“Solitude is the soul’s holiday, an opportunity to stop doing for others and to surprise and delight ourselves instead.”
— Katrina Kenison
It’s the first day I’ve been alone for three weeks. Henry left for a month in London on Monday. Then I drove Jack back to school and got home last night in time for a late dinner and bed. This morning: silence. I’m feeling a little blue, sad that these weeks of intense family togetherness have come to an end. The to-do list awaits and the house needs a good post-holiday cleaning from top to bottom. No one is asking for pancakes.
I remind myself that my boys are off doing exactly what they should be doing, out in the world. And I am alone here, with a pile of work put off until January and a choice to make. I can give in to loneliness and letdown as I strip sheets off beds and clean out the refrigerator, or I can allow myself a little mini-vacation of the spirit, the pleasure of appreciating my own company. The chance to take a deep breath, begin to catch up with myself, and create something new in this new year.
I tell myself that after a couple of weeks of cooking, talking, negotiating, joking, cajoling, laughing, and just generally focusing all of my time and attention and energy outward, it will feel good to pause and be still. To turn inward and reconnect with my own quiet center.
And so, feeling a little radical, I even resist the urge to turn on my computer this morning, savoring instead a more complete aloneness than the internet will allow. I have a cup of coffee, kiss my husband good-bye, do some yoga, watch the sky brighten. Gradually, my heart lightens, too.
And then I flip open my laptop, start looking through my e-mail backlog from the last week or so, and find this quote waiting for me, sent by a reader. “Did you see,” she wrote in her note from December 27, “you were Oprah’s quote of the day.” Sure enough, there is my name, beneath these words I have no memory of ever writing.
Slowly, it comes back to me. Ten years ago, I wrote an article for the Oprah magazine about solitude. This, I realize, is what I must have said back then. As if I had it all figured out. It does sound kind of wise and knowing. But this morning, a decade and change later, I’ve had to learn the truth of these words all over again, as if I had never written them at all.
It must just be that we mortals never really get life all figured out. The brain may be overachieving and whip-smart, but the soul is a remedial, wayward student, forever forgetting yesterday’s lessons. I’ve always known that one reason I write is to remind myself to do as I say. Now, I’m also realizing that I have to keep learning and practicing the same things over and over again — silence, patience, acceptance, faith, gratitude for what is — until slowly, bit by bit, what I know to be true becomes who I am. To say that it’s a process is an understatement. It is, I suppose, the work of a lifetime.
Love it! It is so easy for me to say, “Yes! Embrace the quiet!” when I am the one who just about went batty when two of my four were gone for three weeks.
The chaos is back, now that they’ve returned, and I go back to wishing for ‘more quiet’. Funny how the grass is always greener.
It’s this constant dialog we have with ourselves, isn’t it? Pep talks, reminders of why the universe has us exactly where it wants us and we need to slow down enough to enjoy it.
I love getting your posts in my email box. It’s like a little treasure to see your name in my subject line.
Happy quiet week to you, my friend. I am off to clean up dinner and make a birthday cake for my girl, who turns nineteen TODAY! The Kinect is pounding behind me in the living room. Jeff will be back from the store soon with bags full of groceries to be put away. Life moves on, no matter where our station might be.
Hugs,
Judy
My son Jack said it, when he turned 18: “I love family birthdays!” Nothing could have made me happier. I hope you had a wonderful celebration of your daughter’s special day, your motherhood, the work of art and love that is your family. Thanks so much for writing.
When my son goes back to school, I have my little one still home. I feel like the energy of the house changes. I love when my family is together. I understand how you feel and even though it’s inviting to have quiet moments to yourself there is nothing that compares to having a house full of love.I love this post! Take a deep breath and soon they will be home again!
“There’s nothing that compares to a house full of love.” It’s so true! Sometimes, when it’s just the two of us at home, it’s a challenge to fill the house, but I’m learning. Candles help, as does touch, slowing down, looking at each other when we talk. (There are some good things about the empty nest, too!)
I once read a quote that has always stayed with me: “I write to know what I know.” As you say, writing brings us back time and again to our own truths, the ones we have to learn over and over. I seek solace in the fact that when we revisit a lesson — like solitude — that we are a little wiser the second (and third…) time out of the gate.
Just wait till we’re 80. Wise, wise, women we will be.
Last weekend, my husband and I had a rare three days off work, and we had a plan to do as little as possible during those three days. After the holidays, which were wild and wonderful, we were exhausted, and thought there couldn’t be a better way to start the new year than with some self-imposed peace and quiet. I won’t even tell you how much time I spent in my robe and slippers. By Monday, I was surprised that I felt rested, peaceful, and ready to go back to work. And by the way, I haven’t even started a new calendar for 2011, and the sky has fallen in.
Today is my day to start my own 2011 calendar, better late than never. But I’m so glad you had that robe-and-slippers vacation. Learning what we need is so important–as is being willing to take care of ourselves, as well as everyone else.
Love it! Thanks for sharing that even the wisest women are still learning.
Much love,
Pamela
Oh yeah. I’m pretty sure that if we aren’t learning, we aren’t living.
Dear Katrina,
Great post! My favorite line is “the soul is a remedial, wayward student, forever forgetting yesterday’s lessons” (may I quote you?) Wow! what a great line. Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I first learned of you and your writing through Meditations from the Mat, and now I’ve just completed a training with Rolf. I can see how you and he would work well together. – a compliment to both of you.
Be well.
Namaste
Augusta
Please quote me. (Chances are, I won’t remember writing that line, either!) And please give Rolf a hug for me. Our collaboration was a highlight of my life, and Meditations from the Mat continues to make its way in the world, which is so gratifying. I miss his classes, but I always hear his voice in my head when I go to my mat.
Every time I read your posts, Katrina, I feel if my heart had hands, they would both be raised in the air, and my heart would be saying, “I second your emotion! Amen, sister!”
One more thing: I tried to re-subscribe for your latest blog posts to be sent to my e-mail address, and the message I get is “error”, saying I’m already subscribed. I haven’t any posts in my e-mail, though. I just check to see, since I’ve been missing your posts.
I THINK it’s working now. Did you get this post in your email box? I know the last one didn’t actually go to anyone, but this one seems to have landed in people’s boxes. Drop me a note if that’s not the case; still fiddling with the systems here! Thanks so much for letting me know.
Once again, thank you. Like many, I have spent the past week graciously loving and interacting, and now the time has come to stop, take a walk, read something nourishing and just be.
This website is beautiful and captures the spirit of your words.
Yes, exactly. Maybe that’s what January is meant to be about.
Hello Katrina,
I love, love, love this:
“I can allow myself a little mini-vacation of the spirit, the pleasure of appreciating my own company.”
I love your blog, but I have a 5 year-old boy and a very full life and I just don’t get to takes trips to the blogosphere very often. I’m so glad you’ve worked out the email option and I will look forward to seeing you in my inbox!
Thanks again for your lovely writing. Take wonderful care, Stacey
I’m so glad that Lindsey led my to your blog, and to you. I loved reading her words on your site this morning, and am so glad that you found your way to mine. Thanks for reading and for writing!
Thanks so much for your reply! I bought The Gift of An Ordinary Day yesterday and find myself reading it with bated breath.
I’m aware that a big dream is presenting itself that will have us “pull up stakes.” It’s too inchoate to name or plan for, but I know it’s there. I see your book as a light guiding me on this path. Thank you.
After my divorce, I was concerned about how it would feel to be alone. It took a little getting used to but now I love it. I have my Monday night date night with myself and I read, write, cook, watch TV and do everything that pleases me and only me. It’s been great to reconnect with myself.
Yes, and then it even gets a little habit-forming, as we discover that we are pretty good company after all! Thank you for reading, and writing!
I took my daughter to the train station for her return to school this morning and cried all the way to work. But as sad as I am to see the family togetherness of the holidays fade, after 18 days of having everyone home I am looking forward to some alone time.
Caring for others that I love seems to require a great deal of physical and emotional energy on my part. In order to do it well, reconnecting with myself is not a selfish thing, but a necessary one. With an impending snowstorm on the horizon, I look forward to curling up with a good book and a cup of tea in front of the fireplace. The world will go on around me and I will resume the routine soon enough.
Thanks again, Katrina, for your comments that resonate with me. Enjoy your peace.
Your words resonate with me, too. If we are really to care for our loved ones, we have to care for ourselves first — and we all need to be reminded of that, I think. Book, tea, fire: my idea of the perfect respite.
I love your new look here, Katrina — it’s so fresh and clean. Sort of like a new year, eh? So glad you have this blog so I can reap more and more of the good stuff I lingered over in your book!
Thank you Michelle. It’s starting to feel like home, and I think the text is much easier to read now. For me, a book person, that counts for a lot.
At a point when I was looking too far ahead- thinking about when my youngest daughter will leave me to grow and experience her world and thinking what it would be like when it would be just My husband and I……Through the tears I struggle to contain within me,I picked up your book that I had bought many months before and sat down to read what you had wrote and realized I’m not the only one, and for some reason, knowing I wasn’t alone in how I was feeling that day truly made me feel a little better.Thank You
Great site. A lot of useful information here. I’m sending it to some friends!
So thrilled to be directed to your site. It is just lovely. I feel that I have made a new friend. As a business owner, mother of 3 and grandmother of 1, I understand your joys and at times sorrows. Thank you for the comfort and inspiration!
Katrina! The Meditations from the Mat book and your Gifts from an Ordinary Day have had HUGE impact in my life! Your writing style is a laser straight to the heart! I’ve mentioned the Meditations book twice in my new blog site and there will be much more to come! People love it! Thank you for the inner exploration necessary to become the writer that you are!
I just finished reading The Gift of an Ordinary Day. I loved it! It resonated with so much of what I am in the middle of right now. I have a 17 year old daughter, trying to navigate senior year with all it’s decisions and plans and uncertainty. I have a 16 year old(today!) daughter, spending more time alone, so unlike her in the recent past. I also have 2 boy, 12 and 8 who still let me hug and cuddle them -thank goodness! The girls can be so incredibly hard to parent, but your honest writing helps so much! Feel like I know Henry and Jack as I had read Mitten Strings for God years ago, and was thrilled to see you had written about them again. Hope you are all well on this journey of life. A grateful reader.
I just finished reading “The Gift of an Ordinary Day.” What a beautiful writer you are, Katrina! So many of your feelings were my own being a Mom and learning to let go and let my children grow up. It was so hard for me at the time, and I know I didn’t do everything right. But since then both my children have graduated college, married kind, good people like themselves, and now we have 3 wonderful grandchildren! We have a good relationship with all of them. That’s the part, like you had written, for all I thought I was losing at the time, how much more was there to be had by opening myself up to trust in the future. Things are never perfect in life I know. But as I was sitting on a raft in our pool this last weekend with my children, their spouses, and our grandchildren all there with me and my husband, and I looked around and realized that was what you were writing about: “the gift of an ordinary day,” appreciating all of us together at that moment! And I did! So thank you, Katrina, for helping me to appreciate my ordinary life and those moments so much more! You certainly have a wonderful gift for expressing and sharing your feelings!