Some old lines I wrote elsewhere years and years ago, possibly predating the beginning of this site. On stepping to our own music beat and pace, on solitude, of walking and being away from the crowd, and of Crusoes and deserted islands.
I really miss my long rambling half-day walkabouts along the coasts.
[From sometime in 2008]:
It can be painful when we do not keep pace with our fellow-men, because we hear a different drum-beat. But take heart and “let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.”
Solitude is a dirty word for most, especially on this plastic paradise island nation. But patches of peace can still be had…
Your Shell and Cave sounds great.
“One chair for solitude, two for company, three for society.” Any more and it’ll be too crowded anyway.
Just thought I’ll share a book title:
[The value of solitude: the ethics and spirituality of aloneness in autobiography / John D. Barbour]
Actually, when one feels this pressing world to be cold dark and hopeless, even wise words can do little to help…
All we can do, perhaps, is to just let go and allow ourselves to settle. Hopefully, when everything extraneous has fallen away, our clear and lucid selves shall be what remain. And one day a spark will rekindle the joy in our stilled hearts, be it from something seen, heard, read or felt; or simply from the adoring faces of little furry mogwai/gremlins.
Few are those who are comfortable alone; rarer still who craves solitude for peace of mind.
I know that little black-and-white world you speak of.
Far and away from the madding crowd is what I seek, though this is getting harder still on this island city. Short of looking for a Trappist monastery with seven-year vows of silence, or meditating with a guru in his ashram, I make do with coastal walkabouts.
A perfect day is one spent walking the eastern coasts, tramping off the designated tracks and meeting nary a soul for miles and hours. An iPod with a thousand songs is not required: the washing of the waves, brushing of the wind, rustling of leaves are far more delightful tunes.
Now, after coming close to half of my allotted three score and ten years, perhaps the lesson learnt after much bruises and pain is that of balance. While I know that I will be happier than Crusoe was alone on his island, I have also learnt that “No man is an island” and that however unwillingly, we have all signed social contracts…
Yes, I live on this same small sporean island. For the past week I have donned green and done my part in protecting this country. And of course it has to be the week for the markets to move in its largest intra and inter-day ranges in recent history. Sigh, some of the largest moves in the markets took place this year when I was away on reservist training.
Spending time with large gatherings of people, especially ones wearing army green, leaves me dissipated. Will probably need some time amongst green of a different nature before coming back to the markets.