Written over a period of nearly twenty years, the poems in What an Island Knows trace the spiritual journey of a family of summer people on Chebeague Island, Maine. In the Abenaki language, Chebeague means "island of many springs"-literally, freshwater springs that nourish life. So too in this book, the narrator (and reader) discover springs that nourish life in the face of conflict and crisis. Such springs include the joys of family and community, the healing power of wild places, the seasonal rhythms of work and rest, and the balance of action and contemplation. As the narrator wrestles with universal questions of vocation, parenting, illness, and loss-seeking wisdom from nature and the ancestors-What an Island Knows poses questions that hover over the twenty-first century: What are our responsibilities to the land and planet? To indigenous people and future generations? How does the local entwine with the global? How do we age with dignity and grace? Can we reclaim the wonder of childhood? What might nature teach us about how to live, and lean into the future with radical hope?
Written over a period of nearly twenty years, the poems in What an Island Knows trace the spiritual journey of a family of summer people on Chebeague Island, Maine. In the Abenaki language, Chebeague means "island of many springs"-literally, freshwater springs that nourish life. So too in this book, the narrator (and reader) discover springs that nourish life in the face of conflict and crisis. Such springs include the joys of family and community, the healing power of wild places, the seasonal rhythms of work and rest, and the balance of action and contemplation. As the narrator wrestles with universal questions of vocation, parenting, illness, and loss-seeking wisdom from nature and the ancestors-What an Island Knows poses questions that hover over the twenty-first century: What are our responsibilities to the land and planet? To indigenous people and future generations? How does the local entwine with the global? How do we age with dignity and grace? Can we reclaim the wonder of childhood? What might nature teach us about how to live, and lean into the future with radical hope?