The Dominica Ebook

January has been a record month for book sales at Living Dominica. It is gratifying when lots of people find their way to our web page and choose to purchase our book. I suppose when the weather up north is cold and miserable, the book is even more appealing. Thank you to all you book buyers!

It is interesting to me the number of emails we get from people looking at a move to Dominica based on my eBook. We have even heard from people prepared to invest in property sight unseen! I always discourage this and tell them to come down, and get a feel for the island. I think that renting here for a while, allowing Dominica to seep into your pores before buying, is an excellent idea. You have to be comfortable with the differences to make a go of it here.

For instance, one time I was encouraging our daughter to join us in living on Dominica. "But what do I do when it is 3AM and I am dying for a cheeseburger?" she replied. Suggesting that she consider making her own was not appealing. Clearly, she is not ready to live here even though she finds the island dazzling.

If you are not ready to leave behind easy access to cheeseburgers, you are not ready for Dominica.

Dominica is a land of such promise. The natural beauty is amazing, and the people are warm and welcoming. It is an easy place with which to fall in love. But it also will serve up its share of frustrations and difficulty. I recently heard the following from a person who owns a home here:

"I've experienced some of the most beautiful as well as most horrifying times on this unique island which seems to be constantly calling for drama. I still love Dominica and consider her my home, although I am presently living on another Caribbean island. Whenever I visit, which is at least 3 - 4 times a year, and watch from the plane as Dominica's tall green body appears mystically through the clouds, I know I am coming home.

Dominica can give you everything, but also take everything."

I guess that says it all, doesn't it?

livingdominica: you probably know that Dominica's indigenous name is Waitikubuli, meaning Tall is Her Body. Isn't that lovely...

"Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees." Revelations 7:3

Mr. Wizard and the Wall Street Journal

Mr. Wizard had a chat with a writer for the Wall Street Journal. You can read the article here.

Kendra does PMH

Be sure to visit Kendra at Island Med Student as she writes about Princess Margaret Hospital
and her clinical rotations.

Dominica can give you everything, but also take everything.

Dear Readers

I may in the near future start another book and incorporate some of the writing from this blog into that work. I have therefore removed some of my blog posts from the public domain.

Here is my current working title: "How I Moved to the West Indies and Lived to Tell the Tale"

We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. --Joseph Campbell

We visit a village health center

Mr. Wizard and I visited a village health center with our friend Mr. Rasta. He goes there every day, including weekends, to have his dressing changed, since his tumor is now too massive for him to manage on his own. (Life Goes On is facilitating transportation for his dressing changes, and continue to do laundry for him each week.) I got to meet some of his nurses, see the clinic, and watch them change his dressing.

I was impressed.

The clinic was spacious with a large waiting room with educational materials on the walls and a TV. The exam room was well equipped. Everything was neat and very clean. And the nurses did an excellent job changing the dressing. (I have to admit they did a better job than I do, as they are not as messy I am)

I had the very pleasant task if delivering dressings to the clinic. Some kind readers of this blog, and nurses at the hospital where I worked, sent large boxes of dressing supplies for my friend. It was such a pleasure to get to give the nurses these supplies and Mr. R was very pleased also.

I am, of course, very concerned about the continuing growth of Mr. R's tumor and the noticeable weight loss we are seeing. His appetite is falling off and he is becoming weaker.

Mr. R. is Rastafari and has a deep love of all things of nature. We printed off the Hubble pictures of deep space for him and he marveled at discovering yet another source of nature's innate beauty, beyond the stars. These images spoke to his gentle soul the way they do to me, I think.

livingdominica: Thank you to those of you who went to the expense and trouble of sending supplies down to Mr. Rasta.

Tennessee Williams and Me

"Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead. " --Tennessee Williams

I fell in love with the work of Tennessee Williams as a young adolescent, and this love affair never died. I love the passionate, seedy Southern life he portrays. Perhaps because my roots are in the seedy South. I love the way he crafts words and paints pictures, making magic with vowels and consonants. For years as a young woman I talked of going to New Orleans, or Key West (wherever he was living at the time) and filling his mailbox with roses. Isn't that a pretty idea?

Unfortunately, this was all the hot air and posturing of youth. I never made it to that mailbox. I never bought those roses.

Tennessee Williams was from my home town of St. Louis, Missouri. He loathed St Louis. He never said a good word about it. Just watch The Glass Menagerie and you'll see why. It was where he ran from. So of course when he died, his brother brought him there to bury him. Yep, the lawyer brother decided to plant him in exactly the last place on earth he would want to be.

"The most dangerous word in any human tongue is the word for brother. It's inflammatory." --Tennessee Williams

This travesty did allow me to finally see my hero face to face. He was dead of course. But still, maybe he was around somewhere nearby watching.

One advantage of looking like I do is that I appear sweet and harmless. I went to the funeral home before the public events started, and charmed the funeral guy with my best harmless wiles. He let me sit alone with Tennessee, marveling at the overpainted face and mahogany monstrosity they placed him in.

No, I did not buy him roses. He was dead, after all. Roses are meant for the living. And definitely not for brothers who bury you in the last place you want to be. Williams' body was interred in the Calvary Cemetery, St. Louis, Missouri, despite his stated desire to be buried at sea at approximately the same place as the poet Hart Crane, whom he considered one of his most significant influences.

livingdominica: if anyone on the island would like to do a production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, I think I would be a perfect Big Mama.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Today I changed Mr. Rasta's dressing. (By the way, it sounds like he will soon be heading down to Barbados! Hooray!) Anyway, I bagged up the dirty dressing and took it to the hospital incinerator dumpster as directed by the hospital infection control nurse. Much to my surprise, there was a naked man in the dumpster.

Not only a naked man, but a carambola eating naked man who had painted himself with mud. Sitting there, amidst the bags of hospital waste. Hmm.

Did I mention he was naked, painted in mud, and eating carambola in the hospital dumpster? Oh, I guess I did.

"Say there, friend, that is probably the worst place you could possible choose to sit and eat carambola." I remarked.

"Yes, ma'am." he replied. (Nice manners, this loon)

"You really should get out of there", I insisted, "There is all kinds of stuff in there which can hurt you!" I was a little sharper now.

Even more meekly the waste bin's occupant replied, "Yes, ma'am".

But he didn't move.

So I was forced to hunt down security and get him in trouble. I suspect he will be indoors soon being scrubbed down by some nursing student doing her psychiatric rotation.

livingdominica: life is just full of surprises. And some of them are naked, painted with mud, and eat carambola in a dumpster.

Burning tires in paradise

We spent our weekend working downwind of a neighbor's burning. Here the common practice is to throw a tire in the mix of burning brush to support combustion. So house, laundry and our lungs were filled with burning tire smoke for two solid days. I had a two day sinus headache. And that doesn't even compare to the environmental impact of this practice. Who cares about global warming and air pollution? Throw another tire on! Never mind that 85 % of a tire is carbon--making them another source of greenhouse gas emissions. Never mind that burning tires emits serious levels of carcinogens and mutagenic material into the air. According the EPA, our neighborhood should have been evacuated or we should all have worn respirators this weekend.

Mr. Wizard has fought this battle more than once. He has argued vehemently with hired workers that they are never to burn tires on our land, and he has met consistent incredulity. "But that is what we do here..." He has to repeat the mantra frequently: no tire burning, no tire burning, no tire burning...

Here on the Nature Island, not only do we have the inevitable pollution of a refinery imminent, but we have the ongoing and time honored practices of tire burning, noise pollution, and general littering to cope with. There is a disconnect here between the goal of preserving the island and all things natural, and the reality of entitled destruction. Sometimes it seems to me that the island is honored only as long as an eco tourist with dollars is listening.

Please, Dominica, don't just pour your energy into developing a tourist "product". Pour your energy into education and environmental protection. Into changing the prevalent destructive practices. Into saving this green jewel before it is too late.

And stop the refinery. There is no such thing as a non-polluting refinery, Friends. A frequent argument for the refinery is that it will bring jobs. But it will also cause jobs to be lost! When the resident whale pod moves on because of polluted waters, whale watching will die here. When the reefs are destroyed, the dive industry will die. When the air is full of refinery belched emissions, the entire tourist industry may die. When the first environmental "accident" occurs and there is a spill, the fishing industry will be seriously impacted.

livingdominica: who is so hoping that the neighbor is done burning. cough, cough, wheeze...

The Mustard Seed

"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." --Jesus

When I was 2 my Dad died in a car wreck, leaving my Mother lost as to how to cope with 3 kids. During the trials, (literal and figurative) which followed his death my Mother wore a necklace like the one pictured here. It contains a tiny mustard seed. She used to tell me it reminded her that she only needed to have a little bit of belief for things to work out. I still have that necklace and I have been wearing it recently, hoping it will provide the same reminder to me.

As an adult I discovered this Buddhist story about the mustard seed. Isn't it interesting that both teachers used a mustard seed in their parable?

A woman was grief stricken with the death of her beloved child. Distraught, she came to the Buddha begging him to restore life to her precious baby. The Buddha agreed to help her only if she could bring him a mustard seed from a home that had never suffered death and grief. The woman searched franticly, asking everyone, but was never able to find a home untouched by the sadness of loss. Slowly, she came to see that her loss was not special or unique. All souls suffer. All are touched by death and loss. Her grief was healed when she found compassion for others through her own grief.

That story kind of kills off the "poor Me", doesn't it? And why is it that the best and most powerful lessons in life are also the most painful? Probably to open our hearts to the pain of others. When I was a hospice nurse, I noticed the very best hospice nurses had cared for their own dying relatives.

livingdominica: I am a very lucky woman. May I never forget that.

Thoughts on Money

Someone sent me a link to a site called Get Rich Slowly. It is an interesting site about frugality and voluntary simplicity. I believe these to be valuable goals as long as my frugality and simplicity is not supported by borrowing from others. "Never a borrower or a lender be" is the wise Yankee motto. Perhaps it is the fiercely independent American in me, but I am not comfortable borrowing from others. And lending can also be very uncomfortable when I have to ask for items to be returned. This has been a cultural adjustment for me, since sometimes it seems here that everyone wants something from me. So, I support the goal of frugality and simplicity as long as it is not paid for by others. Only saints should have their simple lifestyles supported by others.
Here is a quote by Ann Rynd:

"Poverty is not a mortgage on the labor of others, misfortune is not a mortgage on achievement, failure is not a mortgage on success, suffering is not a claim check, and its relief is not the goal of existence. Man is not a sacrificial animal on anyone's altar nor for anyone's cause. Life is not one huge hospital."

- Ayn Rand, "The Voice of Reason"

Of course, compassion has to figure into the equation somewhere. I get a weekly thought from the Dalai Lama, and this week his words were also about money:

"In the frenzy of modern life we lose sight of the real value of humanity. People become the sum total of what they produce. Human beings act like machines whose function is to make money. This is absolutely wrong. The purpose of making money is the happiness of humankind, not the other way around. Humans are not for money, money is for humans. We need enough to live, so money is necessary, but we also need to realize that if there is too much attachment to wealth, it does not help at all. As the saints of India and Tibet tell us, the wealthier one becomes, the more suffering one endures.

...Eating, working, and making money are meaningless in themselves. However, even a small act of compassion grants meaning and purpose to our lives."

--from How to Practice: The Way to a Meaningful Life by the Dalai Lama, translated and edited by Jeffrey Hopkins

You can subscribe to the Dalai Lama's email list here.

I am not sure how to reconcile Ann Rynd with the Dalai Lama, yet both speak truth to me. Perhaps balance is the key.

Morning Meditation

Mr. Wizard and I have a very inconsistent meditation practice. But we do continue to try to incorporate meditation and prayer into our daily lives. One of the things we had hoped to find on Dominica was the time and space to expand these practices of spiritual unfolding. Unfortunately, our ability to be "too busy" and our procrastination followed us to the island like all the other character flaws we developed into full flower while living up North.

But this morning we did sit in meditation on the back veranda. I had a lot of difficult getting quiet, but I was able be present in the moment as we sat. Each breath was moist as soft rain fell making a dull pitapat on the leaves in the garden next to me. Birds sang their morning celebration song. The pug snored softly in his meditation.When I opened my eyes, a mist was rising from the verdant green hills before me and the living presence of this island was immanent. Of course humanity is immanent also, and a car screeched down the road, its driver probably late for work.

These are the moments which make me glad I am exactly where I am. The idea of listening to the furnace or A/C hum instead of hearing the birds and rainfall seems unfathomable. The image of hiding from the elements in a box, rather than being connected daily, seems an impossibility. All of the easy comforts of the Big World cannot make up for the prison life of house and job we once knew.

livingdominica: and glad she is here, today anyway.