As I stretch my vision across the rolling acres unfurling before me, counting my human interactions for the day on a single hand, and soaking in the undisturbed solitude of country-living, it's hard to see myself as anything but an island. When I did live on an actual island, it was hard to see myself as such. I was surrounded by millions of people at any given moment, all colliding into each other. Sure, we were insulated by our own personal bubbles, our agendas, priorities and errands, but we were all there together in the sea of faces and people. Living in the City felt like stew – although distinguishable chunks remained of each ingredient, the unifying broth made of a slurry of worn down edges and extracted flavors permeated all, leaving only internal kernels of absolutes.
As I examine my tucked away life, it would be easy to continue feeling like an island. It would be easy to see the surrounding hills and trees as impassible waves, a dividing separator. The illusion might be considered complete, except for spider silk threads extending out in every direction. This one is called family. This one is called friendship. This one is called career. It takes a certain light to reveal each connective fiber, building unseen bridges and web-like constructions. Looking closer – deeper – it's easy to see that I am surrounded by these shimmering, fragile ribbons. My island is an archipelago.
5 comments:
lovely.
when I remember to think of the gossamer strands, like silks that connect a kernel of corn to the sun, even as it is tucked inside its husk, they seem miraculous.
sometimes I forget to look in different lights, and miss them.
it pays to take the time to notice. I need to do more of that.
A beautiful post! You have such a way with words.
I grew up living out in the country on a small farm. Houses were a country mile apart, and noises were absorbed by prairie grass or carried away with the never-ending breeze. I know what it is like to live on an 'island'. I only wish everyone had the chance to experience their own island.
enjoy- the threads, the peace, the garden, the joy of reflection and creativity-
enjoy- the threads, the peace, the garden, the joy of reflection and creativity-
I used to love living in a city - Everything bubbling and swirling around you. I like airports for the same reason...the buzz of it all, a common kind of goal - but every puzzle piece unique. The country is quiet and I like your description of it but often I feel isolated by it and lose focus. Maybe I need to look for more threads.
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