A Retrospective as Things Come To An End

From ev’ry depth of good and ill 

The mystery which binds me still— 

From the torrent, or the fountain— 

From the red cliff of the mountain— 

From the sun that ’round me roll’d 

In its autumn tint of gold— 

From the lightning in the sky 

As it pass’d me flying by— 

From the thunder, and the storm— 

And the cloud that took the form 

(When the rest of Heaven was blue) 

Of a demon in my view—

-       Edgar Allan Poe We’ve reached the end of the semester, and the beginning of a time of great reflection. I suppose it isn’t unusual as things come to a close that we look back, and that looking back often leads us down roads which we have not gone in a very long time. December in Maine is dark, cold and gray. The winter chill brings about a sense of melancholy; a state in which I have always felt more comfortable. It is somber. It is still. I’m reminded once again of my childhood, where I first read Alone by Edgar Allan Poe. I related to it instantly. A solitary person, comfortable in his own isolation, aware that is he quite different from those around him and that it might be the root of that very isolation.

All I loved, I loved alone.

It should be evident by now that I am quite fond of words. Books have always sustained me. They’ve been my companion when, like Maine in the winter, my own life was dark, cold and gray. The plains of Ohio are flat, and dull. They stretch on for miles. A person in my situation has to get used to loneliness. I mean – come on- I was never going to work on a farm or learn to play football. The isolation I have described would be chilling for some, devastating for some, but for me it was a source of inspiration. I lived life at a much slower pace and was therefore able to take more of it on. I got a glimpse of the world that very few are able to see. I saw the flaws, and the beauty, in a way that allowed me to understand humanity on a deeper level. I’m grateful for that. It doesn’t make me better, or smarter than anyone else. Like Poe, I recognize that it was both a blessing and a curse. I’m far removed from that life now, and I do enjoy my comrades, though they are few and far between. I am still much more comfortable by myself in a candle lit room in an admittedly comfortable leather chair, with my typewriter and my notebooks and pens and books that are so old you can smell the history in them. My school term is ending, and Orono begins to slow down for the next month, I know that feeling of loneliness will return to me and when it does, I will accept it. No more. No less.