I like being alone, but I suppose feeling lonely is a curse for some.
Others can be alone even when surrounded by other people.
I am one of them.
I think I equate people with being antithetical to a clean and healthy planet.
I would be alright with a smaller world population, or even better, a smarter world population; one that thinks holistically and with a true sense of stewardship for this planet and its resources.
When I was up in the Colorado Rockies, the first flakes of fall would dust the wildflowers, adding Angel’s Breath as the sun tried in vain to poke its head through the clouds.
It was so quiet you would not have to lean in to hear God whisper.
I could probably do alright mental-health wise if I were held in solitary confinement, but don’t be too quick to make that part of your wedding vows anytime soon.
Remember, if your wife asks you a question and you stumble over your response: “uh, uh, uh…”
Stop.
Everyone on planet Earth knows that whatever comes out of your dumb ass next is going to be a lie.
If you want to be lonely on purpose, just make goat cheese part of your regular diet.
Starting as a lowly kitchen helper in a French kitchen all the way up to Executive Chef in a starred restaurant was a lonely existence by design. It was very cutthroat until, or if, you were able to land a coveted apprenticeship to the Chef.
Then it was life or death.
I saw a very highly regarded apprentice let go on the spot, for dropping a lettuce leaf on the floor.
A lettuce leaf.
Another hotshot Johnson & Wales grad was sent packing because he left too much meat on the bone whilst trimming a pheasant.
Career over.
I overheard Chef absolutely ranting at a front of the house employee and insisting she show up in one hour or he would fire her.
Now, I happened to know this girl and she was a great little girl who was working two jobs as did many in the local hospitality industry. She had taken a second job in anticipation of her new arrival.
Now, I understand that reaction, and later down the road as I had my own kitchens, I would face similar and other challenges that are endemic to the food service industry.
But Chef had given his strict edict after the waitress had broken down and told him she couldn’t make it in because she just miscarried her baby!
He was French, and if that isn’t any indication, what he said to me, as I stood there frozen with a look of disbelief on my face was sick.
“Her pussy still works. She can have another baby.”
That was the coldest thing I ever witnessed in a kitchen.
The man might be a god with spun sugar, but he sucked as a human being, French or not.
No one should be lonely.
Stay well.
