I remember the first time I tasted true loneliness. It was a hot August afternoon and my sister and I just came back from school. Mother and father served lunch and as always I was the first to leave the table. Life was so exciting then. A new neighborhood. New kids. So many new things to see. I must have just turned 7 I think. Maybe I was still 6. All I know is that this was one of the first times I was able to leave the house alone without my mother or father to accompany me. I closed the door behind me and I left for my first solitary excursion. Within minutes I found myself in the forest talking to critters, pretending to be an explorer, eating berries (possibly poisonous) and losing track of time. Rays of light passed through the treetops and I was entranced by the dancing pollen and the ever so mesmerizing scent of petrichor. These are the first moments of solitude, albeit temporary, which would create an obsession in me. Ever since then I’ve been craving solitude. I’ve gotten plenty of it, especially whenever I managed to live alone. But recently I’ve started thinking that maybe that desire for solitude is more than just an essential need. Maybe its more of a calling. Alone I create so much. I live. Alone I feel like myself.
Is it a good ideal to aim for solitude on my next adventure in life? At this moment I’m in a transitional moment. like I was for a few months in Finland and twice in the UK. Brief but transitional. I worry that if I go down that route that I won’t be able to return.