One is the loneliest number?

I’ve been contemplating loneliness lately.

I’m surrounded by people that love me, and yet, I still experience loneliness. In fact, as I invite more love and greater connection into my life, I find the loneliness ebbs and flows in even bigger waves in equal and opposite directions to that great love and great connection. 

What would cavewoman do? I think loneliness was a survival instinct for her. Our ancestors needed people to survive. Loneliness was maybe an instinct to keep us connected to others, keep us together, so that we could accomplish the tasks we needed to in order to survive. Or maybe it’s something that developed once we moved away from our ancestral mama’s ways. I’m really not sure…

I’m sure we’ve all experienced loneliness in some shape or form. We have a weekend with loved ones, and we experience joy, fun, good times, and at the end of the weekend, we must go back to reality. The absence of those loved ones feels unbearable at times. Like a limb has been removed. “But I want that third arm, two isn’t enough!” 

I feel that same pang as I drop B off on the first day of school, loss, loneliness, the realization that she is separate from me, no matter the fact that she came from within me. I remember that same pang when my parents drove me to college, and as I turned to walk into my apartment, I heard them fire up the truck to make the long drive back to Canada, and the ache in my chest was awful. Tears began to stream down my face, and I opened my mouth to try and breathe out the unbearable emotion of… “I’m alone.” 

It’s easy to take in the love, the connection, the wave of wondrous beauty that is belonging. We sit on the shore and we bask in that wave of welcome joy. But as we enjoy the crash of the wave of love on the shores, we must prepare ourselves for the equal and opposite reaction of that same wave sucking out to sea. 

And as that wave is pulled back to the ocean, we feel that love and joy pulled away from us. And loneliness takes it’s place. The larger the wave that hits us on shore, the greater the absence as that water recedes and retreats back to the greater source. 

Why can’t it just stay? Why can’t we stay in that perpetual high? 

I don’t know. 

I think because we aren’t supposed to be on the shore. And that’s the vantage point we often view these experiences with the ebb and flow. 

So what vantage point should we seek? I would argue that we seek to be the moon. The observer of it all. The omniscient being in the middle. If we seek to be the moon, we can understand the tides better. We can look at the waves and see that the tide ebbs and flows due to our gravitational pull on it. This allows us to move from the shore where we experience the force of abundant love as the wave almost knocks us over, and then the depleted scarcity of loneliness as each wave “hits us and quits us.”

If we are the moon, we observe this ebb and flow. We understand with a high, a corresponding low must occur. We understand that the ebb and flow are the same thing, it’s just our vantage point that is the problem. We can not experience the loneliness if we understand that we are actually in the middle of the wave. Neither being welcomed by it, nor being deserted by it, because we are the very force that pulls on all that water. 

LOVE cannot leave us. ABUNDANCE cannot leave us. Because it is always WITHIN us. But if we stay on the shore, it will feel like love is always retreating and returning to the vast sea beyond our reach.

BE the MOON.

 

What are your thoughts? Was loneliness an instinct for cavewoman? Or did it develop after agriculture and community living diminished? And how do you endeavor to be the moon, the observer, to all that you feel?