Alone Isn't All It's Cracked Up to Be (edited and reposted)

I started reading a new book about a week ago called A Party of One by Anneli Rufus; I got it from my newly discovered bookstore, Paperbacks Unlimited. The title of the book is what caught my eye and after a few minutes of scanning I determined that it would make for a great read. Thus far it has . . . and it hasn't.

It's not that I don't enjoy the book, because I do, but I'm learning that I'm not the lone-wolf I thought I was. Actually, what I've discovered is that I'm not so much a lone wolf as I am someone lacking in a few social skills. **too funny** And I find that I'm not so anxious to join the "lone wolf" club.

There have been times, when I have waved my banner of solitude and "alone-ness" high and quite often in the collective faces of family and friends. I have pushed aside requests or invitations to join in or celebrate with them under the guise of that aforementioned banner. I emphatically believed that my "personal space" could not be sacrificed and I would not abide any attempts to disturb or interfere with my "alone-ness."

I'm on page 79 and I have 194 pages left. What I have learned thus far about being a loner is that -- I am no true loner. I do not have the caliber of alone-ness that is characteristic of Emily Dickinson, "who stayed home for sixteen years and wrote two thousand poems of startling passion." Or the quantitative loner genius of Albert Einstein, who wrote "although I am a typical loner in daily life, my consciousness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice keeps me from feeling isolated." Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Sir Isaac Newton, Rene Descartes are but a handful "for whom two was a crowd." They produced astounding works of art, brilliant mathematical calculations and literary greatness in their alone-ness.

I surmise that the author, Anneli Rufus, writes in regards for those whom would retreat from the world at large if they could, but who do not, because they cannot all become absolute hermits and recluses. Even a true loner must, out of sheer survival, interact with the world at large at some point. To be a true loner is to have the consciousness of wanting to escape merely because others are present. So, where does that put me? Am I chomping at the bit just waiting to get away from everyone?

Alas, I must reconcile myself to the fact that I am not the loner I thought myself to be. I do not (often) desire to remove myself from those that inhabit the world around me. I do not (often) walk among my fellow beings all the while searching for a means of escape. I do not (always) stand alone because I cannot bear to be in the midst of a crowd. Therefore, I am not a true loner.

Rufus writes of one John Fairfax, who set off alone to row across the Atlantic in 1969. Fairfax had lived an extravagant life, but felt his "struggle against humanity" was all too much to bear. While he did at times need to interact with others, he felt that "loneliness" was "not a specter to be feared, but more a cherished companion."

While I may certainly prefer the solitude of my own walls, and acknowledge that I can carry interesting and lively conversations with myself; I equally acknowledge that sometimes I find my own company boring and relish the need for human companionship. And as such, I am grateful for my family and friends . . . for they accept me with all my crazy quirks and eccentricities.

**originally posted on 2/20/09

Let me 'splain. (pause) No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

What is the total summation of a life? I spent most of the evening going through photos. Photos to organize, photos to email, photos to crop, photos that needed more color, photos that needed less color, photos that needed more clarity, old photos that needed to look new, new photos that needed to look old . . . stuff like that. And I came across these two photos. One is a compilation of photos of my aunt that passed away last December. The other photo is a collection of her favorite things: the Lakers and the Raiders.

A few days ago, I was at my cousin's house and she showed me a talk that my aunt had written to present to her Buddhist group. The talk detailed how she first learned about Buddhism, and the course her life was on prior to joining, and the course her life took once she had joined. After giving in to a friend's invitation she finally decided to attend a meeting. That was in June of 1983. She went to the meeting thinking, "What the hell -- if it doesn't change a thing, then oh well!" But that night was a start. That night was the beginning of a philosophy of life that gave her meaning and a sense of purpose; it gave her a reason. For the first time in a long time, she felt peaceful and calm, and she knew that happiness was on it's way.

So, let me ask you again, what is the total summation of a life? When my youngest brother passed away in 2001, I was riddled with guilt because I knew that I was not the sister that I should have been to him. For all the struggles he had in his life, for the all the mistakes that he made, for all the trouble that he caused, his life's course brought him to a point where he was at peace with himself and the person he was becoming. And all the people that traveled so far to say farewell to him was a testament to the man he had become.

Again, I pose the question, what is the total summation of a life? When my father passed away in 2004, I thought my world could not possibly exist as it had before. He was the core of our family, if he was gone then what would become of us? My father, opened himself up to a different way of believing. He stepped outside his tenured beliefs and began to walk and live a new faith. He changed his life for us, for himself. I didn't think it was fair that he was no longer with us. And because of that, I have been upset with God for quite some time now. But I know that dad wouldn't want me to throw away all the things that I know out of spite. I learned more about myself from him than I realized. I learned more about life; more about my mother; more about what I should expect of myself, what he expects of me, and what he expects me to do about it.

Photographs, mementos, journals, and letters, are merely things left by those who come in and out of our lives. But it's the person, it's the life that person lived, the lessons that person taught, the foundations that person established, the love that person represents . . . what is the total summation of a life?

Eight Earthly Winds

Earthly Winds 1 & 2: Gain and Loss
Last year I moved to California from Utah. I spent the next eight months getting reacquainted with my aunt. I learned more about her in eight months than all the years I've been on this earth. I worked a job I didn't particularly like, just because I enjoyed the time she and I spent together.

Earthly Winds 3 & 4: Honor and Disgrace
She lived a hard and crazy life growing up. The stories I could tell you...but then someone would have to die, and the police would get involved, and it would get all messy and ugly. Better for you to just use your imagination...she lived a hard and crazy life. She has numerous nieces and nephews, grandnieces and grandnephews...and everyone of them would tell you that she was the bomb-diggity! She was the cool aunt! She was the aunt that would take you in when you were on the run, she'd threaten to beat your butt if she ever caught you smoking weed (as she carefully rolled her joints in front of you), she treated you like an adult when your parents still treated your like you were 10, she was always ready and willing to thrown down in a Jack-In-The-Box parking lot, and she wasn't afraid to say "don't make me get my gun out!" Nam-myoho-renge-kyo was her lifeline to peace and tranquility...and she needed a lot of it!

Earthly Winds 5 & 6: Praise and Blame
On the many long drives that she and I traveled on the way to work, our conversations often turned to her years growing up on the streets. I would have to compare her to Charles Dickens's character, the artful Dodger. She was innovative and clever, and could take care of herself. There were moments though...moments when I could hear the anger and frustration in her voice. It's the voice of that lost kid wanting to ask why her, why not someone else to shoulder the load; why not someone else to be responsible; why couldn't she just be the happy-go-lucky kid? But then, I'd see her take a deep breath and let it out...and the moment would pass. Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, is like the roar of a lion! That's how I'll always remember her.

Earthly Winds 7 & 8: Happiness and Pain
No matter how many times I have to walk into a hospital emergency room, the icky feeling that settles in my stomach always feels like it's the first time I'm experiencing it. Does that make sense? I don't think it's the waiting that gets me unraveled, it's the feeling of not being able to control the situation. It's the realization, that willing something to happen or not happen isn't enough; it's like striking out at the wind, and being spun around and around because there isn't anything solid to connect with. She was scared, I know she was. I know she was, because I know I was scared for her. She was scared and she never would have admitted it. I know she was scared, and I would have never admitted that I was scared for her. But I remember her love, her life, her strength, her courage, her kick-ass attitude, her laughter, her dreams. I remember her. I will remember her. I miss her.

There is a book store down the road from where I live; I've passed it every day for the past 2 months. I look for the sign, even though I already know what it says, and as I come up on it, I read it and it makes me smile. Yes, that's odd, weird even, but it does...so, there! Two months is a long time to deny myself the opportunity of perusing the endless possibilities of literature. I was hesitant to go inside because, well don't laugh, but I didn't want to be disappointed. I didn't want to find that it was a crappy store full of crappy books. That would have been so disheartening and....crappy.

Paperbacks Unlimited, which is the name of the store, is a literary treasure trove. They have a large selection of genres to choose from, which I can attest to because I walked the length and width of the store in the course of 3 hours. It didn't take 3 hours to walk through the store, it took me 3 hours of perusal within the store. I shop in bookstores like some people shop for clothes or shoes. We are all addicts of one thing or another. I publicly acknowledge that I love British literature best, but I would never presume to limit myself to any particular genre, because . . . well, I love books.

So, imagine my surprise when I found a book entitled "Danny Boy, The Lengend of the Beloved Irish Ballad." I've always had a fascination with the song "Danny Boy." I'm sure it has a lot to do with the fact that my brother's name is Danny, but ever since I was about 7 or 8 years old, and I heard Doris Day sing "Danny Boy" I was hooked. And now I have a book about the song.

3 interesting facts about the song "Danny Boy."
1.) The words were written by a British lawyer (Frederick Edward Weatherly) who wrote it on a train on his way to work in 1910.
2.) The tune for the song "Danny Boy" is based on an old Irish melody called Londonderry Air that is over 300 years old.
3.) The lyrics for "Danny Boy" had been filed away for 2 years until Weatherly was sent a melody and was asked to write lyrics to compliment the music. He dug the lyrics of "Danny Boy" out of his old files, and with only a few alterations, a new song was born.

The author, Malachy McCort, wrote that the song "has a profound effect on people from all corners of the world, a trait it shares with the truest of any work of art." As much as I love the song, "Danny Boy," I never once thought of it as a work of art. But, McCort is correct in stating that the song has the capability of reaching people everywhere, and after having read the book, I can see the artistic value of the song.

A melody was performed by a blind Irish fiddler and his tune is carried across the sea and mingled with the words of an English lawyer who creates "a song capable of describing, at least in part, the contents of the human heart." Any rendition of the song will cause a lump in my throat and bring tears to my eyes. The words are full of longing and sorrow, faith and hope, loss and reunions. It's all of those adjectives and more.

Aren't books wonderful?

"We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?"

Brilliance is not a word I would use to describe myself. But the question posed by Marianne Williamson in her book A Return to Love, struck a reflective cord. She followed up the question with another question: "Actually, who are you not to be?" It got me thinking. Brilliant. You can't see the slight smirk on my face that indicates doubt. Gorgeous. You also can't see the raised eyebrow indicative of doubt and skepticism. Talented. My thoughts are jumbled like a jigsaw puzzle. Fabulous. It can't be me.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
I'll be honest, feeling inadequate is one of my fears. But, having others recognize just how inadequate I am, that is my biggest fear. Maybe that's why I never go for the big dreams. But, what if feeling inadequate is not my deepest fear? What if, my deepest fear is being "powerful beyond measure?" Do you know what that reminds me of? "Where much is given, much is required." Man, I never really got that verse in terms of my daily life. Spiritually, I got what the reference meant, but I guess I blew it in the daily application. We are powerful beyond measure. If that statement is true, do you know what that means? I mean, do you really know what that means? If I am or you are "powerful beyond measure" than there is nothing that is out of reach. All things are possible. The magnitude of that phrase is sensical, but at the same time incomprehensible. It's like staring out into the Milky Way and not knowing where to place your focus. If I close my eyes, I can just barely make out the truth of that statement, but the full shape, body, substance is still blurry. I have a feeling, a sensation of what that statement means but it's going to take time to manifest itself to me.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
What would it take to claim that power to shatter the darkness and illuminate my world? What would it take to shake the fear, doubt and skepticism and stand bold and be courageous? What would it take to overcome what frightens me the most and accept being brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.

I know that I am a child of God. Granted, I am not the best or most behaved child of God, but I am His child. I've never thought of it as Sunday school rhetoric or scriptural platitudes. So, in understanding that I am a child of God, it should follow that He would expect all of his children to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous. There would be no question of the adjectives He would use to describe His sons and daughters. Wow. That's profound...and humbling.

Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

Gosh, that statement sounds like something Professor Chase would have said. Professor Chase would have followed that up with "now that you know it, do something about it."

We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone.

My sister has three children: Travis, Trysten and Trayse. They are our future. As the adults in their world, we try to teach them how to best live a good life so that when they are adults they will be good people. We try to teach them to walk a better path than we have. We teach them to learn to be leaders so that they will know whom they are following. We teach them to love and respect each other, so others will show the same to them and their siblings. We teach them to love God so that they will always know they are not alone in this world. I need to remember to do the same.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

My younger brother Joseph was known for his famous one-liners. His best friend Troy, who spoke at his funeral, reminded us of a few of them: "Come, let me give you a free hug." "Be good to yourself. Be good to somebody else." "For you the world. For now, a ride to work." Joseph's life reminds me that being brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous isn't as far-fetched as I thought.

(Thanks to Ipo for posting the poem on her blog. It was the catalyst that got me thinking.)

fyi...Siana, these are my photos and not stock photos. I expect you to be impressed with them ;)