nachos, porcupines, and happiness.

It's Monday, 5:05 pm, and the sun is beginning to set on my third consecutive day of solitude.  I've engaged in considerable idling and puttering including Ted talk viewing, Scandinavian blog perusal, and the consumption of multiple plates of nachos.  The latter of which is not because I'm without ingredients worthy of a substantial meal indicative of self love; I just keep delaying my hunger until I'm so ravenous I frantically throw cheese on chips, microwave, and inhale.  And, then crack open a can of cheap beer.  So attractive.  So feminine and delicate.  So refined.

While I love the lack of structure, it sometimes paralyzes my mind.  I get a little free time and the neurons just start firing so much I feel like my head is going to explode.  I want to write.  I want to draw.  I want to rearrange my furniture.  I want to read a book.  I want to teach myself guitar.  I want to watch a movie.  The possibilities of time and creativity hold such promise that I don't know what to do with myself. So, I go take a bath. 

Back to solitude.

I heard a lovely metaphor recently about it's necessity (solitude) for mastering the delicate balance of "protective self-containment and the vulnerability imperative for the warmth of true intimacy." (maria popova)  It has to do with porcupines and their need for warmth - their need to connect and then retreat in order to not get pricked. It's this idea that if you learn to create your own critical little space, you're more apt to master this give and take.  I love the last line in the video...that the path to finding this balance is "as close a secret to happiness as I've ever learned."

I'm off to finish homework and attempt to craft the events of my Valentine's Day into a humorous post. And, likely another about religion because I kind of can't help it.

For more on the porcupine dilemma, watch the clip below.

“I learned...that inspiration does not come like a bolt, nor is it kinetic, energetic striving, but it comes into us slowly and quietly and all the time, though we must regularly and every day give it a little chance to start flowing, prime it with a little solitude and idleness...If you write, good ideas must come welling up into you so that you have something to write. If good ideas do not come at once, or for a long time, do not be troubled at all. Wait for them. Put down little ideas no matter how insignificant they are. But do not feel, any more, guilty about idleness and solitude.” Brenda Ueland

I'm off to relish more guilt-free solitude and idleness, despite my pile of laundry.

And, maybe I'll make some nachos.
And, take another bath.

Click here for an idea of how my brain felt this weekend.