Thanks for this post! I’ve been reading your blog for more than a year and today’s post shifted everything the tiniest bit–I’m feeling excited, there is possibility here. Thank you, Havi. As soon as I figure out the logistics, I’ll replace the TV I gave away and start Shiva Nata. Five of us have the DVD and will practice weekly before a three-month seminar we are all beginning in September. Thanks for sharing what you have learned. It’s changing the way I do life.
While in grad school, I used to walk almost everywhere. Then I got a job and began driving everywhere to “save time” so I could get back to My Very Important Things To Do. I even drove to yoga, which is only a 13 minute walk away from my condo. I told myself, if I drove, I saved almost a half an hour. I was getting wound up very tightly.
This summer I started walking more and slowing down and have felt more spaciousness and less frantic. I’ve just now returned from a 4 week vacation where I didn’t have any demands on my time. For some reason, it is so easy to do on vacation and harder to do in “real life”.
This post is very timely for me. Thanks!
I try to read your posts as often as I can and today I didn’t really have time but I did it anyway. So glad, of course, because it always seems as though you say The Thing that resonates with me.
This just happens to be a hurty sort of time for me, working on my stuff and trying to be mindful of other people’s stuff too. And I had just decided to say this was going to be My Day and I was going to not worry about “wasting” my time doing the things that need to be doing.
I guess you gave me permission. Or as we used to say, validation. So, I thank you.
I needed this today. I have more time than I used to (and less money) and see the relationship and want to own the process to re-balance the time-money equation in my life.
Tricky stuff.
Speaking of favorite tropes, one of mine is The Wounded Healer.
Oh Havi, your life stories are my favorite posts to read ever. I feel like a kid, all eager, all engrossed: ‘and then what happened?’ and ‘did you teach the old nazis to dance?’ and and and… Can’t wait to read the rest.
And, here’s another flower for your hair. It’s beautiful and red and gerbera-like.