Just back from 27 hours of mostly solitude in the woods at Shantivanam, the world is clean, wet and cold, but all is well. I walked, rested, collaged, tried to tune the cello, replaced the C-string on the cello, tuned the cello close enough to pick out notes, read, listened to a lot of Pema Chodron tapes, watched part of a cheesy spiritual video narrated by a Shakespearean actor, fast-forwarded the video, read more, ate crackers and coup, played the cello, did a little yoga and mostly slept and stared at the window.
The cold weather that moved in came easy and slow, and I watched and felt some of it last night when I stood in a parking lot, one of the few places where there’s phone reception, and talked to Ken while watching the moon and its pink rainbowy-dreamy ring travel over mackerel clouds. The rain fell. The wind came and went. I sat in some silent prayer and had a few seconds of not thinking about anything. I watched dishes with care. I didn’t check email.
When I pulled away this afternoon, it felt right — a little time to step out of the vibrancy of regular life to the vibrancy of solitude. A little time to consider and just be without trying to know or do. And a lot of time to not drive myself crazy