I remember reading about the separate worlds we inhabit in Richard Bach’s book Illusions:
…You live in the same world, do you, as a stockbroker, shall we say? Your life has just been all tumbled and changed, I presume, by the new SEC policy… You live in the same world as a tournament chess player, do you? With the New York Open going on this week, Petrosian and Fischer and Brown in Manhattan for a half-million-dollar purse, what are you doing in a hayfield in Maitland, Ohio? You with your 1929 Fleet biplane landed on a farm field, with your major life priorities farmers’ permission, people who want ten-minute airplane rides… and a mortal fear of hailstones…are you telling me that four billion people do not live in four billion separate worlds…?
I recently started reading a very unusual blog by Sway, a young man in prison. It’s called Sometimes These Walls Talk. So far outside my own experience is life in prison that I’ve been reluctant to comment up to now, almost not knowing what to say, how to contribute.
In his very first post he talks about not having access to a computer in prison, having to write his posts on paper and give them to a friend to transcribe. What luxury I live in by comparison, what conveniences I take for granted.
But Sway is by no means self-pitying. His writing is interesting, with glints of wry humour, and the stories he shares are compelling. I think this is a life of huge promise and optimism, despite his current circumstances. And the practical person that I am is fascinated by his description of how the prisoners build up relationships, with a technique of passing notes tied to combs, called fishing. He describes this in a beautiful post, Fishing for Poems.
We all share human characteristic and have many experiences in common, but essentially I believe each of us inhabits separate yet interconnected worlds.
Why not go and visit Sway’s world, you won’t regret it?
Image by Robert Donovan
Elsewhere:
One common experience we all share in our humanity is of the loss of those we love. Several blogging friends have been bereaved in this past week. For them it’s the start of a long journey and their own experience of prison. I was very moved by Abdur Rahman’s timely reflection on death and love, A Link in the Chain. It contains great comfort.
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Yevtushenko has a short poem, People, in which he writes
In any man who dies there dies with him
his first snow and kiss and fight.
It goes with him.
…
Not people die but worlds die in them.
Those lines have haunted me since I first read them more than 40 years ago. We do indeed live in separate, occasionally overlapping worlds. Seems very melancholy on the one hand to say so, but it also says something of the preciousness of life.
Amazing blog posts, one and all.
I also think that we each inhabit a world unique to ourselves, contacting others in their worlds often, occasionally, or never at all. The internet has greatly increased the chances of popping into distant worlds, hasn’t it?!
In my long career as a nurse, I’ve seen many people die. One minute they’re there and a moment later, they’re palpably gone, emptied out of their bodies to be somewhere else. It is amazing. I’ve often wondered what went with them and was forever gone from this world.
Hugs!
The childlike innovation in their “fishing,” the extreme fact of their isolation, the rock bottom alienation and difference, but also, rightly or wrongly, the muted violence that vaguely comes to mind — it all leads back for me to the impossible SCISSORHANDS !!
Thanks for your brave heart, Tess!
@Barbara, a beautiful and haunting poem indeed. I think separation need not be melancholy – as long as there is also overlapping.
@Barbara Anne, yes, that’s what I love about the internet. I’ve only ever seen one person die, my brother, and yes it was the most extraordinary experience – palpable, as you say. When I was with my brother there was a moment when I thought he had died, but then he breathed again for a while. When his death did come, it was utterly unmistakable, even though his breathing by then was so faint I can’t say there was any physical difference.
@kigen: I’m beginning to suspect you of a Scissorhands obsession…
Only as regards the sharing of your unusual and very sensitive appreciation of art forms (in this case blogging) which also reveal the underbelly of suffering in human existence — Scissorhands epitomizes that for me, it took me somewhere beyond so many preconceived judgments I never knew I had.
Tess, thank you for sharing this young man’s blog with us. He has depth, and talent and a future awaiting him somewhere, sometime. I have subscribed to his blog hoping to one day find that he is living in a new world free and well and posting his own blog posts.
Our “worlds” are so different, as you pointed out. and I also agree with you that they are interconnected, no matter how different they seem. I suppose if i could see with the eyes of Spirit I would see the complex web of fine gossamer strands that connect us all.
@kigen, interesting what you say about preconceived judgements. We all have so many of them. Like onion layers.
@kimberley, thank you, I love this image of gossamer strands – the spiritual equivalent of the electronic web.
tess- you pose such a great question about the worlds we inhabit. As I read this young man’s words and see such hints of clarity, it makes me ponder – who is the one in prison?
I love kimberley’s description of the gossamer threads that connect us all. Thank you for giving us this entry into a world some of us might not otherwise inhabit. I know I will be enriched by it. xoxoxo
@Lucy
Exactly. @Tess, as always, finding bits and pieces, writing that cuts to the heart of the matter. Thanks for pointing me forward today.
Tess, Thank you for the link to the young man’s sight. I agree that his writing brings new attention to the fact that “worlds are happening” all around us – “worlds” we cannot imagine but that are brought home to us when we take the time to ponder another’s plight/destiny/future.
xo
@lucy and SS, thank you!
@Rachel, you’re welcome. You’re much in my thoughts just now x
Thank you for pointing out this blog, Tess. It’s a good one.
In a strange sort of way I do believe we are all inhabiting the same world, however different we may be. I share the same world with my friends the drug-addicts and homeless. They impact me as I impact them. Frankly, I find them more enriching than some rich folks I know
We are all in there together. I very much like that. And, thanks to you, I like to be remotely connected to this young Sway in his prison.
Tess – Greetings and salutations. First and foremost, it means a great deal when I read the feedback and post you wrote in regards to my own blog. I especially enjoyed Illusions excerpt and your insight into each of us living in separate but interconnected worlds.
I also got a chance to read the Yevtushenku poem your friend, Barbara, left and I found the words so beautiful and meaningful that they are now ingrained in the hard drive I keep stored in between my ears. Our worlds are so different, but also so much more similar than we allow ourselves to approve – and that’s just it!
I’ll tell you something about my own world, when I was out there in society my window was much smaller than it is now and my view was even duller. My world is a shining star now compared to the microscopic, deathly cold Pluto I previously inhabited. Life works in mysterious ways and this cell I now write you from turned out to be the golden key to my own dragging chains.
Much love and respect! I appreciate the support!!
Sway
Sway, salutations back! I’m glad you appreciated the post, and the poem. Yes, I’ve sometimes experienced my world as a deathly cold Pluto. Not so much now, but I guess part of the interconnectedness is out own experiences of that Pluto-esqueness. Here’s to golden keys for us all!
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