Escape

"I had explained my need to escape — to find some simple peace and quiet in a muffled, snowbound forest that had no chance of cellphone reception.
“That scares me,” admitted [a friend]."

To the author, the cabin means a break from hectic modern life. An escape. To the friend, it means being cut off from the world--something to be avoided, stepped away from--feared.

What a paradox. We're entangled on our networks of people--our friends, our work, our schools/families/jobs/duties that make up most of our lives. And we're so dependent on those connections that it's hard to imagine life without them.

But people are. They're severing those ties, at least temporarily, and relaxing in the blissful silence and freedom from the cocoon of usual strands that encircle us, tethering us tight. It's healing, and we start to wonder why we don't do this more often. But then we return to the workweek, the rush and panic of the day, and the web is spun again, quicker than ever, until it's hard to believe it's possible to get away. To escape.