Lonely Cottage

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  “Among the few features of agricultural England which retain an appearance but little modified by the lapse of centuries, may be reckoned the high, grassy and furzy downs, coombs, or ewe-leases, as they are indifferently called, that fill a large area of certain counties in the south and south-west. If any mark of human occupation is met with hereon, it usually takes the form of the solitary cottage of some shepherd. Fifty years ago such a lonely cottage stood on such a down, and may possibly be standing there now. In spite of its loneliness, however, the spot, by actual measurement, was not more than five miles from a county-town. Yet that affected it little. Five miles of irregular upland, during the long inimical seasons, with their sleets, snows, rains, and mists, afford withdrawing space enough to isolate a Timon or a Nebuchadnezzar; much less, in fair weather, to please that less repellent tribe, the poets, philosophers, artists, and others who “conceive and meditate of ple...

Fear-facing

 I’ve been trying to think of the kind of vessel you n which I would like to journey that would take me to a place I’ve never been before. There are two places I can think of that are at extremes. The first is in the deepest ocean and a second is anywhere in space. Now anyone who knows me knows how much I enjoy science fiction and might enjoy visiting any one of those places, but truth be told I cannot think of a vessel that would be conducive to an enjoyable trip. See, I don’t like small, cramped spaces.


One of my favorite stories is a short story by Ray Bradbury. It’s called “Kaleidoscope”. The story begins with a rocket ship, having exploded, sending its occupants floating away from one another into the far reaches a space. The bulk of the story captures their final conversation as a drift away from one another. For me, the horror is not in being trapped in a suit from certain, it would not take long for that sensation to go away. The horror for me is inability to not fully stand up or walk around. 


I’ve been inside a submarine before, but there are certain aspects of it that I most likely could not withstand. I need a few feet more space over my head. If I couldn’t stand up straight or walk around, I would have serious problems.


This fear might be common among human beings in general. Which is, perhaps, why in classic and even Gothic literature, some authors have exploited the concept of the premature burial, a la Edgar Allan Poe. It’s not easy to talk about or write about and it’s very uneasy to me to think about.


But that’s part of growth, facing your fears. As the Stoics would say, “premeditato malorum.” All that means is that one should prepare for the worst so that if it happens, one is ready; on the other hand, if it doesn’t happen, one is ready.

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