The light at the end of the year was just as bright, not summer brilliant but winter bright, a deep yellow glow, melancholic. I wanted to absorb it, that light, to keep and to be able to shine on something myself if necessary. Halfway through the walk, as we walked along the mud path along the water towards a rainbow, the hail came. Soft little hail, as if the hail itself didn’t quite believe it. And then it was evening dark for a while, until the light returned. I heard the birds again, the trees also seemed to rejoice. In the end we are not that different.
I thought of Geographies of Solitude, the documentary about Zoe Lucas, who is the only person living on Sable Island, an island southeast of Canada. She conducts research on horses, seals, birds and insects. She knows how the dunes are formed and cleans up the plastic. Because the island is so far offshore it is a good indicator of the health of the ocean and for learning about pollution.
Lucas keeps track of everything in notebooks and Excel files. She takes data about the horses just as seriously as she takes data about plastic. Everything weighs about the same, including her own life. It’s too late to leave, she tells director Jacquelyn Mills. There was so much to discover and do that it was not possible to return to the mainland and now this has become her life. She belongs to the island, she looks after it and it looks after her. As it tends the spiders and the beetles and the marram grass. And the horses, which are born there and after their death become part of the soil again, allowing insects and birds to live, and pregnant mares to eat rich grass.
Nature also participates as an artist, pieces of film have been developed in algae water or illuminated by the moon. Beetles make a soundtrack. One of the main roles is played by the wind, which moves the sea and sand, counterbalancing the people. The viewer understands that we are all washed up somewhere and can only live the life that happens to be ours as best as possible.
It’s a nice title, Geographies of Solitude, but where is he not: Lucas is less alone than many people because she is rooted in and on the island. And she finds freedom there. Philosopher Richard McDonough writes about an animal and a plant model of freedom. The animal model, which he finds in Plato, is about being separate from others and being able to do what you want when you want it. The plant model, which he connects with Taoism, is precisely about being rooted in the earth and the course of things – living in line with life. Ultimately, both models are true, because living in alignment with your life also involves movement for a human being.
I am writing this on the threshold of the old year into the new year. A year in which I stood still a lot because I was ill. Those who stand still see the small movement better. From the bench I saw the small shifts in color of the leaves of the black ash in the garden that accompany autumn into winter. I paid attention to the mood of the house plants, the look of dog Doris. I heard all the little noises. What and who seems quiet is often not. But seeing and hearing takes time.
The secret of life cannot be unraveled from the outside, only from within. From that silence that is not silent.
For the new year I wish my fellow sick people strength and movement, and for those who move too much, just enough stillness. And here is some of the light I saw, preserved in words, for all of you.
Eva Meijer is a writer and philosopher. She writes a column every other week.
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2024-01-02 00:00:00
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