The Gift of Solitude

Surf School

I awakened on the 4th with the wolf of solitude scratching at my door.  I know his sounds by now and by mid-afternoon, with friends and family miles away and the celebrations popping in the near and far distance, he was beginning to howl. 

Solitude is something I've chosen … moving to a new place where I know no one and choosing work that feeds on solitude.  However, I want solitude to be a wrap I put on and take off at my own whims … not a fierce and hungry wolf who sometimes glides silently through the moonlit woods, free to explore the world around him, and sometimes howls and twists to get free of what feels like the trap that binds him.

But, solitude is what it is and I'm beginning to know him and his ways well.  I know what soothes him and what follows a siege of trying to break free from that fearful, dark night. Dawn always comes, bringing with it new light, new grace.  I've learned a small portion of patience, so I wait … wait for the storm to pass, wait for the return of the tingle of anticipation.

This morning it rushed back in with the tide as I walked near the edge of the water.  Gentle waves whispered, "Something … something new … something new is coming … something new is forming …"  I know this to be true … something new is always coming … always coming to each of us.  As our ancient friend Heraclitus reminded us, we never step twice into the same river.  A year from now life will be new and different … maybe better, maybe worse, maybe just different. 

Right now the future coming toward me is the tiniest sprout, green and unidentifiable.  Will it be a sheltering oak or a red peony … or merely a weed to be plucked?  I do not know and it doesn't matter what I want it to be, because it will be what it is and my wishing it to be one or the other matters not.  All I'm called to do is nourish it … feeding it, watering it … tending it by savoring each moment of Now.  For regardless of what shape the coming takes, it will grow strong or falter based on the actions, feelings and beliefs of each tiny present moment.

So, walking in the soft, marine-layered morning, I drink in the gliding pelicans in their irregular formations, the generations of walkers, joggers and surfers, the bouncing white volley balls, the squealing inlanders touching the surprisingly chill waters of "sunny California" under a still sunless sky, the dogs sniffing the trace of their compatriots along paths of seaweed while a waggle-tailed puppy calls "Please come play with me!" to every passerby, the photographers with long lenses peering into rock crannies for scampering crabs, and beach combers sharing their gatherings.  

All of this ... the gift of solitude … a reminder that whatever is coming, the only thing I truly have is this precious and perfect moment.  Remembering that humbles me and makes me grateful.

Response to the Person Without Hope

It was one of those perfect mornings ... no wind, warm sun, blue skies and horses and riders on the beach to entertain flocks of photographers from two local photo clubs.  It's hard to imagine a more beautiful ... or a more hopeful day.  


Yet, when I returned to my car, there was a small, hand-written note taped to my door.  It read:

No, I don't have hope.  In the most evil, dishonest, corrupt and traitorous president and administration I have seen in my life.

And I have no hope in fools who cannot tell their left hand from their right hand.  "There are none so blind as those who refuse to see."

I have hope that soon you leftist communists will be no more and the world will not have to suffer under your lies and oppression.

I don't know who left the note but I've made some assumptions in my response to her, although I know there is virtually no possibility that she will ever see it.

Dear Without Hope:

You sound like a well-educated person whose life has not gone the way you wished or expected.  I am truly sorry that on this glorious day, on this beautiful beach, in this amazing country, you feel no hope.  If we were to meet in person, I would listen to your story and perhaps understand how our country has so disappointed and angered you.  

Somewhere in our past a great divide opened up among our people, a divide that has broken trust and dissolved our faith in our ability to work together for the common good of all.  We no longer think of ourselves as Americans one and all, us ... US ... the U.S. ... the United States ... but rather subdivisions of rightness or wrongness ... "they."  

"They" are Republicans, Democrats, liberals, conservatives, Tea Partiers, radicals, communists, fascists ... "they" are evil, stupid, corrupt, and tellers of lies.  It breaks my heart that, even though we have never laid eyes on each other, we cannot see ourselves as fellow citizens of a great country, citizens who might have differences of opinion but share a common heritage, culture and future.  It breaks my heart that so many of us have lost hope.

So, while we will not meet in person, I will hold hope for you, for me, for the rest of the people in our country and the world around us ... and for the common future that binds us all together.  May blessings come to us all.

The offending bumper sticker: