Solitude

    I made my home as far from the city as feasibly possible. Not so much for reasons as noble or lofty as to live deliberately in the woods, though I delightfully embrace that aspect as well. I came to live on the edge of a great wilderness so that I might find solitude for peaceful living and to find an environment where I might do something with my creative inspirations.

    I settled not squarely in the thick of the unshorn wild, but in a riverside cabin on the edge of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness area of the Cascade mountains.  Neighboring houses can be seen through the trees, but the general occupancy of the area is elderly and quiet. Elk and deer regularly visit my cabin grounds, and the occasional bear brutally inspects my garbage can. Even though they may not welcome my presence here, I am none-the-less honored by, and welcome theirs. Very few people visit my cabin; the once or twice per year Jesus merchant, and the occasional drop-by visit of a friend/loved one, and I enjoy their good company, made sweeter by time passed in their absence.

    These ramblings may ring somewhat misanthropic, but such an interpretation would be inaccurate. Though neither is philanthropy substantially intrinsic to my nature (or yours), I am not given to indifference either. However, my first obligation is to my own health and happiness, without either of which, I would be incapable of giving back. - this unequivocal truth is a natural human fact, and it is ubiquitous, albeit woefully, and seldom acknowledged or expressed.

    Because I chose to live in the woods, despite being alone, I have yet to discover the meaning of loneliness. Within the confines of my cabin, I have little serving the effusive media machine (no television or radio); a computer for writing, employment telecommuting, social networking, blogging, and such.  This connection to the outside world is enough to satisfy whatever general need I may have for human contact (intimate companionship notwithstanding). I suppose my lifestyle is as close to hermitage that can be had while still having intimacy and employment needs.
 
    I need to be alone to bring my creative inspirations to fruition. Being in solitude brings many things to the creative and emotional table; thoughts that can lead you to tears, laughter, revelation, invention, and art. Alone is when conversation occurs spontaneously and continuously in your mind. Given ample isolation and time, you may get to know yourself.  Solitude is the condition in which creativity is afforded the opportunity to flourish without distraction. And of recent, I have been writing and singing often .....

    .... Sometimes I engage my creative energy with a walk down to the creek, which I just did at the conclusion of the last paragraph. Each season has its own song, and myriad of sun spilled colors dancing on clear water caressing the rocks beneath a flowing surface. I have pelted the creek with stone and stick, and splashed my face with its icy snow-melted freshness. In early autumn the trees still replete with yellow, orange and brown leaves, applaud the efforts of the wind with gentle hushed rustlings. They cling desperately to the mother bough, each one engaged in its own unique dance with the wind. Catching sight of one released from the clutches of its twig is as likely as predicting the point where a lightening bolt may exit a thundercloud, but I am pleased enough to watch for one, and follow the flight path of any that may enter my view. Out from under the shelter of my cabin roof and walls, I welcome the dilution of my solitude by the presence of nature. Connecting and comingling with the abundance of life outdoors feeds the fire of my inspiration further, and after some time I am torn between lingering and being compelled to go back inside to describe what I can.

    Back inside the cabin the aroma of coffee hangs in the air.  Scanning the interior with its unfilled chairs and couch, I sense the lingering essence of loved ones and visitors now gone. The floor speaks to me in crackles as I head for the kitchen and the coffee, reminding me that I am not really completely alone in my animated little home in the country. Steam from the fresh brew rises up from my cup, to remind me to sip with care. The oak table in the kitchen creaks a complaint against my resting elbows as I lean closer toward the window, in the hope of seeing something more - something I may have missed while walking; some forest creature perchance passing in the safety of my withdraw, or the flight of one more leaf.

    Shifting my gaze from the beauty beyond the window pane, back to the stillness inside, I close my eyes to look within me for the words to describe the quality and character of my solitude. These that I have written thus far, scarcely express what I had hoped to convey. I am going back outside with my coffee.

 ~