Prism of Solitude E-Book

ISIS & OSIRIS

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 193

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Prism of Solitude is a reflection on topics from Jenn Granneman's fantastic book The Secret Lives of Introverts. Her work impresses with careful scientific research on introversion as well as personal stories, interviews and impressive numbers. This book is not written from a scientific point of view. It describes the personal experiences of a family of introverts. There are so many different types of introversion in plentiful combinations. This makes it impossible to find general rules for everyone. Nonetheless, one might find one or the other helpful, even unusual technique of how to cope with awkward situations of an introvert. Prism of Solitude intends to help in luring the matter of introversion out of its shadow in society. It wants to encourage introverts to stay true to their nature and to find the spiritedness to do what feels right. This is also about recognizing that every aspect of the unique introverted nature is infinitely precious. Being an introvert does not mean to be at a disadvantage. On the contrary: therein lies the most valuable treasure life can provide us with. We just need to raise it.

Leseprobe

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed – and gazed – but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth (1815)

ISIS

Prism of Solitude

Introverts’ Heaven

© 2021 ISIS

Cover: ISIS

Illustration: ISIS, Sabine Sparakowski

Editing: ISIS & OSIRIS

Publishing and Print: tredition GmbH, Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg

ISBN

978-3-347-04419-7 (Paperback)

978-3-347-04420-3 (Hardcover)

978-3-347-04421-0 (e-Book)

The Act, including any parts, is protected by copyright. The reproduction of any content without the sanction of the publisher tredition GmbH and the authors is forbidden. This applies especially to electronic or any other kind of reproduction, translation, distribution and public access.

Bibliographic information of the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek: The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie. Detailed data are available via internet: see website http://dnb.d-nb.de.

Contents

Dedication

Introduction

Who we are

Reflection on ‘social’ Introverts

Reflection on ‘thinking’ Introverts

Reflection on ‘anxious’ Introverts

Reflection on ‘restrained’ Introverts

Thoughts on ‘willed’ Introverts

Disguised amidst Extroverts

Strangers in a Crowd

Pitfall Groups and Network

Dodging the Limelight

Solitude Intrusions

The Matter of Small Talk

Burnouts

Extroverts’ Hell

Advantages of Introversion

Prism of Solitude

The Sound of Silence

The perfect Thinking Time

A World of Details and Precision

The Art of Concentration

Pros and Cons of Self-Learning

Good Listeners

The inner Monologue

Writing versus Speaking

Curses and Blessings of Communication

Times of enforced social Distancing

Myriads of Talents

Memories and Relationships

Memories

Friendships

Twin Souls

Introversion and Autism

Misconceptions

Conclusion

Acknowledgements

Dedication

This book is mainly dedicated to my mother and my daughter. Very often, I think of us as a ‘Spiritual Trinity of Introverts’. We shine like candles that no storm can dim. Our souls seem to be intertwined in mystical patterns of different destinies.

Of course, I dedicate this book to my friends. Astonishingly almost all of them are introverts. That's why we get along so well. Our friendships are a beautiful tapestry of respect and tolerance. With each other, we can be who we are. Thank you for being in my life and filling it with so much joy.

The book is also dedicated to all other readers, whom I want to encourage in taking control of their own lives.

Introduction

When I started writing the first chapter of this book, it happened under the most unusual circumstances. It was on the 22nd of March in 2020. The whole world was in a deuce of a stir and on the verge of collapsing. If 3 months ago, I had been told that we are in for a world-wide flu pandemic, I would not have believed it.

The last time a pandemic of this enormity happened, was the Spanish flu, also known as the 1918 flu pandemic. It lasted to December 1920. Nobody knew where the Spanish flu had originally started. But we know that in December 2019, the coronavirus disease, COVID-19, was allegedly first detected in China. In no time, the infection had spread to a steadily increasing number of countries around the world. Of course, everyone here hoped that Europe would escape the disaster that followed. How little we knew…

At first, the reported symptoms like dry cough, fever and tiredness did not appear as that serious. In mild cases, people just got a sore throat or a runny nose. Then, there were more severe effects as breathing difficulties and organ failure. All too soon, the fatalities soared. Now, that got nearly everyone’s attention.

Eventually, the inevitable happened. On the 11th of March 2020, the World Health Organisation (WHO) declared the outbreak a pandemic. From that moment on, the German government started to act in ways we never experienced before. Soon, my company followed suit with new and more alarming bulletins every day. First, we were not allowed to travel between the locations of our company anymore. Then, restrictions were imposed regarding journeys to other countries and even within Germany. Afterwards, most of the employees had to work in their home offices, and the German government was short of declaring a curfew. The latter happened 9 months later.

At this point, I discovered once more the advantages of being an introverted person. It can be a real blessing in disguise. Unlike most of my colleagues, who disliked the very thought of being confined to their homes, I thrived on it. Finally, I could live a life I always had been dreaming of, if only for a while. Alone in my quiet home which is my castle, I worked undisturbed and in complete solitude. Every day, I got up in my own time, and my meals were freshly cooked.

The best of it, I was not forced to listen to that shallow gossip and small talk in the office anymore. What an ironic blessing, coming out of humankind’s latest curse! Maybe, I should have felt guilty about not panicking like lots of people, but I did not. There are always two sides of a coin, just like there are darkness and light. I have chosen the latter. People who panic, cannot think clearly, - a state I abhor in myself.

It sounds cruel, but there is no better time than a pandemic to start writing a book. There are neither disturbances nor excuses, so I decided to make the best of it. A lot of inspiration I took from Jenn Granneman’s website https://introvertdear.com. How she approached the sensitive topic of introversion, I liked very much, especially the non-scientific parts. When I sat down to structure this book, I decided to reflect on selected topics about introversion. Jenn mentioned that there are no two introverts who are alike. It was fun to prove her point in exploring the inner world of my family and other people based on the described signs of introversion.

Most of the illustrations in my book are cutouts I made about forty years ago, which I will come back to in another chapter. There is also one Zentangle painting by my friend S., who loves to spend her evenings drawing, which she is very creative at.

Who we are

Who we are poses a question to which there are many answers. They also change with the years, depending on our states of spiritual growth. There are numerous different influencing factors, for example, intentional personality changes that take years to flower. Nevertheless, I think that what our spirits bring to this world is even more crucial. Some characteristics are difficult or impossible to change, such as temperament or introversion. The best thing we can do is to recognise who we really are and accept ourselves as unique, magnificent beings. Unfortunately, this is often denied to us by our upbringing at home or in school. Far too soon, we are snatched away from the world of magic and wonder, only to be moulded into service-ready recruits for the economy. It still seems to be the aim of society to subdue a person's creative thinking and work, to nip any revolutionary movement in the bud.

As to be expected, introverts are “sensitive to different things. Psychologist Jonathan Cheek, along with graduate students Jennifer Grimes and Courtney Brown, wanted to explore these differences. They hypothesized that there are different types of introverts, or in other words, different ways in which a person’s introversion can be expressed.” They divided introverts into 4 categories: the “social”, the “thinking”, the “anxious”, and the “restrained”. It made me think about my own family, and I discovered clear distinctions between our introverted natures.

(Jenn Granneman. March 10, 2015. Introvert, Dear. Retrieved from https: //introvertdear.com/news/science-says-there-are-4-kinds-of-introverts)

Now and again, I write about my mother as if she were still alive, for in my heart, she is and always will be. Since our spirits and souls are immortal, the bond between us is as strong as it was before she passed away.

Reflection on ‘social’ Introverts

As it turns out, all the three of us are ‘social’ introverts indeed. We do not like hanging out with more than two people at one time. As a matter of fact, we prefer not to meet with anyone too often at all. We love being alone and being left alone, except by our loved ones. In a world dominated by extroverts, this can be difficult and sometimes impossible. Of course, it also depends on how strongly one can make a stand.

My Mother

My mother was born in 1925, and her youth was determined by the Second World War. The most gentle, loving soul, she was as strong as she was quiet. In times of solitude, I take out our black and white family pictures. There, I see a beautiful, slender woman who does not like to be in the limelight. My mother must have been about 17 years old then. Smiling, she stands shyly beside a grazing horse in the meadow of her aunt’s property. It was summer, and her life seemed to spread before her as lavishly as the flowers around her. I bet she liked to dance across that meadow when nobody saw her. Her innocence and purity come across in such a touching way. I wish I had known her in those days. Her brother R. and her sister J. were also introverts. The siblings loved each other very much.

Somehow, my mother struggled through the years of war, which must have been hard. Afterwards, she began an education as a teacher, where she met my father. Later, my parents showed me pictures with their first school classes. Nowadays, it is unthinkable that one person teaches forty pupils of different ages at once and in one classroom. Nonetheless, they managed quite well. When I discovered that my mother was an introvert, I wondered how she could stand in front of a class, much less working as a director of her school years later. Now I know why. She was well-endowed with talents no one knew about. The pupils respected and adored her at the same time.

My mother had an incredible aura. She emanated this rare kind of quiet, yet unyielding strength, paired with love for everyone, especially the prodigal sons. Often in the afternoons, she used her spare time to teach them extra lessons, but without a wagging finger or moral sermons. Instead, she encouraged the kids to explore their own limits and not to give up.

My mother’s social introversion obviously did not show in her profession as a teacher. Maybe, we can’t survive in our jobs without a certain kind of armour. In her private life, though, she was different. In a way, her home was just another kind of battlefield. Mind you, she was a mother of four daughters. Both of my parents worked fulltime. These days, mothers can stay at home for years until their children start school. Back then in East-Germany, the women did not have this privilege. Six weeks after giving birth, they were forced back to fulltime work. As much as I tried, I could never imagine where she took the strength from to bear this heavy burden.

It is ironic and sad that my mother’s social introversion did not have the chance to become a disadvantage at all, because she did not have the time to socialise at all. As long as we children lived at home, she simply had not one minute for herself.

During the week in the morning, she got up at 5.30 and made breakfast for everyone. After making the beds, she went to school before we left the house. Having returned in the afternoon, there were the usual chores to do: shopping, cleaning, and cooking. Late in the evenings, from spring to autumn, my father used to come back from our distant garden with plenty of fruits and vegetables. Proudly, he put them on the kitchen table, not being aware of my mother’s tired, weary looking eyes. It reminds me of a certain caveman behaviour, what with the man throwing the game on the floor, expecting the cavewoman to see to it immediately. It has not changed that much, or has it?

Now, my mother’s third shift began, because everything had to be cleaned, chopped, and cooked or canned. When she was finished with all that, there were still the tasks of doing the preparations for the next day’s lessons, and she did them very thoroughly. It was about one in the morning, sometimes later, when she went to bed, totally exhausted. I am ashamed to admit that I never realised this until I was an adult myself. Thinking back to my adolescence, I regret not having been more helpful and understanding, instead of mouthing off to her. Oh well!

My mother’s social life mostly happened within her family boundaries. Of course, there were a few occasions such as birthday parties. Again, she was the one who did all the work to make them successful. When she finally had the chance to sit down, she felt comfortable amongst her guests, for they were family and very close friends. However, the peaceful moments didn’t last. At some point, my father started speaking and did not stop until the party ended. He saw himself as an entertainer. It might have been funny if he hadn't always stolen my mother's show or told the same stories for the hundredth time. Whatever had happened, he was the only hero. Of course, it was never my mother, although in reality it was just the other way around.

When I was older, I attended the family birthday parties too. There, I observed that as soon as my mother started speaking, my father cut her off. Don’t get me wrong, in his way, he loved her deeply, but he obviously could not help himself, being a distinct extrovert. My father worked hard, but my mother carried much more weight than he did. He picked the tasks that suited him most: his work, his sport, and his garden. My mother could do nothing of this sort. It was the way many marriages worked back then.

Then, there were the weekends. After lunch, when the dishes were done, finally my mother’s time had come. First, she sat down in her rocking chair to read the paper. Afterwards, she indulged in reading one of her favourite books until she fell asleep and enjoyed a most welcome siesta. The books were either crime novels or fantasy stories. Those were the hours she loved the most: being alone and being left alone to do what she liked.

Although we lived in a house with other families, I never saw my mother making small-talk with them. On the one hand, she did not have the time, and on the other hand, she simply was not interested in any kind of social contact with others. Once, I asked her if she did not miss having a close friend. Smiling sadly, she told me that there was one in her childhood days, but no, she does not want other friends anymore.

My Daughter

Now that I write about my mother’s situation, it is somewhat terrifying how similar my daughter is in this regard too. She was a lovely and cheerful child. Most of the years, I raised her alone. In East-Germany, there was no such thing as unemployment. Everyone had the duty to work fulltime; men and women alike. We never questioned it. For us, it was normal.

During the week at about 6 in the morning, I left my daughter at the nearby nursery. She hated being abandoned by me every day anew, always crying when I went away. It was heart-breaking and I felt like a poor mother. Unlike other children in the nursery, my daughter never took a nap after lunch. According to the nurses, one of them had to watch her closely. Otherwise, my mentally stressed daughter tended to tear out strands of her beautiful dark hair. In hindsight, I suspect she did not feel comfortable away from me. When I picked her up in the afternoon at about 5.30, it had been a long day for her. She seemed to be content, but was quite exhausted too. One could tell that being with strangers had taken its toll.

Occasionally, my daughter liked to play with children in the neighbourhood. She preferred to socialize with one at a time, though. At the weekends, she loved to go with me down to the river. Surrounded by water and trees, she could roam free and undisturbed. Nature provided us with everything. With her, I felt like a kid again.

Also, she spent hours and days at home in her room. In solitude, she played happily with her dolls or patiently built little cities and zoos on the carpet. I still remember her daily question: “Mama, will you play with me?” With the tight schedule, it was difficult, but I tried to spend as much time as possible with my Little Rosebud. As soon as she could, she liked to read books. During the years, we moved house frequently about the country. Wherever we settled, my daughter had a few good friends she liked to spend time with. She was living a much less secluded life back then. In her adolescence, my daughter did not attend many parties. She tried because it seemed the normal thing to do. But soon she discovered that she did not like deafening noise, crowds of people and the quantities of alcohol one was supposed to drink. Then, there came a time when she did not want to leave the house at all. Most of the time, she stayed in her room, reading, dancing, watching TV, and day-dreaming. My daughter was part of a girl’s group who shared the dislike of parties. They attended the same school class and sometimes met in their free time in twos and threes. So, she had her fair share of socializing in a way that suited her the most.

My daughter’s life as an adult started a far cry from my mother’s or mine. She did not have any children. From an early age on, she lived with her boyfriend. Since then, she concentrated mainly on their relationship. With a fulltime job and a household to maintain, this is enough on one’s plate. Living a very private life, she let her socializing dwindle even further. Just like me, she is more than satisfied to stay home in her happy place of solitude. Fortunately, with the right partner, to enjoy solitude doesn’t necessarily imply to be alone.

Myself

Where does that leave me as the third part of our ‘Spiritual Trinity of Introverts’? Taking a walk down memory lane, I realised that I have roamed many fascinating pathways. More than half a century ago, I was born as the third child of my parents. I take that as a good sign. The third child in the Fairy tales was always the pick of the bunch, the hero and the saviour. I liked that very much. Besides, three is a magical number!

Well, having two older sisters was no means a bed of roses. At least not in my case! For a start, they did not like each other. This showed in the occasional catfights, where hair has been ripped out in sibling rivalries. Plus, my second sister was jealous of me. It has not changed to this day and must be something she has been born with. My parents told us that as a baby, she regularly demanded a second helping of food. My sister just would not shut up until she got it or was hoarse from screeching.

I never felt comfortable around my older siblings. Having been the favourite of my father, as I have been told, did not improve the matter. I agree with Rudolf Steiner going as far as to say that my spirit might have chosen my parents, but there is no way it has singled out my older sisters. At least the regular fights with them prepared me well for the battles in the business world yet to come. Eventually, everything turned for the better when my younger sister came to see the light of day. Close in age, we used to play with each other peacefully. She was a delightful, easy-going and amiable child, and to this day we get along well together.

Although my parents never said so, I was a difficult child. I have been blessed with a divinely explosive mixture of a choleric and sanguine temperament. True, my melancholic side flared briefly during adolescence but calmed down when I became a mother. As for my phlegmatic part, I swear that it is practically non-existent.

Of the first two mentioned temperaments, I got the best. My choleric nature provides me with an abundance of energy and willpower, coming from my spirit's deep well. It allows me to tap into unfailing sources of power that overrides my physical strength manifold. To the sanguine temper, I owe my figure, inner joy, and flexibility. It also supplies me with a good memory, keen perception, and an enquiring mind.

How did my social introversion show in my childhood days? It was a mix back then. Naturally, within our home, I was forced to play by the rules of the family. This meant to be present at the table during meals and to do the chores together with my sisters. The latter didn’t always end well, because I was a born fighter and put up with nothing. In my early childhood photographs, you can see a thoughtful, fearless hoyden who was ready to accept any challenge. It is visible evidence that I had no desire to conform to anyone’s rules except my own.

In kindergarten, I was forced to adjust to the rules of the group in a not so different way. Already, I had my own ideas on how to cope with the situation. Not that keen on playing with other children, I wanted to be left alone. However, there was a huge magnet, so to speak, which pulled me back every time. You might not believe it, but it was the dolls’ prams. There were three of them, and only the fastest children were lucky enough to get to play with them. Sadly, my innermost wish to have one at home has never been satisfied.

A day in kindergarten started with breakfast at those tiny tables, reminding me of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. A wooden chandelier with coloured figures from Fairy tales hung from the ceiling. They fascinated me every day anew because my whole world consisted of Fairy tales. They were my centre and my sanity all the time.