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I plan to take a walk to the cemetery this evening. One of the joys in taking time to oneself is the silence. A relationship with others, to some, such as myself, only becomes possible with the moments of silence.
Those times way from the crowd, apart from others. There's a sense in which aloneness provides time for being. The time to refresh, relax, and regain some sense of self in a busy world of work and obligations.
It may seem counterintuitive to some degree. However, the idea of the modern world is constant movement. Something is in flux. In reality, it's a world of half-truths and half-falsehoods.
We're a global population of stationary butts and moving minds. Our fingers type away at the keyboard while the glutes stick to the proverbial cushion. In a time to walk away, into nature, late in the night, I find peace.
I find this as a time to relate to myself, to think, to ponder, to conceptualize, to imagine, even to dream. I take the time. I travel. I walk and take transit only. I live a simple, modest life.
I wouldn't have it any other way. Alone with myself to take some time away from the world of the rushing digital landscape. When I head out, deliberately, I walk along with the stride of others no more.
A cemetery, a graveyard, a tombstone here, a marking there, a stack of moss on stone over the beaten path, truly, they're the piles of the forgotten. Those deemed in the past.
I walk by them going to work. It's in the day. It's not the same. It feels as if just a bunch more grass. There are people around. They have things to do; hell, I have things needing doing.
When I go at night, there's a sense of intimacy in relations with myself. The descriptor coming to mind is a "communion" of sorts. The sense of unity with the self in time, in silence, with the dead.
It can sound morbid. I understand, completely. However, I would propose or embark on a different interpretation of the sense of relationships and events. People play golf, knit, fish, hike, bike, walk, and so on, alone, sometimes.
This helps them get away from some of the stress of the day, make a mark on their psychological wellbeing. Rather than, the continuous integration in social life with others.
It is building a firmer sense of self and building a sense of self-understanding, or taking time away for personal development and/or wellbeing. When I take these walks to or through the cemetery, it is a time to reflect.
All those who had gone before. Everyone with a story as deeply tragic and hopeful as my own. Life is full of the ups and downs of the ordinary. My sense of relationships is both interpersonal and intrapersonal.
You know others and yourself through others. Also, you understand yourself through yourself. In that, for the latter, time away is not exactly the time of play. It's a serious time for deep reflection, consideration, contemplation.
A moment in a day without the demands of social life or the rigorous requirements of work. I take this time for building personal peace, reflecting on the day, and to center my inner voice.
If you're ever wondering about a cornerstone of mental health, then I consider one of the more critical parts as the knowledge of oneself. Part of this comes from self-reflection.
One of the only times to have time for this is in self-reflection. Because when in the company of others, your self can be diminished in some respects. You're paying attention to the social cues and emotional needs of others.
While, at the same time, you're having to gauge internal feelings and calibrate to the social situation and act emotionally appropriately. In this, your sense of self merges with the environment.
This is fine, but for self-insight, you need to optimize internal resources. One manner in which to do this is to take time for yourself, in silence. For myself, this occurs amongst the dead and in the night, whether cold or cool.
I find this a way to sit, inquietude, as if as silent as moonlight on a gravestone.
This article really resonates with me. I also find peace in solitude, though I prefer early morning walks in nature rather than graveyards at night.
The author's perspective on finding solitude among gravestones is quite profound. It reminds me of how we're all connected to those who came before us.
I'm not sure I could walk through a cemetery at night. The silence would be too eerie for me!
Actually, cemeteries are some of the most peaceful places I know. During the day they're like beautiful parks with so much history.
The part about stationary butts and moving minds really made me laugh. Such a perfect description of modern life!
I understand the need for solitude, but why specifically choose a cemetery? There are plenty of other quiet places to reflect.
The imagery of moonlight on gravestones is incredibly powerful. It captures both the beauty and melancholy of these moments.
This article perfectly describes what I've been feeling about our constantly connected world. Sometimes we just need to disconnect.
I appreciate how the author distinguishes between being alone and loneliness. They're not the same thing at all.
The comparison between typical solo activities like golf or fishing and cemetery walks is interesting. Both serve the same purpose of self-reflection.
I couldn't agree more about needing time away from social cues and others' emotional needs. It's exhausting always being 'on.'
Does anyone else find it interesting how the author sees cemetery visits as a form of communion? It's a unique perspective.
The writing style is so contemplative. It really matches the subject matter perfectly.
I work near a cemetery and often eat lunch there. People think it's weird, but it's actually quite peaceful.
I think the author makes a great point about self-knowledge being crucial for mental health.