Solitude

And so, lots of letters and stuff would come in, and it began to disturb me. I had a little shack by the lake, about 30 miles from home, and I would drive there, and there was nothing there, really. Nothing there but the lake and a few poems and I'd spend all day there, and so, you know, there's a blessing in immersing yourself in the life of the culture or something like that. There's a blessing in giving poetry meaning and seeing how your poems actually hear … sound when you say them out loud. So I had an ability to speak things aloud. I don't know how I received that, since my father was such an introvert. I think it's just the love of poetry that made me want to hear it spoken and see it in people's faces. That love was a gift, but somehow one needs cunning as well because the world is very hypnotic and greedy. I asked the world to invade my house and it did. And then, what do I do about that? If you have children, even more noise. So I got this tiny cabin, and I'd go there by myself and have a little place where no one knew where I was, and I could be sort of destitute again, alone. So, that solitude was a blessing and it's something that the people who teach in universities often don't get. I've always wanted to teach in a university, because I love teaching. But on the other hand, then my world would be a social world, but if you have a solitary cabin, then it's a nature world.
-Robert Bly
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