As a writer and an introvert, I need solitude. Lots of it, every day. Mental, physical, psychic, energetic space in which to recharge and to maintain balance. The older I get, the greater the impulse toward spaciousness, as if somehow my spirit knows that, by the end, I can’t take anything with me but pure consciousness. Where I am at that exit point is the platform from which I will dive into eternity. No deathbed redemption, no excuses. The work, for me, is ongoingly in the here and now.
To clear a path in the wilds requires careful culling. As I continue learning from and rearranging the natural world, it follows that I would, at some point, embrace the concept of complementarity. I wish I’d learned it sooner. Being a giver by nature, I have finally grown weary of users and the disingenuous. I have, at long last, developed discernment between unconditional acceptance and determining who to share the depths of my soul with.
I used to think that cutting the detritus from my life meant throwing others away. Now I realize I am not metaphorically tossing human bodies onto rubbish heaps, I am simply recognizing certain incompatibilities. All beings possess value. Utilizing that concept to lift others up is what I seek to practice more consistently. Thus it is almost imperative to cultivate this trait in those with whom I share quality time; my joys as well as my deepest sorrows. To hold one another dearly requires a depth of genuine, heartfelt expression that mirrors back and forth, encouraging a greater mutual contribution to the whole. To cherish this closeness requires more than concepts and words. Like any good polyculture, it requires the dynamism of reciprocity.