Passport to Living

Daily Prompt: A classic question, revisited: what are the five items you must have on a deserted island?

Foolish me, to think anything I possess would be of value to me on a desert island. Tarzan had no need for his father’s suit or photos of his parents holding him in a loving embrace. Would I want to bring photos, or would the images of loved ones be more vivid without a flat, static, reproduction of them? My mind would conjure the scents and feel of them, but the paper would wither and fade. Perhaps I would be called to use it in the fire, desperate. I would burn whatever was handy, and realize once the darkness closed in again that I was more utterly alone.

Would I bring a favorite book, to escape my own mind’s delusions? Would I read and remember the comfort of my childhood bedroom and laugh at the irony of man’s imagination, being sucked up into the belly of a whale. Surely, surrounded by marine life, I would come to see them personified. Would I have a need for such imaginings? Without the trappings of civilization, wouldn’t I notice the life all around me, rather than trampling and ignoring it? Uninterrupted by the sights of cars and buildings, the threat of unnatural violence would fade. I would see life.

Would I wish I had brought some medicine, some fishing line, a few vials of fresh water?How long would these items help me to survive? The castaway learns to survive and eventually perishes, just like the rest of us will do who are surrounded by objects of need and longing. Our desires keep us in the past or longing for the future, but not in the here and now.  So, nah, I wouldn’t bring anything. Everything I can use is already there.

Daily Prompt: Five Items

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Ask Me, I know

Every year we do something strange.
We cut down a tree, and our living room we rearrange.

It will not grow, it leaves a mess,
so why do we look forward to this?

‘Why DO we do this?’ you wonder out loud.
“For the presents!” says the child unbowed.

‘Why are there presents?’ you wonder some more.
“It’s a birthday party!” shouts he, coming into a roar.

‘Then why don’t we sing Happy Birthday?’ Ha! You’ve got him this time.
“Because it’s Christmas!” he says with the most determined look in his eye.

You’re right, so true.
I just needed a little reminder, called you.