A benefit of living alone is that democracy is not an issue.  In my house, there is just one vote – mine. Inspired, of course, by a concept created by our politicians, I decided to shutdown myself. Yesterday. At Noon.

The previous few days have been dumpy: for Butler University, the loser X 2 of the NCAA Final;  for Congress, unable to reach a spending consensus; for Japan, with its ongoing nuclear disaster; and, for me.

While my problems are minuscule compared to others, they are still mine.  I own them.  For example, Saturday was a gorgeous, 85-degree day in Nevada. The local University’s extension office was offering a day-long journey through southern Nevada entitled ” From Mining to Hollywood, Southern Nevada History and Stories.” Being a history fanatic and having found these days to be enriching and informative, I signed on.

On Saturday, I was up early, packed a lunch, and on-schedule to arrive at the required meeting place, a museum in Boulder City, by 9am.  Now, I admit to being map-illiterate. North, East, South and West have always been a problem for me.  Usually, I scout out a location before the actual event, but the week had been hectic. Since the MapQuest print-out seemed idiot-proof, I bypassed the Mary/Map Rule, feeling I was good-to-go.

You know the ending to this story, right?  Three days later and I have yet to find the museum nor see the motor coach I was to board!  To make matters worse, as I was re-reading the map, charging down a busy Las Vegas highway, I cruised right through a red light, shocking not only myself but the guy, to my right, driving the white Ford pick-up, who thought it was his turn.

Having been the sole driver in my family for the past 15 years, my car is my friend and I’m a good pilot.  Since this experience rattled me to my core, I headed home, went back to bed and decided to try the a-beautiful-Saturday-in-Nevada later.

Wait, it gets worse.  In the afternoon, after re-rising, re-breakfasting, with a I-Know-I-Can-Do-This  attitude, I tried to set up my Wireless Printer, its manual and CD, at the ready.  Two hours and twenty-minutes later, I tossed the Printer in the Trash. Call me infantile, immature, childish, I’ll plead guilty.  As a woman who tries to stay centered, calm and stable through any crisis, I needed, at this moment in time, to be defiant.  And, yes, it felt Tony the Tiger – grrrrrreat.

In the evening, I clicked open my iPad, anxious to play a game application I’d just loaded, called “Angry Birds”. Twelve million copies have been sold. Everyone’s playing it.  Except me. It took just 30 minutes to realize it was time to phone-a-friend, a young man who recognizes my technical mis-comfort zone for what it is.  He was at my front door by the time the Brownies came out of the oven.

My usual remedy to cure a funk-a-thon is to get-a-grip and go, go, go. Put on a happy face and watch the doldrums disappear. This time, I realized, I needed more. An Adult Time Out.  Wiggle room to get relief. Quietness for sifting, sorting, and discarding some unpleasant baggage that’s weighing me down. My good friend and confidante, Paige, who is a psychologist by profession, recognizes this not as a shutdown but a strategy.  “You’re quieting your level of action,” she says, “and quieting your thoughts as well. Just softening it up.”

I like that.  Not a meltdown, so negative.   A softening, inhaling lightness and empowerment.

Poet Emily Dickinson, who led a quiet and reclusive life, gathered not only strength but verse from it. She penned this powerful, mystical poem.

Great Streets of silence led away by Emily Dickinson
Great Streets of silence led away
To Neighborhoods of Pause —
Here was no Notice — no Dissent
No Universe — no laws —

By Clocks, ’twas Morning, and for Night
The Bells at Distance called —
But Epoch had no basis here
For Period exhaled.

I like that, too.