What the island has taught me
I've long lived in a city of millions before moving to the coastal region of Ireland. Much of what I've learned here, I already knew - but there's a difference between understanding something intellectually and truly internalising it. Between knowing with your head and knowing with your bones. These reflections might not be new to you either, but I find joy in seeing them so clearly now.
Supply Chains Are Fragile
We live in an age of abundance - food, entertainment, medication, and functioning infrastructure like high-speed internet and electricity are readily available. But if the past few years have taught us anything, it’s how delicate the global supply chain is. Even the smallest disruption can ripple outward with massive consequences.
On an island, you feel that even more. When the one ship that brings bananas can't sail - be it due to a storm or a breakdown - suddenly bananas are gone.
I’m not against global trade. But I've come to appreciate the value of self-sufficiency - whether it's having a generator, solar panels, a vegetable garden, or simply knowing how to fix what breaks. There's a quiet confidence in being able to take care of yourself for a while. And yet, it's equally humbling to recognise how deeply interconnected we all are. No one is ever truly self-sufficient.
Community Matters
When I say "take care of yourself," I don't mean prepping for doomsday or digging a bunker. Society doesn't fall apart here - it thrives. Favour builds on favour. And that’s how relationships are made.
Money won’t get you everything here, but a guy who knows a guy might get your roof fixed on a Sunday night.
Life here isn't transactional. Generosity is the default. It feels nice to be nice, and people lead with kindness first. I wonder how so many communities have let that go - when it feels so obvious once you're in the middle of it.
Life Finds a Way
The nature here seems unforgiving. Cold winds, endless rain, and rocky soil can make it seem uninhabitable at times. But wait for the sun.
When it appears, it's like life was just holding its breath. Suddenly everything is green. Birds of all sizes sing and court. Lambs, foals, and calves seem to arrive overnight.
At times, it feels as if winter might never end. But it always does. Life doesn't just persist - it flourishes under the right circumstances.
Death Is All Around
In the city, death is hidden. I have never seen a dead person and I'm in my thirties. But here, death is part of daily life. Dead animals on the roadside. An elderly neighbour's wake that lasts days, with the door open for all who pass. The famine is still a topic of conversation. A new memorial on the beach commemorates those who suffered through it.
And yet, there is no morbidity. Once, I walked into a pub without knowing it was a wake. I tried to leave, thinking I didn't belong, but the son of the deceased insisted I stay. I drank with half the town the whole night.
"Tomorrow we can be sad," he said, "but tonight we celebrate."
Death hurts. But pretending it doesn't exist doesn't protect us from it. It's an inevitable fact. And after all - life finds a way.
Constant Change
As I write this, I look out over the ocean. The water has already changed colour. Mist has crept in, hiding part of the island I can usually see. It all happened in minutes.
When I observe myself the way I observe the sea, I notice the same. Moods change. Energy shifts. Just because the dog pulled on the lead for the first five minutes doesn’t mean the whole walk is ruined. Just because my marriage is happy doesn't mean I can stop tending to it.
Everything changes. Nothing is guaranteed. But equally - no bad moment lasts forever. Pay attention to the tiny shifts. No feeling stays the same for long.
How beautiful is change.