Solitude

Life is noisy. Not in a loud, hearing sense, but in the sense that our brains are never quiet. For the majority of us, there's never time to just be alone and think. There are always interruptions: dinner plans, school pick-ups, friends chattering, kids asking questions; the essence of our busy lives these days are noisy.

For my birthday this year I asked for, and was given, time alone. I have not spent it as I thought I might. I imagined I might want to shop, spend time in coffee shops and poke around town. Instead I've spent most of my time reading and in quiet contemplation. I've eschewed leaving my hotel room because it means contact and exchanges with the outside world. Instead I've chosen to hide myself away, emerging only for sustenance.

And it's been lovely. Instead of thinking about laundry and dirty diapers and appointments I've quietly and peacefully been absorbed with the ideas presented in Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. I don't have to dismiss her or agree with her quickly and thoughtlessly; no, I can consider the ideas set forth and think about them. In quiet. And in peace.

I find that instead of meditating on one of the kids' latest escapades I'm spending more time in thought over where Ellis Wyatt and his friends have gone off too. And I know that by the time my solitude here is over that I won't want it anymore. I'm a social person by nature. I like people, I need companionship and I enjoy being a wife and mother more than I have any other role I've ever encountered in my life. Still though, this break from that reality is refreshing and much needed.

Thank you, Superdad, Dad and Diana-- what an incredible gift you've all given me for my birthday this year!