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The Hermit Life

Hermits come in all shapes and sizes… each with their own unique dogmas and lifestyle choices… but it is far easier to say that you want to be one than it is to actually live the Hermit life. It is a complicated affair, after all, to actively pursue a life of self-imposed isolation in a world where – no matter where you go – you are bound to come across the one thing you are trying really hard to avoid: People.

Others might disagree but, in my experience, there are really only two basic types of Hermits:

1. The Wilderness Hermit: Lives off the grid and off the land and happily goes months or years without coming across another human being
2. The Urban Hermit: Lives in a populated area, great or small, and keeps to him or her self except to the extent that they have to go out in public to restock and resupply.

As much as I would love to be a Wilderness Hermit, my need for access to a pharmacy disqualifies me. As such I am forced to pursue, essentially, the Urban Hermit life.

These stories take a look at some of the ways I try to go about doing that.

A Beached Hermit

As I write this, the temperatures outside hover in the 20s and 30s and the ground is covered with a thin layer of snow and ice.

Of Poignance & Bucket Lists

It's interesting how seemingly casual, light-hearted conversations can sometimes take on lives of their own and wind up in places that were never intended. I suppose it happens often enough to be no great...

Ode To An Old Friend

He was always happy and full of life and fearless and resilient... and he was never sick. Ever.

Channeling Sweet Baby James

When I arrived at the spot where I would have to await the transfer, I was amazed by how much snow the city plows had pushed up, over, and around the waiting area. The snow bank must have been three or four feet deep and would have otherwise rendered the bus stop useless save for the brave soul that had carved out enough of it to be able to get inside and away from the wind. I began to wind myself up. I started bitching out loud about the utter lack of care or concern, on the part of the city, over how important it was to provide safe access to city services for those of us out here that rely so heavily on them. And just about the time I had worked out my “flaming hate letter” to the new mayor in my head, Sweet Baby James started singing in my ear :