Sitting on the doorstep early morning.The flowers in the neighbour’s garden. Pansies and others. Seeing them it was if they were beheld for the first time. By anybody. Ever.The school janitor in shorts collects his Sunday paper and a lone cyclist whizzes by. Rainbow colours.
For me the meaning of solitude is not the absence of other. And yet being physically alone; the empty hill the other evening or sauntering in a woodland brings with it a reminder. A reminder that everything IS being beheld for the first time. Including oneself. I’m thinking Solitude passes through. Not to be lingered in over long.
Off now for a walk. In company.