...He never gets to his destination...He washes up on a tiny desert island. Thus begins the longest, deepest, interruption of Chuck's life. For four years, he's a castaway, forgotten, unsought. He lives in utter aloneness, except for a volleyball - Wilson - that becomes his mute confidant and soul mate. Chuck dwells in perfect silence, in a world reduced to day and night, sea and sky, sun and moon. He skewers fish...snares crabs...kindles fire...grows bronze-skinned and shaggy, sinewy and nimble. He lives in timelessness.
Watching the film, I was surprised that my dominant emotion was not pity. It was envy. Envy of the stillness, the solitude, the world without clocks, deadlines, appointments, schedules, obligations. The rest.
...It transforms him. He sees everything in a new way, holds it with hands held open. The movie ends with Chuck standing at a crossroads, each road stretching as far as the eye can see. he is relaxed, smiling...He can become anything he chooses.
And I envied him.
Then I talked with a hard-driven and hard-driving financial kingpin. He had no time for friends, family, worship, play. Then he had a heart attack.
...The heart attack was the best the ing ever happened to him. That's what he told me. He began to spend time with his wife, his children, his neighbors. He learned to eat bread with grains and seeds kneaded in, fruits with its skin still on, juice with a thickness of pulp still in it. He started walking, noticing things...He learned the names of plants. He took up woodcarving.
And I envied him.
You know you're in serious trouble when the people you start to envy are castaways and cardiac patients.
- Mark Buchanon The Holy Wild
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