How not to be lonely.
Even when you are.
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Being adopted has provided a unique relationship with loneliness.
I learned from the moment of my birth that people do not stick around. They come, they go. Sometimes with explanation, often not. That left me with a lifelong question: will I abandon myself?
Religion provided a walking stick for awhile — cold and remote, but not lonely. With spirits, you can make them be whatever you want. Say whatever you wish. Kinda like people who are around, but not.
Eventually, I had to learn to walk on my own — because this life is me with me.
Just me, with me — despite who I may love, spend time, adore or loathe.
It’s one of the greatest gifts I’ve received from adoption. My mother set me free. I chose a family with whom I wouldn’t emotionally connect — so I could be free.
That’s why I chose a restrictive religion that saw women as 2nd class citizens (false), humanity as evil and sinful (false), a world of destruction and ruin (false), plus no room for a gay like me (you can have the room — I have my world).
I chose this particular movie - so I could be free.
I’ve always been free. I just have to remind myself when memories crowd. Does that take away loneliness? No - but when I remind myself that I will always have my back/front/sides/energy and always am protected by _________ — life becomes more of an adventure, not a slogfest. Loyalty, not chase.
Now, easier said from this length of road — but I’d rather have days on the upswing because otherwise, I’d probably be on my next life by now.
I am lonely at times — but never alone. There are always past relationships swirling around my world. Only the good ones I call in!
I’ve moved around quite a bit to explore the notion of freedom and stability — which means excitement of a new place but generating new friendships can be a challenge. Yet I’m also a writer and aloneness birthed my latest book, I Was Once A Person. I’m quite certain that if I pursued friendships rather than receive I Was Once A Person and main character Xandra — this amazing story would have remained in the ethers. It’s the best book I’ve ever written! More on I Was Once A Person in a later post . . .
The gift of aloneness for an observer / artist like me is precious. Silence and space — exquisite. Nature and her comforts — necessity. Loneliness births a huge desire for friendship and community in my next home — and that will arrive because I envision it now.
There are periods in life where friendships flow in — and times when I am more alone than not. The ebb and flow of relationships — and yet always me, with me. Developing a kind, happy relationship with myself is paramount to a level contentment. Sure, I’m still a human dealing with the emotions of this Earth experience — but once I really set forth to love myself (and this is a somewhat recent development), that provides a new level of freedom. That, and saying, Okay, I’m sending out the Raven signal. Connect to soul friends.
Thank you for that, loneliness.
There are quite a few soul friends who energetically brush against my shoulders from time to time, including a local store clerk. I rarely see this woman (namely because I avoid in-person shopping if possible) but I call her a light. Not The Light, though I suppose she, like all of us, is. Every time I see her, my spirit grows happier. There is a deep resonance whenever I hear her voice, which always wishes someone a great day, stay safe — just sweet as pie. This isn’t an attraction, religious or sexual vibe — but a strong sense of connection. If you’re intuitive/sensitive, you know exactly what I mean. A draw. I’m friendly to most everyone — and downright charming if I choose — but generally do my thing and leave. Today, she chatted with me in the self-check and I thought again as from the start, What a light.
So of course when I got home, I pulled out my trusty pendulum. Asked a few questions. No surprise. We were lovers in the 1200s — she (woman), me (man) and we moved on from that relationship for whatever reason. I didn’t dig too deep — just affirmed what I already knew: the connection was still there.
Well, who says you never get a do-over? Now it’s her assisting me when the cauliflower doesn’t appropriately scan — with sweet hellos and innocuous 10 second chats.
Ah, there you are again, friend. You’re still here.
Signal received. Alone — but not.