Of course, there are limits

I grow weary sometimes of being an island.

Not that I really am one, mind you.  But if I were (and I am) I would feel the need to do more than meditate here, alone, idle as the flow of life around shapes and erodes my form.

I have in many ways designed a life of aloneness.  Coupled with the "empty nest" that is inevitable, as I watch my kids do exactly what I have raised them to do - learn to be (more sensible) islands of their own, I am left to wonder where my place will be when they are completely up and out of the home.  One can be an island so long they forget how to be part of the continent.

Then again, a duck doesn't dream of being an eagle, no matter how much our egalitarian mindset may imagine it would.  A duck is content as a duck.  The French don't have the American Dream, but the French Dream.  Why do I even contemplate status at all?  Isn't there more to do than find new ways to be unsatisfied?

Of course.  One of the greatest "do-ings" is "be-ing" and unapologetically appreciating the sense of this very moment.  That's all there ever is.  Nothing manifests from discontent aside from more discontent.  I find myself living many recent moments in the past (it was Verona yesterday) and must not forget to be grateful for this moment as well.  Alan Watts said the past is a direct result of what you do today.  Best make it worth spending present moments on.  Looking back on negatives, rehashing them, remembering them - that is what made me an island.  And while I do not wish to remove my sanctuary entirely, I certainly see little advantage to nesting here as frequently as I do.