Solitude

February 20th

Joseph Mallord William Turner — The Evening Star

There are several uneven bands of color, shading from white to brown and hueing from light to darkness. There is a solitary person on the shore, not even looking at the coloring of the sky and the sea. There is calmness and peace. The day is done; it is now time for rest. The question is if the person in this painting will go from the supreme solitude of an evening on the shore to a bustling and warm home, or to the unbearable loneliness of emptiness marked by four walls. Ok, there is a dog there as well, so the loneliness might not be so complete, but the question remains.

For me.

I enjoy solitude in my life. My walks, or bike rides, or hikes, or drives, or travels are hermetic and deeply individual affairs. My mornings and afternoons and evenings and night as well are isolated from the reach and closeness of another person. “It’s by choice,” I tell myself, and that might be so. But if by choice — that means I can make an opposite choice too.

But I don’t.

I tell myself that I hate crowds, the noise, the bustle, the unpredictability. And I do — like every morning when I work from the office or every time when I visit the shopping mall reminds me. But one extra person along with me is not a crowd. What is the real reason that I won’t give a chance to a change in my life and accept that I might and can share it with another? I might enjoy it, I might develop myself further as a person. I do miss the touch and intimacy of another body next to mine. And yet I continue on the cloistered or walled-in path again.

Is it because I am afraid of yet another loss? There were two people in my life with whom I felt the unbreakable bond of togetherness. And I lost them both. They are both dead after long illnesses, where I was nearby but could only observe the deterioration and couldn’t offer any help. I don’t think I could go through this again. Even if not the ultimate loss, just a loss of interest and desire from another person could be soul-destroying for me. Especially when I will get emotionally involved. And I will — I just don’t see a possibility of any other kind of relationship with another person. A relationship where there are no emotions and no warmth is not worth any of my time.

So I keep busy. So I keep telling myself that I like it. So I keep an impenetrable wall around me, and especially around my feelings. God forbid I would show anything of myself to another person! My hours and days and weeks and months are predictable and easy and very comfortable for me. And yet those pangs of loneliness and solitude sharply claw at my soul once in a while.

Will I dare show my emotions to another person and be willing to let that person into my life?

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footsteps of the Furies

footsteps of the Furies

“for they knew what sort of noise it was; they recognize, by now, the footsteps of the Furies”. Enjoying life on the road to recovery. Observing and writing.