A descendant of Hawaiian chiefs, English seafarers, and Chinese merchants, Elizabeth Lindsey was raised by native Hawaiian elders who prophesied her role as a steward of ancestral wisdom. Lindsey’s expeditions now take her to some of the most remote regions of the world.
Today as I was dashing through the usual busy-ness of life, I reflected on a lesson I learned while on an expedition in Satawal.
I’m with a six-man film crew on a remote island in Micronesia. The island is one mile long by a half-mile wide, about the size of an average American shopping complex. Satawal has a lush innocence about it. Here, there’s limited contact with the outside world, no running water, no power.
When the crew and I land, we discover a bit of a problem–there’s also no way to transport our 5,000 lbs. of provisions including medical supplies, food, water, and film equipment! The only thing with wheels is an old, rusty cart.
So I do my best clumsily maneuvering the wheelbarrow, now laden with film gear, along a narrow, dirt path. The guys have gone ahead–they’re hauling equipment by hand. We race toward the island’s south shore determined to photograph the severely eroded coastline before the sun fades. We may not get there in time. Exhausted, I’m stubborn and unwillingly to be the weak link on our team.
Aromai, the Micronesian palu whose words have stuck with an explorer for years. (Photo by Nick Kato/PIKO Productions)
In the next moment I look up to see an island palu, or navigator-priest, walking toward me. His stride is slow and deliberate like that of an elder statesman. By comparison, I’m anxious and unsteady.
What happens next stops me in my tracks.
It still does…
“Dr. Lindsey,” he asks, “why you go so fast?”
I explain that the crew is waiting for me. (I’m never comfortable keeping anyone waiting, including my dog.)
There’s a loooooooooong pause.
Finally, he shakes his head, looks me straight in the eye and says, “You folks have watches, but you no have time.”
I’ve never forgotten his lesson.
Whenever I’m rushing through airports,
rushing through email,
rushing through commitments, much like today,
I pause to think about that Micronesian palu.
His words still thunder.
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“May the ‘Holy Wind’ guide you to peace.”