#yearonpaper | 05: solitude

night hikes are a big thing in los angeles and i’m not really for wandering the canyons in the dark but we went out one evening in a we-haven’t-exercised-today kinda moment and as it turns out it takes a lot longer than a sunset to wind your way back through a canyon. very worth it though with the city twinkling in the backdrop, the glow of the sun which never fully disappears beyond the horizon, and wildflowers all sprung up because southern california wastes no time when it comes to springing into the warmer months. i thought these iphone photos would be perfect to illustrate my latest journal entry on solitude. thoughts and prompts in the post!

(part of these trails are equestrian trails and seeing a group of people on horseback in the shadows of the evening was a magical surprise. never underestimate how wild a concrete city can be!)

in high school my english teacher had us complete an exercise in solitude. we sprawled out over the grassy area behind the buildings that housed the lockers and the halls and tried to channel the kind of alone that isn’t loneliness but contentment. the kind that encourages creative exploration and opens our minds to the present moment and closes it to the troubles and distractions of everyday. surrounded by twenty or so honors english students, i can only assume our experiences were much the same: we got the idea, some of us even hoped to one day embrace the idea (be thedickinson or thoreau or emerson depending on our propensity for reclusively), but most of us struggled to apply real solitude to a schoolyard surrounded by peers we liked and didn’t liked and knew and didn’t know. this was maybe the only time before college that the concept and importance of solitude was taught, and not until reading Wired to Create was the idea i already seek and practice and know the value of, reenforced.

before that and after that, i’ve alwaysalwaysalways embraced solitude, if i can find it. like mindful meditation, it takes time to let the city melt away and allow a breeze or warmth take over. this is why tina welling’s book writing wild has been so important to me. you have to put in some work: remove yourself ever slightly from your everyday, take in the simple things (that i call simple but really feel are so incredibly complex) and if you write: take note. find the story. breathe it in, breathe it out.

what’s your last experience with solitude? how long ago was it? do you embrace it or are you intimidated by it? do you find yourself seeking it? schedule some time for solitude and see what it does for your creativity.