Throughout the New England winter, I return to this soup time and time again. I wash away the world and rush back to sweet solitude. A cold walk on a clear beach and a hot bowl of soup restores my peace. Maybe it's because I work part-time in a crisis center or because I'm an introvert or because I was a bit of a wild-child in my youth; whatever the reason, I need to be alone for long stretches of time. My mom used to call it my hibernation-mode.
Solitude is not something you hope for in the future, rather it's a deepening of the present. Unless you look for solitude in the present, you'll never find it. ~ Thomas Merton.
In my twenties, I worked at a hospital with a stable and sweet psychiatric nurse who gave me a birthday card that read, "Happiness is one way of being wise." She sensed I needed to know that. Years later, I read that the true revenge of our enemies, and our darkest demons, is to be deeply happy. As a twenty-something, I lived in Philadelphia. I would go out clubbing all night. Do people even do that anymore? I loved to dance. But it wasn't a particularly happy or mellow time. I was restless and roaming. I was searching for something more meaningful. I'm grateful for those early experiences and the many mistakes I made. I still love cities and urban music. But my life has evolved into something less chaotic and more fulfilling. I used to seek happiness in people, in possessions and in the wrong places. Now I know better. Now those old messages about happiness make sense to me.
