Co-Solitude is Better

Ten flew back to his Oregon high desert yesterday afternoon and my home feels so terribly empty without him. I've always honestly enjoyed being on my own – just me and, now, Coco BUT, as Balzac has said,

Solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine.

Ten and I do nothing exceptionally well together. That is, we don’t have to talk, talk, talk or go places. We hang out, putter around, read and just generally coexist – we chill together and it’s molto, très comfortable. He should be here with me right now. We'd note to each other that OUR (co)solitude is really damn lovely and, of course, it would be.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore…
~ Lord Byron

Yeah, I can dig it but the shore is ever so much more glorious with Ten at my side.

Ya know how, while I’m sitting at my desk, I can see the water? The sky too, with its giant, endless palette of color – from dawn to midnight. Blows my fuckin’ mind EVERY single day. One of my favoritest things of all is watching how the sunlight plays on the ocean and clouds. At particularly bodacious moments I’ll, if not dressed, throw on my robe and slippers (plus scarf and hat if it’s cold), grab my camera and run across the street to the seawall.

The Empress of Impetuousness kinda wore him out, mebbe

It’s not like I calmly plan or nonchalantly announce “gosh, I believe I’ll walk down to the water in my jammies coz, GEE, wouldn’t that be a hoot. Oh yeah, and the view’s pretty awesome right now. It’ll hold still, won’t shift a bit while I finish my coffee, right?” Nope, I leap out the door and run because I've learned from Mr. Adams!

As it turns out, this little inclination of mine didn’t ease up whilst I was recovering from the big scary back surgery+nasty-ass cold. I sorta forgot, after the first post-MGH week, that spotters were still a smart, if not always absolutely needed, idea.

Worried my man is what I did – what with me being there one minute and then, *POOF*, gone. In my precarious ultra weak and tippy state, I could’ve easily fallen and, like rilly, hurt myself quite badly. I believe Ten’s exact words were “yur freakin’ me out.” NATURALLY and mega eloquently, I replied “wut?” After that, I’d announce “I’m headed to the water” before dashing off. It was only smart and fair to give the man a heads up so he’d have half a chance to catch up to his mega impulsive companion. Right?

I’m now in my seventh week of recovery and in much better shape. In fact, I’m thinking that as soon as Bix’s out of the car hospital (rat-bastid check engine light is on…dammit), I’m gonna start going to the Y again. YES, I’ll be careful. I’ll take it slow and easy at first. Honest! Also, next week I begin rehab so I’ll be learning how to build my strength and endurance and shit.

By the time Ten and I head to Redwoods National Forest in May, I’ll be a hiking queen!

…love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. …believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet