Seed Atop a Hill
By Jack Colman
Seed Atop a Hill
This solitary tree amongst a roaring hillside
Slopes and valleys as far as sight can see
How did this come to be
Perhaps it was a lonely farmer
Whose callous hands and aching heart were tired
Tired of what life had thrown and taken
A seed planted atop a hill
A hope buried
A whisp of life. A beginning.
After he too would leave this mortal plane
there would be something.
A legacy. Something to remember his name.
The tree spoke to him in its infancy
And the farmer felt a little less alone.
He told stories on the edges of memory
The tree was an excellent listener
The best trees are.
With but three leaves to it’s growth the tree soon spoke to no one.
Why, by nature, are we embarrassed to admit we're lonely? Or that we love to be alone.
It's inevitable from a world so entwined but detached; stimulated, overwhelmed, burnt out, repeat; especially when our pre-configured ageing complex creeps in; from making friends in your 30s and dating in your 50s to swallowed words and fumbled chances.
It’s not shameful but a byproduct when our internal voices become louder than those around us. Like the earth orbits the sun, our life exists in cycles or loops. Endings and beginnings. And as I’ve learned from growing up in a city: volume doesn’t fill space. It impedes and expands the innate desire for intimacy.
Works like Andrew Haigh's film All Of Us Strangers and Hanya Yanagihara's book A Little Life warrant independent discussions, but both hit different in depicting this natural phenomenon.
Despite different plots, the commonality is the unsettling quiet associated with loneliness. Almost meditative, you’re grounded in the present and watch the past click across your consciousness like Viewmaster stills or Hi8 clips.
We learn love is an antidote for being alone, but they are not mutually exclusive. Love and loneliness exist from one another. And impermanence reminds us that sometimes we only have ourselves. The void is not always polarising, maybe barely noticeable, and occasionally – or often – enjoyable, depending on circumstance and perspective.
Self-love helps.
For me, I feel most lonely in transit. Being on a plane in the confines of my mind, surrounded by strangers, is where I’m sobered by solitude; digitally dissociated and dialled into myself I process completion and anticipation.
Then I land.
Find or create your home
And be your own
TELL US
YOUR THOUGHTS