The poet John Donne was also the Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, and it was in this role he said,
“No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as any manner of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”
For our purposes, we’ll assume when he says “man” he means person. We will not get into who he thought were people. That’s a debate for another day.
So,
Basically, he was saying you can’t survive on your own, and when someone dies, you are less than you were before because we’re all interdependent. And presumably you become more when someone gives birth.
Going it alone
Anyway, I’m one of those people who likes to go it alone. To rely on myself and no one else.
At times, I have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to the point of asking for advice.
Yet the fact of my ongoing existence is evidence I can’t go it alone – my life depends on someone else’s kidney.
Relying on others
Along withe someone else’s kidney, there are all the doctors and so on that take care of my body. And the pharmacy that takes care of my medications. Some of them even look further than my body, with due care for my mind and spirit as well.
Then there’s my husband who supports me in my dream of a writing career – could not survive without him. Not just his support for me and the business, but he also reminds me eating is a good and useful past time. And because I’m feeding more than me, I try to make more interesting and delicious food.
The friends who ask “how it’s going” help keep me motivated, keep me writing. I can’t say I would be as focused if they weren’t on my case. Not that they’re demanding; it’s more along the lines of “so, how’s work?” but it all helps.
Then there are the other dog owners in the neighbourhood, who invite Clever Girl to go play with their dogs. The dogs that wear her out so she sleeps, letting me get on with other things.
And the random strangers who stop to pat her while we’re out walking. She loves that, and I like it when she’s happy.
My local library is excellent too. They’re always transferring books in for me, and not complaining too much when they’re overdue. Sometimes extending my reservations when I can’t get there in time to collect them. Recommending other books I might like. Not to mention some of the interesting and exciting promotions they do – like the time they wrapped up the books in newspaper and wrote the opening lines on them.
Still trying to figure out how to use that for my business – mystery gift?
Could I live without others?
Humans are quite social.
Leaving aside the doctors (etc.), it would be quite lonely not having other people around.
For advice when things get tough, for inspiration, even for a helping hand.
But here and no, definitely no man is an island.
Your favourite tv show (currently Elsbeth) requires the input of hundreds of people, even as lowly as the one that goes out for all the coffees.
Not to mention the people that grow and package food, see to it that it arrives at the supermarket safely, where a bunch of other people put it on the shelves, and other people roam the car park collecting trolleys.
And the hoomans that make Instagram reels about their pets for your amusement.
When you look at it like that, you can’t even get through the first hour of a day without needing someone to make sure the water and electricity get to your house so you can make coffee first thing. Using the coffee, sugar and milk versions you’ve already bought from the supermarket.
And the shower with the soap and shampoo, flannels, towels, toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss.
Dressing in the clothes and shoes, chasing the dog across the carpeted floor. and under the dressed and made up bed for your socks.
Getting into your car (I’ve no idea what’s in a car, but it’s a lot), with your bag, your lunch, your coffee thermos.
So you can see, no man is an island – not now, maybe not ever.
