As we have traveled through the gorgeous beauty of the Caribbean this week, it is hard not to find myself pining for some island retreat that offers cool breezes and fruity mai tais. There is something symbolic that lies within that mental picture; for me, it is a promise of a change of pace and a blatant disregard for all things scheduled.

In 2009, I took a group of students on a missions trip to Harmons, Jamaica, a small farming village in the mountain region, several hours from any beach… or mai tai. While there, my students and I had the blessing to work alongside several of the local families to build green houses and promote the agricultural opportunities for their village. The labor was intensive, and I must tell you that there were nights when muscles that I didn’t even know I had were aching. While this was not the picture I had in my mind of what my first trip to Jamaica would be like, there were aspects of our time in Harmons that taught me what “island time” truly means.

Time is a very vague concept in Jamaica. I seriously am not sure if anyone there wears a watch, and clocks don’t receive a prominent point of display within a room. We were told that our work bus would arrive at 9 am…some days that meant right on the dot, and other days, that meant sometime before 11 am. Our hosts seemed in no rush to move through whatever they were doing at lightning speed just to move onto the next task. They made a point to keep meaningful conversation going throughout the day, and even would break out into song at points when the tasks seemed to be overwhelming. Even the gait at which we walked throughout the village was slower, often allowing a conversation between friends to transpire on the way to the destination. Our host shared with us that because of the high temperatures, people move slower to keep from profusely sweating through their clothing. There was a specific purpose, even in their pace. The thing that struck me was that even though we didn’t adhere to a strict schedule, we still accomplished everything we hoped to finish before heading home, all while building relationships and enjoying the moment we were in at each stage.

The American mentality demands every second of our day be scheduled with some sort of activity that we believe will push us one step closer to our ideal life. We spend an exorbitant amount of money, effort and brain power trying to plan out our lives and maximize every moment, to the point where we are comfortable living in an state of exhaustion. Oftentimes, I look up to find that the week is over with Tuesday through Friday being one big blur. But what if we could restructure our approach to life in such a way that our focus shifts from this crazy pace to an “island time” mentality? What if we could recognize the goal and move that direction, without killing ourselves in the process? Could we be okay with having a process take longer, if it meant that we were sowing into our most beloved relationships at the same time? What are some of your secrets for cutting out the clutter and really experiencing what each moment holds?

photo Jessica LeFlore