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But Jordan, said Bernard, not everyone can simply drop all responsibility to go and live
in the forest. What of those of us who have real jobs, families?
Ah, Jordan answered, but you have brought me already to my next point. Solitude
does not always manifest itself physically. There is also the intangible solitude of the mind. The
same ideals which I practiced in the wild may be applied to a mans daily life in the city. We can
achieve this unbreakable happiness even when entrenched in family, work, and politics, as long
as at the end of the day we bring our thoughts and reflections back to ourselves and to our own
well-being (Montaigne 101). When we focus our purpose and our joy inward, no outside force
may take it away. It is only when the resolve to do so begins to slip that we must escape to the
wild, and find ourselves once more.
Bernard asked then, Are you suggesting that a man cannot be truly happy when devoted
to his wife, or to his children?
Jordan replied, Why, certainly not! However, the happiness that he may glean from his
family cannot be indefinite, for the family itself is not indefinite. Suppose the day comes when
his son leaves for war, or his wife leaves for another man. How can he maintain purpose and joy,
if both were previously derived largely from the family he has lost? Take Odysseus for example,
that great warrior. Surely he was worthy of inspiring his own contentment. Yet, for seven years
he wept on Calypsos shores. Odysseus placed too much stock in his wife and child, in his
homeland of Ithaca, to maintain sense of purpose or personal joy without them. I uphold:
solitude is the only method by which a man can be truly content with himself. That is my praise
of solitude.
Well put, said Bernard, while Theodore nodded in agreement. Theodore, lets hear
your response. Give us a speech in praise of solitude.
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So Theodore began, I agree, Jordan, that solitude is important. However, I would like to
disagree on both the angle at which to approach it and the reason for its importance. Where you
have illustrated solitude as a state of being or a state of mind, I would like to look specifically at
imposed solitude, perhaps better labeled as exile. Solitude in exile is the same as you have
described, as far as it does not matter whether the man is physically alone or not. Rather, exile
can take place in the wilderness or in New York City, but it makes no difference which. Solitude,
imposed solitude, is important not for personal joy, nor for developing a sense of purpose. Exile
is important as an impetus for miserable creation.
Miserable creation? asked Jordan. This seems like quite the cynics speech.
Cynical it may be, Theodore replied, but I will defend it with hard evidence. Ovid tells
us that metamorphosis falls somewhere between exile and death. Death, I believe, is the happier
end of that scale. For who in their right mind could lose their family, work, and politics without
suffering the greatest pain? One could argue that there is no solitude except exile: true solitude is
a separation from all that you hold dear, and only in exile will you find such separation.
Confined to an existence worse than death, what is there left to do but create? Think of the
classical poets. Ovid himself, for one, wrote his great Metamorphoses in exile. Virgil, too,
wrote his most famous works in exile.
How do you know exile made them miserable? asked Jordan.
Well, countered Theodore, think of Dantes Inferno. That was clearly one very upset
man, and also a man writing in exile. In the text, he attacks not only his former colleagues but
his very own city of Florence as well. Exile made him bitter, and his bitterness made him the
author of The Inferno. How could any poet compose a written epic of such proportions when
surrounded by the distractions of all the things he loves? It is necessary for a man to be removed
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from his own life in order to create such works as are studies for centuries. Solitude is a matter
of sacrifice. Few men must endure the misery of exile, the misery of creation, so that many men
may benefit from the progress of their craft.
Bernard cleared his throat, What an interesting mix of perspective, and so very different.
Solitude as a means of happiness, or solitude as a means of creation. I personally can find no
merit in solitude, for I am neither content nor creative when alone. I derive my purpose, personal
joy, and creative power from the company of good friends and family. As for tonight, I think I
have had my fill. Thank you both for your eloquent speeches!
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Works Cited
Montaigne, Michel de. The Essays: A Selection. Translated by M. A. Screech. Penguin Group,
2004.
Plato. The Symposium. Translated by Christopher Gill. Penguin Group, 1999.