The Sign is the Center

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows of our cabin, I stirred from my slumber, feeling the warmth of Alex's body pressed against mine. With a contented sigh, I turned to him, our lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes, reaffirming the bond that bound us together.

With a smile, Alex pulled me closer, his hands roaming over my body with a gentle yet possessive touch. We lost ourselves in each other's embrace, our love igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing moment.

After our passionate embrace, we decided to start our day with a hearty breakfast. Stepping outside, we breathed in the fresh, salty air, taking in the breathtaking beauty of our surroundings. The sea stretched out before us, its endless expanse shimmering in the morning light.

Alex glanced at the fish we had caught earlier, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I don't recognize these fish, but they look good to eat," he remarked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Just to be safe, let's make sure to cook everything very well," I suggested, not wanting to take any chances with our food.

We set to work, cooking the fish over an open fire, the savory aroma filling the air. As we ate, we talked and laughed, enjoying each other's company as much as the delicious meal before us.

After breakfast, we decided to make the most of our time on the island by working out together. Alex insisted that we both needed to get in better shape now that we had the room to exercise.

"We caught enough fish for breakfast and lunch, so we won't be returning to the shore today," he said, his tone decisive. "We'll stop again this evening to catch more after we work out."

We spent the rest of the morning working out, pushing ourselves to our limits as we sweat and strain against the resistance of our makeshift gym. By the time we were finished, I was exhausted, but exhilarated, feeling stronger and more alive than I had in ages.

As the days passed, we settled into a routine, spending our mornings fishing and working out, and our afternoons exploring the island. I had eaten more fish than I could handle, but I relished the feeling of being so close to nature, of living off the land in a way I never thought possible.

As the water level began to lower and the shoreline drew nearer, Alex suggested that it was time to head to shore. We packed our bags and inflated the floating raft we had found, carefully tying it to the boat with a frayed rope.

Together, we rode the raft across the lake, pulling on the rope with all our strength as we navigated the choppy waters. It was slow going, but eventually, we reached the shore, stepping onto solid ground for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Alex and I set out to forage for supplies. With determination in our hearts and a sense of purpose driving us forward, we ventured into the lush, verdant forest, eager to gather what we needed for the day ahead.

Alex took charge of collecting wood for the fire, his strong arms effortlessly carrying the heavy logs back to our makeshift campsite. Meanwhile, I scoured the forest floor for different flowers and herbs, my fingers deftly plucking them from the earth with care. I also collected some soil and rocks, knowing they would be essential for various medicinal purposes.

Despite the seriousness of our mission, we found ourselves laughing and joking as we worked, the sound of our laughter echoing through the trees. It felt good to have clothes on again, even if they were worn and tattered. Shoes, however, remained a luxury we sorely missed, the rough terrain beneath our feet a constant reminder of their absence.

As we continued to forage, our spirits high and our hearts light, we suddenly caught a whiff of something in the air. Smoke. We froze, our laughter dying on our lips as a sense of dread washed over us. Carefully, we tracked the source of the smoke, our senses on high alert.

In the distance, we spotted it: a small village nestled among the trees, its buildings obscured by the thick foliage. It was a long way from where we stood, but the sight filled us with fear and apprehension. We knew we had to tread carefully, lest we draw unwanted attention to ourselves.

Wordlessly, we turned around, our steps quickening as we made our way back to the safety of our boat. The forest seemed to close in around us, the silence weighing heavy on our hearts as we hurried along the familiar path.

It wasn't until we were safely back on board, the sound of the gently lapping waves providing a soothing backdrop to our thoughts, that we finally spoke.

"We need to be more careful," Alex said, his voice low and grave. "We can't afford to take any risks."

I nodded in agreement, my heart still pounding in my chest. The thought of encountering others on the island filled me with a sense of unease, a reminder of the precariousness of our situation.

We leave many of our items above deck, arranging rocks and sticks near the firepit while some mangos go into a bucket contraption that Alex has ingeniously crafted. Intrigued by the contraption, I beckoned for his attention with a kiss.

"Explain to me again how this is going to work?" I inquire as he finishes arranging the rocks and sticks, joining me in unloading the mangos. "The deeper depths of water can be colder than up here with you and me," he begins, his voice filled with confidence. "We need to ensure everything we have lasts as long as possible. This bucket will be weighted down with mangos, berries, and whatever else we can find, then sealed tightly. It will be submerged to the bottom of the lake, where water won't seep in. However, the container holding the bucket will allow water in, keeping the contents cool. Essentially, I'm creating a smaller cooler inside a larger one and using the drilled holes to allow water to equalize the weight."

I ponder his explanation, impressed by his ingenuity but still skeptical. "Are you certain it will work?" I asked, voicing my concerns. "It seems feasible, but I wonder if we have enough materials to make it happen."

"No, which is why we're only putting a few mangos in that one," he explains, pointing to the smaller bucket, "and most of them in this one. The smaller one will serve as a test for future projects, like a makeshift clothes washer for us."

My jaw drops in disbelief. "A clothes washer? Are you serious?" I exclaim, unable to hide my surprise.

He simply looks at me, unfazed. "Yes, is there a problem?"

Shocked by his casual response, I demand an explanation. "How is that even possible?"

"Imagine this," Alex begins, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "We can use one of the plastic containers we have, make a hole in it, and add a net made out of fishing line inside. Then, we'll create a special opening so the clothes can go in but can't get out without reopening it a specific way. When we go on shore, we can submerge the container and shake, shake, shake!" He starts to sing, bouncing his butt against mine playfully.

I am simply amazed at the things he can come up with. His creativity knows no bounds, and I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"Other mangos go to the lower deck with us," I say, noting the division of our supplies.

Alex confirms, "Some ripe and some not yet there," explaining the varying stages of ripeness among the fruits.

I reflect on how much I've learned from him since we found this boat. Despite being trapped on this island, his knowledge and ingenuity have made our situation more bearable. We spend much of the evening meditating, focusing on our breath as part of our practice. Together, we listen to the sounds of the night, savoring the tranquility after the rain has lifted and breathing in the fresh night air.

As the night settles around us, Alex's voice drifts through the air, soothing yet filled with conviction. He speaks of finding my center, of listening to the whispers within and allowing them to guide me. His words are gentle but firm, encouraging me to let go of the noise and distractions of the outside world and connect with my inner self.

We continue our practice for another week, each day following a routine of foraging, laughter, shared moments of joy, and meditation. Despite Alex's guidance and my efforts, I struggle to find my center during the quiet moments of meditation. The outside noise seems to grow louder, and my thoughts swirl relentlessly, preventing me from reaching the calmness I seek.

In moments of frustration, I find myself questioning my abilities and berating myself for my perceived shortcomings. I know that my inability to find my center has been holding us back from fully embracing our journey and exploring the island further. The weight of my frustration becomes too much to bear. 

We sit on the deck, the only piece of furniture a half-damaged couch barely bolted down, adorned with mismatched pillows. I feel a weight on my chest, the burden of holding us back weighing heavily on my mind.

"Alex," I plead, turning to him, "I'm happy we're here, but we need to gather more resources. You said it yourself, there are tools you could make if we could travel further. And I know about the mapping you've been doing."

He looks at me, a mixture of understanding and concern in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says softly, "I didn't realize I was making you feel useless."

"It's not you," I assure him, "it's me. I know you want to do more, but you can't because of me."

He shakes his head, reaching out to take my hand. "It's not your fault. The first step is always the hardest. Finding your step. Your step can be any of them."

Tears well up in my eyes as I realize how much I've been holding him back. "I'm sorry," he continues, "I know everything seems like that, but you're not holding me back. If anything, I'm holding us back by not being able to help you find your step."

He suggests exploring a place further off tomorrow, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "I see a place we should check out," he says, his voice filled with hope. "We can do this together."

He envelops me in a warm embrace, his love palpable in the gentle way he holds me. "Tomorrow will be better, my love," he whispers, his voice filled with reassurance and affection. His words are like a soothing balm to my soul, easing the worries that had plagued me throughout the day.

I look up at him, my eyes meeting his, and I see nothing but love and compassion reflected on me. His touch is tender as he brushes a strand of hair from my face, his fingertips trailing lightly along my skin. "I believe in us," he says softly, his gaze unwavering. "We'll find a way through this, together."

His words are like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of despair. I feel a surge of gratitude for having him by my side, his unwavering support a beacon of light in the darkness. "Thank you," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He smiles, a smile filled with love and understanding. "You'll never have to find out," he replies, his voice firm yet gentle. "We're in this together, always."

As we settle in for the night, he pulls me close, his arms wrapped protectively around me. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. In his embrace, I find solace and peace, knowing that no matter what tomorrow brings, we will face it together.

As I drift off to sleep, his presence is comforting, a reminder of the love and strength we share. Tomorrow may be uncertain, but with him by my side, I know that we can overcome any obstacle that comes our way.

My center...

My Center...

My Center.....

THATS IT!!!!!!!!!!