[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”]

Herbert Behrens

Herbert Behrens

 

By Debbie Lynn

 

I have always felt alone, but not lonely.

This began when I was very young and it was a hard feeling to be with. I didn’t have the tools, the knowledge or the understanding to articulate the emptiness, so began the titled vision of my being alone.

As a child, I was always standing just on the outside of the circle that gave me a unique view of just how cruel (and awe filled) life can be, and I witnessed this dichotomy with great wonder.

The meanness of my friends left me uncomfortable (like new shoes that are too tight but you have to wear them to break them in) and yet those same souls could turn in an instant, pick a milk-weed flower and give it to you as an offering of peace without an explanation.

There were no words, life went on.

I wrestled with this kind of good and evil (in my mind) for much of my life but never spoke clearly about them. I felt isolated in my query as it seemed that the world was so full of itself that it certainly didn’t have time to explain to the curious heart, so I turned to nature—my salvation, my hug that would console my curiosity with kindness.

Alone: I found solace in special spots where I could cry out-loud or be joyous for no reason and no one would hear me.

Alone: I found peace in the trees, or on a rock that seemed to have a seat carved perfectly for my form.

Alone: I found comfort in the wind as it kissed my cheek.

Alone: I found the birds would stop momentarily and answer my deepest thoughts even as they were flitting around scattered and frenzied.

Alone: I would walk, sometimes for hours and the motion of my gate soothed my moods.

Alone: I can write it out, ride it out, come to meet my dark-side, shake my hand and then be warmed by the light of acceptance.

Alone: I became my best friend.

This is the friend I could rely on (the one who knows me best). The one who can tear down the walls and build them up again. The one who questioned everything. My friend—the enemy mine—the keeper of my key that holds the cipher to my heart. I learned to twist the view to quench the thirst for company and appreciate a slightly “tilted” persona alone, not lonely.

Thoughts in my head are always swirling but I am good with this. I have learned to love totality. I do not always agree with the ways of the world but who am I to judge? I am no one, I am everyone, I am in you. Can you see me?

Life is still a huge mystery with the vast amount of unknowns; it hits the very core of the void—a void that we can never fill. This emptiness has been the root cause for many things. It has led the way to discovery and driven some to their demise. It has opened the portals to creativity, stifled the most brilliant minds and yet, it is the most common connection (other than the umbilical cord) we have.

Celebrate your aloneness.

Stand in the crowd and relish the energy or go to a place—a space where you are enraptured by your own essence, because what you are feeling is universal. The hum of life (when you tune in) is what moves us in solitary unison. Feel it large, feel it fully, and feel it deep.

Once this is understood, you cannot help but to love being alone, and loneliness will not cross you path ever again.

 

Photo: Herbert Behrens/source

Editor: Dana Gornall

 [/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

Comments

comments

Latest posts by Debbie Lynn (see all)