Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/25245
December will always remind me of Indonesia. Indonesia will always remind me of seaweed. Our trip began in Bali-a magical place filled with the deepest blue seas, colorful Hindu offerings of lotus petals and incense, bright Balinese headdresses, temple monkeys, and deep purple sunsets. We got the sense of our next stop more from instinct than itinerary, more from the smell of things than the schedule. In a remote coffee shop, while sitting on bamboo floor mats, we met a woman from Jakarta. Her son had an ear infection, and she was somewhat stranded. She told us of a secret island. You'll find the best spots traveling that way-by chance. According to her, this island was off the traveler circuit-a 30-minute boat ride, off the coast of Lombok. It waS beauriful and quiet-only four or five huts in total. "When you arrive at Lombok by ferry," she said, "call this number and someone will come by boat to pick you up." As the sun set on December 24th, we were on a tiny local watercraft, no bigger than a canoe, en route to the island. The sky moved from blue to black, the waves grew and 30 minutes stretched to 60. I wondered, "Did this island actually exist?" It pays to have faith. We landed and made our way to a little bungalow. There was maybe one light bulb of electricity. The morning sunrise revealed the sandy white coral beaches of the islands' circumference. On the highest point was a Buddhist temple, used as a retreat by visiting monks. Above and encircling the altar were the symbols of all the world's religions: the Christian cross, Jewish star, Islamic crescent, Hindu om, Buddhist dharmachakra and the Taoist yin yang. One day, on the beach there, Dan took a piece of seaweed and wrapped it around the fourth finger of my left hand. No words needed to be spoken, that was our engagement. I had never wanted a ring of precious metals or gems. Instinctively, I have always felt such rocks belonged to the earth's core and were not suited to adorn my human hand. Although I had never been to South Africa and at the time didn't know much about it, I envisioned most diamonds coming from there and imagined I would one day visit. I knew I would prefer to see the mountains with their diamonds, gold and other metals safely intact, in their nat- ural home, holding the planet together; or so I imagined. If we worry that the planet is falling apart, then why do we scratch away at its core' I didn't know then what I do now after reading the articles published in this issue: "Fishing for Sierra Leone" by Robert Young Pelton and "Diamonds of Death" by Elizabeth Kramer. Most people aren't aware that dia- mond and precious metal mining causes atrocious damage to the Earth: environ- mental pollution, seemingly infinite suffering to some local popldations who inhabit mineral-rich regions, and grave health risks to miners. And diamonds aren't just for engagement rings either, they are widely used in the production of computers, automobiles and an abundance of other technological and industrial products we all rely on daily. Every symbol of love is a beautiful one. So much so that none can be more beautiful than the next. Their beauty comes from their true place of origin: the human heart and mind, not the jewelry store. Amy Schrier amy@bluemagazine.com