AN ODE TO AN IMAGINARY WOODSTOVE

my dreams take on many forms, and few of them are compatible to their full extent with one-another, but most of them embody concepts that i try to incorporate into my life in some fashion or other. usually i try to learn from the wisdom behind such dreams, and i try to grasp why it is that such things sound appealing, and then i try to apply this in a conscientious manner to my life and my actions and decisions.

one such dream is that of the hermit. the individual living alone in the woods, in some remote yet beautiful setting; choosing to be alone not as a last resort, and not as a knee-jerk reaction to the negative aspects of society, but rather for the sake of cultivating silence and introspection and other such things that aid in the process of creation. in this dream, i am in a small and humble cabin, in which stove and shower share a wall and in which my bed is a mat that i roll under my table during the day: a table that serves both as desk for a typewriter and table for my oatmeal.

i dream of singing at the top of my lungs at all hours of the night; of staying up by lamp-light reading philosophy and writing in the margins until the pages are wet; of writing out my thoughts and ideas and organizing them in some way that makes sense. i dream of long walks to nearby bodies of water, with a stick in my hand, drawing in the dirt at the shore of said lake or stream, and gathering pine cones in a sack as i make my way home. i dream of a loft, with pillows, and a window outside of which birds roost and perch. 

it's not really so sad to think that this couldn't be shared with anyone. it would be shared with the self, who (so it has been said) contains multitudes. and it would be shared with the past selves, and the future selves, and the wind and reeds and cattails and rainfall. and, if in my seclusion i could muster up some recordings and writings and diagrams and pictures, it would be shared with whomever might come across such things after i am gone. furthermore, i would be able to entirely focus my mind on exactly which questions i deemed most important, and explore them as i so desired.

but here is the beautiful thing about this: it doesn't take absolute isolation to create such an environment or such levels of focus. it can happen amongst people, if inspiration is selected wisely and time alone selected similarly. besides, interaction with other human beings brings to mind notions that could not be mustered in thirty years of isolated thought. and when interacting with others, such notions can be shared and explored, and excitement can gain momentum, and emotions can be shared. what good is love if put only into one's work? that is a form of self-love, and although it is selfless in many ways, it does not bring the kind of laughter to one's face that can gain passion with every reciprocated laugh. the kind of laughter that exists as a response to another's laughter. the perpetual back-and-forth of such laughter, or joy, or pondering, or love, or curiosity, or excitement, is something that requires multiple souls.

let all of us be loving, social individuals; with hermit-like ardency, and hermit-like capacities for contemplation and imagination. then perhaps each member of the human race would love each other member more, and would love its own self more, and would have a better idea regarding where and why and from whence ideas spring, and, more importantly, toward what end they are collectively working.