I eat oatmeal for breakfast./ I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it./ I eat it alone./ I am aware it is not good to eat oatmeal alone.

from Galway Kinnell, “Oatmeal“

Life is meant to connect with others. It amazes me how quickly my world can shrink and turn inward. When I am exhausted or ashamed. When I am depressed or run down. When shrinking and turning inward becomes habit. When reaching out is just too much. I struggle to reach out.

There is an ebb and flow to eating oatmeal alone. Like the inhale and the exhale are part of breath, the rhythm of connection and solitude (solitude being different from isolation) are essential to life. Sometimes eating oatmeal feels like welcome rest and stillness. Other times it feels like hiding or retreat or denial.

I have eaten oatmeal alone too much the last few years. I know I am not alone in letting my world wane under the weight of it all. Loss and rejection lead to grief that leaves me under the blankets and streaming. The ritual of removal from life becomes an easy choice when so much feels so huge. It is easy to forget the beauty of the sun when I spend too much time inside.

My path to sharing oatmeal is clear. It starts one day at a time, maybe even one decision at a time. It means deep cleansing breaths. It means being gentle on myself and others. It means taking small steps and imperfection being good enough. It means intimacy and seeking safe spaces and people. It means drinking more water and filling my cup.