Tracing the Lines of Solitude

I read my books, I watch the birds, I sit and ponder the ways of the world. The lake of my mind is serene and capacious.

But now, to wind back the pocket watch, to show the before.

Solitude is frightening and lonely and worse. Like every worthwhile thing, it is one that becomes worse before better. In loneliness, there is uncomfort, there is self-consciousness, there is awkwardness, there is insecurity. In loneliness, these are amplified in community. I sit alone at cafés and notice I am the only one doing so. At restaurants, at ice-cream shops, during strolls around town, it is the same. I watch couples lean in to whisper, friends leaning back to talk, families shouting to pass things down the table, and I am envious. I feel discomfort in my isolation, desirous for whispers and talks and shouts. Longing for inclusion, eager for company. I want my hand to be held, my cheek to be touched. I want to make meals for more than one.

I sit in my outstanding solitary and allow the woeful feelings to be felt. Undesired feelings find easement when we allow them to be felt.

And then the uncomfort dissolves away, a sugar cube in a cup of tea, leaving behind its trace of sweetness, and I can see the beauty of all that is now. I notice all that I wouldn’t if I was in company. The sad eyes of a man, the giggles of children, the pearly plants hanging over my wondering eyes. The tree leaves wave hello in the breeze. The breeze purrs against my skin. I can write or read or think or admire or reflect. Nothing is owed to anyone.

At home, it is the same, and I begin to learn the privilege. There are a thousand lessons of self to learn, and the most essential begin in solitude. My time is only my own, and I must choose to dedicate it with meaning. Mostly, I love to think.

I ponder how the clouds will turn, reflect on the birth of the willow, wonder which way the ivy will grow. And then, the lesson expands. I examine the watercolours of my past, feeling all that I never hoped to. I consider who it is I want to be in this gift of life. This process is both painful and necessary. Slowly, my being evolves. Gently, I learn grace. Quietly, I discover how beautiful the world can be.

The difficult days become handsome ones, and my lake is bright teal and glittering. Join me on this rowboat, and we’ll sail to the sea of love. Pack a picnic, and we shall stare into the beauty of the water.

With solitude comes understanding, and now my reservoir is alive with knowledge. I am alone, and it is how it needs to be. The world is my sanctum, and I, the devotee. One day, my hand will be held, and my cheek will be touched, and it will be when it should. Today, I explore the earth unaccompanied, and it is as it needs to be. My mind is everfull of wonder. I am in love with all I experience. I have fallen in love with time and have learned the secret that no day ever begins or ends. There is a plethora of wants — to see, to touch, to taste, to learn. I wish to watch a spider build her home, noting each step into the shelves of my mind. I wish to see the birth of a snail. I wish to watch a flower open. I’d like to learn piano, to listen to the beauty of sounds my own fingers create. I desire to know of the stars, their names and stories of love and victory. I hope to know the music of the birds. Listen! my wise self will say. That is a starling we hear. What beautiful turquoise eggs they lay. I shall be awake when the stars are high and whimsically dance to Swan Lake as I picture myself a white-feathered princess.

My solitude allows for this all: to watch, to learn, to be a whimsically dancing princess. I spend my day reading instead of washing the dishes, and the day is merry. The bed goes unmade, the dinner burns a little, I learn the story of Cassiopeia, and all is perfect. I watch the butterflies dance around the garden, and when they depart, I admire the flowers they left behind.