Griz’s tender back is in highly tender phase right now and the weather guys are promising warming by Sunday, so we’ve chosen to leave ourselves snowed in. It’s an easy decision for us - a full pantry and freezer, a warm stove, lots of gas for the generator if needed, and assorted other little self-sufficiencies are a natural part of our lifestyle. Plus – there’s nowhere else that we absolutely have to be. 

We usually ship Tools-n-Gizmos orders the same day they arrive, but we posted an online notice indicating we won’t ship until Monday this time.  Most of our regular customers know we’re not a big operation. They appreciate the personal attention they usually get and are thus very forgiving about the occasional glitch. There’s great value in not pretending to be something you’re not.

In the quiet whiteness, I’m again thankful for the lifestyle we’ve arranged for ourselves. Solitude isn’t everyone’s cup of tea – many can’t arrange it, even if they want it. But for us - choosing solitude when we want or need it is an easy and extraordinarily valuable option.

I’ve posted more of this year’s snow pics on Flickr.

Other lovers of solitude might understand this. I’m quite certain there’s many a hermit out there who did not make a conscious decision to stop or limit contact with the world, but who just wandered off and didn’t wander back.

But, I admit, it really was fairly rude on my part to just drop off the end of the bloggosphere without explanation, and I do apologize to subscribers or other frequent visitors who wondered what happened.

Nothing happened.  I was not eaten by a bear. I just went about my hermit business and stopped communicating.

I think it started with the acquisition of a new computer. The transition from Windows XP to Windows 7 required a lot more time-consuming administrative manipulation than I was happy about. Until that purchase, I was actually almost ready to bite-the-bullet and get myself a smart phone. But the Windows 7 debacle turned me off. I started staying away from my computer (other than for essential business). I started questioning why on earth would I want a smart phone so I could communicate everywhere and all the time.

As I said, I didn’t make a conscious decision to stop surfing & blogging & tweeting, I just let my body make the decision for me. And my body decided to prioritize silence, serenity, peace, reading books, contemplation, meditation in nature, watching fall fall and winter close in - all with a spacious enough routine to easily adjust to nature’s rhythms – every day finding the time to partake of that other grand connectedness that has nothing to do with words and others and the internet.

I’d forgotten how much I love that disconnected connection. It’s so damned peaceful.

Griz and I are fine. We’ve learned a few new tricks – most associated with the truism that the key to healthy aging is good energy management – inward and outward. Our middle-aged cats have perfected this lesson. They spend more time napping and less time outdoors, especially in cold weather. But the length of their naps in no way diminishes the intensity of their playful moments, the lustre of their coats, or the profound depth of their melodious, loving purrs.

Tools-n-Gizmos is perking right along. It might be perking along almost too well for a two-person operation in which both persons would like to define themselves as “semi-retired.” But if Tools-n-Gizmos is any indication, our economy must be improving. People are buying the tooling with which to build things. And Griz and I are still having fun with it; and when you can combine income-generation with laughter, it doesn’t feel that much like work.

But the nicest thing about just being in timeless obscurity is this: it is remarkably angst-free. There’s a spaciousness in this quiet observation point that allows me to watch world events and reflect on them without the need to judge, take sides or necessarily even react. Even though I voted, I was able to watch all that vituperative mid-term election noise without letting it bother me (much). Even the paradigm-shifting Wikileaks-square-off between secrecy and transparency seems more like a profound natural evolution than the frightening Armageddon many try to make it. Without such dualities, how would we recognize non-duality, let alone aspire to it?

Perhaps I’ve become more mystical in my retreat into silence – or not.  I still read just as much fun fiction as philosophical prose. Most recently I entertained myself with Michael Crichton’s bawdy, swashbuckler Pirate Latitudes, then switched just as happily to Alan Watts’ profoundly beautiful (and surprisingly, often comically entertaining) The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who you Truly Are.

It’s that balance thing, you know.  Philosophy should really only evolve from a life of living, not just theorizing.  We learn about life by living it, enjoying it, making mistakes, and surviving the ups and down. We learn to transcend the drudgery of life by redefining drudgery as something else.  Realization may be nothing more than the the simple acknowledgement that the definitions are all up to each of us.

And then there’s mortality – which steps in and slaps you in the face no matter in what happy place you think you’ve landed. We just learned today that my sister’s husband died last evening – suddenly, without warning, with no serious pre-existing condition. After a wonderful, laughter-filled day with his wife of 38 years, a good dinner, and a start of the evening’s home movie, John just quietly slumped into his recliner and slipped away. The EMT’s tried hard, but John left. The gentleness of his departure in no way diminishes the trauma.

I know my sister is a strong, competent woman and she will be fine – eventually. But throughout this no-mascara day of doing what must be done, saying what must be said; the sharp grief of first notices with periodic, spontaneous eyeball leakage; and, because of our loss, absorption in a deep empathy for everyone else’s losses everywhere; I must never forget that some things don’t reside in my treasured haven of timelessness.

Total retreat from the truly human connections is rarely an option. The human connections include time, touch, communication, reporting, and responding. Time is the journey through which we travel together.  The concept of timelessness is a real stretch when the stomach feels hollowed out by the pain of a wounded heart.

Some things, like profound loss, can only be conquered through the passage of time. For those of us who loved John, this will be Day 1 of that particular passage.

Always strive to treat your loved ones as though it is their last day on earth – or your last day on earth.

Click here to view the embedded video.

“Wherever human beings have been around and done their thing, you find rectangles.”

YouTube Video by markwatts02

The wordiness of life has been bugging me more than usual lately.

It’s been almost six weeks since I’ve written anything for this blog and I have to confess there were moments when I seriously considered abandoning the endeavor.  I’ve talked about these phases before. The unusual element this time is I abandoned other writing as well.

Initially I thought it was just my standard hermit reaction to a recent surge of activity with Tools-n-Gizmos.com, our online business. I’ve always been someone who seeks quiet in response to the noise of making-a-living – I suspect it’s a recuperative balancing act necessary for many introverts.

But business has leveled off (for some reason it always does as summer approaches), and my psyche is still predominated by a very specific contemplative thread on the value-of-quiet vs. the silliness-of-CHATTER. Even when out “conducting business” my people-watching is repeatedly drawn to others’ noisy exchanges of (to me) useless irrelevancies – a large part of many conversations it seems. Then I reflect on the potential irrelevancy (to others) of my own chatter. I apologize if this post is rapidly becoming a self-fulfilling demonstration.

Maybe it’s a life phase thing based on the over accumulation of redundant verbal experiences.  Buddy Kathy and I did one of our periodic art studio tours a couple of weeks ago. Since then, I’ve felt restlessly drawn to re-prioritize painting over writing. I am only a recreational painter and my attraction to painting has less to do with artistic inspiration and more to do with exploring  the wordless – fresh reflective ground. Quiet reflective ground.

Or perhaps it’s just that when us quiet types quiet down, we ultimately seek absolute zero. The call to and need for silence may be the basic hermit motivation. The lucky among us have arranged our lives to accommodate that need, at least periodically.  I keep coming back to Thomas Merton’s words at the end of the short video I posted about him:

“This solitude confirms my call to solitude. The more I’m in it, the more I love it. One day it will possess me entirely and no man will ever see me again.”

I’ve already discovered something by writing this much:  just as talking-about-love is not the same as love, talking-about-quiet is not the same as quiet.

I’ll keep you posted – I think.

So abstract expressionist Agnes Martin will grace the Most Memorable Hermits list even though one article I read about her insisted she was “not really a hermit.” (Hmm, “not-really-a-hermit” is exactly how I like to describe myself.)

Agnes Martin (1912 – 2004):

“To discover the conscious mind in a world where intellect is held to be valuable requires solitude, quite a lot of solitude. We have been very strenuously conditioned against solitude. To be alone is considered to be a grievous and dangerous condition.

“So I beg you to recall in detail any times when you were alone. You will find the fear that we have been taught is not one fear, but many different fears. When you discover what they are, they will be overcome. Most people have never been alone enough to feel these fears. But even without the experience of them, they dread them.”

“I often paint tranquility. If you stop thinking and rest, then a little happiness comes into your mind. At perfect rest, you are comfortable.”

“The best things in life happen to you when you’re alone . . . all the revelations.”

“I used to meditate until I learned to stop thinking . . .”

“I gave up all the theories.”

Click here to view the embedded video.

Special thanks to Deborah Barlow and her blog, Slow Muse.  Deborah has done a number of posts about Agnes Martin.  Deborah is a painter herself and her energetic, intelligent, and insightful blog never disappoints. I highly recommend Slow Muse (and Deborah’s other blogs) to anyone with an interest in art, poetry, the art world, the creative process, wisdom and art, the wisdom of art, the art of wisdom and . . . coincidentally, solitude as part of the creative process.

Science as the ultimate objectivity has always been an ideal not a fact. Scientists are human, too – with mortgages and egos and tuition debt, too.  Most research is at some level politically funded – whether the funder is the Catholic Church, the Exxon Corporation, or government. (We all know how apolitical government is. Right?) Who gets the money for what research – in our culture often a variable of potential profit in the research product – is part of the process. Unfortunately, money as the engine of research comes with a built-in corruptibility factor – sometimes very subtle, sometimes openly controversial, but rarely completely out of the picture.  Which is worse:  good science with bad intentions or bad science with good intentions?  Add to that debate “whose science” and “whose morality” then define “good” and “bad.” Yeah, I know.

Still there’s good scientists (and some not-so-good) working hard in their labs zealously pursuing “truth.”  There probably is even such a thing as “pure” science happening somewhere in some labs. But even the most ardent and disciplined objectivists among us are still subjective human beings. The process leading up to who gets a lab, how they design the experiment and who does what with any discoveries will always be a function of politics.  The “science” that reaches the masses will always have spin. Most of the “masses” wouldn’t understand the science if you spoon fed it to them straight from the scientist’s mouth. I have great respect for Al Gore’s intentions. I voted for him when he ran for President partially because of his environmental stance. I  have warmist leanings. I am not, however, blind to the inconvenient truth that Al Gore is not a scientist – he “just plays one in a movie.” But science without politics wouldn’t get very far.

And with well-established criteria for peer review and reproducible results, science tends to self-regulate. The global warming controversy really emphasizes the stability of the scientific ideal not its erosion. It’s the old torpedo effect of all human progress – we launch out of the tube in the general direction of our target, we stray off course, we make corrections.

Challenge and controversy have always been a part of scientific progress, whether the battle is between scientists and institutions, or scientists and other scientists. Today’s unavoidable transparency just makes the noise a lot louder and faster – out where we all get to watch and comment. And after all, it is science that brought us the internet – the vehicle of its own exposure.

“Loneliness is like sitting in an empty room and being aware of the space around you. It is a condition of separateness. Solitude is becoming one with the space around you. It is a condition of union. Loneliness is small, solitude is large. Loneliness closes in around you; solitude expands toward the infinite. Loneliness has its roots in words, in an internal conversation that nobody answers; solitude has its roots in the great silence of eternity.”

- Kent Nerburn

via whiskey river

I realize it’s been almost three weeks since I posted.  That probably shouldn’t  bother me or anyone else at this point; though I do wish I hadn’t read all those best-blogging-practices articles before I started this blog. “Three posts per week plus three comments per week on other blogs” always sticks in my mind as the best goal.

Guess we know that’s not gonna happen.

The only difference between this break and others is: I didn’t preplan it – I just let it happen – or not happen.

What can I say:

Spring arrived unexpectedly in January this year so I’ve been outside more – landscape tending and just enjoying.

Been mulling a new book project.

Been indulging in a little traditional January evaluation of my life’s principal elements.

Deep? Nah – more  like deep’s opposite this time:  just being without discussion.

I’ve continued along on Twitter. Follow me there if you’re prone to dire imaginings when I don’t check in.  But other than Griz and the cats, I think I’ve gotten most friends and family trained to tolerate my periodic vanishings.  Haven’t I?

Even Griz and I have mutual consent for periodic unavailability.  And the cats – well, cats are innately autonomous.* I sometimes think their dependency is primarily my perception.

Interestingly, I do value connection and I have learned the blogosphere is about as comfy a connection as you’ll find for us hermits.  On the other hand, I tend to resist obligation (fabricated or otherwise); hence my discomfort with regular posting.

I know resistance to obligation is considered a form of pathology by some.  But these days most nonconformities are considered pathological by someone; and I think acknowledging, accepting and balancing one’s insanities is the key to good mental health for most of us.  So wacko or not, my little problem with obligation is not one of my life’s principal elements I plan to change anytime soon. It’s a part of why I value solitude – I can indulge it without bothering others most of the time.

After all, this is a blog from a hermit.

According to Lao Tzu: “A good traveller has no fixed plan & is not intent on arriving.”

I’ll be back soon.

*ASIDE FOR CAT LOVERS: I was always a dog person in the past. Our two semi-feral cats, Dodge (mother) and Dart (son) are the first cats with whom I’ve cohabited since my childhood.  Now that I’ve become enamored of cats and started to pay attention, I realize defining cats as aloof and autonomous is a generalization.  Cat personalities are as individualistic as human.

When I leave home for 24 hours or more, Dart, our wilder and more routinely-autonomous cat, celebrates my return with unabashed enthusiasm (very similar to the way dogs typically react).  Dodge, the more “civilized” and astutely manipulative cat (some socialization as a kitten), greets my return with initial disdain. She then combines deep purring with intermittent growls and feigned nipping – clearly expressing her pleasure over my return, but simultaneously demonstrating her disapproval of my recent, offensive desertion.

]]> http://blogfromahermit.com/2010/01/19/blogopause-with-aside-of-cat-blogging/feed/ 2 http://blogfromahermit.com/2009/12/16/loving-liking-living-with-the-vista-from-the-long-haul/ http://blogfromahermit.com/2009/12/16/loving-liking-living-with-the-vista-from-the-long-haul/#comments Thu, 17 Dec 2009 05:27:20 +0000 Trish http://blogfromahermit.com/?p=2911 Michelle Obama, to Oprah on The Christmas at the White House special (via psychobabble):

“I think we have a wonderful marriage. I love my husband.  He’s my best friend. But I always like to talk honestly about it because I think about other young couples who think there are no struggles to get here. And there are.  That’s part of it.  The message is – work through the struggles.  Start out with somebody that you respect and that you trust so that when you hit the bumps that are inevitable you always have that foundation. I tell Barack as mad as he can make me I look at him and I say, “I really LIKE you.  I like you, and I like the way you think and I like the person you.  It’s hard to stray too far, to stay mad too long, when the person is someone you like.”

I also liked psychobabble’s summation:

“This is exactly and absolutely right.  I’m so glad to see such a prominent national figure out there saying it in such a public forum.   This is a message young couples can’t possibly hear often enough.“

In a culture such as ours which so highly values equity, autonomy and independence, successful long-term relationships really are marvels of sorts.

Loving another person has always seemed easier to me than the living with part. Isn’t that true for most people?  It never ceases to amaze me how long Griz and I have been together. Perhaps my continuing awe about that is part of our endurance. Sure, respecting each others’ solitude is part of the equation for us – we spend a lot of time alone-though-in-proximity. But it’s not the whole success story.  Han Suyin’s statement: “Love from one being to another can only be that two solitudes come nearer,” applies to everyone, not just hermits.

The love which initiates spousal relationships is always refined and (if we’re lucky) enhanced by living together. Living together is really the platform where we discover whether we do, in fact, like each other well enough to last.  Just after college I lived with another Psyche major for nearly three years: In retrospect I realize John and I spent so much time sleuthing each others’ psyches, for a long time we completely overlooked the fact we really didn’t like each other.

Courtship in our culture can traverse quite rapidly from lust to love to living together. Children are often added to the equation before the couple has time to notice whether they like and respect each other. But like and mutual respect are actually the bedrock. They carry you through the disagreements and disappointments. They are the basis of a shared sense of humor and mutual appreciation. They allow you to celebrate your differences as well as your similarities.

We all change, as do our circumstances. Sometimes love is not sustainable through the changes and sticking together is certainly not always the answer. But love over the long haul does take you to new vistas you cannot perceive or even imagine when you first start out. In my opinion, the discoveries are well worth the (sometimes bumpy) ride.

I tell Griz  “I love you” every day, but I forget to remind him how much I like him, too:

“Griz, I like you. Have I mentioned lately what a stimulating pleasure it is to spend time in your company?”

“Now, please, leave me alone.”

Just kidding about that last part.  That’s something I rarely have to ask. Griz knows when I prefer solitude, because Griz knows me.

I often yearn for
The wordless place
Of quiet brushstrokes
And gently rustling nature,
Where falling backward
In total trust
Without direction
Feels as perfect
As its common opposite.
Where the restful process
Of simply being
Is creativity enough.

And this place,
By its simple perfection,
Without judgment, labels,
Goals or true effort
Can transform a nothingness
Into a somethingness
An objet d’art from and for
My unlonely spirit,
At the very least.

Though sometimes it rends
Manifest trinkets
Worth barter or trade
Readmission to the throng,
Symbolizing thereto
A “successful” and reasoned passage
Into and back out
Of Treasured Solitude.

But trinketless passages
To and from
And about the altered state
Between the two
Hold no less
Intrinsic value
For the True Lover
Of Solitude.

- Trish Wareing (c) 2009