Tunnel Vision - You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?
Yesterday morning, I might have suggested an exotic destination … Tahiti maybe or even Paris, especially if I could move through time as well as space.
But now? Today is different. We got yet another call from a friend who has discovered metastasized cancer. By accident because he has no symptoms. If this were the first or second such call, maybe it would be different, but it isn’t. Far from it. These days, there is a bell tolling in the background of our lives. It never stops.
It’s a sad bell. Haunting. It counts the living and the dead. Those who have moved away, too far to travel. Those who have mentally moved, now unavailable. Those who died and failed to leave a forwarding address. Others, whose lives are too full of other stuff, too crowded for us.
Our world grows smaller, shrinking by degrees, day by day.
Like potatoes being slowly grated, life strips away layers to force us to discover the exact minimum necessary to be a life. I am afraid when the phone rings. It makes my stomach knot.
To all of you who are putting off seeing people you care about for months and years because you’re too busy, or it’s too much trouble to rearrange your schedule? Life turns on a dime. Everything changes with head-spinning abruptness. People you intended to make time for — but never got around to it? They can, without prior notice, not be there. Gone forever. Regrets are not good companions.
I want one that to connect me directly to our people. To friends in Arizona, Texas, and Florida. To the other end of Massachusetts, to Connecticut and Long Island. To Maine, Colorado, Switzerland, and Cornwall. I want to pop through the tunnel and spent a few hours sipping tea, laughing, and talking. Seeing friendly eyes, listening to voices unfiltered by electronics. Not just virtual friends, images flickering on a screen, but warm-blooded friends who I can touch and hug.
That would be my magic tunnel. It would be a tunnel worth having. And keeping.
Devotions upon Emergent Occasions
“No man is an iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee….”