Peak of Solitude— At West End Gallery
Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.
–May Sarton, Mrs. Steven Hears the Mermaids Singing (1965)
Some of the most serious problems with our society stem from the hoarding of great wealth by the ultra-rich. Their constant need for more and more can only be fulfilled by sapping the wealth from those economically beneath them. But I’m not here to bitch about the super-wealthy today.
After all, there are problems that come with one hoarding anything. As it is with wealth, this drive to attain and hold on to more and more of anything generally causes a deprivation of something else. Everything we choose to do or attain has a cost of some sort.
We give up one thing for some other thing. If I do this, I won’t be able to do that. This might result from the cost in time, comfort, money, attention or almost any other thing. Time and money tend to be the biggest factors, or at least it seems so as I write this now. I will probably think of other examples moments after I post this.
I am a hoarder of solitude. It is my precious in the same way the Ring of Power was for Gollum. I hold greedily onto it and am always seeking more and more. And also like Gollum, when I am without it, I am frantically seeking to regain it.
And I am willing to pay almost any price for it. I have paid for it with the relationships and time I might have with others or loss of opportunities and income for my work, among many other things.
And the older I get, the more precious it becomes because solitude’s main currency is time, an ever-decreasing asset.
That may sound pretty sad to many of you. Maybe even a bit crazy. I get that and I can offer little if any defense or rationale to sway your opinion. Because when I am in the midst of my gathered solitude, what others think seems inconsequential.
I think only another hoarder can understand that.
Here’s a lovely guitar version of Astrud Gilberto’s Corcovado also known as Quiet Night of Quiet Stars
Redtree Times 