Perhaps I need to lay out a Venn diagram and explore the thoughts floating in my head this morning. There is much to ponder when you live where no human, no machine, no utterance other than one of your own creation interrupts you. Silence when you want it. Music to your sole taste. Food to your exact liking. Same for the temperature, the time you rise, the time you sleep, where you sleep, live, work, play and be. All if it is a path of my own choosing, unencumbered by the thoughts (or needs) of another.
There are days, weeks, months that this all seems normal (normalcy is based upon perception), but is it proper? Can a man build himself into a rut such that he can longer see over the sides, or is he wrapped in an expanse of freedom few ever get to imagine, let alone live, albeit the path of solitude?
There are times I am convinced, by my wiring, childhood, and choices, that I am mapping this out for me, only me, and selfish or free I have yet to distinguish; most of my earlier life I was told that was what I was. Had a grandmother scold me for three days straight, until I left to continue upon my journey, about how selfish it was to sell my home and possessions to embark upon a cross country road trip to discover where in this vast land I wished to settle. I watched her son, my father, sacrifice for her. I refused. It was one of my best life choices, selfish I was told, free though it made me.
Perhaps it is just loneliness this morning. I have human friends, and regular human contact for sanity and life pinging pulses, but free though I am? Companionship might be nice.