Saturday, September 15, 2007

The Darkness of the Light

Sometimes the dark side of the mountain is not what you would expect.

I woke up yesterday to the whiteness. The clouds fall over the mountain and the whiteness is glaring. It is the mist that envelopes us all at times and I hadn’t seen it in quite some time.

There is no visibility and even the twiggy bits of forest that frame my big window to the outside are shrouded. I hear the goats bleating but I can’t see them. Such is the whiteness of the shroud of the mountain.

Yes, this is a shroud. It is sort of like when you were four and buried your face with the snowy white sheet that hung on the clothesline. The light would still come through and your eyes would blink and tear, but you couldn’t see.

You could smell the smell of the sun-drenched linen and hear the voices of your family, but there was something deliciously alone about being wrapped up in that whiteness. And you twirled your dirty little body into that whiteness.

It’s the same stillness as snow. The same quiet. The same sense of soulless aloneness.

I often feel comfort in that sense of aloneness. I revel in it and say to myself, “Yes! I am a rock! I am an island!”

Eat my shorts! Simon and Garfunkel…it can be done!

My brother once said to me, with the insight that only someone who shares your DNA can, “Maybe you need to find yourself a little Kaczynski-cabin in the woods.”

I know in my bones how right he is. And I wander seeking the aloneness. That freedom from other’s pain that overwhelms and becomes my own.

I want to be four again. I want to wrap myself in the aloneness of a white linen sheet and feel at peace in the whiteness.


  1. Anonymous said...
    No magic words, or I'd say 'em.

    Just holding you up for comfort and healing and deep peace.

    Audubon Ron said...
    Time out. This is starting to sound like you're in love or something. Have you fallen in love?
    Anonymous said...
    I googled the word "aloneness" for no particular reason except for the very particular one of learning. I wonder often, why is alone so ostentatiously elusive while loneliness finds us in the depths of our hidden chambers and forces us into the cruel light of truth; solitude is peace, loneliness is the wretched turmoil found when one's body is warm by the heat of others but whom's insides remain chilled by isolation. So, all in all, I found nothing but the great sphere of my inquiring mind. Also, "The value of solitude: the ethics and spirituality of aloneness in autobiography" Also, this and the last line. That last line is like gold in my linen closet. Thank you.

    (the e-mail is not to elicit correspondence, although correspondence is not discouraged, but rather to smite anonymity because, really, that's bogus)

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