It's funny how often, when I write, I have this silly illusion that I am possibly writing for somebody else. It's never true, yet I often fall for it. Why? Probably because I want to believe that someone out there will keep me company as I write. I imagine myself and the reader, both together, happily ever after.
What's actually happening, however is that I'm leaving breadcrumbs for my lost soul to follow. And I feel a good little trail about to make itself on the way to the screen.
Being lonely and being alone are two completely different things. Being lonely is another way of saying being empty of awareness of one's majesty. Being alone is another way of saying being completely whole and at peace within oneself. Being alone is like being all one. Yes, all one in the sense that there is no referencing a supposed second or third within one's being. There's no looking for a reflection of one's image, there's no attachment to being accepted, loved, embraced or any of that. There's no ATTACHMENT to it. Read that slowly, my imaginary reader. There's no ATTACHMENT to being accepted, loved, embraced or any of that. Again, read that slowly, my imaginary second.
Human life has its way, its game, its rules, its modus operandi. And regardless of what those parameters are, freedom lies in not being ATTACHED to any of it. Yes, I know this may get annoying and even worse completely incomprehensible, but perhaps you can sense what I mean. It's the relinquishing of ATTACHMENT that solves the mystery of human suffering. And when we relinquish ATTACHMENT, we discover what being alone means. We discover what being all one means.
I know how annoying reading something, connecting deeply with it, sensing it and even deeply understanding it, can be. But it's only annoying when we feel so close and yet so far from what our deepest essence registered. That so close but yet so far can be a tiny split, but it's enough of a split to cause one to go insane. Yes, especially when we try to push and force, like this guy that's writing this karmically tends to do. It must be all the zeal.
Luckily the thirties have arrived. There's less naivete, less immature energy and less confusion. And that can be a saving grace.
Maybe aging is all about coming to terms with our inherent aloneness. Maybe aging is all about making peace with a truth that we're conditioned to not see, even though it's blatantly obvious. Maybe aging is all about growing into sensing the great alone that we are. And maybe that doesn't mean that we have to be lonely and maybe that doesn't mean that we have to be alone. Maybe that just means that we relinquish our ATTACHMENT to not wanting to be alone and to wanting to be alone. Maybe this is a great part of the letting go that humans have to go through in order to arrive at peace. Letting go of ATTACHMENT.
And what is attachment anyway? The obvious answer is fear. Fear of loss, fear of life, fear of death, fear of fear. Fear of not having control. And what is fear? Confusion. And what is confusion? A lack of insight. And what is insight? Seeing what is. And what is? You're it.
Funny, I'm alone while I write this and you're alone while you read it. And even though there's someone a few feet away from me, that still holds true. And even though there may be a bunch of co-workers or whoever around you, you're still alone. How do you react to that? It's a good question because it's a good measure for how at peace with yourself you are. How being alone makes you feel is probably the way you really feel most of the time - except for those moments when you trick yourself into believing you're not alone. Because the fact is that you are alone. You are alone with your thoughts, emotions, feelings, ideas, beliefs, opinions, notions and all the rest. And this is why those of us who do not enjoy our inherent aloneness become ATTACHED to any of these - because if we don't, we'll discover the truth that we irrationally fear so much. It's just the way we've trained ourselves for whatever reason - and so what? It's not a problem if we're not ATTACHED to it. Right?