​I can’t remember where I got this little travel magnifying glass, but it is perfect: 2 1/4 inches square, snaps open and closes with ease, and is mighty powerful.
     Walking along examining little things is a beautiful way to be in solitude with nature. The only caveat is that it slows down my walking. Ah, but I have a springtime solution; take two walks a day. It is light enough for me to head out after supper for a little stroll up the street to the Wadsworth Cemetery.

     ​From time to time I write about being in the NOW; it’s one of the ways that helps me be conscious of silence and solitude. I’m pretty HDHD, although such a diagnosis was not “invented” when I was in school (very grateful for that), so I need all these little helps to keep my mind and body quiet and attentive.
     Esther de Wall, in an article in Weavings (July/August 2002), gives a marvelous suggestion of how to stay attentive to the moment:
     i carry with me a magnifying glass—nothing elaborate—one that I can put in a pocket or carry on a string around my neck. Then, whenever I can, I walk slowly and stop and look at whatever it may be, and I find a whole other world—in a leaf, in a small stone, in a twig. But it need not be outside. In my kitchen I enjoy the texture of an orange or the grains of a bowl of sugar.
       What a marvelous time I had with my magnifying glass on my walk yesterday. In rereading her article on my return home, she told me more:
     This is the practice of seeing with detachment—seeing without wanting to own or to possess. It is seeing with total attentiveness, with delight, with wonder, with love, and with reverence. Such a mode of seeing brings with it gratitude for the amazing ingenuity and generosity of a creator God—a God  who gives us a world that is rich and filled with wonder.
    I can’t wait to go out today. Or, I can stay in the kitchen. 

​How to live peacefully in a world of violence, violence of thought, word, and deed? I don’t need to explain or paint a picture. You can see and hear it in your mind/body/spirit. It’s always been there, but right now it seems particularly stark!
   Last night I turned off the news. But what to do to stop perseverating on all that negativity so I can move to a place of hope? I came upstairs to my  room my grandchildren have named  The Angel Room (no T.V.). I sat in the silence, thinking of people who suffering and surrounding them with light. Soon the entire universe was filled with light and I saw the possibility of a peaceful world. I know this won’t become an instant reality, but I believe in the possibility, at least person by person, situation by situation.
   As someone who has consciously longed for silence, solitude and simplicity for the past ten years, it is becoming clear that I must intentionally practice what I long for. If deeds are manifested by thoughts and words, as I believe they are, I had better get busy manifesting peace and love. 

​​Follow your bliss. One of my favorite quotes from Joseph Campbell. For my purposes here, I will stick with this short version. I love to tell people to follow their bliss, but I need to take care that I don’t say it as a throw-away comment—in the category of ‘have a nice day.’ Following your bliss is serious, difficult business. If I truly want someone to do so, I have to be willing to accept the fact that it is their bliss, not my idea of what their bliss should be.
 
 
Here’s Campbell’s full quote. I love how he states it so positively.  
“Follow your bliss.
If you do follow your bliss,
you put yourself on a kind of track
that has been there all the while waiting for you,
and the life you ought to be living
is the one you are living.
When you can see that,
you begin to meet people
who are in the field of your bliss,
and they open the doors to you.
I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid,
and doors will open
where you didn't know they were going to be.
If you follow your bliss,
doors will open for you that wouldn't have opened for anyone else.”

​Why haven’t I posted for a few weeks? Because I’ve been too busy. My life hasn’t been simple and periods of silence and solitude have been brief. That’s the way life is sometimes; I’m looking forward to a day to myself on Monday. My Day is what I call it.
     My busyness has been rewarding and necessary. I visited Bob, a 93 year old church friend, just 24 hours before he died. I visited my best friend and my sister in Connecticut. I had lunch with a long time friends. Today I am involved with Bob’s memorial service. My daughter and her husband are visiting and we will have dinner at the Wayside Inn tonight.
    I love silence, solitude, and simplicity, but I am not a hermit.

​​February 20th would have been my dad’s 114th birthday. Here is the email I sent to my family.
Dear Family,
        Today would have been Papa’s 114 birthday.
       If he were here today he would be so proud of everyone one us., which reminds me of a musing of his: I wish George Washington could return and I could show him around. What would he think?
     Hmm, what would I show Papa if he could be with me now? First, I would show him our family and Jim’s and my home. Then we would walk up the street to my church. Oh, I’m sure we’d visit Florence. We’d remember being there with Grammy and Alice in 1956; we’d walk around the city and visit my favorite museums, churches and restaurants.
     What is new in the world that Papa would be interested in and intrigued to explore? Certainly the technology world, and particularly the graphic arts.
     What would disappoint him? Most certainly our president’s public name calling. As you all know, Papa loved to discuss ideas, and he was comfortable voicing his opinions and listened to those of others. But he always did so showing kindness and respect, and was willing to admit that he had changed his mind. He was a model of civility and he expected his four children (and grandchildren) to be kind and polite, and to make us ever mindful of the needs of others.
     Grammy was the same way. I remember once, and only once, calling her a ‘dumb bunny.’ I can still picture her lifting her finger, looking me in the eye, and saying, “Don’t you ever talk to me again that way.” I never did.
     We are now living all over the country. I admit that I am sad that we don’t get together as we used to. I miss those of you that I hardly ever see. But, there is the technology world. I’d love to hear what you would show Papa, and the ‘words of wisdom’ that Grammy told you. I trust that the rest of you would love to hear, too.

​    First of all, a update on the various components of my silent, solitude and simple life on this snowy Monday morning.
• Family is doing great: healthy, proactive, positive. I’m very grateful for this.
• Church is doing great. It is one of the most welcoming places I know.
• Friends. Some doing great, but not all. Regardless, they are trying to stay proactive, positive, and faithful as they deal with health and family issues.
 
     Secondly, a few headlines from my world of silence, solitude, and simplicity.
• I’m trying not to get drawn into everyday politics but I must admit it is a challenge not to turn on the T.V. and tune into what I call, ‘My Sources.’
• I give myself an A in reading. This year I’ve read 12 books; only 68 to go to meet my 2019 Goodreads Challenge of 80 books.
• The front room is clear of stuff we don’t want. If we ever decide to move, what’s left can be boxed up in a couple of hours.
• My upcoming trip in April to Italy with my daughter and granddaughter is competing for center stage with all the other good things in my life.
• Every morning I start my day naming five things for which I am grateful. The usual list, which I learned from my mom, holds steady: family, friends, health, life and faith. But there are always others. 

​It is silent this morning as the ice on my driveway melts from last night’s snow and rain. All I can hear, as I sit in the sunroom (no sun), is the rhythmic tick of four clocks that my husband is trying to get in sync. Tinkering with old clocks has been a hobby of his for many years. It is a meditative hobby, taking patience, and encouraging an atmosphere of active silence, solitude, and simplicity. 

    ​It feels like I haven’t posted about silence, solitude, and simplicity lately. Well, at least not in that simple way with a comment such as, “I’m (just) sitting in the silence, solitude, and simplicity today.” Somehow the word ‘just’ is essential in conveying my feeling because it gets rid of the need to explain or quality my mood.
     Perhaps right now I should follow my own advice and stop writing. Before I do, however, I want to share something about the accompanying photo of my couch, knitting, book, and pillows from Florence,. Arranging those items brought me an added wave of contentment, and so I encourage you to do the same. Gather a few of your favorite things on your comfy resting spot, and see how you are led to relax into silence, solitude, and simplicity; live into it, if even for five minutes. 

   ​I posted the following on ‘A Solitary Traveler,’ but I want to say a little more about the silence and solitude I experienced. Being the only person among the second floor icons was awesome. If I had come with a friend, that wouldn’t have happened; silence and solitude would have been compromised.
    I understand that not everyone desires to travel alone the way I do, but if you long for silence, solitude, and simplicity, I suggest that you spend a morning by yourself at a museum. You may not have the floor to yourself, but you can wander about silently in your own little world.   
 
     Today I took a solitary trip to the Museum of Russian Icons, in Clinton, eighteen miles and thirty-five minutes from my house. I had planned to take pictures, but upon arriving I discovered I had left my phone at home.  What good news that turned out to be; no distractions. I was free to look. And since I was alone, it was just me and the icons.
     More good news: I had the entire second floor of the museum to myself for the entire visit.