“No man is an island but every woman is. That's why we build bridges.” ― Suzy Duffy
I have been thinking about this idea of “no man is an island” as we all navigate through this pandemic. I feel that friends, family, and community are so important to help one thrive, but I have never been very good at being a part of any of them, except for my close family. I feel like so much of my life has been figuring things out for myself on my little island, trying to make the most of it as I go. Maybe it’s because I like to figure things out without asking for help even when I need it, or it’s because I have always been rather scrappy, or perhaps it’s because I am an only child and grew up knowing how to entertain myself, or maybe it’s because I don’t want to disappoint or be disappointed. I don’t know. I do know that over the years when I have been close with friends and part of something in the community, I have loved it and it felt good, but it didn’t come naturally. I had to work to keep myself involved. During this time of no involvement for reasons outside of myself, I really miss the things I was part of and hope that when this all clears up I will build more and more bridges from my little island.
3 things
these cakes are mind-blowing and yet, she makes it look so easy.
this sticker book - I just ordered it and cannot wait to get it. As a child, my sticker collection was one of my most prized possessions. I loved collecting and trading with my friends. I tried to make this a thing with my children when they were younger, but it didn’t stick :). As an adult, I will use this book mostly for reference, but maybe letters to friends and to use in some collages as well. This book, by the same publisher, looks sweet, mostly because ever since we got chickens all of us have referred to them as people. And then there’s this book, eye want to eyeball everything. ;)
and lastly, a poem…
Riveted
by Robyn Sarah
It is possible that things will not get better
than they are now, or have been known to be.
It is possible that we are past the middle now.
It is possible that we have crossed the great water
without knowing it, and stand now on the other side.
Yes: I think that we have crossed it. Now
we are being given tickets, and they are not
tickets to the show we had been thinking of,
but to a different show, clearly inferior.
Check again: it is our own name on the envelope.
The tickets are to that other show.
It is possible that we will walk out of the darkened hall
without waiting for the last act: people do.
Some people do. But it is probable
that we will stay seated in our narrow seats
all through the tedious denouement
to the unsurprising end—riveted, as it were;
spellbound by our own imperfect lives
because they are lives,
and because they are ours.
