Solitude

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I’ve noticed over time that my house has become increasingly tight on space. Given the obvious conclusions that my house has not shrunk and I’m not any bigger, I’ve deduced that something else is at play. Being an astute observer of all things obvious, I’ve noticed that space I can call my own has all but disappeared. This fact is particularly disturbing when I realize that over the past few years, I have been discarding personal items that no longer hold a place of importance to me. Therefore, this disturbing observation of dwindling personal space has been a source of great confusion and anxiety. First, my desire for living with less has been counteracted by equally powerful opposite forces, similar to that of digging in sand. Second, my quest for private space has become an act of futility.

We are all wired differently, especially when it comes to our social skills. A social setting where unscripted gab and small talk is the norm, the well-adept social creature flourishes. For the rest of us, we dread being caught in these situations quickly gravitating to the food table or bar and then a quick retreat to a dark corner or unsuspecting acquaintance that we hold on to like a life raft. Shit, I hate situations where the agenda and talking points are not predefined, where incessant conversation around talking points that I have no interest in keep pushing me back to the bar. I feel a buzz coming on. I need to retreat to a personal space where thinking, relaxing and contemplating in the second phase of life is enabled. I’m not a curmudgeon. I just like solitude. It is who I am.

Unless you are one of those lucky, handy guys who have assembled a basement or garage workshop, you feel the need to create a private space. This is my current predicament. I can visualize my future surrounded by my guitars, current reading materials, turntable and select vinyl, writing surface and a comfortable leather chair at the epicenter. This will be my place to daydream. Michael Pollan states in A Place of My Own, “daydreaming is where we go to cultivate the self, or more likely, selves, out of the view and earshot of other people. Without its daydreams, the self is apt to shrink down to the size and shape of the estimation of others.” Maybe I am a loner, but desiring solitude is not a sign of social pathology. As Susan Cain argues in Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, solitude is a precondition for many creative, innovative people. So, whatever personal surroundings you need to maximize your travels in the second phase of life, make no compromise. Unless you pay homage to what makes you unique, you’re simply playing to others expectations and needs.

#Solitude