Solitude

These days I am more alone. This is true in the sense that I am around fewer people. In another sense I have been forced to learn that for me to put the hours in to learn to live again after monumental psychological shifts due to my grief, I internalised many of my thoughts and used very personal methods to address them- I have read and continue to read about psychological models of grief counselling, the philosophical and humanist address of grief, ethics and "how to live" and I follow blogs and books about others' coping mechanisms after experiencing similar loss. Through grief my skills of reflection and introspection have sharpened and, with it, an increased comfort with aloneness. In addition I have learnt consideration. Consideration of others, of self, of my environment. 

The greater attention I now direct towards the small and subtle provides stimulus that can fill my mind as if I can now peer down a microscope at a world previously beyond my scope, a world that perversely has grown and grown even though I am focusing on finer and finer detail. Learning how to cope with my grief has taught me the importance of looking, really looking, at things previously dismissed as unimportant and inconsequential. My world now demands this of me. 

To be lonely is to feel isolated and alienated. To be lonely is to feel disconnected and separate from myself and my surroundings. But I cannot be lonely when I relate to others, to ideas, to living and non-living things. I am defended from loneliness by the trees on my walks, the sea less than a mile from my door, the chilled air I gasp on a run, the bread I bake, my cats and beautiful, ugly and interesting things. My loneliness is kept jailed by the hills I can see from my home, my patients at work, good tools in the kitchen, the shed and online, a real paper book, electricity, education and a huge array of other micro saviours. 

When I am solitary I move at my own pace. It is my own pace that provides the deepest state of comfort to me and, as a relaxed and autonomous agent I am free to imagine and explore as freely as possible. It is only when I am solitary that my heart rate, my circadian rhythm and my brain are at their most natural state. Behind solitary allows me the safety to lose myself. 

Being alone is a fact. Being lonely or enjoying solitude are emotions. This is key- appreciating the control I can have over my feelings about being solitary. If I am alone with my thoughts I need to exercise enough discipline to be an autonomous agent. It follows, for me, that to appreciate self-determination I need an uncluttered, introspective and, most importantly, solitary examination.

I know I am very lucky in many ways. One of those ways is that, on the whole, I like myself. I am unsure how common or rare this may be and although I am acutely aware as to how arrogant I may sound I try to avoid grandiosity and unrealistic expectations of myself- I hope to be as honest as possible. 

Only when I am solitary, either alone or in company, can a type of individualism emerge in that I can experience a strong sense of self. Being solitary encourages a reinforcement of foundations and a sharpening of borders. In turn this promotes a type of liberty, a freedom from destructive influences. 

Anyone that survives the death of their child and has the courage to keep on moving has earned the right to self-respect. It is extremely tough to be comfortably alone unless you like the person you are alone with and so I allow myself this fragile authenticity. 

"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music"