These are the kinds of issues that arise for those of us who long for extended periods of solitude. We haven’t denounced the social aspect of our lives, not do we want to. Sometimes it’s impossible to fit everything in. At least to do so with ease and in sync with the rest of the world.
On Easter afternoon I’m flying to Florence, the city of my heart. Once again I’ll visit favorite churches, museums, and restaurants, all within the framework of wandering about in solitude. All good. My family accepts my solitary trips, knowing that I try to plan around important family events. Usually I’m successful but this time it isn’t working out quite that way. I won’t be home when the grandkids come for a couple of nights during their vacation, nor when my daughter and her husband come for a long weekend. My husband and I are a good team when visitors come, but this time he’ll have to play my position as well as his. He’s fine with this but I’m feeling a tad sad and guilty that I won’t be there for the fun and to fulfill my job in the Camp Fisher kitchen.
These are the kinds of issues that arise for those of us who long for extended periods of solitude. We haven’t denounced the social aspect of our lives, not do we want to. Sometimes it’s impossible to fit everything in. At least to do so with ease and in sync with the rest of the world.
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It’s time to return to the cottage. The good news is that there is no snow to shovel. The bad news? Well, there isn’t any. It’s all win-win, with solitude at the cottage and community at home. Very grateful. This weekend my daughter and her husband were visiting. One evening we went to the Wayside Inn. The lore has it that George Washington stopped by there for a dram. A century later Henry Wadsworth Longfellow told and wrote ‘Tales of a Wayside Inn’ in the room across from the pub where we had a glass of wine. Over the years the inn experienced several fires, but Henry Ford came along, had it rebuilt and kept it going. These days it is a full-fledged, not-for-profit organization, with an inn keeper, trustees and volunteer Minutemen from Sudbury and surrounding towns greeting visitors at the door. This morning, this warm morning here at the cottage, a solitary moth flew by the deck window. I thought, “I know you, you, flying about, you, as content as I sitting on this deck, on this day, this only day this day can be. We are alone but not lonely.” Lest I think that a solitary flight is the only way to be, a flock of gulls flew by in the opposite direction. There it was again, the balance of solitude and community, of being close and being independent. Nature says it so silently and simply, beyond words. It takes a while for me to make the mental shift from a delightful social Thanksgiving time to satisfying solitude at the CBTS, but I’m getting there. This afternoon, to ease the transition, I joined many others on the beach. A few were even swimming, and there was one man with his metal detector at the water’s edge searching for treasure. Now I’m back on the deck, just sitting and feeling content with the I & C (Independence & Close) of the last four days--the Close times with family and now the Independence of solitude. |
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