On Being Alone

Alone.

This feeling rings deep from childhood. I was the youngest of three always wanting to play, to engage and to get everyone into a game. A board game, a neighborhood excursion, a walk through the woods. It didn’t matter as long as I wasn’t alone.

But then there were those times alone in my room upon waking, when no one was of access to me, in the deep aching boredom of summer days.

Alone.

My mother said I was never good at being alone. Always having a best friend, a sibling. Pulling for ‘attention’ was her way to explain it.

I always thought that I was simply excited, and full of ideas that I wanted to share. I only needed to find the next best person to pull into my reality.

What I couldn’t see, was that MY alone was a rich treasure chest full onto itself. The one I was longing to play with who would really get me, and think my ideas were off the charts cool was ME!

Now I see. THIS was the seed.

Planting a seed of knowing myself. Even if it was a tiny dot of recognition that this was ME inside. My soul, was longing to see herself. To radiate my excitement, my joy from the inside out. To myself.

In adult life I spent my 20s and 30s running the same patterns. I would find and feel inspired by color, by experiences, by a new psychological concept, by a piece of music, by the trees waving to me…and I wanted to show my friends, my lovers and my family IMMEDIATELY.

I would ‘recruit’ people to my interests and inspire them with my desires. This flame would ignite in them; and I found joy in watching them discover the magic that I saw and experienced.

But there was a gap.

They never quite saw or felt what I did. I watched them writhe around in their barriers to joy. What I couldn’t see was that I was born with more self-permission to feel joy than most. Minus one key aspect. In my moments of inspiration, of joy, of ecstasy, I tried to GIVE IT AWAY by wanting another person to experience what I was experiencing rather than just HAVING it. I didn’t allow myself to experience without a witness.

Like a tree falling in a forest. Or a tree waving at me. Just me. Me and God. Me and presence with myself. And so I went from one person to another with the idea of spreading joy. But how could I spread it without fully embodying it? Like a peanut butter sandwich not covered to the edges. It falls short. The sigh and gap that I felt when others didn’t FEEL it enough, was a reflection of my own inability to completely OWN the joy and ecstasy I was feeling.

Alone.

Alone. Now I crave it. I ache to walk to the top of a peak just to breath it in, to feel the sun shine down on my face and the waves below. The gentle breeze, and the imagery of my own psyche playing movies before my eyes. I am flooded with creative ideas, desires and worlds. Now. I just feel it. Completely.

Drop into the complete sensation of this bliss and ride it like an Arabian horse with no stable. She finds her own gallop and knows the edges of her gate. She is only wild to the observer. She knows her peak, and when to slow the steps back. Down. To stillness.

Alone now. In my room. Still in practice with my 8 year old self. I look into the mirror and say hi. Looking into my eyes now, with the wisdom of experience. I don’t want to miss anything about how she’s feeling, what she wants and needs.

She wants ME first and foremost to see her, to validate her feelings, her visions, her creative excitements. And she’s still learning to get inspired and to hold it for a little while, even if for a few hours, just for HERSELF.

Because the moment we release an idea, or an excitement or a desire out there, for someone else to know, it loses something. Orange juice concentrate with a little water. It still tastes good, but not quite the same potency.

Still learning at 41 how to capture and relish this wonderland all for myself. I am curious what is in your mirror?

Being alone. The activities are as limitless as with another. We can dance, play mind games, meditate, make up songs, go out for dinner, laugh out loud, wake up and explain nothing but to the walls or trees around us.

There is a healer named Mariah Fenton Gladis (Tales of the Wounded Healer) who uses the mirror practice in her Gestalt Therapy approach.

The most remarkable phrase of her work is this concept: ‘Arrive Already Loved.’ I have this posted in the love corner of my room, and support clients to do the same. We cannot be loved in the places we have not loved ourselves. It’s quite simple and yet we keep trying to fill this love with others, no matter how much we hear about loving ourselves first. It’s a lifelong practice.

My mother always says, ‘We are born alone and we die alone.’ And I would add…and along the way we attract reflections in others of all the ways we haven’t been in love with that concept. In our maturing, in our loves lost we can find those spaces. Those caverns of unmet needs and seemingly unlovable parts.

Here’s a video on being alone. I love it. She is gorgeous in her aloneness and sharing it so creatively:

And my biggest source of self-love inspiration is my dearest friend and author Susan Kennedy SARK  (she wrote 17 best selling books on creativity, love and manifesting).

I love me. I love you. Let’s get started. All over again..