On the City and the Country (or, after living on an island for two weeks, why cities are necessary, but the country is equally as important)
Because chopping firewood teaches the focus of choosing one’s spot carefully, and it’s much easier to focus when you’re surrounded by 80 foot pine trees and listening to a good lecture.
Because semi-feral cats named Nola aren’t quite as scary when they approach you on an island as when they approach you on the street corner.
Because a game played in complete darkness doesn’t work with streetlights and streetcars. Especially when the game is called ‘Murder’.
Because one can disappear for a two hour walk, and not see anyone else for the duration.
Because not being able to ‘go out to see your friends’ means that, for better or for worse, you get to know the people you’re with.
Because the water is so still, it is possible to see through to the bottom and a perfect reflection at the same time.
Because it’s easier to appreciate rain when it is falling steadily for four consecutive days, and there’s no bus to catch to get home more quickly.
Because the busy city and the push/pull of life are good for ignoring the deeper questions of your heart, but being alone in your thoughts in the middle of a deep forest is much better for realizing what one fears and what one appreciates.
Because stacking firewood makes for great conversations, no matter what language you speak.
Because books are easier to read when you can’t check your e-mail.
Because being limited to three showers a week makes you realize how much water is wasted in the running of everyday life.
Because it is easier to confront eternity in the company of fellow travelers.