All I Know...

...is that you never know.

Revisiting Solitude

When I wrote about finding peace in being alone last summer, I thought I was writing from the heart. I thought I meant it. But looking back now, I realize that post was all talk. Okay, I am being a bit hard on myself. I was doing good things for myself, but at the same time, I was consciously and subconsciously relying on the knowledge and comfort that I was not alone.

Of course that wasn't my fault, and maybe I did recognize the fact that I was not being completely self-reliant and my peace did not have to do with my independence. But now that I am, in some ways, more alone, I realize that the process of coming to terms with being alone and being happy about it is just beginning.

Every major experience I have had in my life shouts: "Don't depend on anyone other than yourself for your happiness!" But it's just so damn hard when the happiness you've felt because of another surpasses anything you've ever experienced. It looks like I have a lot to learn ahead of me, but I can proudly say that the beginning to learning every lesson is acknowledging the fact that it exists and must be learned.

So that is where I am now. I am on the way to learning the truth of happiness. Learning to cultivate it within myself, to not be dependent on anyone or anything other than my very own existence. I am learning to be more compassionate towards myself, to give myself more time, to stop setting arbitrary deadlines for myself. I read the following anonymous quote somewhere and it is helping me to be patient and kind with myself on days like today. I hope that, if you are going through something difficult and trying, and beating yourself up about not getting over it, you can read this, take it in, and give yourself a break:

"The process of healing is not a smooth transgression. It's more like a lightening bolt, full of ups and downs, progressions and regressions, dramatic leaps and depressing backslides. Realize this and know that whether you are "better" or "worse" than yesterday-or five minutes ago-the healing process is underway."

Walk home

Two beautiful and curious things I saw on my walk back from campus to my apartment:

1.

It is wet out, and the flattened leaves are pressed to the sidewalks by feet, bike tires, and more rain. When they are forced away from the ground, disturbed either by feet again or a gust of wind, they leave behind a dark grey imprint. They seem to be holding on, in such a human-like manner, to their previous mode of existence. They seek to leave something behind of themselves before they imminently deteriorate. But leaves cannot write a book, nor sculpt out of matter, so they try to hold on in the only manner they know. I always thought that only human beings felt a constant hunger for the past, but today I saw a hungry leaf.

2.

The leaves accumulate in piles on the interest house block, whether by the wind or grounds maintenance (or both), I don't know. The piles stretch from the curb to nearly the houses themselves, creating fat horizontal golden stripes, if one was observing this phenomenon from a bird's point of view. I was walking, approaching these piles, noting how vibrant the yellows, so bright they seemed painted with dyes and chemicals, and a funny thing happened when I found myself in the middle of the piles. The colors, already devilishly burning, flared up into a golden sea of light, and I was beside myself, and it was so beautiful I actually felt choked up. The individual leaves were no longer distinguishable; instead, they melted together into a mound of energy, in the middle of which I stood.

This is Corny

Tonight I am feeling grateful. From many perspectives, I have an enviable life. I certainly do not feel enough gratitude for my life, and so I decided to capture the fleeting hour of intense satisfaction and well, gratitude, and express myself in words.

Tonight I find myself feeling grateful for a number of things. Things in my power and things outside of it. Yes, this is one of those posts I could comfortably have written in a personal journal instead of posting on the internets for all y'all but maybe this will inspire you (I told you this was corny) to contemplate reasons to be grateful in your life. Because you should.

True gratitude feels damn good. Not like being in love good, which is also obviously quite good, but more like a steady, warm radiating good. A comforting good that permeates through your being and lends you confidence and some iota of understanding as to what your little insignificant (yet infinitely confounding) life means. So I got this warm fuzzy feeling while walking back from the Whitman sauna tonight. I don't doubt the possibility that this warmth inside my head and body was partially due to the extreme temperatures of the cedary vault. But the rest, I know, was the real thing.

First off, I felt cleansed. Sweating from parts of my body I thought impossible, I walked the four or so blocks from the athletic center to my apartment. It was a relatively warm night considering the coolness of the past days. It was the kind of weather where you feel that you aren't sure where your body ends and the atmosphere begins, the same way when you are immersed in a body of water whose temperature matches that of your body. I looked up and what?!--I could see the stars! Just as disappointment and frustration grows on itself, so did my feelings of gratitude. I started thinking about how fucking lucky I was in almost every single respect of my life and that got me smiling like a goon. If you know me, you know I love lists, and so you will understand my compelling need to fit them in wherever I may.

Between exiting the sauna and climbing the stairs to my third-floor apartment, I thought about

1. The people who I love and who love me in return

2. The people who I love but they don't know it, but love is love and good vibes are good vibes

3. The adorable wonders at the Kids' Place with whom I am blessed (I really dislike that expression but failed to think of another) to spend 5 hours every Wednesday morning

4. "Shake Some Action" as made popular to me by the very handsome Flash Gilmore and the Funbeatles (http://www.myspace.com/funbeatles)

5. how easy it is for me to make tea whenever I want it

6. Cats, duh

Make your own lists dear (imaginary?) readers and share them with others. Cause why the hell not capture and extend a good mood?

On Solitude

I've been thinking a lot about solitude and so, recently came across this article (http://chronicle.com/article/The-End-of-Solitude/3708). Why are we so terrified of being alone?

I definitely cannot say that I am untouched by the occasional feeling of loneliness, but I am honestly working on it each day. After my mom died, some deep-rooted belief of mine was shattered--a belief that everyone who is in your life will continue to be in your life until the end of time. This idea may sound ludicrous, but until you lose someone, to understand seems ludicrous as well.

Because of the experience of losing someone close to me, I began to practice enjoying solitude every day. A common misconception is that solitude equals loneliness. This is not so; solitude is the act of being alone, while loneliness is what occurs when one grieves that solitude, as Deresiewicz stated in his article. Therefore, being alone does not imply that one is lonely, but only without the company of others.

This summer is probably the most solitary one I have ever spent, but it has also been one of the least lonely. When I first arrived in Walla Walla for the summer, I was worried. I was certainly not working 40-hour weeks, which my contract stated I would be (there are only so many hours of French film one can consume per day before crying "uncle!"). There were fewer people around than I had expected. The gym, climbing gym, and student center were open for very limited hours of the day. This meant I had a lot of time left on my hands to fill up each day.

Like I said, I was skeptical. I would feel great till about 6 pm, powering through my research, working out, eating lunch, and napping. Then the evening hours hit and with them the realization that I had no one with whom to share them. It was a sad realization, and resulted in a mild dose of depression and self-pity, until I remembered what I had been practicing every day.

I started making a list of things I wanted to learn to cook and/or bake. Fuck the fact that I was living alone and could only consume one quarter of what every recipe yielded, I would make it anyway. Instead of simply eating my meals, I began thoughtfully creating them. I went out and bought a harmonica at the local toy store and messed around on it for twenty minutes every night. I went out alone to the local art walk. I spent hours alone at various (ok--all three in Walla Walla) coffeeshops poring over the NYTimes crosswords (I owned Monday-Wednesday, but during the second half of the week would have to find something else to do). I chatted up baristas, strangers, and latte neighbors. I went on evening walks by myself through the residential neighborhood behind my apartment building, quietly listening to the dinner clatter of families inside their homes. I wrote.

And you know what? I survived. I head home in two days. Not that any one place is necessarily less "solitary" than another, but at home I have my family, friends, and city. But I remind myself that everything--even the family, friends, and city--is ephemeral. Beyoncé had the right idea in "Me, Myself, and I":

"Me, myself and I

That's all I got in the end

That's what I found out

And it ain't no need to cry

I took a vow that from now on

Ima be my own best friend."

This post is not intended to renounce family, friendship, or love. Quite the contrary. But I do think we need to stop texting everyone in town when we are at lunch with a friend, just to make sure we won't be alone after lunch is over. Go do stuff on your own for once. You'll be okay.