If the last 12 days of my life were navigable waters, the track line I've been plotting on is a 180, relative, from where I stared on the 30th of June. 12 days ago I was using Polaris, steady and reliable, as my celestial beacon. Today, I look more to the Southern Cross, drifting slowly and sinking lower through the latitudes, for my direction. On the last day of June, I woke, with trepidation, to the sound of my alarm at 5:10. This morning I woke to the roosters singing and the sun rising. 12 days ago, I operated by corporate America's time clock, now I function on island time. It's extraordinary what 12 days can do when removed from the corporately conditioned psyche.
When I found out that I was losing my job in March, the anxiety became unmanageable. I was throwing up every morning before work. Sometimes at work. I became overcome with panic every time I tried to pursue new career opportunities. Looking to the future for a new path evoked so much fear that I was barely functional. For some reason, the idea of leaving an existence of uniformity, compliance and symmetry cast light on the demons of my past. The demons that I have been engaged in a dysfunctional affair with for the last 20 years. Looking ahead also brought more demons with it. Those I have been fabricating for nearly as many years. And that has been the last four months of my life. That has been where I found comfort: in pain and fear.
But today, only 12 days after I left, I sit surrounded by nothing that has previously occupied the inside of my comfort zone. No blue suits.. No name tapes. No cutterman pins or collar devices. No titles. Almost every face I see and personality I meet comes with a story I know nothing about. Nobody here is a number in my inbox or an appointment time. Nobody gets thanked for being on time or reprimanded for being late. My phone hasn't rang one time with demands for more comprehensive services. I haven't received any requests or complaints, aside from the quality of a peanut butter and honey sandwich, that need to be rectified IMMEDIATELY. Here, I don't see the hostile, entitled faces. Here I only see the faces of people with their own demons who fight them in different ways. They fight their battles on a different clock; on an island clock.
Two nights ago, I was going to have dinner with a girlfriend. I asked her "what time should we be over?" She replied "At dinner time." That was it. So we went over at dinnah time. The next morning, I texted an old friend to let him know we were on the North Shore. I typed "I know its the weekend and weekends are tough, but I'm here if you have time." His response: "Angela. You forget. Nothing is tough on Kauai."
All I could think about after that was "Huh." On the mainland, you have to coordinate by way of 18 different calendars just to find the time for a cup of coffee. By yourself. If you want to do that with other people, there needs to be a date set in your Outlook calendar, a calendar request sent to the participating parties, a follow up email stating the purpose for coffee at an hour different than 0650 when you leave your house. Then, just to make sure there is no confusion about the time and purpose of the coffee meet, there should probably be two instant messages, a text and a Facebook check in that states where you are, what you are doing and who you are doing it with. I'll use an example from the recent past...Facebook reads "Angela Padgett is at Two Rock Coffee Co. with Shaun Darrall." Then it displays a little map of where we are at. Then I get to say something clever like "Finally having coffee and talking shit!" And don't forget the sassy little smiley face at the end. Because this is really exciting!!!
In reality though, we have spent the last three years working 500 yards away from each other. So, did it really require that much planning and fanfare?
Meanwhile, back on the island, people who are new to your life tell you to come ovah when you want. Friends you haven't seen in 20 years make time for you without calendar invites. Things happen when they happen and there is no vomiting. Or guilt. Or fear of retribution for NOT being on time. Or drinking coffee with a friend.
I only have four days left on this island or rogues, pioneers, misfits and eccentrics. When I get back to the mainland, I will, again, be plagued by the pressures and expectations that accompany a "normative" lifestyle. I'll deal with that when I get back. But the longer I stay here, the more this way of life makes sense.
So, until then, I'm on island time.
-Inner Peas
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