Sat Nam Grounding

There is a tiny island on the edge of the Truk Lagoon called Pisar. The island is so small, I can see all edges of it from any given spot. This island is the definition of serenity, tranquility, and utter bliss.

Today, I am here to witness this eutopia.

Some faculty members and I woke up early this morning, packed our things and some food, and ventured to town on the back of a flatbed truck. We met a few locals who agreed to take us in three small fishing boats across the lagoon to Pisar. Two of the boats made the voyage as scheduled. The boat I was in did not.

The boat I boarded had 6 people: 4 of my co-workers, one Chuukese man operating the motor, one Chuukese man standing at the bow holding a rope to navigate, and myself. I had thought I had seen the best of this experience already; that was before today. Today, I am more free than I have ever been. Today, I am completely full of life.

I was eager to board the boat. Standing at the edge of the boat dock, I felt excited; something I had not felt working so many days straight to get the first issue of the campus newspaper out. As soon as the boat started moving, I felt the sun and the wind and the ocean and my heart as one. There are no words. Some of my fellow passengers were not so fond of the ride; the small boat packed to capacity, motor pounding hard against oceanic waves. I can imagine how the sensation could have been difficult on the stomach, but I was just too high on life.

We rounded the island of Weno, lined Iras and Tonoas, had just passed Etten when our boat started chugging. It suddenly stopped.

The Chuukese men did not seem too worried so I decided not to be either, even though we were simply drifting on waves in lagoon in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. My fellow passengers were not as calm. It did not take long for the 4 to turn pale and systematically began regurgitating over the sides of the boat. I opened my arms wide and hugged the sunshine, listening only the sounds of the waves.

Some locals spotted us from the island of Etten and reached us after almost an hour. I acknowledged how I have adapted to either vaguely identifying Chuukese language to minimally understand what is being spoken around me, or tuning it out completely since I know they will not translate for my benefit. The locals towed us to shore and we rested for a few minutes before boarding another boat to finish our voyage.

I could see the edge of the lagoon before we docked; this perfect point where the literal edge of the vast Pacific met the reef. These waves crash on the coral so high that you can hardly see horizon beyond the convergence.

The others are basking in vacation and consuming a variety of boxed wines and rums out of coconuts, while I sit here under this canopy of coconut trees in a hammock. I cannot help but wonder how I got so lucky. How in the heavens did I get here? My teenage self would never have guessed that one day I would be lying on a hammock on a tropical island that was created by waves crashing on a coral reef in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I am here and I still can hardly believe. I breathe and every inch of me is enlightened.

Tranquility has unencumbered me here.