Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
~ William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act IV, Sc. 1
Featured in the radio program called Edge of the World about the remote island of St Kilda, the island at the outer reaches of the Outer Hebrides off the north-west coast of Scotland. The island was inhabited for centuries by people who subsisted on the sea birds that breed on its steep cliffs. It was regarded by writers of the time as a kind of Utopia. In 1930, the last 37 people living on the island were evacuated and the island was left to the birds.
The program was made by sound artist, Francesca Panetta, and you can listen to it here: Edge of the World. It is magical at the 32-minute mark and beyond.
That kind of Utopia? You have to be receptive for it to reveal itself to you. That’s what I mean.