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: 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: Hounds

 “In this world of memories, there’s no need for strangers.” – Watsuki Nobuhiro
  “What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined – 
to strengthen each other – to be at one with each other 
in silent unspeakable memories.” – George Eliot
g0dless-shrine

I hear their cries of excited pursuit as they push their noses high in the air, hoping to sail on the scent of people long gone, caught on the thistles along the paths. Memories, they are the hounds that play along my side as I travel, howling in the night when loneliness stalks me and creeps its way into my tarpaulin refuge. They quietly dig at the unseen footsteps of my past loves when my bottle is near empty and the flames of company have faded to only the dull warm glow of afterthought. I love it when, in the mottled light of sunrise breaking through my shelter of branches, my faithful hounds nudge me with the wet nose of many mornings past. Those mornings when waking to fish my dreams from life’s rivers flowing gently past, I found that elusive “granddaddy”, and pulled it from the muddied water with a rush of victory and pleasure. My camp is filled with many of those that got away. This where my humble abode now sits, along those paw marked muddy banks, that disappear in the fog of today, ghosts of Then floating through Now. I see your quirky look as you wonder at my friends. You have friends like me, though they complain you don’t spend enough time with them, your fires of denial burning bright enough to chase them far away. Relax here in the warmth, lets let our friends mingle, they know how to make smiles and frowns dance with youthful vigor, and just the watching of it will make us tired enough to pass into the night with sweet sleep.