Solitude

It's that one thing I can go weeks, months, countless days without. I grew up in a household of six on a street always astir with a swarm of kids. Our trodden-to-dirt front yard (mourned by my parents) was the unofficial meeting ground, constantly covered in bikes. College life was hundred-head-count classes, twice daily practices and travel with my large track family. I feel at home being that little ant in the big march. I'm used to crowds. Honestly, I like them. Solitude for me has been a rare and curious occurrence. When it was offered I could take it or leave it.

Well, at least I thought I could take it or leave it. But some parts of the soul, even if they are few and small, need solitude. The older I get the more I crave it. And working two service industry jobs makes it all the more evident. I do do do for everyone, all the time. Monday through Saturday I will cut and color your hair, wax those brows, give you a nice blowout and the best in products. On the weekends I'll suggest you the best beers on draft, bring your food and make sure your drink is never empty. On my days off I do my darnedest to see family, friends, spoil my dog with outings, finish photo projects I've taken too long to finish, etc., etc.

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I chose my jobs and I work maniacal hours so I can get where I want to be. This is completely voluntary and I'm not a slave to any system. The point I'm making (for my own understanding) is that I need to make Solitude just as important. And If anyone can complain about my lack of such it's my lover. Realization:

{It's obvious when you stop giving to yourself, 

because you stop giving to your partner as well.} 

Wow. I felt the blow of that one. My last blog was about waking up, and in doing so I have realized how little I had been giving because of how low I had let my wells become. Upon waking my muscles were so weak and small that I found myself leaning on Rae to walk. But remember when we met, I was running like mad?!!  Required: Solitude.
Being your{whole}self is nearly impossible if you're never alone with your silence.

Even in my crowd of a life I have somehow found my solitude when I needed it. In my childhood I would climb; sycamore branches held me quiet and high. In college I had my own room(s) that became shrine to my organization, spirituality and reflection. Moving back to Oklahoma City from Stillwater was a restart and I buried myself deep in the walls and creaky floors of my grandparent's house. Sometimes solitude conveniently pops in when you need it, other times you have to manifest it.

Here's to loving yourself, even in the silence!