But if it is the dreamy idleness that children have, an idleness when you walk alone for a long, long time, or take a long, dreamy time at dressing, or lie in bed at night and thoughts come and go, or dig in a garden, or drive a car for many hours alone …With all my heart I tell you and reassure you: at such times you are being slowly filled and recharged with warm imagination, with wonderful, living thoughts. – Brenda Ueland

I usually go underground during the months of January and February.  After the hubbub of the holiday season I look forward to living slower and working on projects that are well suited to indoors. Thankfully, the weather in Minnesota places its stamp of approval on this setup.  This year I am living even more slowly and hiding out for greater periods of time. I believe the extension of my solitude has had a direct effect on the number of invitations I have received to go out for coffee.  Like some kind of hermit intervention, my friends have rallied around to pull me out of my human hibernation.  In the past two weeks I have received six invitations for socializing.  I realize others are more prone to cabin fever than me, but six offers is unheard of in my little black book of popularity.

When my company stock rises like this I feel torn.  My Howard Hughes recluse side gets protective regarding personal space.  My social butterfly side wishes to flit about and connect with colorful loved ones.

As for me and Howard Hughes being kindred spirits, I admit I appreciate time alone.  I carefully reserve Thursdays and a few hours here and there for creative idleness. As the quote above from author and writing teacher Brenda Ueland states, at such times you are being slowly filled and recharged with warm imagination… I believe that. I revel in swaths of uninterrupted time.  I immerse myself in them like fragranced bubble baths.  I read short essays, classic novels, self-improvement books, spiritual non-fiction and emails. I sit in silence for five to fifteen minutes.  I write fluff and crud until the words run clear and become useable for the blog or have the essence of being publication worthy.  I listen to my self and witness the surfacing of ideas and gut feelings.

When I do meet up with others, I sometimes feel embarrassed to reveal how much time I spend being unproductive.  When I say I spend hours reading, writing and pondering, I feel a pang of self-absorption.  I feel compelled to list all the things I do for my family.  Deep down I know when I am full, those around me benefit.  I find patience, openness and solutions when I have space to put two thoughts together.  Like complicated theater productions, my relationships need intermissions so that I can figure out the plot.

I once read relationships and experiences are all that matter in life.  The statement stays with me because of its simplicity.  It removes things from the equation.  It reminds me to venture out and restock my images, connect with passionate people.  A meaningful conversation can sustain me for days.  A trip to a novel place (foreign country or new coffee shop) opens me up to ideas (mine or someone else’s).  As I sit enjoying a latte with a friend, little bits of color come together to form a mosaic of laughter, listening and perspective. I gather warmth and words and feel expansive. I notice the smell of the restaurant, the ring on my friend’s finger, the conversation at a nearby table.

I draw from the experience the next time I sit in solitude.

So, I almost always accept coffee invitations.  I spread the coffee dates out so that I have plenty of idle time in between socializing.  No one cares (or knows?) that I do this.  No one seems to mind having coffee with a hermit and a butterfly.  No one seems to mind that I actually drink tea.;)

 

Check out my book for introverts and their relationships,  The Quiet Rise of Introverts: 8 Practices for Living and Loving in a Noisy World.

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