Thursday, October 11, 2012


John Donne, in his infinite seventeenth century wisdom stated simply that, "No man is an island."
I love and believe that phrase.
But I also believe it to be true only 90% of the time.
I also believe that throughout a person's life he or she will have various moments that allow their transformation into an independent land mass surrounded by waters that allow no one within close proximity.  I like to call this the "unvitation".  These are lonely moments in a person's life, and an island is she.
One can become an island by choice - choosing the safety of one's own company over the bat-shit crazy that is outside one's door.  Or maybe one simply can't stand the sight of one more unapologetic mullet. 
One can also become an island through sickness.  From what I understand, being diagnosed with a terrifying disease, or a terminal illness is one of the quickest ways to feel as though your life is being played out on a deserted island.  It is easy to assume that no one could possibly know what that kind of hell it feels like.  No one does know.  At this point no one would blame you for the moat you've created around you little mass of land.
Or one can imagine the existence of an island - at first having the appearance of other mothers ignoring you at the school drop-off point.  Later you hear that someone has called the school principal because of foul play in the school yard.  You imagine being scorned and judged.  Your shyness can be misread as distaste.  You choose to sit in your car instead of socializing with the other moms.  You're terrified of what they think of you.  You've created your own island.
It is of your making.
It's time to get in your boat and figure out a way back to the mainland - into the world of bat-shit crazy and bad haircuts.