Sunday, April 2, 2017

Tunnel Vision

I am claustrophobic, big time. I begin to sweat at the thought of entering an elevator, preferring to climb the 20 flights of stairs. I don't like being placed into a tiny doctor's waiting room with no windows and mobs of people around me at an event is not my idea of a fun time. Even the phrase tunnel vision makes me think of that tunnel I keep hearing about you must go through upon your last breath before the white light enfolds you.
Copyright E.M. Corsa 2017

Merriam Webster defines tunnel vision as this:

1. constriction of the visual field resulting in loss of peripheral vision
2. extreme narrowness of viewpoint; also: single minded concentration on one objective

I find I do have tunnel vision myself, at times becoming so absorbed in my work that nothing else exists for me. Not always a good thing. If I'm not careful I fear I'll become one of those people that hole up in a cave wearing the same paint-stained clothing day after day, living on a loaf of bread and a pack of bologna. (My brother would laugh at this reference.)

But there is a tunnel I love, one that holds no threat to me in any way. It's at Pea Island Refuge on Hatteras Island on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, my home. I have many memories of walking through this wild, wind-shaped sculpture of trees; limbs embracing you, keeping out the cold while birds flit back and forth across your path. This tunnel does not restrict your field of vision and eventually opens up to a vista of marshland and ponds full of herons, ibis, ducks and swans.

I can only hope the tunnel vision I now observe in politics, whether it be about the environment, the arts, or social issues will eventually open up like the tunnel at Pea Island, allowing the bright light to enter once again.


  1. One of my favorite places as well! You have beautifully rendered the special feeling of walking through this tree tunnel in your finished painting.

    1. The last time I was there was with you and Frank; a wonderful memory!