Books can be the best companions. When I was 24 years old, having gone through a divorce, my mother through me out of her house. We were going through one of our periods of intense hatred. The truth hurts when you write it down like that but unfortunately it’s true. I ended up with a clerical job in Pittsburgh’s Mercy Hospital, living by myself.
I had no friends then and I didn’t want any. Human relations were beyond me; I could barely think, let alone relate to others. So I taught myself to enjoy my own company. Once I told Michael that it’s a good thing to learn to enjoy solitude because you never know when you might be left on your own to make your way in this world.
My books were my stability; just like Sharon in Buying A Year I put them in double rows on my kitchen shelves, removing the doors. I had them all placed in a way that would enable me to see my favorite ones first, when I entered the kitchen.
Lawrence wrote a lot about solitude; he became my spirit guide. I re-read many of his books and thought a lot about them. Physically I was here, living in Oakland and working at Mercy Hospital but my soul was wandering freely. It was very, very pleasant and rewarding. Most of all, I was learning. And even when I wasn’t happy, I kept telling myself that I was building something. This turned out to be true.
Mostly during that time I read volumes of Lawrence’s collected letters. He wrote masses of letters to his friends as he traveled, trying to find a place where he could fit in. It was in these letters that he stated his opinions about people needing to learn to stand alone. But these same thoughts could be found in his novels and poems. I can’t think of a better companion to keep by my side during this journey.
lgmwriting 