Check out A Solitary Traveler on this blog. I’m reimaging my times in Florence by visiting my favorite spots. First stop: The Convent and Museum of San Marco.
   Back here at home I admit that I am enjoying our self-imposed quarantine, although since we began a few days ago such social distancing has become standard.
    I’ve been thinking about how time (and space) relates to solitude. The amount can vary; some people have to grab what they can on their way to work on a crowded subway. I had days and days of free time when I was at the cottage.
    I have it again now at my home; I have day after day, night after night. My time is my own, and with that comes a new kind of responsibility. A little free time can be  wasted, but now that I have so much, I feel accountable to the universe for how I use every moment of it. How I use it, yes, but more importantly, my intention about it. As I read, pray, knit, walk, work on a jigsaw puzzle, cook, tend the house, telephone and email friends, do I lift up peace and feel it in my heart?

From time to time most of us think about time: the time we spend, the time we waste, too much time, not enough time…. Usually these thoughts are self-centered—I want my time to do what I want.
Lately I have been noticing what I do with my time and how I feel about it. My goal is to be inspired, affirmed, and encouraged by what I do. This doesn’t mean I love everything, but that my heart is open and that I am building positive energy. If not, then make some changes.
Case in point #1: The news. Reading article after article and listening to politicians and pundits on TV wastes my time and puts me in a negative frame of mind. A quick glance is good enough for me.
Case in point #2: Leisure activities. Reading, writing, knitting, working on a jigsaw puzzle, watching the birds, and visiting with friends is time well spent. Such activities put me in a positive frame of mind. Less perseveration on the news, more time for uplifting activities!
Case in point #3: Housework: Cooking, laundry, cleaning, and clearing things out isn’t always my favorite, but it has to be done, and it can be performed with joy and intention for the greater good.
Here’s where I’m at today: 1) Stop doing anything that is a waste of time; 2) Find purpose in whatever I do, even those things that I don’t love. Maybe I’ll learn to love them.

The other day I read something to the effect that simplicity and time are connected. If I come across the quote, I’ll post it, but for now I’ll just make up my own thoughts about it. My first draft quote goes like this: Freedom of time is simplicity of living. Nothing profound here; the idea is so obvious that it may have passed us by.

     The negative way of talking about time and simplicity is to say that when we have too much to do and not enough time, our life is complicate and prone to stress. There are times in our lives when, unless we are a recluse or a hermit, we have too much going on—not enough time. We do what we can to eliminate some tasks in the hope of reducing stress. However, the life style goes on.

     The positive way of talking about time and simplicity to say that when we eliminate our habitual way of doing things our life becomes simple and relaxed. Sometimes we make big changes. I did this for the five winters I went to the cottage-by-the-sea. Once I got there I didn’t feel I had to do anything. I wrote a great of Very Grateful, not out of obligation, but out of longing.

     Recently I took up weaving. I wanted to weave as a spiritual practice, but instead the loom on the dining room table reminded me of another obligation. Self-created stress just sitting there. So yesterday I put the loom away. I eliminated the mental stress of one more thing to do after I had done what needed to be done around the house, and after what I really want to do, which is write. Maybe writing is my craft? At the moment, at lease the freedom of time is giving me simple living.

I’m in awe of these early fall days with a tinge of yellow on the leaves. That’s the way it was on our drive south to Pennsylvania. Four days later, on the trip home, the yellow was more than a tinge; about half and half and that’s the way it is today as we ease into the September Equinox, which in Boston will occur tonight at 10:29. All over the world, night and day are exactly (well, pretty close to) the same length--12 hours each. Time seems to tread water and then get on with it’s days and nights. The leaves are dancing in the wind in similar fashion. Soon they will get on with their rhythm.

The other day a friend wrote that she was dealing with a broken dishwasher. She didn’t say how much time or psychic energy it was taking, but she did imply that it was stressful and annoying. Although it occurred to me that if she didn’t have a dishwasher or didn’t use a dishwasher, she would be free of such interruptions, I refrained from offering such a judgment.

       As part of my on-going search for simplicity, however, I have some thoughts on the pros and cons of dishwasher use. Full disclosure, I have a dishwasher, which I love when family comes. But when it’s just the two of us, it sits empty, thus keeping my life simple and saving power. Inevitably with a half filled dishwasher, there’s a dirty dish sitting there that I need; I run out of knives, forks and spoons. So out they come to be washed and used. All this back and forth consumes more time and decision-making energy than if I had keep up with the washing after each meal. The worst time stealer, however, is the time it takes to unload the machine.

    As far as money stealer, there’s the cost and use of electricity to heat the water and run the machine. And let’s not forget that with frequent use, I’d have to replace the machine more frequently. There must be some statistic that tells the number cycles your average machine can offer.

    I am aware that a dishwasher sterilizes in a way that hand washing doesn’t. But that’s another topic—how sterile do we have to be? Meanwhile I love the simplicity in a culture that has become obsessed with hand sanitizers.

Where does the time go? That wonderful cliché says it all, or more to the point, says it often. I try to post every other day, but that doesn’t always happen. My last post, on August 17th , was on my brother’s 67th birthday. Where does the time go? Already he’s three days older; so am I; so are you, whoever you are out there reading this. What’s my point? Maybe I’m just observing. No, more than that, I’m thinking about how I have spent those three days, what I have done, and how I feel about it.

      I’ve done some sitting around, working on a jigsaw puzzle, happy as can be. I’ve made it through the day safely and in good health. I’ve made progress toward a personal goal, namely working on the memoir I’m writing about my mom. I’ve done something for someone else by visiting some elderly friends.  

     How has the time gone? It’s always a good day, or three, when I can get up in the morning and be grateful for all that I can do, and for the possibilities of the new day.

Here I am, trying to simplify my life; but to do so takes a great deal of physical and psychic energy. I truly want to lead a life of silence, solitude and simplicity, but it isn’t easy, as we all know. So, I ask myself: what of my own doing holds me back? what can I eliminate?

     Definitely getting rid of stuff. But here’s the catch; I need to do it more simply, more efficiently. For example, I must stop perseverating about every book, paper, and piece of clothing that I want to toss or keep.

     Then there is letting go of TV and the newspaper. I keep working on that one. Easier to do when the Red Sox keep losing. Glancing at the headlines today was more than depressing. Tough stuff going on around the globe. Negative attitudes by everyone, but maybe that’s what is ‘fit to print’. Feel good stories won’t sustain a readership. 

     I have to keep believing that the silent, solitary, simple life that I long for and work toward might just bring a little balance to our noisy, crowded complex universe. It’s the best I can do.

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.