A summer’s day
A winter’s day
In a deep and dark December
I am alone
Gazing from my window
To the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow
I am a rock
I am an island
I’ve built walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need for friendship
Friendship causes pain
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock
I am an island
Don’t talk of love
Well, I’ve heard the word before
It’s sleeping in my memory
I won’t disturb the slumber
Of feelings that have died
If I’d never loved,
I never would have cried
I am a rock
I am an island
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armor
Hiding in my room
Safe within my womb
I touch no-one and no-one touches me
I am a rock
I am an island
And the rock feels no pain
And an island never cries.
Simon and Garfunkel
How quaint and almost archaic those old Simon and Garfunkel songs from the 60s seem now, I say with the studious repose of decades’ distance from the scene of those word’s birth. How cool they seemed then. How rebellious. How ancient now.
Sitting in a movie theater with my friends feeling very mature at 17 watching “The Graduate.” R-Ratings had just been invented and we squeeked by to see that and “Barbarella.” Those were the days. Youth.
Oh, “Where have you been, Mrs. Robinson?” “Plastics, Benjamin, plastics.” A knowing nod and a wink. The music that accompanied those words was truly great stuff. These many years later the lyrics and melodies play across my mind still. I merely have to hear them on the radio once, and I am singing them. That’s what Simon and Garfunkel do to you. Unforgettable.
And don’t get me started on “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” That song was like a lullaby of hope to me in a very troubled time of my own my first year of college.
“Homeward Bound.” That’s another one that’ll stay with you forever.
It has been a very quiet afternoon. A serious thunderstorm has just finished rolling through bringing with it lightning and thunder, heavy rain, and a damper on plans to go to the beach. The calm after the storm. I am here in my quiet apartment. It’s very nice, you see. No one to yell across the room. No TV on. No music. No voices. No doors slamming in the bathroom. No microwave popcorn to pour out of the bag and share with someone. No this, that, this, that…. and on and on.
Very quiet. Too quiet. I go from the living room where I have been watching the U.S. Gymnastics competiion and a movie on video. Toggling back and forth. Such is my attention span, and willingness to avoid awkward scenes in movies. The computer had been turned off because of the lightning.
Now as I write, obviously my computer is on again. The world is returning to some semblance of normalcy. The movie can wait a while longer. I am not anxiously waiting to find out what happens. The piles of books on boxes that have no shelf home — they can wait a while longer too. But just knowing they are there, knowing what wisdom is contained within, knowing how many hours of pleasure they could bring me if I would just attend to them — all this comforts and protects me. As the song says.
No one, not me, not anyone who loves life, can disdain love and laughter. There’s a lot about that song that I despise. I think it is rather superficial in some of its aspects. But it grabs me, nevertheless, with its rather crude and obvious meanings. Isn’t that the way the truth that hits home deepest really is — obvious to anyone who really thinks things through and has a modicum of self-knowledge?
So I see myself in that song, but only a part of me, that part of me that I don’t particularly like, but which I can’t deny because it is so true. When you have lived your life alone, you are, if not an island, then a fortress, carefully constructed over years. You become more impervious to emotional pain. You become a survivor.
The rock feels pain. Even if it can scarcely cry anymore.
Oh, most definitly “yes”, Oswego, most definitly “yes”!!! Thank you for your perception and your wisdom!
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When I am too much with people I feel almost under seige; because I live with family, there is never a time anymore when I am alone. To be alone I must leave, meaning quality time alone is limited and on the fly. I feel it in my soul how this is hurting me. When we were all busy we also had blocks of time alone. I grow angry when I have to be around even my own relatives, though I love them. [Er
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I know also that a diary is only a segment of our lives, one part of the whole, but it seems to me that you examine your youth as if yours is over. You are not an old man. Don’t act like one. Do you know you’re just now a man in some tribes? and in Thailand you won’t be an adult until you’re 55? People change with the passing of time; we become seasoned and more flavorful.
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All hope is not gone, all chances are not lost, all change is not over until that biggest change of all, the final one. You are in the midst of a process, not the beginning and certainly not the end or near it. You will not be bent nor broken like the young sapling and you are on your way to becoming mighty like the oak. You stand strong NOW in a way that celebrated youth can’t even fathom. [Er
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So there! 🙂
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Choices. Life is about choices. Not all within our control, certainly, but many of them are. Choose to build the sandcastle, choose to become less of a rock. (Truth is, I know full well it’s easier saidthan done, but still, it’s worth a reminder.) Thanks for allowing your diary to become more personal, more open. I’ve enjoyed reading these inner thoughts.
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Sandcastles are made of rocks that were too much cried upon. My dad and I mostly dodged the rain, going to Hartsville today. We kept seeing cars in opposite lanes with their lights still on, but we didn’t get drizzled on until we got back to Rock Hill. It was a fun time out with the old man…
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RYN: nah! lol I always think the best age to be is whatever age I am at the time! But mine seems an extended youth….I jump up and down repeating, “But I’m almost 40!” so someone will take me seriously and stop calling me a kid…..so far, it hasn’t worked!
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It seems you have been building a bridge to that island recently, Oswego, and giving us a glimpse into your ‘fortress’ with these more personal entries. I like what I see, thanks for sharing it. 🙂
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Like Osprey says: You have a choice.. Sitting in that tower, you are dry and safe and unconquerable. You are scared to go out, but if you dared to open up the door, sure many would want to come in. Oswego, my friend, take care. Have a nice week ahead
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I’ve been sitting with your words for sometime now…unsure what to say…trying to decide if physical alone-ness is worse than alone-ness felt in a crowded room. I think, perhaps, it is. Fortresses may keep us safe, but they also keep us alone. We survive, but what is our cost? Ha! I am one to talk. Watching life is much than participating, but there is always a feeling of something missing
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Deleted the wrong word above…should be “much easier than participating.” But you probably would have figured that out – just the perfectionist in me rearing her head. My best to you as you re-examine your life’s choices. I think it good to remember that the journey is not yet ended. You might want to keep your eyes on the journey, not the destination.
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I always did love that song. The same storm blew our way yesterday p.m. Wonderful. Out on the porch in rockers, getting misted cool by wonderful gusts of rain….!
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I can’t say how I am moved by your entry. Thank you to have known how to evoke so perfectly the peace, the sweetness and the loneliness of a life which is your, but, also, mine.
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so far, THE STEVEN MILLER BAND and JEWEL have been helping me out with college thus far. LIKE A BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER, has always made me want to be a better person that to be seems so insatiable. the only song i can actually see myself is TRAIN’s, DROPS OF JUPITER. “so tell me, did you fall for a shooting star, one with that permament scar… and did you miss me while you looking….. [s
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“so tell me, did you fall for a shooting star, one with that permament scar… and did you miss me while you looking for yourself out there.” i wanna tell everyone about everything, and i am sure that theres one person who is more excited to hear about my experiences than i am about telling them. i dont miss my family, i am sadden that they cant watch me look for myself out there. too bad, huh
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The essence of a fortress is fear…of…what? Attack? Pain? Judgment? The truth? The lies? The uncertainties? The possibilities? Fortresses cast long shadows but it takes light to create shadows. It’s always worth the risk to step into the light, to let the light illuminate us. We are always stronger than we believe ourselves to be.
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I am always most touched by “The Dangling Conversation.” In my cd player I usually keep five discs: S&G Greatest hits, Elvis: Greatest Hits, CSN&Y: So Far, Beatles: One, and Bob Seger: Greatest Hits. And that’s basically the rotation that I stick to when I just want to hear something good, reliable, comforting. I have about 750 CD’s and those are the five that get played. *shrugs* [Jude
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I know the words to every single song you’ve mentioned. I completely understand the feelings, as well 🙂
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I was so very alone for a long period in my life, protected. I had to work so hard to understand why I kept myself apart, kept love at a distance.I know. So many Simon & Garfunkle songs touched me deeply, still strike “ancient” chords of memory.The Graduate:yes, plastics, wink. It’s as if it was the first film I ever “understood,” related to…I’m glad you share here with an open heart. [Dream Sk
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Those Simon and Garfunkel songs remain a part of me, also
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Pain in life, I know about that; joy is the other truth, you know–we are not so fragile to need to avoid the risk. I have my faults, my losses, my failures and they are just that…traits not who we are as people–that’s my thought on it. I had an big insight lately: Bhuddist’s beginner’s mind is like being “born again” in J-C tradition: and we can be born again moment to moment. Like you so.
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Well said, my friend!
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“Hello,Darkness,my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again”…The Sound of Silence. S&G. I love the melody to that song.RYN. I feel deeply humbled to be the recipient of those thoughts you left for me when commenting on my entries. From you, those words are pure gold. I highly value your opinions and admire your strength & depth of perception. 1 question. How old do you feel in your mind?Cont
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When you think of yourself,within yourself? I still seem to be in my twenties when I open this little envelope of self. I feel amazement when I overhear that generation talking among themselves and I think,”If the only knew how those perceptions will change in 20 years.” I feel warm inside,realizing, I made it through all that madness and remain fairly sane. I have never felt my age in my thoughts
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Oswego my friend you really opened the floodgates with that song. That was myself also, God I built walls around me. I remember hearing that, and Karen Carpenter’s “Good Bye to Love” and getting so depressed. But, at that age I did not dwell or try to analize too much and thankfully was able to get over it!
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Yes my friend, the rock feels pain! Simon and Garfunkel have always been one of my favorites! The paragraph about your piles of books touches me because you express so well what I experience also, knowing they are there, and that there is so much wisdom in them to be explored, so much pleasure… I am glad I came here tonight. It’s so relaxing to read your beautiful entries. I longed to thi
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of other things than worries of yesterday. Thank you my friend,
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