Every August from infancy on, I’ve been carried or made my way to a quiet beach on the Maine coast, where there’s nothing to do but play in the surf or lie in the sand, gazing at the sea.

From the shore, you can see a small island hugging the horizon off to the east. Two green humps divided by a swath of meadow, just far enough away that you can’t really tell what may or may not be there. Over the years it’s kept watch over my personal stretch of ocean, providing the setting for childhood fantasy, teen daydreams, and adult contemplation.

In the magic interaction of water, light and sky, the island can seem both close enough to touch and infinitely distant. And like the enchanting isle of Bali Ha’i from South Pacific, it definitely has a call: 

If you try, you will find me

Where the sky meets the sea

Here am I your special island

Come to me, come to me 

Despite complex local restrictions, there are ways to get there. I just hope I never do. 

Odysseus travelled for years to get to Ithaka, his island home. I’m sure it lived in his dreams for all the time it took to catch sight of it. But as for my own private Ithaka? The sight is all I need.

“The art is not to satisfy our longing, but to learn how to cherish it,” writes Susan Swann. So often we are advised to seek purpose, to articulate our goals and work step by step to achieve them. The island is about something else: the poignant pleasure of longing.

Tantalizingly close but hanging on the edge of mystery, my island speaks of wonder and possibility. It rests in stillness among the ever-changing dance of sea and sky. It never looks exactly the same day to day, yet it is a steady presence. It is the childhood friend who first spoke to me of the far away and exotic.

So I don’t need anything more from it. I am happy in my longing. It’s good to know there is a world beyond us, beyond the shore, beyond the horizon—not just the island but the ocean, not just the sun and moon, but planets, stars, galaxies and voids, stretching into infinity. It’s good to feel rather small, but part of something big. Connected but still in awe.

I hope for everyone to find this in their lives—the longing and love that are unattached and free, of which we demand nothing and which ask nothing in return. Something to set beside chasing our goals and defining our purpose. Something to fill us up when the time for goals and achievements has past.

The island, the beach and the memory of those who brought me there is with me, along with all the other fascinations and sources of mystery I’ve encountered.  On my best days, that is more than enough.