I've been in another place these days, a kind and soothing bubble that has awoken me to the importance of quiet, of silence, of walking incognito. As I sat alone at the edge of the Rideau Canal over my lunch hour yesterday, I realized the obsession with recognition that western society has fervently developed. This is manifested through the more obvious search for fame (for example, the adulation of celebrities via the media, or the massive popularity and continuing growth of reality shows), and even the more nuanced quest for validation through social, political and professional status. I've always been aware of this on a philosophical level, and have always maintained that this is directly related to a subconcious desire for immortality, an idea which blossomed once I read some of Milan Kundera's fiction work. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I realized that I myself have been guilty of this. I've found that perhaps I've been trying to put myself "out there" more in terms of social and work situations with my eye on the bigger picture, the possibilities, the potential for greatness - and that I've lost track of the beauty in retreating into oneself and disappearing from the radar. Sometimes, I gather comfort in the fact that my life won't last forever, that I am not that important to the world or the people in it, that I can go about my life quietly without having too much impact. In remembering this, I breathed a great sigh of relief and let myself enjoy my time alone among the hustle and bustle around the canal. At that moment, not a soul on this planet knew where I was (at the canal), what I was doing (eating lunch and watching the ducks putter around on the water), and how I was feeling (kind of blue). A soft feeling of liberation washed over me for those 30 minutes.

The only other time I get close to experiencing that feeling is when I go down the hall, pull my pants down and sit on the toilet. Bathrooms are great for that - it's your time to do your own thing. You're suppose to be alone, you're expected to be quiet. The bathroom is just about the only place you can retreat to with the certainty that no one will ask anything of you. Your co-workers will never knock on the stall door to ask why your report is late; your friend won't knock on the door to ask for major advice; and your lover probably won't come around to ask you if you still love them.

And in case you're wondering, this post is what happens when you go out with Carolyn at a pub to celebrate Summer Solstice, and come back home four hours and too many drinks later...