|
Moon shell, who named you? Some intuitive woman I like to think. I shall give you another name - Island shell. I cannot live forever on my island. But I can take you back to my desk in Connecticut. You sit there and fasten your single eye upon me. You make me think, with your smooth circles winding inwards to the tiny core, of the island I lived on for a few weeks. You say to me 'solitude.' You will remind me that I must try to be alone for part of each year, even a week or a few days; and for part of each day, even for an hour or a few minutes in order to keep my core, my centre, my island-quality. You will remind me that unless I keep the island-quality intact somewhere within me, I will have little to give my husband, my children, my friends or the world at large. You will remind me that woman must be still as the axis of a wheel in the midst of her activities; that she must be the pioneer in achieving this stillness, not only for her own salvation, but for the salvation of family life, of society, perhaps even our civilization.
- Anne Morrow Lindbergh |
