Solitude

Well, here I am at long last. Forgive my tardiness as I'm so involved with other things just now that I've not had time to put pen to paper, nor indeed to write up the blog. But hey! I have two hours to spare this afternoon (Thursday ) in hopes that maybe Steve will upload my piece to the blog site as I'm out all day tomorrow.

It seems I seldom get any time to myself these days - yet I relish my solitude. In fact I need it! I say to friends "No, I need that day to myself ."

Perhaps it's because I'm an only child and I got used to making my own entertainment,whiling away the hours by myself, keeping myself occupied.

I've now been widowed ten years next month, and the time has flown by. I've done things I might never have done as one in a 'couple'. Not that I'm saying I've particularly enjoyed being without my partner and I'd wish him back. It's just that it's been rather liberating being able to make my own choices, in my own time , doing things that I enjoy. I know, you may think me callous, but there's a certain freedom in not saying "Shall we ?" or "I'm going out, you don't mind?" etc. Not that he minded anyway, but it is rather uplifting to not have to consider anyone but me!

Most of you will be aware that I go away in my wee microcamper and go hillwalking, on my own. Actually it's not lonely as I meet so many interesting people. When walking quietly on my own I'm more likely to encounter wildlife. I allow myself plenty of time to stop, look around, take photos, and just enjoy the surroundings. It's not uncommon to find me talking to myself, or creatures....even singing softly.

Yes. I relish my solitude. It's food for the soul. It's essential. So today's few words are about walking alone.....
                         

Walking Alone

If, when walking a lonely path, I saw you.

I'd never let you pass me by-

I'd hold your arm, touch your cheek,

Run my fingers through your hair

And endlessly gaze into your eyes.

If, when trekking a lonely trail, I saw you.

I'd softly call your name-

I'd take your hand, kiss your lips,

Stroke your arm, feel your strength

And gaze into your slate blue eyes.

But, no matter where I roam, you're never there.

For you are gone from me forever,

Never again to see your face,

Hear your hearty laugh,

Feeling your breathe on my neck,

Touch you in the night.

The paths I walk, I walk alone.

Thanks for reading, and apologies for recent absence...Kath.

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This is Your Time

When you are part of a large, loving, extended family, as I am, solitude can sometimes be a pretty hard state to achieve.  

Don’t get me wrong, I love the family gatherings with the laughter, the tears, the arguments, the music, the dancing, the spilt drinks, the chocolate melted on the sofa, the general craziness of getting together with family members from one to ninety one.  I love each and every one of them and I revel in their company, both individually or in a group.  I love the fact that my own children, their other halves and the grandchildren all live within about ten minutes of our house, and I’m happy that they know they can call in at any time - and they do.  To me, that’s what family is all about.  And when family isn’t around then there are friends to fill the space.  Our home has always been an open house.

However, much as I love the company of others, I am also very happy to spend time alone.  In fact, more than happy.  I love it.

My periods of solitude might be few and far between but that just makes them all the more precious.  Sometimes they come about by accident - a little voice calls out, “Bye, grandma,” the front door closes and all is quiet.  I sit in total silence, memories of a frantic afternoon are stored and peace descends.  Like a blanket, it envelopes me, as my mind slows and clears.  This is bliss, the total opposite of the mad few hours we’ve been enjoying, although that, in itself, is a different kind of happiness.  Sometimes my periods of solitude are planned: an hour on the bed, reading, snuggled under the covers; a brisk walk along the prom, just my thoughts to accompany me; an afternoon on the computer, editing photos. 

I’m sure, if I lived alone, with no family or friends, then the solitude that I now enjoy could well become a pain and not a pleasure:  a prison of loneliness.  The ticking of a clock, the drone of the TV, cars on the road outside - these background sounds would only serve to emphasise the fact that I was alone, and not by choice.  Thankfully, solitude is still a treat for me.  As a photographer, time alone with my camera is something I relish.  I become distracted if shooting with someone else.  Much as I love to chat, I find my best shots are those where my eye has been allowed to wander and focus without the distraction of conversation.  My mind will wander too, thoughts of where I’m going, what I’m aiming for, what are the optimum settings, where is the next capture likely to be?  This is my idea of heaven.

And then, home to the husband, a cup of tea, a chat about the day.  And possibly a room full of children....

As I walked along the prom this morning I was thinking about the subject of solitude, when I spotted this man and his dog, away from everyone and everything.  Now, that's solitude.

This is Your Time by Jill Reidy 

Find a quiet place

In or out

It doesn't matter

Add a blanket 

Or a coat if out

Gloves, hat, scarf

Whatever keeps you warm

Check head is clear

Thoughts are flowing

View is restful

No interruptions

Ignore the clock

The screeching of the gulls

You're on your own now

This is your time....

Whilst researching the subject, I came across this quote, and decided it was written specifically for me.  

'Solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine.' 
― Honoré de Balzac

Thanks for reading, Jill

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The Religion of Solitude

Over the years, I've adjusted my definition of a 'writing space'.  This is due to a shift in the way I perceive writing.  Earlier, I considered the process of setting glyphs on a page to be writing but as I've progressed I find that more of the writing process takes place in my head, before a pen touches a page or my fingers feel the keyboard. 

So much of writing is, in fact, contemplation of writing.  Not thinking about writing is writing.  Reading is actually writing.  All of these actions are part of writing.  For these tasks, I don't need a desk or ink.  Solitude is helpful but not always essential as external suggestions, unwitting or not, can be as vital as any prior knowledge or hard won epiphanies. 

The writing space which my mind desires is more about tempo than dimensions.  In order to observe, to really see what's around me, I must first be still.  And slowness is hard won.  It requires that I deliberately jettison anything which is pushing or tugging at me; distractions and tasks which seem important but can, in fact, be thrown aside without injury or harm. 

Here's a test which you can use to find out whether you are ready for writing.  Ask yourself:

• Am I content to sit quietly without the need of a purpose?
• Am I happy for long periods to pass before a thought troubles my mind?
• Can I tolerate silence without being disturbed by the need to fill it?

If you can allow the silence, the lack of voice, to exist and not be troubled by the emptiness, then you have found the space to write.  And by writing I mean inviting some small thoughts to gather.  Notice what was always there, but invisible in the fog of activity, and capture it in your mind.  Leave it there, like a vase of flowers on a mantelpiece.  Decorate your mind with other observations and allow them to share the space in peaceful room at the back of your mind.  Then walk, breathe, live.

Writing will take place.  When you have finished writing, then you can start to rearrange shapes on a page.

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