Aloneness and Loneliness

The other morning I was doing my usual run alongside a wooded preserve. A river runs beside it and empties into a pond for a stretch and then narrows again returning to a river. This season I am seeing what I think is a cormorant in the pond. I am struck by cormorants whenever I see them because of their stunning ability, like loons, to swim under water for long stretches of time. They disappear and it becomes a guessing game about where they might pop up or when. Ducks and geese I always see in multiples, but cormorants, when I see them, stand apart and alone; there is something fiercely independent about them. On this morning, it was perched on a log resting in the pond with a couple of turtles. As I continued running contemplating this bird's apparent solitariness, a curve came in the road and my eye was drawn more to the grasses and trees. Then what caught my attention was a pair of mourning doves taking off in flight. Their muted brown bodies gliding softly away in perfect symmetry. Their togetherness stood out. On this particular morning, the juxtaposition of seeing the lone, fierce swimming bird immediately followed by the fair, gentler, coupled birds seemed like a perfect visual as I held the issues of aloneness and loneliness in myself.

In my hardest months of being newly on my own, I looked up the difference between being alone and being lonely. There are some beautifully expressed words on the subject. I won't be giving you those, but certainly if you Google the two words, you'll find them. The most immediate thing I can say without much thought is that loneliness is painful. Aloneness feels almost chosen and rings more peaceful and rather heroic to my ears. For some of us, we don't like either place and distract ourselves with work, food, the internet, alcohol, entertainment, drugs. It can work for a while and sometimes is just the right thing. Inevitably though, at some point, we do have to face our aloneness. Why not get some practice in now? We can build up our courage; develop some muscles. We can learn to love this life alone, when we need and want to be, without being separate.

I am someone who loves having a partner. I also love and very much need to have time to myself. For most people I know, particularly married folks with kids, they would love to be alone for a day, a half a day, even a couple of hours. If only they could have some of my aloneness they would be so happy! I love the spaciousness of not having to navigate the world with someone right next to me all of the time. I like to be able to feel, write, think, observe, and wonder without my energy being diverted and pulled. This is my aloneness I am appreciating. Aloneness is not a problem. Loneliness on the other hand is loaded. For me, loneliness is being alone with a suffocating, heavy layer of judgment on top. It is a judgment that somehow in being alone I am not okay. Something must be wrong with me. I am lacking. I could be doing exactly what I want to be doing and the moment I start to think that I shouldn't be alone, that no one else around me is alone, that I'll always be alone, well then, it is down hill from there. I slip down that mudslide and land in a mess. The tears start pouring down and mud is everywhere. It's not the prettiest sight you've seen, though it does have its own beauty of vulnerability, of surrendering. In that mudslide moment I've moved from being alone to lonely. From being okay and maybe even great to being all wrong. When I get some perspective, I see that suffering little girl sitting in the mud crying and I feel tremendous compassion. She lost herself. She lost sight of her beauty, and her joy, and her preciousness.

The next time I see that girl sitting in the mud pit crying, I am going to remember that she forgot who she is and I am going to take her by her hands and help her get up. I will wipe the mud from her face, tuck the hair behind her ears, look into her eyes, and remind her that there is a waterfall around the corner. All she needs to do is step in it. The mud will wash away and the wonder and joy will be hers to feel again. Alone or not does not really matter. What matters is our ability to be in touch with our own beauty. When we have that, we can see the beauty and connection around us. We can remember that to be alone is not to be separate. As Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh says, when we look deeply, we know that everything is interconnected. Any move I make and the intentions behind my words and actions reverberate. It is impossible for them not to and in that way, we cannot be separate. How easy it is to forget this. It helps to have reminders from friends and strangers, from teachers, and from our practices. It is why a spiritual life, whatever we specifically choose to call it, is important. A spiritual life can simply be honoring love, seeing it in all things, bringing it out of others, sharing it. When we recognize our own precious, individual, beautiful life, we can see our place within everything else. It makes us able to see the cormorant that hasn't been there for the past three years. We can notice the mountain laurel that are now blooming in the forest. We can have interactions with strangers that make us no longer separate. How delighted I was the other day when I crossed paths with a man I had been exchanging waves with from afar for a year. The man plays frisbee with his black lab in the meadow as I run by from the road much higher up the hill. When we finally met face to face he suggested a path I might like to run on that is less rocky. Those are moments that happen when we know our own beauty and can share it. Loneliness doesn't fit in there. 

I am capable of being as strong and independent as a cormorant and as dependent and attached as a mourning dove. I might still be alone and still wanting a partner to do things with, but my joy is not shaken. As my friend reminded me, it cannot be taken.