Space and Time

In Journal of a Solitude, May Sarton recounts how a woman wrote to her sharing her burden and questions about solitude vs marriage. She is a painter; however, she feels hemmed in and held back by her second marriage and family with children.

The woman writes: “Does one give up security, and whatever else is necessary, to develop? Can one be within the framework of a marriage, do you think? I envy your solitude with all my heart, and your courage to live as you must.”

Sarton reflects on this, then shares her response with us as readers. “It is not irresponsible women who ask this question, but often (as in this instance) women with children, caring women, who feel deeply frustrated and lost, who feel they are missing their ‘real lives’ all the time. Has this always been true and only now are we able to admit it? And what is the solution” (122).

She realizes women are caught in a bind. To form an attachment leads to the very thing that locks out quality alone time and can limit or postpone creativity.

She notes that even in a love relationship, of any variation, one should not have to trade or lose an essential part of oneself. She notes, almost with asperity, “But there is something wrong when solitude such as mine can be ‘envied’ by a happily married woman with children.”

She notes what lay in her kingdom that may be enviable: “What I have is space around me and time…How they can be achieved in a marriage is the real question. It is not an easy one to answer” (123).

As marriage had not been her path, a fuller response is left hanging like a dangling participle. But she acknowledges, even back in 1971, it’s harder than ever what with so much tugging at us. Her advice is to win time back, to engage in “everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow cycles of nature, is a help” (123).

She asserts her favorite pastime, gardening, is a gift of grace. Personally, I’m not the biggest gardener, though I do love tending the plants I have. The grace of time therefore--whether in a marriage or not—is in the drifting instead of hustling, the pausing instead of charging, the skimming instead of going all in. It is in recognition that space too is necessary for the desired pace and for new revelation.

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I think back to past dates, past “courtships”. I think back to times I tried to “make it work”, whatever it was, with whichever guy happened to be there at the time. I look back and I see myself, like many women (and men) operating off a model prescribed to us from very young.

Despite [the numerous!] Disney movies I grew up on and was fed on, I always resonated more with the princesses (and villains) with a free spirit. Remember, after all, Pocahontas didn’t go with John Smith at the end of the movie. Maybe Ariel from The Little Mermaid, regretted losing her home in the ocean. Perhaps Mulan couldn’t get over feeling like a warrior turned Geisha.

I think back to my experiences working at a preschool, having to clean toilets and sweep up, and how demoralizing it felt. That somehow, despite having a bachelor’s degree, as a woman I was made to just care for and pick up after children (even when they weren’t my own!)

I naively thought being married would take me away from “all that”, but also intuitively sensed it would only trap me in a different prison.

For now, I will cook and clean for myself. I will do my art and my writing, without having to see if it fits in the “schedule”. I will gather flowers on my morning walks to arrange and display in my apartment, even if I’m the only one who sees them. I will take my freedom with a cup of tea and a period drama on the side (“Sanditon”, thank you for existing…)

I have space and time, and there’s nothing more that I could need or want.