The Dark Side of Solitude

The time came, not too long ago, when I knew I needed to withdraw from the world of jobs and politics and success-chasing, come what might.

I needed to be alone to think my own honest thoughts, to discern my own right work. To practice living my days as the only sovereign over my own time, energy, projects and priorities. (All of these, so far, have proved much harder than I expected.) To explore the sanctuary of stillness, where the only human voice I heard for days on end was my own thinking-out-loud, and there were few gates left open through which others could control, threaten, shame, defraud, or manipulate me.

Things often get quite close to the bone, for now. I don’t have much to my name. There are days when I do miss the glam pleasure of picking out stylish new shoes or treating a friend to a good restaurant meal.

But there’s also a keen, indescribable satisfaction in living with less. Besides, I do feel blessed to have this little sliver of land, this shack, a few necessities of daily life (books! must have books!), and a fierce little-girl spirit within me raging NO!

No, I won’t be someone’s caged sucker or whipping-girl any longer. Nope, I won’t be selling out the hours of my life, the brightness of my talent, and the warmth of my enthusiasm for a paltry pittance, while neglecting what I cherish dearly here at the Hermit Hollow homestead. No, I won’t go on suppressing the creative fire rising in my soul.

This is all I know, for now, about what’s real. This is how I must live now, and probably from now on: as free and true as I can manage, devoted to seeking out and crafting the unique work which is mine to do, and doing it gladly and with integrity.

For now, this is enough.

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