Dixie Darr

Archive for the ‘solitude’ Category

First Snow

In Arvada, Colorado, Learning, neighborhood, solitude on October 10, 2017 at 9:23 am

The woman in the grocery store gave me a big smile and said, “It’s a BEAUTIFUL day.” I agreed. The first snow of the season was falling in huge, fat flakes making everything seem peaceful and a little miraculous even in this aging suburban strip mall.

The national news, as usual, made a big deal out of our early taste of winter and people around the country congratulated themselves for not living in a place where winter came in early October. If they only knew. Here in Colorado, we celebrated the arrival of the peak tourist season with a foot or more of snow in the mountains and a few inches in Denver. A couple of ski areas plan to open this weekend.

Today, the snow has mostly disappeared in town with sunshine and warmer temperatures melting the rest before the day ends.

This is fall in Colorado, where a little blip of early snow doesn’t phase us. Some of us (me!) like it. The sun is shining and my maple tree has turned a bright and glorious red-orange. As I sit at my computer I watch the leaves drop slowly one by one. In a week they’ll all be gone for another year.

I’ll never understand those who think snow alone makes a terrible horrible no good very bad day. They live in warm climates and brag that they will never again have to shovel snow. My condo association takes care of that now, but at my house, I kind of liked shoveling snow unless we had a foot or more of heavy accumulation. If my back hurt, I didn’t have to do it all at once, and with my neighbors also outside shoveling and calling to one another, it was a social event. As I grew older, they sent their little boys to shovel my walk for me.

Remember that episode of Northern Exposure where the whole town celebrated the first snow by wishing one another “bon hiver” (good winter)? I wish we had that tradition here instead of having to listen to people lamenting its arrival.

Time to burrow in, light a fire or a candle or burn some pinon incense. Time to bake bread and make a pot of chili. Time to appreciate the quiet time and cultivate interior resources. Time to rest and rejuvenate.

Bon hiver.

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What the Heart Wants

In creativity, Finding Your Calling, Learning, music, solitude on October 5, 2017 at 7:23 am

Some words of wisdom on work, solitude, and love.
THE REAL WORK
by Wendell Berry
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.

How to Find Your Mission in Life by Dick Bolles
Rule #3. to exercise that talent which you particularly came to earth to use — your greatest gift, which you most delight to use, in the places or settings which God has caused to appeal to you the most, and for those purposes which god most needs to have done in the world.

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs are people who have come alive.” Howard Thurman

“For many people, being alone with their thoughts puts them in enemy territory.” Barbara Winter

“The best thinking has been done in solitude. The worst has been done in turmoil.” Thomas A. Edison

“In order to be open to creativity, one must have the capacity for constructive use of solitude. One must overcome the fear of being alone.” Rollo May

“Creativity is intelligence having fun.” Albert Einstein

“If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph: The only proof he needed for the existence of God was music.” Kurt Vonnegut, Man Without a Country

“Someday, someone is going to look at you with a light in their eyes you’ve never seen, they’ll look at you like you’re everything they’ve been looking for their entire lives. Wait for it.” Author unknown

Up, Up, and Away

In Colorado, solitude, spirituality on September 20, 2017 at 4:32 pm

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heading west on I70 from Arvada, it doesn’t take long to get out of the city and into the mountains. In a few short minutes, I pass Denver West and voila! Foothills.

Today, I’m heading south to Morrison and then west through Bear Creek Canyon to O’Fallon Park in Kittredge.

One of Denver’s 22 mountain parks, O’Fallon appears on the left just before the town of Kittredge. Bear Creek loops through it, and the park features fishing, plus picnic tables, restrooms, and hiking trails. It’s my favorite Denver mountain park with the possible exception of Red Rocks.

Nah, Red Rocks is beautiful but it has too many people.

At 6,900 feet, Kittredge isn’t high enough for fall colors this early in the season, but I didn’t come here to see aspen. I came for peace. Highway 74 winds through the canyon with craggy rock faces rising on either side. Occasionally, the valley widens for a small creekside meadow. Dark green pines cover the opposite hillside. I feel my stress level easing.

I turn into the entrance and park near the picnic tables. First, I walk along the creek, listening to the water rolling over the rocks and breathing in the pine-scented air. A highway sign at Morrison had warned of “bear activity in the area,” so I try keeping an eye on my surroundings. At the fork in the trail, a woman searches in vain for earwigs for her daughter’s biology class. Her dog, Zoey, greets me. I learn that I am the only one there without a dog. I see half a dozen other people, five women and one man, each walking a dog.

The weather is sunny but not hot, and I need my jacket to eat my lunch and read at a shady picnic table, the creek burbling at my back. I write in my journal and notice that foot and dog traffic is picking up. Too many people. Time to head home.

It only took three hours to clear my head and renew my spirit. I forget sometimes that the mountains are more than a pretty backdrop for the city and a way to tell which way is west.

I need to do this more often.

White Space

In creativity, solitude, spirituality on September 12, 2017 at 11:02 am


“I’m so busy now I don’t know how I ever had time to work.” You’ve probably heard this from retired people, especially those who have recently stopped working. I always wonder what exactly they’re so busy doing.
I used to ask my students who were mostly married and raising children in addition to working full time and going to school, what they wanted to do when they retired, the typical answer was, “nothing.”

In my forties, I joined a writers’ group whose other members were all retired, and they made me crazy. While I was always eager to leave when we’d finished our group activities, they expressed dismay that we were finished and wanted to stretch it out, maybe have lunch. It seemed like an odd manifestation of Parkinson’s Law, work expands to fit the time available. In this case, the time available seemed nearly infinite for them if not for me. I observed this same reluctance to end anything whenever I spent time with retired people.
Check out your local McDonald’s any morning and you’ll see tables full of older people lingering over cups of coffee. They also fill buses to Blackhawk and other gambling sites. I guess there’s nothing wrong with that if you really like flushing your money down the toilet, but it sure doesn’t appeal to me. Was that a trifle too judgmental? Sorry.
And God forbid they spend any time on earth playing bingo. Note to my future caregivers: if you ever see me playing bingo, please shoot me.
All this reminds me of the saying, “I wasted time, and now time is wasting me.” Bingo (if you’ll excuse the expression.)
Most people seem to think it’s admirable to stay busy, maybe because we live in a culture of busyness, idle hands, after all, being the devil’s workshop.
In design, white space is the area between design elements, and that’s what I need in my life. The last thing I want now that I’m gainfully unemployed, as one friend put it, is to be occupied all the time. Especially after spending time with others, I need to wallow in silence, taking time to think or just be for awhile. White space is a tool to balance the other elements of life and is where the magic happens.
What I don’t understand is why people who complain about always having too much to do can’t seem to let go of it. Why does it seem admirable to stay busy when you no longer have to?

My Indian Name is Nose in a Book

In Books, Home, solitude on September 4, 2017 at 5:27 am

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry tells the story of a reclusive, widowed bookseller whose prized and very valuable book disappears just before a suicidal mother leaves her baby girl in his store.

Ultimately, it’s a book about people who love books. Each chapter begins with a short story recommendation. The title character moves from grieving curmudgeon to doting father to romantic, and every other major character is equally charming from the quirky publisher’s representative to the precocious foundling and the crime-reading police chief.

The reader can pick up dozens of book referrals as the characters discuss their favorites. I found myself stopping frequently to look up a title and order it from the library.

When I first read it 2014, I went on an evangelical frenzy, telling everybody I knew that they had to read this book. The smart ones listened.

Here are a few upcoming books I’m looking forward to.

To Be Where You Are by Jan Karon is the latest entry in the Mitford series. If Mitford weren’t in North Carolina and, you know, fiction, I’d want to live there.

Sourdough by Robin Sloan, the guy who wrote Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore, which would be enough of a recommendation for me, but this is also about an isolated software engineer who learns how to bake sourdough bread. How can I resist?

Happy reading! For me, that’s what Labor Day is all about.

Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying

In creativity, Home, Learning, music, solitude on August 22, 2017 at 6:01 am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day started out pretty well with a visit to my doctor. She beamed at me and took me off one hated medication and reduced another. Good news, which she had to spoil by scheduling me for both a mammogram and a colonoscopy. Ugh. It didn’t help when she told me she had recently had her first colonoscopy and learned first hand how awful the preparation for that is. “I can’t believe I tell people all the time they have to do that.” Wouldn’t you think medical science could come up with a less dreadful test?
Things went downhill from there. I felt put upon, ignored, and misunderstood, all of which increased my pique about the over-hyped eclipse. Geez, people. It got a little dark. I dutifully took my stupid glasses out on the balcony and looked at the mostly covered sun for 30 seconds. So glad you all enjoyed it. Now can we get back to normal?
As my mood tanked, I tried a few of my standard remedies to cheer myself up. I played my eclipse-themed music, which was fun. My favorite song was “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying” by Gerry and the Pacemakers (remember them?) although it made me cry. It was that kind of day. I finished reading a book by my second favorite mystery author, Marcia Muller, so I could read the latest by my favorite mystery author, Sue Grafton, today.
I wrote an email telling someone to “back off” as nicely as I could while feeling pushed around.
I ate a couple of dark chocolate Hershey’s Kisses.
I pulled myself together for a mostly unproductive interview for the church history I’m working on, and then I was done. No TV for me because seeing that orange monster preening and congratulating himself for his non-existent accomplishments would only worsen my disposition. Have you seen the tee shirt that superimposes a graphic of the twin towers against 45’s silhouette and says “The worst days in U.S. History—9/11 and 11/9? My sentiments exactly.
This morning I’ll take myself out for pancakes. Then I’ll continue my self care with reading, writing, and listening to music, trying to find my way back to an even keel and banish the darkness.
It could work.

Morning Has Broken

In creativity, Home, Learning, solitude, spirituality, writing on August 18, 2017 at 6:23 am

I love mornings.
I won’t apologize for being a morning person. My circadian rhythms were set at birth or maybe at conception. Who knows? You may hate me for what I’m going to say next, but I’m just trying to tell the truth.
I never have to use an alarm clock to wake up in the morning.
I’ve never had a cup of coffee.
Those particular morning rituals strike me as a really hideous way to start the day. Using an alarm to blast you out of sleep means you miss that wonderful floaty moment or two when you first rise to consciousness, when you don’t quite remember what day it is or what happened yesterday and what’s to come today. That momentary amnesia lets you ease into the day slowly, gradually, naturally.
Coffee brings the second mini explosion to wake up your brain. Having never experienced this myself, I rely on cultural stereotypes, and they seem singularly negative, as in “I can’t do anything until I’ve had my first cup of coffee.”
Things I love about mornings:
The soft pink and gold light that comes with sunrise. The windows of my apartment all face north, so I can’t see the sunrise without leaving the building. Instead, I enjoy the way it paints everything like a watercolor wash.
The quiet and time alone with my thoughts. Many writers get up early to write before being distracted by the ordinary busyness of the day. Even the dog walkers aren’t out yet.
Birdsong.
Maybe what I appreciate the most is the promise of a new day. Yes, I have things on my calendar that I need to get done, even though I’m no longer working in the accepted sense of the word. And, yes, these days bad things seem to happen every day that TV news channels, online newspapers, and my Facebook feed insist on pushing into my awareness.
But for right now, I can ignore those things and imagine a day when only pleasant events occur and enlightening thoughts fill my head. Someday, that will come true.
Maybe today.

Meet Market

In solitude on June 22, 2017 at 7:29 am

I am not a people person, as I’ve said before, although I probably like you quite a bit. It’s those masses of strangers, especially in big crowds, that make me want to run home and hide, locking the door behind me. My nieces used to call me Auntie Social.

I spend about 94% of my time alone (I did the math), yet I almost never feel lonely. Time spent with friends at church or the gym or occasional meals and meetings are times I look forward to, but I also look forward to going home to my sanctuary, my solitude.

I know most people don’t feel the same. Some people can’t stand being alone. Worse, just the thought of going to a restaurant or a movie or a concert alone scares the bejeebers out of them. I don’t know why. Maybe they don’t read.

I always have a book with me – actually 600+ books on my Kindle – and with a book, I always have companionship.

Rebecca Solnit, author of The Lonely City, describes loneliness as feeling “unhappy as a result of being without the companionship of others.” And Paul Tillich said, “Loneliness expresses the pain of being alone and solitude expresses the glory of being alone.” I’ll take the glory, please.

I’ve been thinking about this since Amazon announced its plan to deliver groceries. I belong to Amazon Prime, but the grocery store is one of the few places I still go. With few exceptions, I do almost all my shopping online. I even conduct my library business online, only going to the library to pick up and return books.

Isaac Asimov wrote a novel, The Naked Sun, part of his robot series, about people who never came into contact with other people physically because they were too afraid of germs. I don’t want to live in that world, if only because I would have to give up hugs.

I understand that grocery delivery offers a welcome convenience to some people and some circumstances. For me, though, I’ll continue to mingle in real life at King Soopers and Sprouts and choose my own provisions.

I can’t spend ALL my time alone.

Every Day is a Holiday

In solitude, spirituality on May 25, 2017 at 9:36 am

I won’t be spending Memorial Day or any other holiday in the foreseeable future with family. My brother and sister-in-law are the only family I have left here in Colorado except for a few miscellaneous cousins on Facebook. The truth is that I don’t really celebrate holidays. Since I no longer work, a holiday is just like any other day, but the library is closed.

When we moved to Denver on my third birthday, my dad said it was to get away from family. He also said it was to escape all the drinking, although since relatives were doing the drinking, it amounts to the same thing. So I grew up without any extended family and believing that family was not necessarily a good thing. I have no memories, fond or otherwise, of family holidays. I suspect I spent them reading in my room.

In my thirties and forties, I spent holidays with friends. I remember those mostly as an excuse to get high, and I don’t do that anymore.

These days, I normally resist any well-meaning efforts to involve me in someone else’s family dramas. While I adore spending time with one or two friends, after a couple of hours, I get a little frantic to escape back to my hermitage, my cat, and my books. I can take people, even those I love, only in measured doses.

Monday I will probably take a walk, read, write, nap with Radley, and read some more. Please don’t begrudge me my solitude. You may be surprised to learn that many women (it’s always women) who hear I’m spending a holiday alone tell me, “that sounds heavenly.”