I’m posting this for my sisters, and my friends who sometimes don’t get why I spend so much time alone. They dont’ know why I wake in the wee hours and sometimes wander, or sometimes just read, or other times just try to decipher the hieroglyphs in the popcorn sprayed ceiling above me.
I’m posting this for my wife and my friends who sometimes don’t get why I spend so much time alone, and secondly for my sisters who sometimes end up alone some of the time. My sisters need to know that it’s ok to be alone sometimes.
When it comes to me being alone, my wife and friends don’t know why I wake in the wee hours and sometimes wander, or sometimes just read, or other times just try to decipher the hieroglyphs in the popcorn sprayed ceiling above me. Silly words like “Truth” and “Beauty” are why I don’t mind being alone, and why I seem autistic at times even when the room is full of people and action and merriment. Some of us carry our own joy and wonder with us that was lovingly cultivated over a lifetime, and we live for those long periods of thought and contemplation — and for those wanderjahrs that really only take moments during that conversation that we had with you where we didn’t hear part of what you just said and rudely asked you to repeat it. Because I like to be alone does not mean I love you less, not at all, and not even during that moment when I wasn’t paying attention.
We also live for those short moments when we can sometimes share with someone, anyone, a tiny bit or shiny moment that we found in that solitude, something that might be new for you. Thank you all for your patience with us certified card carrying loners.
In the following short Tanya Davis’ poem captures some of what the joys of solitude can bring, but not near enough of it… I recommend that you set this to 720p and full screen to watch.