This does not make me a loner, a hermit or anti-social. I am not depressed. There is nothing wrong at home. I am not having a mid-life crisis.
After telling people I was going on vacation by myself for three days, you’d think I had told them I was headed to prison. ‘Alone?’ they would repeat not believing it could be so.
Yes alone, but not lonely.
Because solitude feeds me. Not to say I don’t get energized from a girls night or a workout or giggles with my kids. But my soul, the depths of me, really do require peace to process the cumulative of my days.
Having not had time on my own beyond a day since before Kaya was born (7 years), I am long past due.
My plan for the three days consists of exploring Kelowna, reading, writing and drinking some wine. Which is precisely what I do.
What I hadn’t planned on was the force of quiet my soul had been craving. I hadn’t really envisioned how the days would be filled but I assumed there would be loud music, maybe a chick flick, my earphones were packed and ready for my biking playlist. Only upon arriving, there was an undeniable and insatiable need for silence.
No music whatsoever. The TV stays off. Even the wind chime on the balcony has to come down.
My senses become more attune to my surroundings in the quiet. Bees pollinating, wind carrying whiffs of smoke, grass rustling as a buck chews, wafts of music rising from the cherry pickers in the orchards below. Silence singing.
If I had any grand insights, I would share, but the effects are more subtle then that. I am me, only more clearly. Clarity trumps epiphanies. A gentle knowing, slow and impactful, arises leaving the exhiliration of the Aha! for another time.
After three days of silence, I am tranquil and rejuvanated. My brain feels both full and completely empty; full of enough, empty of to-do’s.
A gift we could all do with.