I recently finished reading "Truth and Beauty," by Ann Patchett, a riveting memoir of her friendship with Lucy Grealy, author of "Autobiography of a Face". I am in awe of the intensity of this friendship and of the different  commitments that each one made to the other.
      I’m ashamed to admit that in some sense I take friendships for granted; at least I don’t spend much time thinking about them. So here I am with something new to ponder. For instance, “Truth and Beauty” has me thinking that just because I’m friends with someone doesn’t mean that we each put the same energy or intention into the friendship, or expect the same thing from it.
     The friendship between Ann and Lucy was neither silent or simple, nor did they have any solitude when they were together. I’m relieved to say that this isn’t always the case. Thank goodness some of my friendships have the aura of the 3S’s.

    

The other day a crew of four tree surgeons took down a big maple in front of our house. This was not simple. They came with a crane which meant that they had to hire a policeman to direct traffic as huge sections were loaded onto a truck by the side of the road. I wasn’t there but my husband took pictures of this extensive, noisy, man-powered operation that led to the premature death of a tree. The alternative would have been fear and the possible reality that a dead branch would fall on someone.

      What about the thousands of trees at various stages of life and death in the forest, where nature takes its course? I am reminded of the dense woods that I wandered through last September on the Isle of Raasay, just a short ferry ride from Skye in Scotland. With the wind and falling twigs it was far from silent; the collage of trees wasn’t simple; and I had no sense of solitude as I wandered through. In fact, now that I think about it, I was happy, and yes, anxious to get out into the open meadow where I could look across to the Cullin Hills of Skye. On that beautiful day, without even the contribution of inclement weather, nature was not offering me silence, solitude or simplicity.

My blogging loses it’s rhythm when I’m back home from the cottage. Where does the time go? In fact, isn’t it amazing how even when we don’t have much to do, we feel we don’t have enough time to do it? I even feel this when I’m at the cottage, where I like to think I have all the time in the world to do whatever I want--which includes doing nothing.

     Today I’m taking a friend to her chemo treatment. I cherish this kind of opportunity in my home routine. I have plenty of time to do this. Gotta go.

      Looking for simplicity? Here it is, outside my back door.
      Stop. Don’t turn on the TV. South Carolina is not about simplicity. That’s all I have to say tonight. I’m going to keep silent and enjoy the solitude of my book.
      Oops, the plow just came. Very noisy.

         Field trip day. I don’t venture out in the car very often while I’m at the cottage because I usually take it as a sign of restlessness and that’s’ just the kind of thing I practice avoiding. But today I was feeling stuck, which is also something I want to avoid. So I set out. Destination, Freeport and L.L. Bean, about an hour away. I took the shore Road to Kennebunk and then headed over to the turnpike. Since for me simplicity has to do with being frugal, I liked that I saved a dollar in tolls, although I may have spent as much on extra gas. Who knows? When I’m conscious about how I spend my money, I feel a sense of simplicity.
          Freeport is outlet city, with L.L. Bean towering above all the other clothing outlets you could every imagine. It has several huge buildings—Flagship, Hunting and Fishing, Bike, Boat and Ski, and Home (plus Outlet). There was plenty of parking on this Thursday in January, but believe me, I wouldn’t dare count on finding a spot during the high summer season.
         Step through the front door (no lock because the store never closes) and there you are, ready to wander through the catalog, will all those colors, styles and sizes right there to touch, smell, see and try on. The store is more spacious than the catalog, with fish tanks and climbing places for little children to explore. Rather like a children’s museum selling more than you need.
        Certainly another place to be frugal. This time it was all about my sales resistance. How tempting were all those luscious bright colors, soft fleeces, and pants in my size. I discovered that I like ‘favorite’ fit jeans better than ‘regular’ or ‘classic’. But  then I made a more important  discovery—that I didn’t need to know about all this sizing because I have more than enough jeans that fit me at home.
        “You don’t need another pair, Bobs. Same with a white turtle neck. And how many warm sweaters can fit in your closet?”
       So, I left everything with the friendly girl who works there (I would have put them back but then there would be no need for her job.). I’m still feeling a little regret that I didn’t buy the salmon pullover, but I’ll get over it. No regrets, however, about the delicious cup of lobster soup and a small Caesar salad at a local restaurant.
        My next field trip will be to the Rachel Carson Wildlife Refuge and the Marginal Way in Ogunquit. I gave both places a try on my way home, but their trails were icy, which got me making up a new ‘rule’ right on the spot. It goes something like this: Simplicity includes being penny wise and not foolish about talking the chance of slipping and falling.

This morning I sat on the deck and read Brother Sun, Sister Moon: Saint Francis of Assisi’s Canticle of the Creatures (reimagined by Katherine Paterson, illustrated by Pamela Dalton), a 2011 rendition of St. Francis’ ‘Canticle of the Sun’.

       It’s a book worth enjoying, but what I want to share with you is how I took my time, with what I might call, “praying the book”. Slooooooowly I read the words out loud; meticulously I examined the pictures (eventually realizing that they were paper cutting creations).

       “Slow down, be in the moment,” I kept telling myself. “Remember, this is a picture book.” My years as a teacher of five and six year olds has left me the reading the words, not the pictures. In fact, even when my students, and later my grandchildren, read to me, I would keep my eyes staring at the text.  

     This slowing down, this attention to details can happen when we have time to practice, and when we take the time. Solitude and silence help, but simplicity feels like the essential ingredient for this one. There i something about doing things slowly that eliminates both mental and physical clutter, and that is definitely simplicity.

Yesterday I was the only one on the beach without a canine companion. What was I thinking, going out in the cold like that without a dog to get me going, or keep me going? I must admit that it took a bit of internal prodding to pull me out of my cozy chair, but I’m enough of a creature of habit, and walking the beach has become one of my cottage habits.

    I go for the exercise, and who can argue with that? But my main reason for this daily walk on the beach is so I can ‘get out of my head’ and ‘be in the moment’--which has a lot to do with what this cottage-by-the-sea experience is all about. Maybe my blog ought to read:

        For people who are looking for silence, solitude and simplicity and who sometimes like to be along, and who want to get out of their heads and be in the present moment.

The merganser have been out in full forces for the past week. For the first month and a half after my return here, I hardly saw a one of them. But then last week, right in the midst of the storm, there they were, rocking about. Yesterday when I arrived here, it looked like the entire merganser clan (call it a badelynge, bunch, brace, flock, paddling, raft or team, or even a dover) had gathered, one hundred or more, all parading in front of the rocks, with one or two off by themselves.

      What do they know, or maybe more to the point, what can I learn from them? That I have to keep going, back and forth, in good times as well as bad, when things are calm and when things are turbulent. That I need to get off by myself, but that I also need community. Um, all that I need to learn at the moment seems to be right here at the cottage with the sunrise and the mergansers.

It’s a given that reading is an important part of solitude, silence and simplicity, so I’m not surprised that people keep asking me what I’m reading here at the cottage. As I’ve mentioned, I have a variety of books going at same time. I also want to report that I am doing better at finishing the books I’ve started, a commitment that I made after reading Nina Sankovitch’s Tolstoy and the Purple Chair. Of course, lurking in the background, there is always the Queen, in The Uncommon Reader, ready to shame any of us if we get so lazy that we stop reading altogether.

    Here is my list for this week. I know, it probably appears rather unsystematic, sporadic and random, but in my defense, I’m a rather hyper kind of person; concentrating on one topic for very long, or sitting for hours on end with a book, just isn’t my style, so I need a variety of books. And besides, if I can’t choose whatever I damn well want to read, where is my personal authority (PA) anyway? So be it.

    Just finished:
• Being Alive and Having to Die: The spiritual odyssey of Forrest Church, by Dan Cryer
• The Shattered Lantern: Rediscovering A Felt Presence of God, by Ronald Rolheiser
• The Country of Pointed Firs, by Sarah Orne Jewett

    In the middle of:
• Dante in Love, A.N.Wilson
• The Path of Least Resistance: Principles for Creating What You Want to Create, by Robert Fritz
• The Art of Keeping Secrets, by Patti Callahan Henry

    Ready to start:
• The Pursuit of Italy: A History of a Land, Its Regions and their Peoples, by David Gilmour
• Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer: An Approach to Life in Fullness, by David Steindl-Rast
• Truth & Beauty, Ann Patchett

       As you may notice, I’m into Italian history, religion and for balance, a soap opera kind of novel.
       This list is for today. I wonder what I’ll find at the library this weekend? Can you imagine what it’s like living across the street from the library? I can, because I do.