I have learned from living that activities of any importance eventually become ritual. This morning I am siting on my verandah. The sun is lazily rising to my left. The morning breeze gently carries the scent of peace, the songs of singing birds, and the soft swirling of the incoming tide. Before my eyes are coconuts, pineapples, lemon grass, breadfruit, the warm calm waters of the South Pacific. A lone mongoose scatters across the yard. Two butterflies perform their midair mating dance. Mosquitoes loiter at the front door hoping for it to magically open and permit their entrance.
“Not today,” I say to them in an unheard mental voice.
A gecko stalks a tired moth, then attacks. The moth flutters. A screen between them delays the gecko’s dinner and ensures the moth a few more moments of life. I sit here in a ritual of total awe and realize I am here for this purpose. I am a witness as well as a part of all this life right in front of me, and right now nothing else, absolutely nothing else, matters.