I don’t fit in anywhere. Ironically, when I did fit in, it always felt like I didn’t! This is what makes me a writer. I have the feeling that a solitary life was chosen for me and I just went along with it.

I got my hair cut this morning, driving in the rain to get to the salon. My hairdresser works on Sunday and I love that. She is the only one in the shop and she is a solitary as well. She came with her family from Viet Nam and speaks English well now.

My son is a solitary, too. My husband was social and my little girl loved everyone. But now it is just Rob and I and our Christmas is solitary. On Christmas Eve, we will eat out and drop in on our next-door neighbors. Then we will each separate and watch TV until I go to bed early while he stays up late.

Grief is manageable these days, although I know any more losses will be deeply felt. Since my diagnosis with neuropathy, I have gone on a medication that relieves the pain and it also makes me feel very calm, a great bonus! I would use weed but it isn’t legal here and I don’t want to do it until it is. They say it is great for neuropathy.

In the meantime, I am grateful for a neurologist that is always available to help me find the right meds and dosages for it. Other than that, my health is great.

I have gone deeply into the Self that I am and found it to be totally solitary. It asks nothing of me. It tells me nothing. I am free to be myself. In this state of freedom, my ego is always trying to rock the boat. It suggests I should move, should do this and that. It loves sweets and working crossword puzzles. It does everything fast. And I let it have its way with the little things.

I write from the Self, typing deeper and deeper into solitude. I give this peace to you. It is your birthright which is continually being stolen from you by many different sources.

The tree is hung with ornaments. The Self continually dies on the tree. If you are blessed by realizing your true nature, you have risen above the opposites and live in a world of Oneness. In spite of the world’s continual cruelties, we are being offered a way out. Keep choosing it, keep choosing it.

Vicki Woodyard