And on, and on...

I have been tracking the progress of Roz Savage, who I learned about on Will's blog. Observing her cross the Pacific has given me a lot to ponder about my own limitations, capacity for dedication, and drive for achievement. I have long considered one of my life's goals to be a bike trip across America, but with my life transitioning as it has over the last two years, I'm thinking that for now I should settle for goals I can accomplish closer to home. Still, keeping my long-term, but relatively minor bike-ride objective in mind as I watch Roz is good perspective.

Over the last week, I've done some reading on people like this, folks who do extraordinary physical feats because they want to, or feel that they simply must. For example, this article in Wired has started me thinking about my own running primarily as a mental challenge (a belief my brother has long held). Let me also share this link to Karl Meltzer's website, where we can watch Karl try to run the entire length of the Appalachian Trail faster than the current record holder (yes, people keep up with this sort of thing). He started this morning and seems to be moving along. Because.

Solitude

"La Toilette" (1896), by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

Though I value my time with friends and family, I need private space and ample opportunity to think through things on my own. I used to see this as a fault of mine, this inability to cope with reality while in the frequent presence of others, but now I suspect that it's a universal condition. I believe that each of us needs time alone, even removed from those we love the most. As Henri Nouwen wrote,

"Solitude is the furnace of transformation. Without solitude we remain victims of our society and continue to be entangled in the illusions of the false self."

In the past, I've resorted to all manor of elaborate escape seeking solitude, from fleeing the hemisphere to spending time in a monastery. For the foreseeable future, however, that kind of exodus is impossible. Enter "the Man Cave".

For the last six months or more - and concluding today - I've been working on my Man Cave, formerly a one-bedroom apartment in the basement complete with bathroom and kitchen. The details of this seemingly endless campaign are too boring even for friends who care, but the tasks have included painting, electrical work, tiling, trim installation and threatening legal action against various suppliers and contractors.

I am reminded of a wonderful passage on the subject in the book, "The Winter of Our Discontent", by John Steinbeck:

"It has no name in my mind except the Place - no ritual or formula or anything. It's a spot in which to wonder about things. No man really knows about other human beings. The best he can do is to suppose that they are like himself. Now, sitting in the Place, out of the wind, seeing under the guardian lights the tide creep in, black from the dark sky, I wondered whether all men have a Place, or need a Place, or want one and have none. Sometimes, I've seen a look in eyes, a frenzied animal look as of need for a quiet, secret place where soul-shivers can abate, where a man is one and can take stock of it."

So true.

What I've observed over the last several years is that contemporary American society does not readily tolerate a "professional" man's need for occasional solitude. At present, it is more acceptable for women to step away in order to rediscover or reinvent themselves (witness the huge success of the indulgently self-oriented book, "Eat, Pray, Love"), but men today who seek solitude as a source of strength and peace are considered apathetic, unfocused and unreliable. It remains the case that the extraordinary work of Jesus Christ, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Mahatma Ghandi (not to mention Hitler, and let's not) all included significant periods of isolation and quiet contemplation.

But I ramble. The best book on the subject that I can suggest - and I do - is "Solitude: A Return to the Self" by Anthony Storr.

Get away.

Edward Hopper in DC

"Room in New York" (1932), by Edward Hopper

The National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, is hosting an exhibition of Edward Hopper's work until January 21, 2008. This collection contains my favorite Hopper painting.

This past Thursday, I was able to sneak into the exhibit with only 35 minutes before the museum closed. (It's unjust that the National Gallery closes at 5 in the afternoon, the exact time that many taxpayers get off work, but I digress further.) Because of the late hour, I was unable to hear the audio tour, nor watch the overview video, which is narrated by Steve Martin. No matter. It was still the most extraordinary 35 minutes I've spent in many weeks - some thrilling combination of sensuality and wonder. I will be going back as soon as I can.

Automat

"Automat" (1927), by Edward Hopper

This is my favorite Edward Hopper image, and as you may know, I have a large version of it in my study. It was used by TIME magazine for a cover story on depression (August 28, 1995), but I don't associate Hopper's work with being sad or melancholy (as he said, "The loneliness thing is overdone"). In much of his art, Hopper seems to convey that human solitude can also be necessary, liberating, and even tranquil.

I fondly remember a conversation I had with Allan Jones, the painter. We were trying to figure out why Hopper's work often seemed to express a void or a vacuum. Allan pointed out that what many of these paintings are missing is the viewer himself. For example, here Hopper gives you an empty chair to sit in, if you want. Wouldn't you like to come in and be quiet for a while?