the infamous adage goes: no (wo)man is an island.
the question is, if you're not an island, what type of landmass are you? are you a plateau? are you connected to a mainland that goes out to the sea or into the sky bordered by a landmass on each side except for that part which lies exposed? are you a delta? are you that little or big piece of land that rivers meet at? you are formed by their endless deposits? are you a mountain, do you jut out into the skies and hope to touch the heavens? are you a desert, dry and seared by the sun's heat? what type of continues part of land are you? are you a continent?
from where you are, how do people reach you, by boat, by plain, by bridge, by land, by bike, by foot, by any means of transportation? are you near, are you far, are you here are you there?
what am i getting at?
each person is inevitably going to cross paths with another, thus the premise that no man is an island is true. but what about those times that we close off ourselves and push people away? are we not de facto islands? are we not in that moment in time an island that sits out on the sea, waiting to be inhabited again? human existence is defined not just by the mere nativity of each person, but by the relationships each person has. sometimes, one finds meaning in the purpose of being in a community, in a family, in a group, in society, in the multitude of people divided and multiplied by one. i see a permutation table until that prime number is extracted at the bottom when divisibility is no longer possible. when at last, one is one, undivided, singular, alone.
sometimes, in times when we most feel unappreciated, when we need to heal, when we need some time, we retreat into our personal islands. we tend our gardens alone, we play alone, we bloom alone. but then we feel lonely. there's no one to appreciate the beauty, the fruits, the garden, for what is this all for?
can we move the islands closer? can we have land bridges? can there be volcanic eruptions to connect these masses? must there be such a violent formation? must we have the paratroopers on call to descend on the island?
sometimes, i feel that i'm all in between landmasses, easily accessible at times, hard to reach at times ... i'm also reflecting ... am i a permanent island? do i just let people visit me but never really inhabit me? am i afraid? do i keep people at arm's lengths because i get uncomfortable when people get too close?
but talking to my colleague ... she said ... isolation is not good. do you really want that for yourself? i think ...
i want to be an inhabited island. (CALL IN THE PARATROOPERS!!!)