My Paradise Routine

by Christopher Lovejoy on October 16, 2011

In the months that followed my meditation on the deep questions, I fulfilled my purpose of enjoying every moment while keeping my eye on the sky for the sudden appearance of dark clouds.

Oddly, the wet season didn’t seem to last long. Rain and chill paid me a visit a few times, but most of the time, the sky was clear, the sun was warm, and the air was moist and breezy.

No tsunamis had threatened my sense of security, and although I lived on an island that was situated outside of the typhoon belt, I didn’t see or feel any side effects from a typhoon.

I wondered. Could I thank the vagaries of climate change for this?

Anyway, I did get around to weaving two beds of leaves for myself. Nothing elaborate, mind you, but fully functional nonetheless.

The one near my hammock is especially lavish. The hammock is more than adequate for sleeping on those days or nights when I get lazy and can’t be bothered to move, but I usually like to move around while I sleep. More often than not, I use my faded beach towel, either as a sheet or as a cover, depending on how warm or cool it gets at night. When the weather threatens, I retreat to my cave and get into my survival blanket, which is placed on top of the other bed of leaves that I had weaved.

Because of my erratic sleeping pattern, days and nights had melted one into another until I lost all sense of how long I had been here. Eventually, I settled into a regular cycle of waking and sleeping, arising before the dawning of a new day and falling into a deep sleep after watching the sun set.

A typical day in my life keeps me going day after day, and although my routines are not carved in stone, much of what I do is done according to an inherent sense of logic.

One morning, I woke with a start to the loud swoosh of palm leaves getting tossed around in a strong wind. The air, as I recall it, seemed unusually warm for that time of day. I also remember sitting up and taking notice of an oddly luminescent sliver of light glowing above the horizon.

At this point, I typically do one of three things: drink the water I store in my bottle from the day before, settle into a deep meditation, or get up and run towards the water for a dip in the sea.

That day, I began with a meditation that had me merge with the is in all that is, losing all sense of space and time. When I emerged from this state of cosmic unity, I drank my fill of fresh water before heading into the sea, where I floated on my back in a reverie until I felt ready to be active.

After my dip, I went to my sunrise vantage point, and sat on my favorite palm, reaching into the sea like an outstretched arm. As the sun rose, I watched it intently for as long as I knew it was safe.

My jog around the island, along much of the shoreline, refreshed my senses. It lifted my spirits and energized my body through and through. The present moment came alive in a most vivid way.

After my morning jog, I took a stroll towards the center of the island, where I indulged myself in the usual hygienic routine – brushing teeth, shaving face and neck, and bathing. By mid-morning, I was ready to eat. By this time, my digestive system was ready and able to work its magic energetically.

Breakfast for me is simple and consists of a large monomeal of juicy fruit.

One of the things I love about this island is that it hosts a variety of juicy fruit, many of which I have never seen or eaten before. This morning, I picked dozens of one particular tropical fruit for which I had no name and ate them while observing the play of birds along the southern shore of the island.

I feel fortunate that I discovered eating whole, fresh, ripe, raw, organic produce about a year before I came to this island. When done right, eating this way brings many benefits: smooth, radiant skin; an abundance of energy; sound sleep; sensitivity to feeling; a light mood; and crystal clear thinking.

It all adds up to having robust health, fitness, and vitality. If you’re looking to lose some weight, you could do no better than to drink green juice and eat fresh, ripe fruit on a daily basis.

After eating breakfast, I felt alert and energized, which is an ideal state for gathering dense fruit for a late lunch. I was looking for another monomeal. Among other dense fruit, I had my pick of coconuts, bananas, dates, and figs, but I recall that the white figs were especially fresh, ripe, and tasty.

I filled a large coconut bowl with fresh, ripe figs. A bowl made of coconut husk whose inside is polished to perfection is the most versatile natural implement I have. I use one to hold water to brush my teeth and to shave, and I used one to scoop sand when I made a fire on this island for the first time.

When I returned to camp, I set aside my figs in the shade for later. I fell back into my hammock and slept away much of the afternoon. Upon waking, I headed straight for the water.

After a quick, refreshing swim, I returned to the shade, spread my towel on the sand, retrieved my bowl of figs, sat cross-legged on the towel, ate dinner, and pondered my predicament.

After all these months, I was still intent on rescue.

Weather permitting, which was more often than not, I would bring my portable mirror, flares, wooden matches, and binoculars to the highest point on the island and carefully observe sky and sea.

I would do this both before and after I meditated on the sun setting.

I stood up and looked to the west.

The horizon was rising to meet the sun and I was in the mood for yet another sunset.

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