ENJOYING SOLITUDE AND OTHER PEOPLE ■ 1 73It is best to develop this habit early, but it is never too late to do
so. In the previous chapters we have reviewed some of the ways the body
and the mind can make flow happen. When a person is able to call upon
such activities at will, regardless of what is happening externally, then
one has learned how to shape the quality of life.
Taming Solitude
Every rule has its exceptions, and even though most people dread soli
tude, there are some individuals who live alone by choice. “Whosoever
is delighted in solitude,” goes the old saying that Francis Bacon re
peated, “is either a wild beast or a god.” One does not actually have to
be a god, but it is true that to enjoy being alone a person must build
his own mental routines, so that he can achieve flow without the sup
ports of civilized life—without other people, without jobs, TV, theaters,
restaurants, or libraries to help channel his attention. One interesting
example of this type of person is a woman named Dorothy, who lives
on a tiny island in the lonely region of lakes and forests of northern
Minnesota, along the Canadian border. Originally a nurse in a large city,
Dorothy moved to the wilderness after her husband died and their
children grew up. During the three summer months fishermen canoeing
across her lake stop at the island to have a chat, but during the long
winters she is completely alone for months on end. Dorothy has had
to hang heavy drapes on the windows of her cabin, because it used
to unnerve her to see packs of wolves, their noses flattened against
the windowpanes, looking at her longingly when she woke up in the
mornings.
Like other people who live alone in the wilderness, Dorothy has
tried to personalize her surroundings to an uncommon degree. There
are flower tubs, garden gnomes, discarded tools all over the grounds.
Most trees have signs nailed to them, filled with doggerel rhymes, corny
jokes, or hoary cartoons pointing to the sheds and outhouses. To an
urban visitor, the island is the epitome of kitsch. But as extensions of
Dorothy’s taste, this “junk” creates a familiar environment where her
mind can be at ease. In the midst of untamed nature, she has introduced
her own idiosyncratic style, her own civilization. Inside, her favorite
objects recall Dorothy’s goals. She has stamped her preferences on
chaos.
More important than structuring space, perhaps, is structuring
time. Dorothy has strict routines for every day of the year: up by five,
check the hens for eggs, milk the goat, split some wood, make breakfast,
wash, sew, fish, and so on. Like the colonial Englishmen who shaved and