Alone, not Lonely

For as far back as my memory can muster, the search for love has been a significant element of my epic. I’ve long held the belief that I would find someone who viewed the world as I did and could see me for who I truly was. It’s not that as I became, I was starved for love. Although my upbringing was fueled by chaos, I did experience love as a child.

However, the companionship that I seek is much deeper than relationships forged through god given bloodlines. It’s a connection of the soul - spirit molecule symbiosis. Something that has and will continue to exist beyond the bounds of time and space as we believe it to be.

I’ve experienced the pleasure and pain of many partners throughout my search, and can honestly say I’ve loved each and every one of them in their own right. While the story I’d like to share with you is about love, if you’re hoping for a fairytale ending, you won’t find it in these pages. Although my seeking has uncovered hidden nooks in my heart, as I write to you now, my waking moments are still lived alone.

Now, there’s a difference between being alone and Lonely.

I maintain the ability to move through life at my own pace, making decisions based on my soul’s desires. I don’t have to compromise or explain my choices to another. Oftentimes you can find me enjoying a quiet evening at home reading, writing, or studying a new idea that has captured my interest. Other times when craving adventure, I take to wide open spaces for solitude in nature.

Most of my traveling stories begin with a party of one. A single seat occupied in an airport terminal waiting for a flight to depart. A lone bunk slept in traversing Northern Thailand by train, clacking through the darkness of the countryside. Navigating a shitty rental car through Baja, wind combing my hair as I weaved through the cactus ladened desert. Spending too many moons to count isolated on a mountain farm in Nowhere, California.

These are some of the ways I understand alone to be.

Lonely, on the other hand, is a place I’ve visited often. A somber, empty harbor - lighthouse not included. The gaping hollowness of a deserted route, carved through your entrails on a moody, moonless night. A void in time and space that seems to permeate the core of your body.

It’s finishing a long week of work and having no plans, when all you crave is something to look forward to. It’s staring at your phone urging it to make a sound. As if the bleep-bloop of a device could console the desolate, heart shaped island lost in the Bermuda Triangle of your chest. It’s slow, shallow breaths that hold back tears, as if breathing lightly will lessen the agony pressing against your unaccompanied mind.

It’s watching old black and white films and yearning to be from a different time. As if the cool silk of a simple white gown draped around your body and the croon of an olden-time pianist wafting from the corner of a smoke filled bar, could somehow fill the space between you and the nothingness that consumes all things eventually.

Alone doesn’t always arrive at Lonely.

But Lonely tends to be inevitably passed through by being alone.

Over the years, and with much intentional practice, I’ve come to terms with my solitude. I find joy in quiet days and feel lucky to have reached a place in my life where being on my own can be seen as a blessing. Even though an internal agreement to this has been reached, I believe I’ll forever hold onto hope that somewhere in this world, a person exists who feels the way I do.

Being a charismatic individual, I’ve never had trouble drawing others close; men, women, children, animals. I think it’s because I have the ability to view their souls, far beyond the song and dance they perform on the World’s stage. I notice things others may pass over. The way they present themselves and respond to interactions. The stories they tell with their bodies. A nervous laugh. Where they place their hands. How much or little they’re willing to share. Behind their eyes, I can see the pain they’ve endured as children. I can picture wee versions of them and also envision the people they may become as time continues to pass.

I’m not a psychic, a mind reader, or anything of that nature. Although some of my closest friends may describe me as witchy in nature, there is no mystic voodoo practiced here. Simply an honorable nod to things we cannot see or understand. An openness and connection to the energetic alchemy taking place beyond our breadth of wisdom.

So this ability, this.. gift? How do I define it? A curious mind constantly seeks pathways to understanding. What is it? How do I take it apart then put it back together? How do I get closer to the meaning and better use the tool?

The most fitting word I’ve come across that resonates with the tones of this recognition is Empath.

Emٜ•path - A person with the paranormal ability to apprehend the mental or emotional state of another individual.

I don’t know if it’s truly a “paranormal” phenomena, or if I just have a hyper developed sense of awareness that allows me to observe characteristics, identify traits, and recognize patterns. Whatever the case, it’s something I’m keenly aware of, yet have little control over. It’s like my perception is constantly in overdrive and the thoughts can be overwhelming or confusing at times. Often I’m viewing potential energy as opposed to kinetic energy.

And boy oh boy have I fallen in love with that “potential” energy. More times than I care to admit. I’ve convinced myself through these eyes of acute awareness that a person is on a path of evolution. That they will achieve metamorphosis and perhaps my presence in their life could stimulate or fuel this transformation. But alas, only we can morph ourselves. Just because our potential can be observed or felt by another, does not mean those possibilities will ripen to fruition.

It’s a dangerous game to wish upon a star that has not yet fallen. Dreams met during rest play out differently than those imagined during the day.

Even still, a rose colored lining may be found in the missteps of relationship exploration. Every interaction and entanglement we move through provides us with lessons if we look closely. They can show us who we are and who we desire to be. They reveal our edges and teach us how to set and hold boundaries. We may even grow beyond those same edges and push out past the break we once believed to be insurmountable. It’s amazing what others can teach you about yourself.

We enter this world in our purest form and then are shaped by our experiences here. Sometimes slowly, the incessant repetition of daily occurrences that mold our habits and thoughts. Sometimes very quickly, overnight even, through sudden traumatic spikes in our lifeline. As much as we humans desire to avoid difficult situations, these tend to be the moments where the most growth is achieved.

*

Let not

one downed pine

sway you from your path.

Even the mighty Redwoods

fluctuate through the passage of time.

*

My story has been written on a long and winding road; the tapestry of my soul weaved with an array of vibrant threads, intertwined with mighty roots of strength that ground the steps I take forward. I’m grateful for each juncture that led me to this very moment. Even the detours through Lonely showed me how beautiful life can be on the other side of heartache and yearning.

My solitude presented me with the opportunity to truly know and deeply love the woman I’ve become and desire to be. So while those on the outside may view me as alone - I sit quietly, ever observant, and share a chuckle with myself knowing the truth as I believe it to be.

There is a difference between alone and Lonely.

I may dance through this world to a solitary rhythm, but my heart still beats wild and free.