The Silence Of Moonlight On A Gravestone

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.