On the Island

A Shoaler in the Making: Part 5

A Shoaler in the Making, Part 5 by Nelson Linscott

Star Island Bodhicitta

I went voluntarily sent
by luck of the draw
Though my World resides
inside a temporary shell
that will crumble into dust
The island called to me
a place I only dreamed of
I felt the spirit long
before I set foot upon the rock
the beauty of the land 
cold Atlantic and sunrise sky
could not compare to the people’s 
pulsing, loving hearts
I am not dust yet
I shall return

NL June 2018

Some may say when contemplating the life I inherited, I am not very lucky in life. I disagree. I have been very lucky. I wouldn’t be alive if not for luck. Many times I found myself in a wrong place at the wrong time, but I stumbled out all of these misfortunes always a bit more clever and most times no less for wear. But Star Island!! Star Island, I was at the right place at the right time. I am a lucky person. I don’t remember signing up for the Veteran’s Raffle. For a while I was convinced that someone else signed me up. I think it may have been Karma, but I haven’t blessed this world with enough positive Karma to deserve a trip to Star Island.  Maybe it was some other Divine Intervention.

Baxter sat tall in his stroller as we strolled the walkway, up the hill to the porch of the grand Oceanic. Ally pointed out a few highlights as I stared out to the sea that I had just crossed. Being hearing impaired, I noticed the absence of background noise. The gentle breeze stirred the air with a scent of salt and blossoms. One lone cloud slowly rode the air currents above. The Thomas Laighton was busy getting ready for the trip back to Portsmouth. We headed for the room, on the boardwalk to “The Motel”. After a little talk, Ally left and Baxter indicated he wanted out of the stroller.  I picked him up and cringed as I looked at his right rear leg. He was obviously in pain. Hopefully, this was going to work. With the front door open I emptied my bag. Baxter sniffed every corner, nook, and cranny of the floor and plunked down in the frame of the open door and gazed out over his home for the week. I opened the window over the desk and sat peering out over the same view Baxter had. I had to attend a fire safety presentation in an hour and then surely supper would be served. I closed my eyes and created the internal vibration in my head, silently repeating my mantra. Ten miles out to sea from my Kittery home, I sent my message of love through my internal vibrations and feeling them being returned sitting in a different chair, a different place, with different people, I settled into a deep meditative state. When I opened my eyes, Baxter was on his side, pink tongue extended. I stood and stepped outside to the rail. I thought, “this is going to be fun.”


Photos by Nelson Linscott