I've always been a clown. I've probably deep down had a desire to be appreciated. I want to be the one that makes a memorable remark, posts a memorable cartoon, or writes a memorable poem. Take my poetry blog for example. Although I may have many things there that I'm very proud of, I usually don't recommend it to anyone. Not any more. I've come to the realization that people generally don't give a damn about poems. I found that out one time when I posted a link to my poems on Facebook. I don't remember exactly what I said in the post, but I purposefully linked the main blog page instead of just the single post in hopes that people might spend some time exploring them all. I thought, "Maybe they'll see that there is something more to me, that I'm not just the glib person I appear to be on the outside." Did that happen? No. I may have gotten a comment and/or a "like" but that's it. Like many people that are proud of their work, I was seeking approval. I just wanted to be able to shrug my shoulders and feign a little, "aw, it was nothin..." While beaming broadly inside. I hoped for some sort of acknowledgment after posting a link to my private writings. Sure, some are whimsical and goofy, but many poured from my heart and soul.
When I get scorned a part of me shuts down. I can't help it. I get quiet and I retreat. The problem with being an adult is that there is no "retreat." I can't just go somewhere when I want to have total quiet without sparking some sort of resentment from my wife. In her mind I would be avoiding her. That would cause the exact opposite to happen. Instead of the solitude I wanted, I would be bombarded with questions and requests that I talk if something is bothering me. I can't seem to get it understood that I can easily sit all day long and never say a word when there is nothing wrong. I'm not hiding, mad, or sick every time I'm quiet and stand-offish. Sometimes I just want to be alone. I crave solitude sometimes. I respect solitude all of the time. During cold, winter mornings that I had to go to work, I actually felt ashamed to spoil the total stillness by scraping my windows. It was so quiet and serene out there. There was solitude. I was the only one in the world. I wanted to just stand there, taking deep breaths and enjoying the feeling with my eyes closed. Instead, I literally winced when the first scrape pierced the quiet of the morning. Some people choose to live their lives by themselves and some are thrust into it unwillingly. For me, I am one of those people that think I would love to live a solitary life, but on my terms. Meaning when I wanted human interaction I would seek it out. There are many times when I'm happy to sit all by myself in a crowded place and observe the variety of people that are scurrying around and going about their business. People watching. It's fun, and it provides me with some social interaction--though not personally. Plus, I can turn it off and leave any time I want. Maybe I'm just being selfish, or maybe I've just never met anyone that was in tune with me.
Being the solitary person in certain situations has a sort of spiritual reward to me too. I'm not a believer in the bible, but there are times when a feeling of awe overwhelms me. The feeling that I am but a speck in the middle of something huge and grandiose. Sitting on a high hilltop, ocean beach, vast desert, or a scenic cliff--those are the times I get a feeling of deep introspection. I can sit in those places for hours and hours, all alone with my thoughts. If I were not by myself, not only would the quiet be lost, but so would the spiritual feeling. If you look up definitions of spiritual, only part of them have to do with religion. One of the definitions that I'm talking about is this: "having a mind or emotions of a high and delicately refined quality." I'm not saying my mind is either refined or high quality. I'm saying that in certain natural places, conditions, or situations I have the feeling of such.
I have been a source of controversy for years about the fact that I get up two hours before I need to every morning. People can't understand why anyone in their right mind would do such a thing if they didn't have to. You know why? Solitude. For those two hours I own the world. I can be here in my chair at my computer with no distractions, no interruptions, and no expectations. Add to that the fact that my mind is so much clearer and I feel more able to draw from within when I'm trying to write things down. The frustrating part is, lately I've found that I have some of my best ideas, notions, or little "seeds" of inspiration come to me an hour or two before bed. I can't really act on them then. To do so would be a battle of constant interruption with "what are you doing?" or that I'm ignoring or being neglectful. No, instead I try to jot down notes so that I can act on them during my morning "me" time the following day. Sometimes I can remember the train of thought that was behind the idea and sometimes not, but at least I have a chance.
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