The Hermit Chronicles: Unbelonging

“After all, in private we’re all misfits.” – Lily Tomlin

tempt–ations

A Misfit of society. The “Unbelonging”. Set apart from commonality and associations, not by a better standing but by a challenge inside that’s only fulfilled alone. No one can accompany me where I go, no heart can understand my sorrow or joy. Alone, as I find it, is good. Being unable to attach to a group, club, assembly, or clique brought some concern, which I soon resolved. For a good part of my life I joined others, in love, in need, in desperation to avoid the pain of being alone, trying to fit in. I’m content to realize now that if alone is what I am, then alone I’ll be and not fight it. It’s not bad at all, once I accepted that, it allows me the full realization of who I am. As I learn to be alone, to be my best friend, I resist compromising myself with the false security of a strange opinion or use my life in service to a foreign will.  When I feel the need to engage the throng, I’ll do so with renewed vigor, untouched by opinions and pressures that many feel obliged to conform to. Breathe, freedom is mine as I look with contented peace out on the sunrise of my potential. Striving for success isn’t my lot, I’m a success. My solitary living brings the challenges but, even now, with my tattered coat and stained cup, my hounds and fallen trees as companions, even now, I smile.

 

The Hermit Chronicles: Unbelonging

 

“After all, in private we’re all misfits.” – Lily Tomlin

tempt–ations

A Misfit of society. The Unbelonging. Set apart from commonality and associations, not by a better standing but by a challenge inside that’s only fulfilled alone. No one can accompany me where I go, no heart can understand my sorrow or joy. Alone, as I find it, is good. Being unable to attach to a group, club, assembly, or clique brought some concern, which I soon resolved. For a good part of my life I joined others, in love, in need, in desperation to avoid the pain of being alone, trying to fit in. I’m content to realize now that if alone is what I am, then alone I’ll be and not fight it. It’s not bad at all, once I accepted that my aloneness will allow me the full realization of who I am. As I learn to be alone, to be my best friend, I resist compromising myself with the false security of a strange opinion or use my life in service to a foreign will.  When I feel the need to engage the throng, I’ll do so with renewed vigor, untouched by opinions and pressures that many feel obliged to conform to. Breathe, freedom is mine as I look with contented peace out on the sunrise of my potential. Striving for success isn’t my lot, I’m a success. My aloneness brings the challenges. Even now, with my tattered coat and stained cup, with my hounds and fallen trees as companions, even now, I smile.


The Hermit Chronicles: Fallen Trees

“But other people also ‘invite’ us to behave like victims, when they complain about the unfairness of life, for example, and ask us to agree, to offer advice, to participate. Be careful. When you join in that game you always end up losing.” – Paulo Coelho, Bythe River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept
bloodlustritual
My life is at odds with the general push and shove of crowds. A crowd may be many people, or many words, both which are troublesome. My obstacles aren’t those of briar and bush, but of opinions and gossip. I’m a solitary traveler, troubling no soul along the way. Yet, here he comes, shoving my shoulder as he flies past, mumbling to himself about the error of my way. He assails my peace, that very thing that led me to wander alone. Why am I a trouble to those who hurry to find themselves at some dead-end, or worse, find themselves exhausted at journeys mid-point, gasping and lost? They are fallen trees and I step gingerly around their bulky frames of negativity that I may be unaffected by the nervous energies of their cumbersome discontent. At times they come in packs, each agreeing with the other and with faceless anonymity, slaying those who are at ease along their way. Their unique talent is to destroy dreams with doubtful comments and hinder progress with the attraction to follow their crowd. I maintain my distance though, and to dissuade them, I turn down a path of unknowing to find pastures of unsurpassed beauty. Follow my way through the brush, apart from the crowd, you can see the grasses and limbs bent to my will, a will that holds peace and protection from their diseases of mind and offers fellowship with the wind and the birds that fly on it, neither of us holding anxious thoughts of tomorrow.