I am not an ornamental hermit

By Elizabeth Prata


Ohhh, the light, it burns!

Representation of an ornamental hermit in Germany in the late 18th century. Wikipedia cc

Did you know that there used to be such a 'job' as a garden or ornamental hermit? Wealthy estate owners would design their gardens and also install a small shack, into which they would install an old man. Expected to dress as a druid-like character and walk around looking pensive, for their effort the hermits received the housing and small meals.

This sure is a hilarious weird job I'd learned about, but to me, it defeats the purpose of being a hermit. Solitude, not display, is the key aspect of the job.

This 1973 hermit sketch from Monty Python's Flying Circus (start at .48 sec) is funny in that it pokes fun at the very thing that makes a hermit, a hermit- solitude.

Well, for me, as an introvert and someone on the autism spectrum, I need the solitude to recover from the influx of overload I experience every day. Everything hurts, from overly bright lights, temperature, noises, unexpected sounds, alterations in routine, shrill laughter, my clothing, patterns in other people's clothing, faces, the wrong food (mine or others'), missed social signals, ... sigh, it all goes into my brain and my brain translates it to something physical that usually results in a stomach ache or a headache or a feeling of illness or malaise or just general body throbbing. As for my brain, it starts to think more and more slowly and sputters like a candle about to go out.

When I have the opportunity, like now on Christmas break from school, I go into hermit mode. I like my own company. I like the quiet. I like that I can organize my environment to the way I need it to be and that I can control its looks, its temperature, its lighting. I like the quiet. I like it so quiet that I can hear a rumble of thunder ten miles away. I like not seeing faces, as kind and nice as those faces are. I like it so quiet I can hear the cat purring in the next room.

I think the Lord did me a favor by creating me without a sense of smell. I'd likely have way more sensory overloads if I did. As it is it's usually too much.

After school let out I went to the bank and the grocery store. I picked up a sushi plate at the grocery store for supper so I would not have to cook. Some seltzer water accompanies the light meal and I'm satisfied.

So the gas is hissing, the apartment is warming, the cat is eating, (crunch-crunch-crunch), the leggings are on, soft Christmas socks adorn my feet, the oversized sweatshirt falls just right from my shoulders to my hips, the tea is brewing, and Christmas break starts right now.

Merry Christmas friends!