Solitude and the Spirit

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Solitude is something to savour; the desire for which strengthens over time. The older I get the more I cherish it. This doesn’t, however, mean I want to be alone.

I just went six whole days without seeing another human. I didn’t plan to, nor did I realize I had until it was day six and a friend of mine emailed to say she was on her way to visit me–it was then that I counted the days.

Living here in the cabin, I can choose to go days without seeing a person, I can also choose to walk the 20 minutes to the nearest bus stop.

Spending time with people isn’t top on my list of things to do out here, but after long spells without seeing anyone, seeing someone always hits me with an unexpected dose of pleasure.

I moved here to read and to write. There is much to learn from books, and the longer I’m here the more I find myself reading, voraciously. Reading takes you somewhere else, and then you’re no longer alone. You’re surrounded by a whole other world, a world to observe, to hide away in, to run to, to tiptoe through, to ponder, and to be a part of. The romance happens when bits of who you are fit into bits of who the writer was, like pieces of a puzzle, connecting to create meaningful images that can change you.

I found such relatedness in John Steinbeck’s, The Grapes of Wrath. Recently finishing it, I feel as if I’ve lived another life, one of bleakness and hardship, yet one of love, love for the human spirit and for human connection-it is these connections that strengthen our spirit and make us whole.

Moving to the cabin three months ago, I hadn’t realized I would be embarking on a journey to find out who I was. I had thought I already knew.










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