Solitude, Interrupted

Walk with me for a moment.

This path leads onwards. It does not circle back. It may branch, like the trees adorning its tranquility. Whether its branches converge again is unknown. What we cannot do is turn back. We may want to, but forward is the only motion in this space. After all, we dare not cheat time.

Occasionally, we may happen across a mirrored surface. One that allows us to look around a corner, or offer a reflection on what has passed. Unfortunately, the surface will never be free of impurities. The grime will make it difficult to say with certainty what we are contemplating. Echoes, harmonious and discordant alike, may pierce the air. Visions from beyond this locale may briefly glide into view between the tangled network of green and brown; our perspective marred by the spore-driven haze.

But we shall stick to the earth marked out for us. A simple line through an overgrown reality. The path is soft and still, and we are its only inhabitants. At least for the time being.

– – –

As the light dims, perhaps I can take this opportunity to offer a reflection on my journey so far.

Mine is a strange corner of existence, one of chosen solitude.

My direct family has been stationed stably for over two decades in Richmond. An island permanently departed but visited often. I have very few friends, connections brought by chance and cultivated by a small number of shared interests. Most reside nowhere near; at a stretch, I may see them once or twice annually. The latest messages on my phone are usually from automated sources – authentication codes for the innumerable services that tie us to indispensable systems.

But I did say chosen solitude

Something I have learned on this journey, ever the flaneur: that I chase a corrupted isolation. One where I can live and learn with less, at the cost of flawed friendships, finding solace in singular pursuits. A ragamuffin to the careless onlooker, the same one I observe with purpose.

A natural result of tussles with modern labor (following that which affords a reasonable living but does not compromise inalienable principles) and social incongruities. The latter, difficult to articulate or invite understanding on. If I may:

My politics, spoken to by plenty. My rejection of the supernatural, hardly unique. My preference for the non-traditional life path, a growing trend. A general cordiality tempering my expression, in speech and in action, a shared commonality. But altogether, a corrosive social alchemy.

To complicate this, I have lived in 8 different places over the last 14 years. From a parochial homestead to a metropolitan harbor. Every kilometer of travel around this planet taking me further from establishing a domicile. Even the apartment that I now reside in, a ‘home’ in name but not in feeling, my transience assured.

Many will assess the above with quite a negative lens. It is instead an acknowledgement of the tiring, yes, but equally exhilarating foray into a forest that few get to explore.

I walk this path with intention. Comfortable in traversing the cultural chasms.

I suppose that is my last thought on this section of the trek: I advance, amenably, in difference. Not indifferent and never in deference. As languid or charged as the environment requires.

– – –

I am afraid we must part ways for now. A collection of notes grows in volume nearby.

Thank you for your indulgence.