Friday, September 21, 2012

Introvert Solitaire

Claudia's tending all night long over at the D'Verse Poets Pub, where for Meeting the Bar tonight, she's opening the mike to any and all who would like to share their thoughts and reflections about the Beautiful Solitude.

This is a very interesting theme for me personally.  Growing up I was the epitome of what is defined as a social butterfly.  I had to always be on the go.  Even when I was at home, alone, I was on the phone, moving from one person to the next.  It seemed as if I had no choice but to keep myself connected.

Then, and I can't really pinpoint where or when it occurred, but things just grew to such a level of exhaustion, I found the slightest interactions would drain me of all I had.  Vitality would return but only after a nice period of relaxation, where a mindlessness took hold of me and take me to points unseen, sort of freezing me, in a state of nothingness, unaware of everything around, and yet, completely forgiving me for having ignored the introvert within.

Somehow, a shift had taken place, moving from extroversion to introversion, and I had no idea how it happened.  All I can say, is that alone time is something I cherish more than anything.  Whether it's spent watching television, reading a book, listening to music, writing or simply blanking out and staring deep into the walls, allowing the mind to completely take recess, or, where my imagination takes the opportunity to work through ideas the conscious mind had brought up earlier in the day.  This last notion, has a somewhat similar effect as when you think about something before going to sleep at night, allowing your unconscious mind, the opportunity in its dream-states, to sort it out, and oftentimes, finding that when you awoke the next morning, a possible answer to your question had been provided.

I could go on for a while discussing this odd paradigm shift, but truth be told, I have really no explanation for the shift.  I've mentioned this already, but repeat it only because of how baffling it is, and how important the notion is to me.

I could also go on and on about how that old self, while knowing it did exist, and many of the memories from such times are clearly available as they had occurred, I find myself, after reliving one of these moments, to be exhausted.  Yet, even thought I can remember some of the times when I was an extrovert, I have to admit, they feel like fiction, in almost every aspect, except, again, I cannot deny their one-time existence, because I know they did exist.

I think there's a place for being both an extrovert and an introvert, in fact i think we all hold each of these in us somehow, with one being more dominant, that's all.

So, all this backstory behind me know, I thought I would write a description of one of the things I find I do quite often.  I sit still facing an empty wall and allow myself to drift away, or more likely, I am found laying in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, permitting my mind to go wherever it chose to.  In such activities, I believe I find a sense of solitude, perhaps not the kind one gets when out and about in nature or in prayer, yet, it is a type of solitude nevertheless:


Introvert Solitaire
Standing in solitude
Is like a blissful sea, where the
Ragged weights
Atop the chest—
Limbs shake free
Each their now
Blackened leaves
To where you stop
Close the door
Behind and sigh…
Moving to the bed
Fully clothed as was,
Breathing in holistic
Rhythms…waiting for
The waves of paralysis
To lift their untimely
Intently upon the
Individualized minutia
Of the long crack that
Runs alongside the ceiling…
And in that crack, grow
To the world of the imagined…
Where peace is simple, easy
And well-granted to any and
All who seek it out.  The stories
Are deeper, yet without prerequisites
Do its characters speak…instead
The only talk when spoken to, where
You realize, there is so much untapped
Potential in gesturing…where one could,
If so desired, effectively communicate
Detailed instructions, simply from the
Effective use of head movements…finally…

As the crack begins
                  To close
The   space         seems        to      separate
                           Allowing     the    air
It’s    chance       at      a       brand-new choice
Inhalation  of vitality    once  anew         grasped
         Where        it       will    stay
Open          and   free            until  some
         Unknowing          soul
Events to invent a reasoning         for harboring their expectations
         Upon my port…in a storm of unease
That prematurely stifles creativity….

Never do I wish I was the one I was before…that person Is a stranger, I know, no longer, anymore…he barely shows in memory…in fact…despite the knowing of the factuality…. he feels like a figment of a made up wish fulfillment fantasy…yet it’s more like a nightmare
And I have to pause
Into solitude
Crystals and all
Never claiming
A fortress was behind me
Securing me deeply, but
Out, as super,
Will I one day crawl,
Is the question of it all,
Isn’t it?


  1. By 'eck, this is a good insight into those moments of aloneness, when even cracks in the ceiling assume surreal proportions!

  2. it is interesting...i think i shift back and forth from intro to extro depending on the situation...i started life intro then went from there....i love the visual aspect of this fred....that one stanza where it kinda breaks open visually, really cool effect...

  3. I enjoyed your commentary and your poem, Fred. I find myself wondering if there was a particular event that triggered the change. I agree with you that we all have introvert-extrovert aspects within. Now, as to your poem, you really communicated the experience well, and I could see and feel the experience of looking at that long crack and the contemplation that took place. Word spacing was very effective as well. Interesting to look back at the person one was in the past and find him a stranger. A thoughtful write, Fred.

  4. really cool fred.. i love how you play with the font to underline what you're saying...makes it all the more visible..i love to be with people but then need these escapes to recharge batteries and get some energy again...

  5. I've always been a mix of the two somewhat. I mean I enjoy going out and stuff, but like my time alone way way more. Can't say I enjoy staring at walls though hahaha I guess we all change over the years and you got to see two sides to yourself too.

  6. Your reading brought a lot of the emotional depth of the piece alive for me. Your adoption of different styles and diction is always impressive. Thank you again for your understanding and the time you took to read Boundless Magnolia. It was intended to have rich philosophical, symbolic, and artistic allusions to puzzled out. For me that can be a lot of the joy in writing and reading poetry.

  7. I like the way you move your thoughts through this variegated structure, taking us through a meandering, almost cleansing process from line to line, till the mood is purely contemplative and reflective. I think we all climb in and out of that fortress--or if not, I pity those who do not have it.