Splendid Isolation

I have always been comfortable in my own company.
It took a substantial portion of my adult life to realise that there was nothing wrong with that.

For years I assumed it might be some sort of flaw - that perhaps I should feel a greater need for constant company or noise. But I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy company - I truly do - just in small numbers and not all the time.

Since Covid I have been almost exclusively on the farm, and the feeling of health and wellbeing that comes from spending long periods alone in nature has only reinforced that instinct. So when my children say, “Dad, you need to get out more,” I remain politely unconvinced.

One morning recently I had been digging post holes by hand. Winter still held a grip on the land, but it seemed to be loosening. We had enjoyed several dry days in a row and the light, although still thin, carried the faint promise of spring - with its growth, birth and renewal.

I paused and looked up.

On Sunset Hill a small group of roe deer grazed quietly. A pair of swans had flown in and appeared to be considering nesting on the island. Alongside them were Canada geese, herons, cormorants, coots and the usual assortment of waterfowl. Frogs were spawning in the shallows and only a few days earlier I had seen our first ever otter, which popped its head from the water, took a long curious look at me - almost with a cheeky grin - and then disappeared beneath the surface.

In that moment I felt an almost spiritual connection with the natural world around me. A deep sense of peace came over me and everything, however briefly, seemed hopeful.

I sat down, opened my phone, and was immediately jolted by the counterpoint of world events. Violence and hatred seemed etched into every headline and image. The contrast with my immediate surroundings could not have been starker.

Despite my “splendid” isolation I have always tried to keep up with the news. Hiding from it somehow feels like an act of moral cowardice.

Yet sitting there I was reminded of a poem by W. B. Yeats - The Second Coming - lines later quoted by Robert Kennedy in a 1968 New York Times op-ed when he felt the established order was beginning to fracture and urged Americans toward unity:

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

As I sat beside the lake, watching the quiet rhythms of the natural world unfolding exactly as they have done for thousands of years, I could not help but reflect on the strange contrast: nature moving calmly through its ancient cycles of renewal, while humanity - with all its intelligence and ingenuity - so often seems intent on tearing itself apart.

Perhaps that is why I find such comfort here.
Not because I wish to escape the world, but because the natural world quietly reminds me that disorder is not the only story being written.