a hermitage . . .
Have you ever wanted to put your hands over your ears to shut out the cacophony of the world outside? To stop being nice or to help out when it might not really be needed anyhow? To live and let live when the latter part is complicated by a fear of other people’s vunerability to hardship or failure?
Is it like the first time you let go of the bicycle seat and let the two wheeler go on its own, rider and all? Or when you want to hold the hand of a toddler who is begging to walk but is off balance most of the time?
For me, it’s hard letting go, even at my age, truth be told. But when I find myself machinating or gnashing my teeth over someone else’s problems, the awakening needs to happen, and for me to hie myself off to the hermitage.
What is a hermitage anyhow? Is it a secluded place where hermits gather? Or is that an oxymoron because hermits by definition want/need to be all by themselves, rather than with other hermits? So, let’s say it’s a place of retreat by oneself. You can do that anywhere, it seems to me. . . even in your own house.
Retreat into one’s own place. That sounds like a plan to me.