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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Off the Cuff / My Other Journal #818924 added June 6, 2014 at 7:32pm
Restrictions: None
Secret Hiding Places
Imagine how awful it would have been if any one of us were hiding somewhere during the German Nazi invasion and Holocaust? I bet most of us who read Anne Frank’s Diary put ourselves in her place. Yes, Anne Frank hid, but she didn’t hide alone. She hid together with her family and friends. She thought she was hiding with them, but deducing from her diary, she was also hiding in them. It is true, wherever we are, whatever our physical environment may be, sometimes we hide in other people. But then, sometimes we hide inside ourselves, too.
Yet, why do we feel the need to hide? I think it is because we need the urge to find and embrace our aloneness. Our aloneness, some call that solitude, is where our individuality is affirmed. Yes, in our hiding places, we feel validated, no matter which outside force is beating up on us.
When I was a child, I had several secret hiding places. Under a circular table with the table cover’s fringes reaching the floor, inside the broom closet, inside the coal shed, behind the bushes in the yard, or behind the sofa in the living room. I am too big now to fit into such similar corners and crannies.
Instead, I hide in open spaces. The back porch at sunset is my most frequented hiding place. Yes, everyone can see me, but it is very quiet there; besides, the sunsets are exquisite in Florida even if they don’t last long. My second open space to hide is at the beach. True, it is crowded, but I blend in and become one with the sea, sand, seagulls, waves, breeze, and the smell of the ocean.
In addition, I have other secret hiding places, too. They may seem too tight physically but my mind fits in them. You guessed it. I am talking about books. I do hide in my reading…a lot. Possibly, most of my reading hides me from myself, too.
Then, when the going gets tough, I hide inside myself. Inside me, is my best place to hide. Some humans are frightened to go inside themselves. I learned not to be afraid of me. I learned it many years ago when I started meditating. Nowadays even when I don’t do the rituals of any meditation, I find I can easily rush within me where no one and nothing troublesome can find me. Can any other place top that?
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Prompt: Most of us as children had a secret place to get away from our family.
Do you have a secret place now you go to avoid real life?
If not, do you think you need one at times?
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