The blue sky cuts to green as the ocean takes over. White surf interrupts the ocean and eventually gives way to the golden beach. Some people enjoy the sun and cool breeze but otherwise the beach is as empty as the ocean and sky.
There are no cluttered groups of sunbathers. Nothing unnecessary fills the space. I sit on my towel soaking up the vitamin D. I’ve streamlined my life so well that the world arranges itself in a decluttered fashion for me.
Honestly? I’m a bit lonely.
The beach reminds me of my life. I’m alone but have couples and families nearby, surrounding me at a natural distance.
Yes, I’m happy, but I worry. Am I creating too much space in my life? Is my life becoming an empty beach?
I’m anxious to leave Sauveterre, not because I want to break away from my friends. In fact, I’m going to miss them a lot. I just want to start this life of too much space, of chosen loneliness. A solitary nomadic existence means no immediate support network. It’s the life of an observer. Could it be a writer’s natural way of life? Or is it going too far into an extreme? I am fascinated and terrified by this plan to explore loneliness.
And I wonder: Just how much is too much?
- Sometimes you need to push beyond your limits to discover where they are exactly.
- How much space exists between you and the rest of the world?