On Friday night, I finished Fire Season: Field Notes From a Wilderness Lookout by Philip Connors. A lovely read on wilderness management, solitude, fire lookoutry, and the history of America, forestry, and the men that wanted wild and road-free lands. Some of Connor’s passages were spot on. I connected most deeply with his thoughts on solitude and his desire to be a man apart on a mountain, from this world but not of this world. I truly enjoy my time alone; there is an intimacy with the world when it is just one’s self and I haven’t been able to find a way to share that with another.
Being here alone I may not be my best self, in the social sense of the phrase, but I am perhaps my truest self. ~ Philip Connors
He writes of solipsism, which is the view or theory that the self is all that can be known to exist. Anything outside of one’s own mind cannot be known for sure. I can’t know what other people think. My ex tried to teach me this but I was unable to hear and understand a decade ago. I like this word: solipsism. I like what it stands for. Ultimately, I am responsible only for my self. I cannot know what is in the heart or mind of others.
One sentence that I loved: “Tattered flags of fog drift past the mountain when the rain breaks.” I see that in my mind. As a writer, I have a passion for sentences that evoke vivid imagery.