Life as a hermit

This morning, I watched sunrise on the can. The compost toilet, to be precise. Yes, the door was open. The only things around me are bluebells, bees and beech trees.

The toilet is a few metres away from the Hermitage cabin where I’m staying. It’s made to support one solo lunatic. It’s the depth of a double bed and about 5 metres long.

It has a bed, sink, gas hob, cooking supplies, a woodburner and some meditation cushions. It’s been too warm to light the fire so far. I’m meditating (sitting) 3-5 hours a day and walking a lot too.

There’s a veranda, the same size as the cabin, with a table, chair and balcony. The hut is on a downward slope, and from the veranda you can see the town of Totnes through the tree line. I eat all my meals here and sometimes meditate outside, too.

There is no electricity. The lights run on solar, but I haven’t used them yet. I wake up naturally around 5:30 and go to bed when it gets dark. Each morning, I boil enough water to fill my flask of tea and extra to pour into the washing-up bowl, as there’s no hot water on tap.

I have a small cool box which I can stock from The Barn pantry, grabbing new ice packs each morning. I visit to shower and resupply between 9 and 10, when everyone’s in the meditation hall.

The lovely folk on retreat at the Barn make my lunch each day. I collect it in a beautiful silver tiffin, at 1:15. I spent a minute wondering what’s inside before I’m back at the hut. If I need something, I leave a handwritten note tucked into the cleaned tiffin handle. In 24 hours, I’ll get a reply.

I also do 2 hours of work each day, as all retreatants are asked to do. The first day, I hauled chopped wood from the main store to another store. Now, I’m onto weeding and clearing the verges. Spring is at full stretch, and greenery is flooding the vegetable beds and polytunnels. It’s a pleasure to work in a well-run garden.

Each night, I cook some eggs with some chorizo I imported. I’m eating them now, pen in hand, as the Sun sets behind me.

The wrens are reiterating their boundaries with great precision, whilst woodpeckers laugh carelessly in the distance.

Tomorrow will be much about the same. It’s perfect.