In the midst of many, she felt alone.
A loneliness so deep that it was impossible
to even be in herself.
Separate. Apart. Almost invisible ...
except for the sense that somehow she was an irritant
to those of her community.
When the others had left,
the sense of isolation
seemed almost overwhelming.
She longed for company.
A call that was not a responsibility,
an invitation to lunch.
She went out and strangers smiled at her
people started conversations and told her things
as they always seemed to do.
Each time she reentered her empty house
the place seemed friendlier.
Warmer. More welcoming.
And then she became still
and rarely listened to anything except the rustling of the leaves
the tick of the clock, or natural sounds that came in her window.
The running water at her sink,
and the soft churn of the dishwasher
seemed comforting.
After awhile, with no distraction
to pull her mind away from the silence
her being started to still ... and she started to fill.
The silence became her friend
and she began to revel in the quiet and the texture
of the moment.
The boundaries and lines which before had cut her off
began to blur, and she began again
to feel the pulse of life coursing though her.
Her arms stretched out in the welcoming.
Her whole essence became immersed in the ebb and flow
and simply being was enough.
She knew this time with herself was coming to an end
and she would once again have to enter
into the distraction of the colony.
She hoped that the memory
of her balance and buoyancy
was all she would need to ease the transition,
and she would be one with herself
and would recall how to enter into the silence
even in the midst of the company.
"A man can be himself only so long as he is alone; ... if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free."
-Schopenhauer, "The World as Will and Idea," 1818
Posted by Judi at September 14, 2007 2:32 PM | TrackBack