Seeking Ornamental Hermit Position

I am seeking a position as an Ornamental Hermit. Please spread the word.

As a self-proclaimed loner, Anneli Rufus's Party of One: The Loners' Manifesto had me hootin', hollerin' and hallelujahin'. With every turn of the page, a smile spread across my face, punctuated by frequent belly chuckles and empathetic nods.

An entertaining, feel-good read
for anyone who considers themselves
to be a loner.

Society often views loners as losers. Psychopaths. It is true, loners prefer to be on their own. Small talk bores them. Social gatherings drain their batteries. But that does not mean that loners are pity cases or unabombers. What it means is that solitude is where loners are least alone.

Housesitting on Salt Spring Island

For thirty two days in December and January, I lived in a magical place. A place where arbutus and Garry oaks hold a steadfast stance on salty shores. A place where thick mossy rugs are like opium on hilltops, coaxing you to sit down for just a moment -- no, rather lie down for an entire afternoon snooze. A place where cormorants gather by the dozens to roost in treetops, noisily chattering as the sun sets. A place where time is measured only by the ferries that enter and leave the harbours.

An eagle eye's view of the magical place, looking north from Reginald Hill.
The Fulford-Burgoyne Valley, straight ahead, is nestled between
Mt Bruce (2,326 ft / 709 m) and Mt Maxwell (1,946 ft / 593 m).
If I were to turn towards the south, I would see the San Juan Islands.

If I were to turn so that the water was at my back,
I would see this soft, sunny spot,
begging for a picnic or a nose to be buried in a book. 

This magical place is Salt Spring Island. One of the southern Gulf Islands, Salt Spring is located in the Strait of Georgia, snuggled between mainland British Columbia and Vancouver Island. The Gulf Islands are close relatives to Washington state's San Juan Islands. They are separated only by an international border and distinguished by citizens who look the same but end their sentences with "eh." With 10,000 year-round residents, many of them "artist-types," Salt Spring is the most populous of the Gulf Islands. But it certainly doesn't feel that way; nature and solitude are abundant.

On Solitude

I love being alone. For me, being alone means solitude. It means experiencing peace, presence, and empowerment. For others, being alone equates to loneliness and brings with it a slew of sad emotions.

I'm fascinated by how aloneness can be so wonderful for some people and so not-wonderful for others. Clearly, loneliness and solitude sit at opposing ends of the being-alone spectrum.

When people think of being alone, they typically think of physical isolation from other people. But it's not the only type of isolation that comes with being alone. How do I know this? Because the times when I have been most lonely in my life were times when I felt alone in the presence of other people. There's a lot to be said for mental isolation. Though I can be in the physical presence of another person and engaged in social interaction, if that social interaction is unfulfilling, then I feel mentally alone.

Pavlovian Conditioning at Pratt Lake

The Pavlovian conditioning was cemented after my last backpacking trip (see Backpacking, Hunkering Down, & Bookreading).

The stimulus: the desire to read a book.
The response: the need to head to the mountains for a solo backpacking trip.

Backpacking, hunkering down, & book reading...again.

My desire to head to the mountains coincided with the long Labor Day weekend. Knowing that holiday weekends are synonymous with an exodus to the mountains, I decided it best to begin my trip early Friday morning and to return to Seattle Saturday afternoon.

Backpacking, Hunkering Down, & Bookreading

I've always wanted to backpack somewhere beautiful to hunker down and read a book.

Backpacking to somewhere beautiful and hunkering down...

...to read a book.

That's what I've wanted to do, and so that's what I did.

An Overnighter on Whidbey Island

Whidbey is a magical island, suspended in the far north end of Puget Sound. Located partially within the rain shadow of the Olympic Mountains, the island is known for its rolling hills and its classic northwest landscapes.

Shirley, Solitude, and I enjoyed an overnighter on Whidbey a few weeks ago. Shirley and I had a marvelous time filling our lungs with hill climbs, while Solitude and I wore ear-to-ear smiles and expressed gratitude for the wonderful lives we live. The three of us were overcome with giddiness as we laid our tired bodies down for the night, under the comforting blanket of the trees and the stars.

How delightful it is when an overnight adventure feels as though it is a week in length!

Here are some photos from the overnighter:

I love red buildings set against green fields and trees.
I could stare at this view all day long...