Melville looked for an “insular Tahiti” 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. There are so many things that pull on us you’d think we’d come with grommets for the strings.
There was a time when that sort of built-in facility would have been a blessing. One could 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. This notion is even less complex than the idea of painter’s pants personalized for all of our needs, depending upon your sex and life cycle, and of course the electronic accessories of the day which seem to take precedence over even 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. There is no fantasy I can ever imagine where I could fly and land on a phone line. Yet the corms do this and then 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.