If once you have slept on an island
You’ll never be quite the same;
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name,
You may bustle about in street and shop
You may sit at home and sew,
But you’ll see blue water and wheeling gulls
Wherever your feet may go.
You may chat with the neighbors of this and that
And close to your fire keep,
But you’ll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell
And tides beat through your sleep.
Oh! you won’t know why and you can’t say how
Such a change upon you came,
But once you have slept on an island,
You’ll never be quite the same.
— Rachel Lyman Field
The first time I stepped foot on Eagle Island, it was so foggy I could only see a few steps in front of me. My boyfriend (now husband) Aaron had been telling me about this island since we met—his most special place, his Disneyland, his Paris. We had traveled by plane, car and boat to get there. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me, but the moment I stepped foot onto the shore, I understood that I was in a rare and magical place.
Eagle Island is only about a mile-and-a-half long by half-a-mile wide, but there are so many self-contained universes. There is a farmhouse in the middle of a big meadow, which is the hub of the island; a forest that has mysterious fairy bowers hidden throughout the trees, which no one lays claim to; an old schoolhouse from the 1800s that has not been touched inside for more than half a century; a small, but beautiful, cemetery; a lighthouse; a tiny post office; and a handful of gasp-inducing beaches so cinematic that they make you want to spontaneously burst into a rousing sea shanty.
The quiet splendor of this island rivals any great city I’ve ever been to, but what makes Eagle Island so special is that you feel like it belongs to you. You have to try hard to come in contact with other people here, so you can have the rare experience of not battling crowds, not angling for a better view or a perfect spot on the beach. You can just be still. You can listen to the sounds of insects buzzing. You can smell the ocean and feel the breeze on your skin. It’s not often we can be truly alone in beauty, and the island is restorative in ways other places can never be. The island belongs to you and you belong to it, and it’s a relationship you don’t take lightly. You want to nestle into her and whisper, “Your song is heard. Your people are dear to me, too. I will keep your secrets.”
Only a handful of people own cottages on the island, but there are many cottages of all different sizes that are available for rent. There is the Doll House, which is adorably tiny, all the way up to the Hill House, which has six bedrooms. The cottages have a cozy, vintage vibe that you usually only see in magazines meticulously curated by a dozen city people who may never have even been to an island. Treena and Krista are your island hostesses, and their bohemian loveliness is sprinkled over everything.
Aaron and I were able to spend a week on Eagle in August and we had, as always, the most wonderful time. The first several days were foggy, but warm, and the mist gave the island a dreamy New England feel. Then the weather changed and everything was sun-dappled and beautiful with seagulls singing in the sky and sailboats gliding through the sea. It’s hard to believe, but on an island with so few people, we had a very active social calendar. We had friends over for dinner, ate fresh lobster caught that day, and ended the evening with a sing-along. On another night, we went to Krista’s cabin for dinner and watched one of the best sunsets I have ever seen. Another night was a surprise cocktail party for Aaron’s moms’ anniversary. We were also invited to a lovely brunch, took long walks followed by long naps, had an impromptu lunch at the farmhouse where Krista whipped up the most delicious pasta with kale picked from the garden, read, and even made a short horror movie. We did everything and nothing and every second was grand.
Several years ago, after visiting the island for more than 25 years, Aaron’s moms built a cottage on the island. Actually, they call it a cabbage—part cabin, part cottage. It’s warm and inviting and filled with laughter and music and has the most glorious view of the ocean. I love to sit out on the deck with the family, talking, drinking wine and watching the sunset. Even as we chat about this or that, we are each in the moment, recognizing the specialness of where we are, knowing how lucky we are to be able to sleep on an island—Eagle Island—and aware that none of us will ever be the same.
KRISTA’S EAGLE ISLAND KALE PASTA
INGREDIENTS
I lb. penne pasta
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil (plus more for drizzling)
2 bunches kale, cut from the ribs and roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
½ cup cherry tomatoes, cut in half
¼ cup salty, pitted green olives
2 Tbsp. capers, drained
¼ tsp. red pepper flakes (optional)
4 Tbsp. (or to taste) Bragg’s Liquid Aminos (you can substitute soy sauce)
2 Tbsp. fresh basil, torn
salt and pepper, to taste
grated Parmesan
INSTRUCTIONS
Heat olive oil in large saucepan over medium low heat. Add kale and garlic and sauté until kale is soft, making sure not to brown garlic, about 7-10 minutes. Turn heat up to medium, add cherry tomatoes, olives, capers, red pepper flakes (if using) and Bragg’s Aminos and sauté 5 more minutes, until tomatoes are soft and heated through. Stir in basil and remove from heat.
Meanwhile, cook penne in lots of boiling, salted water until al dente. Drain pasta and return to pot. Add kale mixture and stir to combine. Add salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle with the grated Parmesan and serve. Makes 6 servings.
Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:
Eagle Island
If you’d like to rent a cabin on beautiful Eagle Island, please contact Treena and Krista at Eagle Island Rentals.
When I decided last year that I wanted to shed some weight before my trip to Paris, I started out by following Tim Ferriss’s Slow-Carb Diet. I’d read about it in his book The 4-Hour Body, and what he said about diet and weight loss made perfect sense to me. In fact, everything Tim Ferriss says makes perfect sense to me. I read his first book, The 4-Hour Workweek, years ago and found it to be surprisingly funny and eye-opening. He is the quintessential outside-the-box thinker who simply does not look at the world the way most people do. He’s always searching for a new angle. As someone who usually lives inside the box and always plays by the rules, I aspire to be more like him. He is one of my heroes.
I thought about him again while I was packing for the trip. He travels frequently and has lived for extended periods of time abroad. I don’t know if or where he has a permanent residence and have no idea of his movements, since I don’t follow him on 
During the trip I saw that a friend of mine had commented on a Facebook post about a book called E-Squared: Nine Do-It-Yourself Energy Experiments That Prove Your Thoughts Create Your Reality. I was intrigued by the title and immediately purchased the ebook. I scanned the experiments and they seemed simple enough, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to try them. I was also hooked by the introduction, which gave remarkable examples of synchronicities in the author’s own life, as well as some of the scientific evidence behind the idea that we are creating our lives through our thoughts, expectations, and beliefs. I decided to try the first experiment.
I went about my business and noted after 24 hours that nothing had happened, but there was still time. Early on Saturday afternoon I remembered the experiment. I’d unexpectedly turned a corner in Boston the day before and come across Max Brenner’s restaurant, and I wondered if that might have been my sign. I’d made a pilgrimage to his restaurant in New York [because 
Tim FREAKING Ferriss was on my plane! My little, single-aisle 757 flying from Boston to Los Angeles at 4:30 pm on a random Saturday afternoon in October. I was utterly dumbstruck. I actually put my head in my hands, because I could not process what I’d just seen. He went back to his seat toward the front of the plane and I didn’t see him for the rest of the flight, but I was in a daze. I’d gotten my sign in the form of Tim Freaking Ferriss. It HAD to be.* I thought about walking up there and telling him my story, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I am not the type of person to approach celebrities or public figures to talk with them, and I have a fear of meeting my heroes and finding out that they are rude or disappointing. But this story was too good! What to do? I decided that I would send him an email, even though I’d read in The 4-Hour Workweek that he checks emails as infrequently as once a week and most of them are vetted ahead of time by his staff. Still, it was either that or do nothing. I knew that I wouldn’t see him at baggage claim, because he only brings a carry-on when he travels.
I related my tale and he was very attentive. He was gratified that Prashanta had sent me the links to the Joe Rogan podcasts. He said he hadn’t explored lucid dreaming for a while and really needed to get back into it. When I told him about all the ways he’d been on my mind recently and then about seeing him walk down the aisle of the plane, he replied, “You’re thinking, ‘Man, I can’t get away from this guy!'” From anyone else, that would have been mildly amusing, but it was Tim Freaking Ferriss, so I thought it was HI-larious.
The Swoon Society 