Wednesday, January 22, 2025

The Strange & Curious Tale of the Last True Hermit

The hermit set out of camp at midnight, carrying his backpack and his bag of break-in tools, and threaded through the forest, rock to root to rock, every step memorized. Not a boot print left behind. It was cold and nearly moonless, a fine night for a raid, so he hiked about an hour to the Pine Tree summer camp, a few dozen cabins spread along the shoreline of North Pond in central Maine. With an expert twist of a screwdriver, he popped open a door of the dining hall and slipped inside, scanning the pantry shelves with his penlight.

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.. "Solitude did increase my perception. But here's the tricky thing"when I applied my increased perception to myself, I lost my identity. With no audience, no one to perform for, I was just there. There was no need to define myself; I became irrelevant. The moon was the minute hand, the seasons the hour hand. I didn't even have a name. I never felt lonely. To put it romantically: I was completely free."

Comments

Great story. Thanks for posting.

Something that always bothers me about Merton is his inability to shut up. Dilettante, no doubt.

#1 | Posted by Dbt2 at 2025-01-22 11:06 PM

Yes, this is a super interesting piece. Well-written and brutally poetic.

#2 | Posted by redlightrobot at 2025-01-23 04:48 PM

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