I’ll never forget the day I moved out to Isle au Haut. I lugged my three suitcases onto the boat and sat down next to Danny MacDonald and the outgoing Isle au Haut fellow, Alex. It was a fairly crowded boat and there were bags of groceries everywhere.

Folks were introducing themselves and I was trying to catalog the names being thrown at me. But as the boat pulled away from the dock in Stonington, my eyes instinctively went to the windows. It was a beautiful day. The water was crystal clear and the sun was shining. I briefly took my eyes away from the window and realized no one else was taking in this gorgeous view!

Some people were reading, but most were either chatting with those around them or staring at a spot on the floor. If they did glance outside, it seemed to be more for a reference point than out of awe. 

I vowed then and there not to become apathetic. I get to spend two years living in an unbelievably beautiful place. I wasn’t going to take any of it for granted. And for a few months, I was wide-eyed and amazed all the time. I saw every boat ride as an adventure; Head Harbor took my breath away every time.

Flash forward a year and a half and I’m that person on the boat—playing on my phone, talking to Garrett or comparing weekend plans with Lisa. I walk down to the post office every day and don’t even notice how beautiful the thoroughfare is. Even when I’m hiking or running on island, I rarely take note of what I’m surrounded by.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize my apathy is due to more than just familiarity with my surroundings (or, for any other economics nerds out there, diminishing marginal utility). My apathy is a result of rarely being in the moment. I see the sunsets. I see the waves crashing on the rocks. But my mind is elsewhere.  I’m thinking about the errands I need to run once I get to the mainland, or the emails I need to send my boss or the bills I need to pay. My phone is always buzzing with one notification or another.

I don’t want to be someone who takes things for granted, who doesn’t stop once or twice a day just to look around and realize how amazing the world is.  

I love the outdoors. On the weekends you can always find my boyfriend and I hiking, cross-country skiing or snowshoeing. And yes, I try to stop for a moment or two during those excursions and relish how gorgeous Maine is and how great it feels to be alive. But it’s ridiculous of me to only appreciate the beauty I’m surrounded by when it’s convenient, when I have marked off x-number of hours in my calendar to spend in nature once a week. 

My personal goal for the next six months, the remainder of my time on Isle au Haut, is to behave like I did when I first got here. I’m going to leave my phone in my bag when I’m on the boat. I’m going to explore (even for just an hour) every day and leave my work and personal problems at home. I’m going to just be.

I went for my daily run yesterday evening around 4:30 p.m. As I was coming back down the hill towards town, the sun was setting. I glanced up from the road and saw that the sky was a brilliant orange; I looked to my right and the Camden Hills were silhouetted beautifully. I hesitated for a moment. Stop and take all of this in or continue running and remain on pace? I stopped.