The Palisadian-Post is running a selection of winning pieces from the 2020 Pacific Palisades Library Association’s Summer Creative Writing Contest, which featured the theme “Surprise Us!” The following piece was penned by Jacob Crosby Galuten, who was awarded first place in the Authors category (high school).
“Play Skaki!?” The Folegandriot plopped down across from me, hungrily snatching pieces off the chessboard. This would have been our 10th game over the past few days, but with any luck it would mark the second time we finished within the rules of chess. On the small Greek island of Folegandros, Skaki is a favorite pastime among the locals. Strung together by meandering alleyways, each of the several picturesque squares forming the main town of Chora are peppered with checkered boards and the accompanying wise frowns of the island’s oldest inhabitants. I figured Yiorgos, my most recent chess opponent, had not yet been trained for his destiny as a chess master, but as his eyes glowed with excitement and his goofy 9-year-old grin begged for my attention, I considered that perhaps it was my duty.
Some days, I never leave Nicholas’ taverna. I ensconce myself in what feels like my one truest habitat. I take a seat at one of the tables, instantly melting into the straw seat of my chair, seduced by the cool breeze, birds chirping, and peaceful piano music emanating from hidden speakers. A bamboo tarp rattles in the breeze overhead, providing some shade, but the midday sun is powerful. It pours a golden haze over the square, bestowing a heavenly aura that turns the world into a dream. Light drips through every crack in the makeshift roof, illuminating millions of dust particles that dance effortlessly under the many spotlights. However, I can only bathe in the natural tranquility for so long. The village calls for me to get out of my seat.
Today, I stay. I indulge my rowdy, young friend with yet another game. It’s not that I find Yiorgos bothersome. Rather, what surprises me is that I do not. I am one of the most irritable human beings to walk the earth; sometimes, I am borderline hostile. I have a mind that finds faults—in the world around me, in society, in the design and user-interface of everyday objects, but even worse, in people, in my parents and my friends, and—most precariously—in myself. Sometimes I carry the weight of every bad decision I have made, every blunder of every person around me, even crushing apprehension and anxiety toward mistakes lying patiently in the future. So, how can it be that Yiorgos, who seems to boycott common sense (at least on the chessboard) and has never heard of an “inside voice,” has not poked the bear within me? And what about when we played yesterday? For the past week, it’s as if the bear has been hibernating.
Many years ago, my parents fell in love with Folegandros and, when I was born, resolved to share it with me. They have taken me every year of my life, and before long a rhythm had developed. The stone patchwork floors taught me to walk, the glass Aegean gave me life and healed my wounds, the island community became my extended family through a million shared experiences—smiles, meals, games of chess and dancing my feet into the ancient ground with Nicolas—traditional music blasting into the square, spirited rhythm shamelessly cutting through the romantic late evening atmosphere … all under the watchful eyes of the island’s elders.
Summers go by, my mind shifts, relaxing, each time I set foot on Folegandros. I assume the humble satisfaction of the ancient island spectators, elders of the island who I have never seen leave their seated posts throughout the village, who silently observe passersby and rarely bother to summon even facial expression except for a reciprocated smile toward me and my youthful haste, as if to grant my passage through their domain. Their longevity can only be attributed to resolve for inner peace.
Everything has value where it had not before. I rock out to the improvised melodies of birds in conversation. Each sunset is a Van Gogh and each smile a gift. But just as quickly as it possessed me, the lightweight freedom I felt each summer would dissipate as I reimmersed myself into my life as an American student, burdened by deadlines and expectations.
It wasn’t so easy to maintain mindfulness and happiness away from my secluded beach paradise. This is why I took up meditation. I wished to call upon a Greek frame of mind. What does it feel like?
Freedom.
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