Date: 2006-05-26
To: solitude
Miles today: 0.0

On a quest of technologically aided self-discovery, I recently Googled my own name to see how the internet, great tool that it is, defined me. I found a blurb about a piece of art I had in a museum show a while back. My artist¢s bio on the museum¢s site, stripped to the essential biographical information, states that I am an artist, born in 1976, who works in solitude. I hadn¢t ever seen this bio and it¢s always an interesting exercise to reflect on how others view oneself. This set me to thinking about solitude and consider if I am indeed a solitary person. It seems that, when I am alone, I am at my best; I sing better, run faster, think more complex thoughts. Cutting out the middleman of social interaction really lays bare the self I know well! Paradoxically, I am at my social best when I am all alone. Or maybe this is a case of a tree being charming in the woods with no one around to appreciate its social graces, leaving us to argue whether or not the tree is really all that charming.Though filled to the brim with people, the city can be a lonely place. I¢m around people¢and tons of them¢on a daily basis yet I have a pretty small and quiet social life. I never experience loneliness on the trail, even when alone. It could be that there¢s a funny serendipity and intensity to social interactions on the trail. Case in point; two weeks ago I randomly stayed at a shelter in Connecticut with a hiker who had grown up two blocks away from my old apartment in Pittsburgh, had lived in the same neighborhood as me in Boston, and now lives a short subway ride away from me in nyc. How can a person feel lonely when there¢s always a hiker around within shouting distance? Maybe the human interactions I have on the trail are made significant as a result of their scarcity. This thought ties into my philosophy of simplicity allowing for richer life experiences. Humans aren¢t hard wired to fully experience many things at one time. Just watch television or surf the web to get a sense of the experiential glut we wallow in on a daily basis. Hundreds of thousands of images, pages of text, so much sound and color flood the brain with a narcotic ADHD-inducing bliss. We are all able to multi-task on a practical level (walk the dog, talk on the cell phone) but not on a level requiring strong moral or social commitments. Not only are excessive demands taxing, they alienate us from one other and create a disconnect in the causal relationship between our actions and the world around us. In a culture where the cluttered space of MySpace is the accepted way to network, it¢s refreshing to be outside sleeping, eating, and farting with other, tangible non-cyber people. I recently spoke with someone who belongs to the Quaker faith. She was telling me about Quaker services and how people will gather in a meeting space and silently worship without any set structure or ritual. I¢m not fan of religious fanfare, nor am I fixated on ritual, but the possibility of modern Americans getting together to be silent and reflect was difficult to wrap my mind around. It reminds me of evenings at a shelter, where hikers will gather and stare, hum, write, or putter in silence. There¢s something peaceful and worshipful about it, when one finds solitude in the company of others and unexpected company in a solitary experience.