My kids write thank letters to neighbors who put in the work. Because lights really aren’t for the owners, are they? We don’t get to see our own shine, do we? It’s for others we light the lamps. So, for the retired grandma across the street that adds a little more every single day, and every night the kids squeal in …
My kids write thank letters to neighbors who put in the work. Because lights really aren’t for the owners, are they? We don’t get to see our own shine, do we? It’s for others we light the lamps. So, for the retired grandma across the street that adds a little more every single day, and every night the kids squeal in delight at the unknown addition, we don’t wait to express our gratitude. We can’t match his enthusiasm, we don’t have the material means, but we have time and heart to share. Our four deer and two outdoor trees are our only contribution.
We just spent five days without an internet connection, on the family ranch. We are all better for it. But I don’t think that’s why people don’t put lights out or fail to gather. I think it’s so much deeper than that. When I spend time on the open range, with family and the ranch hands that live and work with them, I feel community. They still depend on each other to survive. They know one other whether they wish to or not. There is no small talk. So much is said without speaking a word. Death is close, life is treasured. They still attend church, and if not, another form of it, as volunteer firefighters or Elks, or some way of giving and receiving one another’s support on a regular basis. There is still a sense of duty beholden to one another, but also, somehow, a benefit of the doubt that if you slip, there’s good reason you need not share (they find out sooner or later anyhow).
It’s the trade off between human connection and the super highway of connectivity that dimmed our incandescence.
That is the sweetest thing, thank you letters to those who throw out light. What a beautiful sentiment. "We don't get to see our own shine, do we?" How perfectly put. Jeez.
And, 5 days with no internet connection sounds MAGIC. I love this.
Truth! So much truth.
My kids write thank letters to neighbors who put in the work. Because lights really aren’t for the owners, are they? We don’t get to see our own shine, do we? It’s for others we light the lamps. So, for the retired grandma across the street that adds a little more every single day, and every night the kids squeal in delight at the unknown addition, we don’t wait to express our gratitude. We can’t match his enthusiasm, we don’t have the material means, but we have time and heart to share. Our four deer and two outdoor trees are our only contribution.
We just spent five days without an internet connection, on the family ranch. We are all better for it. But I don’t think that’s why people don’t put lights out or fail to gather. I think it’s so much deeper than that. When I spend time on the open range, with family and the ranch hands that live and work with them, I feel community. They still depend on each other to survive. They know one other whether they wish to or not. There is no small talk. So much is said without speaking a word. Death is close, life is treasured. They still attend church, and if not, another form of it, as volunteer firefighters or Elks, or some way of giving and receiving one another’s support on a regular basis. There is still a sense of duty beholden to one another, but also, somehow, a benefit of the doubt that if you slip, there’s good reason you need not share (they find out sooner or later anyhow).
It’s the trade off between human connection and the super highway of connectivity that dimmed our incandescence.
That is the sweetest thing, thank you letters to those who throw out light. What a beautiful sentiment. "We don't get to see our own shine, do we?" How perfectly put. Jeez.
And, 5 days with no internet connection sounds MAGIC. I love this.