Seeking Solitude in the City

I know that I have previously referenced the notion of solitude. I don't have anything more profound to say about it, but in my book, solitude always sounds more romantic in theory than it becomes in actualization.

My previous post explored the stark and quiet alone-ness I experienced late in the day and late-season at my aunt's lakeshore cottage. I did not detect one living soul, human or animal (okay, animals may not have souls, but I hope there are a few non-allergenic ones that make it to heaven) for miles around--and I was uneasy. I know there were deer in the forest, but deer are very quiet creatures.

If you are alone in an upstairs bedroom with the windows shut, reading (praying, meditating), you might experience a measure of solitude. But if you live in the middle of a city with neighbors near, there is always a dog barking down the street, a truck rattling over a speed bump, or especially lately, a firecracker exploding near by. And the birds have been really noisy this year--even at dusk. Or am I just becoming more annoyed with noise, the older I get?

It is difficult to find a place or a time that is both quiet and alone. I have experienced being miles distant from civilization many times, but I am almost never alone. And of course our smart phones now keep us connected at all times.

A pre-season exploration of the perimeters of Acadia National Park on Mt. Desert Island, Maine a few years back, with all its coves and forested areas, provided some escape. I will never forget "Thunder Hole"--at night, with a flashlight handy. You can google for a video of this unique spot.

I recall that hiking in the Rockies (with the family) provided a beautiful break from our more normal, peopled existence. An August ride up to the continental divide was quiet and surprisingly chilly.

My childhood farm at night, with stars the only light, felt pretty remote--but it was never silent. Sounds carry for miles in the country. I would analyze the train whistle triads from 5 miles distant through my open second-story bedroom window screen. Our neighbors a mile away claimed they could hear the alarm calls of our peacocks.

But today I experienced a tiny taste of solitude as I walked through a park alone. Even though there were streets with a modest amount of traffic nearby, there was not one soul in the park. I wonder how many cities have that kind of emptiness in their parks on a beautiful sunny (about 68-70 degrees) mid-morning. (Certainly not in Beijing!) I did not know whether to be happy or sort of sad, that all this lovely space was vacated--like the rapture had occurred.

I had met two friends for breakfast. Having never eaten at this restaurant, I had decided I would eat whatever G recommended. Well, she said the French toast was good. An hour later, with my stomach laden with that lump of bread and maple sweetness, washed down with lots of coffee, I felt the need to walk it off before heading home--so I crossed the street into the park.

"Children" playing in the park.

With the recent abundant rain, the fishing dock was inaccessible,

although tales were being told of previously caught fish:

A moment of respite, if not quiet, prevailed in the park,

and I am thankful to live in a place where one can occasionally escape people and enjoy the sights and sounds of nature!