Notes from the Weekend

RECENTLY came across an old story in GQ about the last true hermit, who had zero communication with the outside world (with two very brief exceptions between 1986 and 2013) for 27 years. It was the incredible true story about a man in Central Maine, who, sometime in 1986, drove off after work one day in his recently purchased car, only to leave it on the edge of the woods that he would disappear into and not be seen again for nearly 30 years. He was 20 years old at the time and not long out of high school, before he made the decision to leave society behind. He slept in a nylon tent every night, never lighting a fire, in case the smoke gave his camp away and only moved at night. In all of that time in the woods, he never made a phone call or drove in a car or spent any money; he had never sent an e-mail or even seen the Internet; he never took a photo or kept a journal. Most interestingly to me, was what the told the journalist about all of those years living as a recluse: “Solitude did increase my perception. But here’s the tricky thing—when I applied my increased perception to myself, I lost my identity. With no audience, no one to perform for, I was just there. There was no need to define myself; I became irrelevant. The moon was the minute hand, the seasons the hour hand. I didn’t even have a name. I never felt lonely. To put it romantically: I was completely free.”

This week’s links include the best pasta restaurants in London, and four ways to bolster your psychological immune system; knitted coats for autumn days, double-strap Mary Janes, and much, much more.

xo,

P.S. past weekend links