Day 9... an island

Before we begin, jot down the first three words you associate with islands?

Foula, off in the distant…

As a person who grew up in a “land-locked” part of the world, islands represented places of tropical vacations with beautiful beaches… a land far, far away and out of reach physically and financially.

Or, they were places I read about in books (Lord of the Flies), or watched on the screen (hello Gilligan’s Island or Tom Hanks in Castaway) where people would be isolated, lonely, stranded, desperate, waiting to be found…

And as I look back over the years, it becomes apparent that my fascination with islands is not new. One of my most favorite questions to ask graduate students at their final oral exam is this…

“If you were stuck on a deserted island, what three “foods” would you want with you?”

I love this question… so many creative ways to express one’s understanding of nutrition science.

But one year, the faculty in the exam room interjected before the student could reply:

what kind of island? where is it located? tropical or frozen? how long is this person stranded? what’s the weather? is there fresh water? are there any other supplies? is there shelter?

“Woah, woah, woah, this is a “simple” question. Let’s not overthink this.”

My reply “you tell me… where is this fictitious island? And let’s come back to the intent of the question… I just want to know a little bit about your knowledge of nutrition… .”

I digress…

What were your three words you associated with islands?

And what do islands have to do with peace?

If words such as isolated, lonely, vulnerable, and stranded came to mind for islands, it might be easy to overlook how islands are an excellent example of peace.

Sheila Geer, a long-time resident of Foula, an island located about 20 miles to the west of mainland Shetland, and author of Foula, Island West of the Sun writes:

Poised on the top of a high cliff there is a peace not found anywhere else: a vast space, an eternity of sea and sky, a freedom. Sit here and scan the distant horizon where sea and sky meet in a far silver line, let your mind roam free; here you will find a glimpse of understanding of life, of its eternity, formed from a million myriads of mortal fragments, a million upon million of livings and dyings, creatings and destroyings, buildings up and wearings down - a grain of sand, a wave, a bird, a man, an island, all add their small part to the eternity of the universe.

Islands can be places

of connection… between and among all things,

a space where community can thrive… where interdependence is necessary.

The island metaphor provides an opportunity to break down our own “mental models” (aka our own ideas and beliefs) about what it means to live in a land far, far away…

and reminds us that peace might include the need to step off the path and gain new perspectives (e.g. moving from one island to another), require us to shift our preconceived ideas and beliefs, and highlight the fact we are all interconnected.

Even Foula, an island that appears remote and isolated is part of a connected system…

the archipelago of Shetland.

Peace nugget #9

Islands as peace… so many ways for you to ponder this topic. What were your three words to describe islands? How do your three words provide you insight into your relationship with peace? Did you come up with other analogies about islands as peace?

Perhaps try doodling an island today… be like those professors… what’s on the island? is it tropical? in the Arctic? what does the shelter look like?

Leave a comment. I love reading your responses… others do as well. Leave a comment for each day and there will be a special treat waiting at the end of our 21 day journey.

peace as you move into this weekend space…

Christina

PS - There’s a movie about Foula called “The Edge of the World” made in 1937. I’ve not watched it yet it has been highly recommended. More info here and a link to the movie here. There are a few ads prior to the movie beginning.

Day 8... here

“Hello to here”

— Pádraig Ó Tuama

Crisp autumn morning, Ada Hadyn, Ames, Iowa

One of my all-time favorite phrases… hello to here.

A reminder, mantra, call… to be rooted in place.

“Stand still. The tree ahead and bushes beside you

Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here

And you must treat it as a powerful stranger”

These words are from a poem called “Lost” by David Wagoner published in In the Shelter: Finding a home in the world by Pádraig Ó Tuama and provide the inspiration for the phrase “Hello to here.”  

These three simple words… so much energy and power yet simple and direct.

This phrase, my companon through the pandemic as I sought to find my way in the “here” of a place I did not want to be.

As time has passed, my relationship and understanding of this phrase has deepened…

everywhere is here…

tHERE is the here of wHERE you are…

and the here of far, far, away…

Reawick beach, Shetland, UK

When I dream of writing about Shetland, in my mind, I always begin the tale with “in a land far, far away…”

Yet, when I’m there, it’s not far away and the people who live there think of my home as a land far, far away. Their home is here…

And as I rose this morning to write to all of you, the crescent waning moon high in the southeast sky…

the moon visible to me… here

yet also visible to your here

Hello to here… a reminder to be present, in the “here and now.” But also so much more… the here of everywHERE… we are all connected.

Peace nugget #8

Recall these words…

“Ours is not the task of fixing the world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach...”

— Clarissa Pinkola Estes

The here for many in this world is a place of violence, war, oprression, loss, and devestation. Those places may feel far away and out of reach. We’ve been focusing on how to mend the part of the world that is within our reach… however, if we are all connected, that reach may extend farther than you initially imagined.

Everywhere is here…

Today, light a candle, sit in the darkness, and still your mind and body.

A candle is a small thing. But one candle can light another. And see how its own light increases, as a candle gives its flame to the other. You are such a light.

-Moshe Davis, Rabbi

Hello to peace…

Hello to the here of peace…

Day 7... growth

“Transformation is not accomplished by tentative wading at the edge”

— Robin Wall Kimmerer

Eshaness lighthouse built by David Alan Stevenson, 1925

Might I suggest you grab your favorite beverage and pull up a chair. Today, I’d like to share a story about an adventure.

A tale of a journey to the” edge of the world.” A place of transformation.

And with all good stories, yet perhaps not a trait of a good storyteller, first, the backstory.

It was the spring of 2022. Life had resumed it’s facade of normality in the year following the retreat caused by the pandemic. In my workspace, we were instructed to return teaching college students face-to-face… as if nothing had happened…

But something had happened. And I’ll simply say that the year returning to the classroom was hard, very hard for all involved.

I was teaching a lot of credits, two new course preps, adapting materials to account for the loss of learning that had occured during the previous year, dealing with long-Covid, and not in a good headspace. I needed to slow down, to recover and heal, but couldn’t keep up with the day-to-day demands so how I was to rest?

But one thing kept me going… knowing I could return to Shetland in the summer.

As I walked to my car on a grey, dreary April day, I tripped and solidly landed with knees and hands on the pavement. For a split moment, I thought I was fine… but then, my backpack filled with books and a laptop, slid up my back, changed my position, and tipped me forward. My backpack reached my head, slamming my forehead firmly into the concrete.

They say it was a mild concussion.

Mild?

The universe was sending a message…

Slow down.

The irony of having my head meet the pavement facilitated by my work items was not lost on me.

My summer plans to visit Shetland vaporized instantly. I would have to wait until the fall.

At some hopeful moment during “lockdown,” I’d made a reservation to stay in the Eshaness lighthouse. Wouldn’t that be fun? Staying in a lighthouse looking out at the cliffs and water watching the birds fly by, knitting away, being all cozy, and sipping my tea? Idyllic. Peaceful.

So, when I’d “recovered,” I made my way back to Shetland in October 2022 to stay at the lighthouse. Solo. What could be better than Shetland with solitude. Bliss.

Funny thing about staying at a lighthouse at the “edge of the world,”… it isn’t quite as I’d imagined. Sure there’s cliffs, and water, and birds, and tea, and knitting…

but there’s storms, big storms (F11 to be precise), no internet, no phone, no people excpet visitors to view the cliffs and “blow the cobwebs away,” wind that seems to find you even when you’re hiding under the covers, strange voices in the night…

Feelings of vulnerability, being alone, very alone, unease…

When I’d visit town, people would say “you’re staying in the lighthouse? by yourself? why? here’s my number, call me.”

Sally Huband, author of Sea Bean, writes about Eshaness in a chapter titled “Witch.”

”Eshaness is a breathtakingly bleak peninsla that ends in cliffs formed from layers of lava and pyroclastic rock. The windows of the lighthouse, which stands on these high cliffs, are cracked from sea-thrown rocks…My focus is always sharper in Eshaness; a sense of vulnerability heightens my perceptions…”

While the lighthouse stands alone as a beacon warning sea travelers of the cliffs, 3 miles down the single-track road is a small village with a cafe. It was here that the moral of this story lies. I would visit each afternoon to eat a hot, home-cooked meal and use the internet to connect with loved ones back home.

What I experienced in this seemingly simple cafe with wide expansive windows (actually the type I’d dreamed would be in the lighthouse) looking out over the sea was community. Each day, I was greeted with a smile, a warm welcome. How was I getting on? Along with some validation that my feelings of vulnerability and unease at the lighthouse were warranted.

A warning… “there’s a storm coming.” A big one. Let us know if you need anything. The postman offered the same. Just give me a ring if you need me to bring supplies…

Image of the Eshaness cliffs and lighhouse during a lesser storm than the one I experienced. Photo from Instagram.

Here I was feeling more isolated and afraid than I’d ever encountered, yet at the same time I now knew what it truly felt like to be in community. The day of the huge storm, I spent the day at the cafe listening to the stories of many… feeling welcomed, safe, and at ease… while the gales raged on and the sea expressed her rage.

In the evening, as the storm retreated, I drove back to the cliffs feeling a sense of comfort. As I approached the parking lot, with not one visitor car, I no longer felt isolated or alone.

The storm had passed,

moved on through,

and left a rainbow.

A rainbow at the edge of the world…

My heart was full. I stood outside and yelled at the top of my lungs… no longer an expression of sadness or despair… but one of joy.

Growth happens on the edge…

walking the path of peace isn’t always easy…

even a path of peace can have cliffs and edges…

Jumper colors inspired by my interpretation of the Eshaness cliffs.

Peace nugget #7

On day 1 of our journey, I mentioned the need to be intentional about how we define peace. For many, peace is a destination, an outcome, an endpoint, or associated with warm fuzzy feelings without discomfort. Yet peace is much more than a simple process or idyllic product… a path of peace comes highs and lows, ups and downs, peaks and valleys…

As we enter the second of week of Project Peace, how is your awareness of what peace means transforming?

Other

I very much enjoyed reading your comments about food and peace. If anyone is interested in learning just a bit more on this topic, here’s a link to an interview with Melinda Hemmelgarn from the Food Sleuth podcast where I share more thoughts on food peace. Plus, I highly recommend this podcast if you want to learn more about food, health, and agriculture.

My Eshaness jumper is made from Jamiesons and Smiths 2-ply jumperweight yarn. The pattern is the Roost pullover.

Day 6... food as relationship

“What would happen, for example, if we were to start thinking about food as less of a thing and more of a relationship?”

— Michael Pollan

Food as relationship…

relationship as peace…

therefore, food as peace

Food as a pathway of peace… to cultivate right releationships with self, others, and the Earth. Nourishing our physical bodies, families, and the Earth.

How can we sustain our beings with food

that is grown and raised in ways

that supports the land, sea, and sky,

honors those that have come before us,

with intention to co-create a future for those yet to come?

We are familiar with the many ways that food “brings” us peace… comfort foods, fond memories, your grandmother’s favorite recipe, a bowl of soup on a cold winter’s eve, a cup of coffee in the early morning…

But what would it mean to “be” in relationship with our food? To truly connect with where the food came from?

Not just… this was grown in Iowa, or Mexico, or Portugal, or South Africa…

but to consider the land and water that provided the nutrients that resulted in the food we eat.

Suzanne Simard, author of Finding the Mother Tree, once wrote about a study that showed the “flow of nutrients” from salmon to neighboring trees. Isotopically labeled carbon from salmon was later found in trees living near the waters edge…

The carbon of the salmon, after their physical beings had decayed, was absorbed back into the river’s soil and water and transfered to neighboring trees.

That’s what I mean by “flow of nutrients.”

When we eat…

We embody the carbon, nitrogen, calcium, sodium, potassium, and so many more into our own physical beings.

These nutrients become our bones, muscles, cells, lining of neurons, incorporated into our brain…

Herein lies an opportunity to cultivate peace every time you eat.

I kneeled on my mat.

Grabbed my iced herb tea,

wrapped my hands around the old jelly jar that was now my cup,

brought the glass to my lips.

The tea made from plants foraged by a woman who lives at the

edge of the North Sea in Shetland.

And as the prairie water infused with the plants grown in the soil of Shetland

Entered my physical being,

An awareness moved through me;

I was at this moment

connected to both the prairie and Shetland.

From an essay on “belonging” published on the Abbey of the Arts website.

This excerpt illustrates “food peace”…

connected with others and the land, sea, and sky of place,

a sense of belonging,

and the embodiment of the cosmos (nutrients) into our physical beings.

Transition Turriefield, Sandness, Shetland, UK

Peace nugget #6

Today, when you sit down to enjoy a cup of coffee/tea or eat a meal, take a moment to think about where the food came from…

who grew the food…

and when you consume this beverage/food/meal envision the land that provided the nutrients…

the water that nourished the soil…

How has the concept of “food peace” shifted your perspective about food and/or peace?

Other

Again and again, thank you for engaging in this process. Whether you are reading along each day, reading and commenting, or weaving in and out over the course of the 21 days… I am grateful for this community. For those posting comments, sending emails, engaging with me in conversations… and for the ripple effect… how you move forward and share this with others, directly or indirectly. Thank you.

All photos were taken in 2018 and 2023 at Transition Turriefield, Shetland, a farm committed to growing “fresh, local food for a sustainable future.” Growing fresh veg in Shetland is a challenging undertaking. The dedication and commitment that Penny and Alan from Turriefield have for creating a sustainable future is beyond inspiring.