The truth of aloneness struck me deeply this past week. I was in the shower one evening, I'm not sure from where this recognition came. Don't misunderstand me, it's not the first time I've come to realize that each of us ultimately lives and dies alone. But under the steady flow of water this past week, I felt my aloneness. Not nearly as morose as it might sound, I felt as though a light went on, as though I finally experienced the life-altering effects of this existential truth. A surprising aspect of my getting it on a cellular level is that I initially felt no sadness, no happiness, no fear - just "oh." Understanding.
A little embarrassing to admit how much energy I've put into either 
altering this reality by surrounding myself with people (including searching for mates) or numbing myself to this recognition through suppressing any need for connection. Both these choices do a tipsy-turvy trip on a see-saw, missing the poignant balancing point somewhere in the movement of the middle. Alone just is. Not nihilistic. Not to be fixed. Not even to be rectified by a search for meaning or God. Alone just is. And there's a complex experience in alone that cannot be captured readily with words, more the playground of poetry. Alone fosters freedom and devastation. Alone hosts cruelty and humour. Ultimately alone simply wants to be acknowledged and invited for a cup of tea or a glass of wine.
altering this reality by surrounding myself with people (including searching for mates) or numbing myself to this recognition through suppressing any need for connection. Both these choices do a tipsy-turvy trip on a see-saw, missing the poignant balancing point somewhere in the movement of the middle. Alone just is. Not nihilistic. Not to be fixed. Not even to be rectified by a search for meaning or God. Alone just is. And there's a complex experience in alone that cannot be captured readily with words, more the playground of poetry. Alone fosters freedom and devastation. Alone hosts cruelty and humour. Ultimately alone simply wants to be acknowledged and invited for a cup of tea or a glass of wine. Realizing I can anthropomorphize anything, including the shadow cast on my duvet in the afternoon light, it is not my intention to personify alone as the stinky and socially awkward kid who used to stare at you in school. Nor is it my wish to proselytize about the importance of summoning courage and facing one's essential aloneness. For me, the rapture as well as the profound pain I've experienced in finally relinquishing my fear of alone has ultimately brought me to a new place. For some reason, Dante's Divine Comedy springs to mind. In particular the famous line of the poem: "All hope abandon ye who enter here." What is there to lose?
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