I'm not sure I'm up to living off the grid but I do like certain parts of living far enough away from the cities to feel as if nature still has some control.
I remember that little book about the city mouse and the country mouse and even at a young age, I could identify. I've been both, and there are parts of each that have their strong points, but when it comes to solace and satisfaction, nature wins it for me, hands down.
Hi Ramona, Well, guess it wasn't time for you to make that move, yet. I like solitude and I am lonely at the same time. I love living alone, and miss a certain person equally as much.
I know what you mean. I hadn't thought of it, but maybe part of my ready acceptance is that I'm not yet ready to leave this place where Ed and I had some of our happiest years.
There's something to be said for that. Maybe it's just not time...
That's what I was thinking. It's like when I was giving away Dan's chair and the people decided not to take it. I was so happy they declined, I wasn't ready.
I have to laugh sometimes at how our hearts keep telling us to take our time and the signs keep pointing in that direction, yet we feel moving forward is the only way to go. Maybe staying put is exactly what we need.
When I read your post about moving I had an instant thought of "Lucky them!" for it seemed like the perfect scenario for both parties, I am so sorry it didn't work out, if I were 10 years younger I'd make an offer. Best wishes!
it may still happen for them--I honestly hope so--but if it doesn't, it'll have to be someone else. I still see this stay as temporary, and it could end up being a completely bonkers move, my trying to stay here for the winter, but I've had a long history of having to make major adjustments, so this is just one more thing. 😏
Speaking from experience, there’s a certain amount of “inner resourcing” that solitude requires.
Sometimes the recipe for writing surprises me. I thought the solitude of mountain life SURELY would produce the best writing of my life. But I wrote very little. Instead I swirled in questions, came face-to-face with buried grief and I learned to place my attention on the rhythms of nature in a way that’s hard to describe.
Lately I’ve taken to say that living in the mountains is how I got my upgraded “Listening Ears.”
Who knows what this new season will bring for you. I just wouldn’t be surprised if the stories you publish in 2-3 years are being “written” in the vortex of solitude ahead of you now. Hang on for the ride. It’ll be a good one. 🫶
P.S. Don’t forget there’s always Zoom where I can offer obnoxious, nature-laden writing reflections. 🤗
Amanda, when I moved to the boonies after a satisfying career as a freelancer I thought I would finally find the quiet time to work on my fiction. I did work on it sporadically, but for the first 15 years I couldn't call myself a writer. I did much the same--I immersed myself in up north living, but I didn't or I couldn't write about it. But it was brewing. Creativity is always brewing.
Then, when I finally started to write again, it was like opening faucets. Hog heaven!
I have hopes for this winter sojourn but I don't make promises to myself. It'll go the way it goes and if it doesn't go the way I thought it would I won't beat myself up over it. Something will have happened that wouldn't have happened otherwise. I'm sure of it.
As for Zoom, I'm afraid I'm one of those who avoids those sessions. I couldn't even tell you why right now. I just do. Maybe at some point, but not yet. Sorry.
Nov 1, 2023·edited Nov 2, 2023Liked by Ramona Grigg
I found the relative solitude of the pandemic inspiring. I ended up writing and publishing dozens of essays, some of which had been ideas or not even ideas, just notions, for a long time.
Though I don't live somewhere isolated, our house is at the dead center of a pre-war neighborhood platted in 1929 from a 400-acre farm, and we hear no noise from any nearby roads. When the windows are open, we hear bird song, and distant trains. It's lovely.
Ah, peace! Sounds wonderful, Lev. I'm going to work toward getting my writing to a place where I can expand. I think I'm ready now, and this winter may give me enough concentration time to get it done.
My husband's illness and death did more to my brain than I first thought. It's only now that I can see how scattered I was--and sometimes still am. But I'm looking at goals again instead of hiding in my own cozy corner. I'll see if I'm ready to move on.
I was wondering what was going on and knew an update would come. It sure came. I embrace solitude as well. It sounds like you'll be OK Mona. I talk to myself inside, outside, and in public when I forget where I am. I have ongoing conversations with myself out loud and I find it quite helpful and easy. Sometimes I get smart ass answers. If it was time for you to move, it would have happened. You needed another winter in your home and you're getting it.......
Thanks, Lisa. After the first surge of disappointment, I'm feeling okay with it. As long as the critters don't find my house warm and cozy, too, I think I'll be okay! ❤️
I think...no, I *know* there's a deep wisdom in our bodies which, when we can quiet our yappy little minds long enough, will speak plainly and accurately. (They don't call it "gut instinct" for nothing.) The trick is that we have to remember to ask and then remember to listen. It sounds like you were listening intently to the physical anxiety that was telling you, "Stay." Bravo! So much illness, especially chronic illness arises when we prioritize the wisdom of thought over the wisdom of wordless physical feedback.
So much wisdom in what you've said here. I'm in awe!
I do feel calmer, though I suppose my same worries are still with me. But at the moment this feels right, and I'll grab onto these moments and try to make the most of them.
I hear you about getting a lot of writing done when totally alone. For years, I'd take a 1-week retreat where (other than calls home), I'd see and/or talk to no one. I got a ton of writing done and it felt so liberating. I need to do that again! Enjoy your solitude! I look forward to reading what emerges.
One, I DO want to hang with you when the snow flies! Two, I find once more in this post out kindred spiritedness. I was living in the van (new to it) when Covid first came to the US. The next handful of months became a period of solitude I hadn’t expected. There were moments of loneliness, yes. But much of it was blissful solitude, a very different creature indeed. Three, this put me in mind of some folx I met jn Alaska who spend a winter buried in snow, the sun never to appear for months. A whole new level! Thanks for sharing!
I love your stories, Holly. You are far braver than I am, and your experiences are much more interesting. I may have to make you my role model if this keeps up. 💘
I don't know about at all that. You strike me as a woman who follows the beat of her own heart, which is a very high form of bravery. Me? I just do a lot of throwing myself about--like spaghetti on a wall. See what sticks. ;). Thanks! (heart) (I'm on my computer, not phone and very much wanted to add a heart here.)
Sorry to hear about the sale falling through. It happened to us back in those distant days of lockdowns and restrictions. I love the intentionality of your commitment to stay put. Love the sound of your gentle conversations with yourself and the tip tap of fingers on the keyboard, words flowing. Happy too that folk are there to help with the practicalities and that there are alternatives if the need arises. PS, were all just a tap of the keyboard away. Looking forward to sharing winter with you.
I may have jinxed it by talking about it too soon. I should know better!
Thank you for your kind words here. Wherever we go, we can always count on our internet friends. I love how we can find each other in any corner of this vast planet. 🧡
Things have a way of working out the way they are meant to work out. And it is true, online connections can be very strong. We have two sets of friends visiting in the next few days who we first 'met' on the interweb. Love how that happens.
I confess I find myself slightly envious of your upcoming winter. Which is actually quite bizarre as I don't like the cold at all. But there is something about that solitude surrounded by a world made soft by snow and sharp and clear by cold. After a month, I would turn out to love it deeply or be reenacting the entire movie The Shining...
Sorry about the sale falling through but perhaps Fate has other things in mind.
Meanwhile, bingo. Solitude is a wonderful soul state. I wrote exactly that yesterday as I prepared Saturday's newsletter. Take care and go fill your pantry and freezer bigtime!
I'm not sure I'm up to living off the grid but I do like certain parts of living far enough away from the cities to feel as if nature still has some control.
I remember that little book about the city mouse and the country mouse and even at a young age, I could identify. I've been both, and there are parts of each that have their strong points, but when it comes to solace and satisfaction, nature wins it for me, hands down.
Hi Ramona, Well, guess it wasn't time for you to make that move, yet. I like solitude and I am lonely at the same time. I love living alone, and miss a certain person equally as much.
I know what you mean. I hadn't thought of it, but maybe part of my ready acceptance is that I'm not yet ready to leave this place where Ed and I had some of our happiest years.
There's something to be said for that. Maybe it's just not time...
That's what I was thinking. It's like when I was giving away Dan's chair and the people decided not to take it. I was so happy they declined, I wasn't ready.
I have to laugh sometimes at how our hearts keep telling us to take our time and the signs keep pointing in that direction, yet we feel moving forward is the only way to go. Maybe staying put is exactly what we need.
I'm always grateful for your reminders. ❤️
I agree , maybe staying put is exactly what we need.
When I read your post about moving I had an instant thought of "Lucky them!" for it seemed like the perfect scenario for both parties, I am so sorry it didn't work out, if I were 10 years younger I'd make an offer. Best wishes!
it may still happen for them--I honestly hope so--but if it doesn't, it'll have to be someone else. I still see this stay as temporary, and it could end up being a completely bonkers move, my trying to stay here for the winter, but I've had a long history of having to make major adjustments, so this is just one more thing. 😏
Thank you. We'll see! I'm sure I'll be writing about it. 😏
Speaking from experience, there’s a certain amount of “inner resourcing” that solitude requires.
Sometimes the recipe for writing surprises me. I thought the solitude of mountain life SURELY would produce the best writing of my life. But I wrote very little. Instead I swirled in questions, came face-to-face with buried grief and I learned to place my attention on the rhythms of nature in a way that’s hard to describe.
Lately I’ve taken to say that living in the mountains is how I got my upgraded “Listening Ears.”
Who knows what this new season will bring for you. I just wouldn’t be surprised if the stories you publish in 2-3 years are being “written” in the vortex of solitude ahead of you now. Hang on for the ride. It’ll be a good one. 🫶
P.S. Don’t forget there’s always Zoom where I can offer obnoxious, nature-laden writing reflections. 🤗
Amanda, when I moved to the boonies after a satisfying career as a freelancer I thought I would finally find the quiet time to work on my fiction. I did work on it sporadically, but for the first 15 years I couldn't call myself a writer. I did much the same--I immersed myself in up north living, but I didn't or I couldn't write about it. But it was brewing. Creativity is always brewing.
Then, when I finally started to write again, it was like opening faucets. Hog heaven!
I have hopes for this winter sojourn but I don't make promises to myself. It'll go the way it goes and if it doesn't go the way I thought it would I won't beat myself up over it. Something will have happened that wouldn't have happened otherwise. I'm sure of it.
As for Zoom, I'm afraid I'm one of those who avoids those sessions. I couldn't even tell you why right now. I just do. Maybe at some point, but not yet. Sorry.
"I’m not a hermit by any means but I like being alone." 💚
I found the relative solitude of the pandemic inspiring. I ended up writing and publishing dozens of essays, some of which had been ideas or not even ideas, just notions, for a long time.
Though I don't live somewhere isolated, our house is at the dead center of a pre-war neighborhood platted in 1929 from a 400-acre farm, and we hear no noise from any nearby roads. When the windows are open, we hear bird song, and distant trains. It's lovely.
Ah, peace! Sounds wonderful, Lev. I'm going to work toward getting my writing to a place where I can expand. I think I'm ready now, and this winter may give me enough concentration time to get it done.
My husband's illness and death did more to my brain than I first thought. It's only now that I can see how scattered I was--and sometimes still am. But I'm looking at goals again instead of hiding in my own cozy corner. I'll see if I'm ready to move on.
Trauma like that has long-lasting effects. . . .
I was wondering what was going on and knew an update would come. It sure came. I embrace solitude as well. It sounds like you'll be OK Mona. I talk to myself inside, outside, and in public when I forget where I am. I have ongoing conversations with myself out loud and I find it quite helpful and easy. Sometimes I get smart ass answers. If it was time for you to move, it would have happened. You needed another winter in your home and you're getting it.......
Thanks, Lisa. After the first surge of disappointment, I'm feeling okay with it. As long as the critters don't find my house warm and cozy, too, I think I'll be okay! ❤️
Yay for peace.
Snow is a brilliant backdrop for cleaning our spiritual house too!
I think...no, I *know* there's a deep wisdom in our bodies which, when we can quiet our yappy little minds long enough, will speak plainly and accurately. (They don't call it "gut instinct" for nothing.) The trick is that we have to remember to ask and then remember to listen. It sounds like you were listening intently to the physical anxiety that was telling you, "Stay." Bravo! So much illness, especially chronic illness arises when we prioritize the wisdom of thought over the wisdom of wordless physical feedback.
So much wisdom in what you've said here. I'm in awe!
I do feel calmer, though I suppose my same worries are still with me. But at the moment this feels right, and I'll grab onto these moments and try to make the most of them.
Thank you. As always. ♥
I hear you about getting a lot of writing done when totally alone. For years, I'd take a 1-week retreat where (other than calls home), I'd see and/or talk to no one. I got a ton of writing done and it felt so liberating. I need to do that again! Enjoy your solitude! I look forward to reading what emerges.
Thanks. Me too! 💖
One, I DO want to hang with you when the snow flies! Two, I find once more in this post out kindred spiritedness. I was living in the van (new to it) when Covid first came to the US. The next handful of months became a period of solitude I hadn’t expected. There were moments of loneliness, yes. But much of it was blissful solitude, a very different creature indeed. Three, this put me in mind of some folx I met jn Alaska who spend a winter buried in snow, the sun never to appear for months. A whole new level! Thanks for sharing!
I love your stories, Holly. You are far braver than I am, and your experiences are much more interesting. I may have to make you my role model if this keeps up. 💘
I don't know about at all that. You strike me as a woman who follows the beat of her own heart, which is a very high form of bravery. Me? I just do a lot of throwing myself about--like spaghetti on a wall. See what sticks. ;). Thanks! (heart) (I'm on my computer, not phone and very much wanted to add a heart here.)
So... no need for the "Come back with a warrant" sign?
Not quite yet. Still hoping I'll need it in the near future. Please don't throw it away!
I had only laid out the lettering. So I'll just set it aside for when you need it.
Sorry to hear about the sale falling through. It happened to us back in those distant days of lockdowns and restrictions. I love the intentionality of your commitment to stay put. Love the sound of your gentle conversations with yourself and the tip tap of fingers on the keyboard, words flowing. Happy too that folk are there to help with the practicalities and that there are alternatives if the need arises. PS, were all just a tap of the keyboard away. Looking forward to sharing winter with you.
I may have jinxed it by talking about it too soon. I should know better!
Thank you for your kind words here. Wherever we go, we can always count on our internet friends. I love how we can find each other in any corner of this vast planet. 🧡
Things have a way of working out the way they are meant to work out. And it is true, online connections can be very strong. We have two sets of friends visiting in the next few days who we first 'met' on the interweb. Love how that happens.
I confess I find myself slightly envious of your upcoming winter. Which is actually quite bizarre as I don't like the cold at all. But there is something about that solitude surrounded by a world made soft by snow and sharp and clear by cold. After a month, I would turn out to love it deeply or be reenacting the entire movie The Shining...
LOL. I may have to ask some of you to keep an eye on me as the winter progresses. If you sense crazy talk, please call for help.
But only if it's worse than normal. 😅
Sorry about the sale falling through but perhaps Fate has other things in mind.
Meanwhile, bingo. Solitude is a wonderful soul state. I wrote exactly that yesterday as I prepared Saturday's newsletter. Take care and go fill your pantry and freezer bigtime!
Thanks, Prue. I'm surprisingly calm about all of this, so you may be right. It just wasn't the right time.
I had to smile when you said you wrote about the same thing yesterday, because I just read another positive piece about solitude, published yesterday.
How could we all be on the same wave length??
Judging by the cocked-up state of the world right now, perhaps living a solitary life is the safest way to be.
Maybe. I wasn't even thinking in those terms.