Intimate confessions and reflections from a connected life
I miss him most strongly when I’m by the sea, listening to fiddle music. When I’m in a place we’ve shared together. I feel sad for myself because we don’t share a life together anymore. I’m sad for him for the same reason. I’m sad for the world that won’t get to share Us. I tell myself it’s ok to miss people. It’s ok to grieve. It’s what makes us soft, vulnerable, feeling animals. It’s what keeps us open.
My social life has become more virtual over the past year. I’ve noticed I spend more time on my phone. This is how I ‘connect’. I rarely see my friends as they are spread far and wide. Sometimes this suits me; it’s easier to keep boundaries online. Perhaps it’s because I’ve just not had the time to establish my own rhythms but I can feel so jangled by other people’s energy and the franticness of modern lives. But I can’t deny my animal need; I miss the intimacy of real connection with humans. Hugging, a shared smile, laughter, the feel of warm skin next to my own. There is a space in me, a longing that isn’t fulfilled by solitude.
When I’m by myself I reflect on what modern life is all about. About the pursuit of success. What does success even look like? If it’s having a partner, a family and a house, then I’ve failed. By the standards of our culture I am largely obsolete. What am I contributing to society? Maybe more than I know. By choosing not to follow the usual paths. It isn’t at all easy. It’s like swimming against the tide at times. I’m so porous, so susceptible to being pulled back into the modern drama. It feels like an addiction, like slipping back to an unhealthy abusive relationship. There’s a feeling of never getting anywhere. What am I moving towards? What am I moving away from? The days ebb and flow into one another, each bringing new questions, but rarely ever any answers.
There’s a gravitational pull towards the unhealthy aspects of western culture, which at times feels like all aspects of it. At a mundane, physical level, the addictive food and diet of a modern culture, saturated in ultra high processed food. Alarmingly some scientists do not even consider this as food because it’s so lacking in nutritional content; it does not satiate us. The ever-increasing and seductive speeds of technology that claim to make our lives easier while exploiting the lives of others in poorer, more vulnerable nations, and destroying ecosystems for materials. The rise in obesity, mental health disorders, chronic disease. The inequity of the economic system. Money, an object we worship, that could offer us a free-flowing generative movement of energy but which has become a symbol of wealth and status, that remains stagnant and lining the pockets of the few, supposedly rich. But what is a true measure of wealth? I believe it is our mental, emotional, physical, spiritual health as individuals, as societies and communities, nations, and as ecosystems. An entwined, mycelial web.
At times I find myself spiralling into a black hole with the weight of all of this. Personal and family troubles, erosion of community, social injustice, ecological and climate breakdown. My grief begins with the rupture of a personal relationship and flows into a lament for the meltdown of the planet. Everything is connected. And that feeling brings some small relief.
I look up from the page. I see my dog curled up on the bed. I hear her softly snoring. The sky has changed; clouds gather over Criffel. The tide has edged closer to shore. The smell of seaweed and salt drifts into the van. And I’m still here. You are still here. We are still here. Entangled.
stravaig 