I returned to this spot for sunrise and sunset five or six times and didn't once think of getting into the hammock. Very few people did. This didn't strike me until just now. The scene was pretty, beautiful at times, but perhaps ostentatious in its singularity. The boldness of the idea that this hammock is for one person only and claiming it meant no one else could share it was too much for crowds on the beach, even me. Instead, no one reached for it, or only did so for the briefest moment. Collectively, everyone denied themselves and pressured each other to deny themselves this dream of a moment. The thought was, if everyone can’t have it, no one can.
But, are our dreams really meant to be shared? Does one person really reach for the hands of others and collectively step in the direction of their dreams, or does that person lead and pull others in their wake? I feel that not sitting in that hammock is emblematic of the way we place our dreams just far enough out in front of those around us to be on display, but don’t seize them as our peers look on because we have learned that behavior to be selfish. Stepping up to our dreams is stepping out of bounds, into the open, and beneath the scrutiny of those who think they don’t belong to you. It takes a different kind of person to fold themselves into that space hanging between the posts. A person, maybe, who is different than me.
If I ever return to Gili Air I hope I can take that seat in that hammock, watch a sunrise or sunset and that I can feel ownership over the moment as I should. Until then, “Room for one and their dreams” will be my visualization and my manifestation.
