Would you believe this? I was carded at the supermarket today. I just wanted to buy a six pack of beer to accompany a supper of steak, green beans, and baked potatoes. Seemed simple enough to me.
     At first I thought that the clerk, (late fifties, I figure), was offering one of those backhanded compliments. But then…What? Really? You’ve got to be kidding? I was not silent, just incredulous. But no, she was not kidding: SHE WAS SERIOUS as she pointed to the sign by the credit card machine that said something to the effect that this supermarket was complying with a state law which decreed that everyone buying liquor had to produce an I.D..
     Evidently it took me a looooong time to process this new procedure, because after a while the clerk asked me if I wanted to discuss the issue with the manager. With that I burst out laughing. Once I realized the “seriousness” of the situation, I thought it all so hilarious.
    The purpose of carding everyone is to stop people underage from buying liquor. This blog about silence, solitude and simplicity sure isn’t the place to debate the far-from-simple drinking age issue. But for me it’s as simple as can be. Whenever I want to buy beer, I’ll simply pull out my license. I’m not proud. 

    Enough of those internet-free days for me, at least for now. The experience definitely slowed down the pace of my internet and email frenzy and helped me balance solitude and community. For an entire 24 hours, here I was, more alone than usual: watching the weather, watching my thoughts, meditating, napping, reading, walking: no email, no internet, no Face Book, no looking at the clock. Not easy.
    I’m glad I did it but I must admit that hanging out with Me all that time can have its downside. Did I get too introspective? Too self-involved? Lose perspective on my life-purpose? Become unnecessarily lonely? Questions, to ponder; to answer would be to say, “Yes, and No.”
    By the second day I realized that I was feeling at odds with everything, so I eased off. My thoughts were floating around, without an anchor or much conceptual grounding and with very little sense of purpose, which is sooooo NOT me. When I returned to email and my blog, some kind of purpose fell into place, and I felt less self-involved. Family, email friends, and friends on my blog whose names I do not know, are a part of who I am, part of my life, part of my purpose.
    I like the idea of building an occasional internet-free day into my life. I think of it as a spiritual practice, like fasting (which of course I don’t do). Giving up something for a period of time, be it an hour, day or month, helps me understand what’s important (and what isn’t). Um, addictions come in many forms.
   One more thing. In reading this over, I am aware that it sounds much more dramatic than it was. Let me just say that it is a challenge to describe the emotional content of what goes on inside my head.
   Another one more thing. After a month’s hiatus, I started a jigsaw puzzle. A satisfying way to get out of my head. Of course, they can become addictive, too.

Last night I decided to have an internet-free day today, and so I did. After posting a few messages this morning, I turned off my computer and removed from view all of the clocks in the house. The two in the kitchen are covered with post-its, the bedroom clock is now facing the wall, and the battery operated clock in the dining room is face down on a chair. When using the camera on my phone, I did my best to avoid glancing at the time.

     I don’t know which had a bigger impact on shifting my consciousness, no computer or no clock. I think they worked in tandem to support my intention for the day, which was to stay in the present moment. I’ve written about this before, and I’ll be writing about it again, I’m sure. How can I be here, on this very day, at this hour, in this cottage by the sea, when my mind keeps drifting? And believe me, it drifts to the mundane, mainly future plans—what to take to the church potluck, do I need a new pair of sneakers, is it time for lunch yet, who’s emailed me, and what’s happening on Face Book?

    I have to admit that that kind of mental chatter not only feels like noise, it is noise. Particularly up here where I want to experience a different kind of silence than what my life back home offers. I came to the cottage because I was looking for silence, solitude and simplicity and sometimes want to be alone. My goodness, how easy to become addicted to computers and clocks, even up here.

     Tomorrow I’m going to have another internet-free day and will keep the clocks covered. Like today, I presume that I will do a lot of sitting and watching, walking and looking, meditating and not thinking.

     They are still digging up the street and sidewalk in town; at the moment all the action is front of the mom and pop grocery store/deli. The owner has every reason to complain, but no, that’s not his style. When I went in today for eggs, I commented that the construction must be very frustrating. Here’s his response:

      “Well, they’re about to put the curbs in. And on that eighty degree day last week, the parking lot between here and the beach was packed; we had a very good day.”

      An attitude like that will have me right back in his store the next time I need  eggs. A whine or complaint and I’d figure I didn’t need eggs after all. My choice.

    Since coming home on Wednesday,  I've had some beautiful silence, solitude and simplicity. But where did it go? Tomorrow I'll return to the cottage where I have nothing to do but wake up for the sunrise and walk the beach.

     It was peacefully beautiful yesterday afternoon when I arrived back at the cottage after a family time saying good-bye to my brother-in-law. The weekend was filled with sadness, of course, and also with humor; but then it all became enshrouded in gratitude.
     The gratitude continues. As I lifted my head this morning (at 5:50, after eight and half hours of deep sleep), there was the waning moon, a sliver of a thing, but looming large on the horizon in preparation to become a daytime moon. I went out with my coffee in the morning twilight and sat in silence, solitude and simplicity as the sun joined the moon.

       Tomorrow, as the family gathers to celebrate the life of my brother-in-law, we will all remember my mom’s final words just six months ago, “Very grateful.” What a legacy.
    I know that that it will be a day with little silence, solitude or simplicity, so today I’ve tried storing up a little of the 3S’s in reserve. I slept in an extra twenty minutes, I look a nap at 11:30, and I went to yoga. And right now I’m about to read Solitude: Seeking Wisdom in Extremes—A Year Alone in the Patagonia Wilderness, by Robert Kull. Now that was a year of silence and solitude, but it certainly wasn’t simple.

When I got up in the dark this morning I had no idea if in a hours time I would be enjoying a beautiful sunrise. I love the surprise of it all, even on a day like today which turned out to be foggy. You see, without TV or newspaper I don’t get the weather forecast. I go on line to get times for tides and sun and moon risings and settings, but planning for weather up here just isn’t on my radar screen.

     I have, however, been doing a little more scheduling of my beach walks, trying for low tide so I can walk the mile and a half beach without getting my feet wet. Lately I’ve been driving the mile from the cottage to the beach--through all the road construction--so I can devote all my time an energy to actual beach walking . It’s definitely more simple and silent; I take my solitude with me.