Yoga Nijn: Communal Hermit

After the heat comes the storm. A beautiful storm, with lightning reflected on the waves of the lake, and thunder rumbling from mountain to mountain. Things are shifting. It gets dark after satsang again, all cherries have been picked and the apples will soon be ripe. In my mind I see the grass and walking paths covered in snow like in winter. It is not so much the cold, but the silence.

Now, at the start of the 50th anniversary celebration, we are over a 100 people like in Family Week. Extra beds have been put up, and all my favorite spots are taken. It is harder to avoid the buzz in the atrium and around, than the abundance of wasps who mainly want to sit on my feet.

I understand better now why I am attracted to communities, but not to being with groups of people. Living at the Marwixstraat for 6 years with 6 others I was appreciated for my cooking and company as well as my tendency to leave the room when things got too much. Similarly, at the ashram, there is no need for awkward conversations (silent meals!) and having to go out at night to “have fun” (straight home after satsang!). Communal living gives me a sense of belonging, while honoring my inner introvert.

Marce is here for a bit, and he reminds me of my old self, and how I have changed. I was scared I would want to go back to our old life, living above the Mamamini (= thrift store) together, listening to Noorderzon (= August arts festival) from our window. And yes, those were good times. But if anything, his being here shows me that my life is here. This is my home. I even have a social insurance number now.

And here, at home, I indulge in being alone. A lot. And though old habits and guilt still tell me I should be more social and connect more; I am actually connecting more. To a part of me that I have been neglecting for way too long. The part of me that tells me that I am okay the way I am. It is okay to be a communal hermit.