I am just no good for working this week; ever since returning from the wilderness, I’ve wanted to be back there. I’m sitting here zoning out at my computer…supposed to be writing. Going to the Isle of Eigg this weekend for several days; a trip none too soon.
A few days ago, I wrote this to one of my classmates:
It’s a long way to the wilderness…it’s
Such a short
Need more quiet
Nights where the sea spirits
In the darkness.
I didn’t quite know what to write after coming back from Knoydart; it’s not that there was some extraordinary life-changing experience there. It was just a pleasant several days in many ways (physically and spiritually refreshing). It’s more that it was not a word experience. We spent a day in silence; I could have spent the several days in silence altogether. I came on this course to sharpen my skills for speaking and writing. But I am learning more about quiet than anything. I begin to wonder if the human experience is not well suited to words; if our spirits can’t be contained by the languages we’ve made. I wonder if the frustrations and violence of the world is not half caused by our inability to express ourselves.
When I returned to the city, I hit the ground running. I’ve been going with school, meetings, and visiting with guests from the States. However, on a day I had to somewhat relax, I was aiming to write on the sundry projects for school quietly here at home. But I found myself just staring at the keyboard, wishing I was in the wilderness. It’s not that I especially dislike Glasgow. As cities go, it’s been one of the better ones I’ve lived in. But I think I am more suited to the countryside.
So how does one make that transition; or, perhaps more importantly, how does one continue on in an environment one is not especially suited to? I suppose this is the question of all modern existence. We may not be living in the proper fitting shells; and, for many, those shells are cracking under pressure.