Island refuge

Melville looked for an “insular Tahiti”, a place of calm within that was not only shelter from the storm but your own private shelter, always accessible, always safe.  Many people find this through exercise or meditation, through qigong, or dancing or doing their art.  The island is both a metaphor and a real place because our interior space is both real and can be a destination whenever you want it to be. And you know what, that’s not a bad idea. The notion that you can go with the flow and be in the place that feels right is related to this island within your being, your insular Tahiti. There are so many things that pull on us you’d think we’d come with grommets for the strings. Well, when the storms come, there's shelter within. 

It's too bad that I didn't know about that built-in facility sooner. It would have been a blessing.  Today, in addition to the insular Tahiti I might add swivel caps for the joints so that some grease and go-juice could be added to sore knees until the snake oil kicked in. These notions are even less complex than the idea of painter’s pants I had, personalized for all of our needs, depending upon your sex and life cycle. And of course the electronic accessories of today did spark built-in pockets for cell phones far sooner than anyone ever thought to provide convenient ways to carry feminine hygiene products.

What causes me more wonder than ever are the cormorants on the phone lines. One came in for a landing as I was going over the bridge heading home. There is no fantasy I can ever imagine where I could fly and land on a phone line. Yet the corms do this and than stay there for hours. They aren’t small and weightless like swallows or sparrows. Even morning doves, normally awkward and precarious in flight or when landing, would seem a better candidate for the phone lines. Yet the corms defy imagination and find a home there, just above the small river waters, just above the bridge.  

There is a place within that is an island in the stream of things. Imagine it every bit as small as the phone lines for the corms but your ability to rest there every bit as good as theirs. Balance isn’t required.  Webbed feet might be as well as access to your webbed being and your inner streams. Corms colonize waterways. They aren’t ocean-going birds. The road within might be a river after all. If you find your way there, go with the flow. Remember, you always have this safe place, you always have this shelter and place of refuge and you don't have to wait for storm to go there.