On Being Alone

Ironically, my best friend and closest confidante taught me how to be alone and how to enjoy the quiet, how to lean into my own company and feel like it was somewhere special. I don’t know where I’d be right now without having cultivated this practice before he left me to it. 

David taught me how to rejuvenate with silence. Not by the words he spoke, but by his example. We often talk about how he could get muddled in his thoughts and stewing about something or just pressured by the many directions life can take you all at once. When he was younger the pressure would have to build until almost breaking point, and then he would go to the forest, or in recent years the desert or the edge of the sea and be silent with his thoughts. He would return visibly altered. Everything would be okay. No, nothing had changed about the circumstances but he wasn’t worried and he was grateful for all life was bringing him. As he aged he was able to recognized this need sooner and it no longer took “to the breaking point” for him to arrange some time for breathing space for himself. 

So I learned this lesson from watching his example but I also learned it because as he would take care of himself and his own soul, he would leave me alone.

Alone, was never something I craved. Together was what sorted me out. I process things verbally and did so easily with him and his non judgmental listening ear. Early in our marriage I didn’t understand his need to be alone. I can’t even remember if introvert and extrovert were commonly used words yet. I remember the temptation to be offended but each time I saw him come back from The Great Breathing Space I understood that this had nothing to do with me and everything to do with some kind of divine alignment. 

When we moved to Qatar, I went from having a really busy, people oriented, maybe people saturated life, to absolute solitude all day long. While Dave and Honour went off to school during the day I was home alone.

I completely embraced the silence. No music. No T.V. Nothing. I drank it and savoured it like someone who’d never tasted it before. This began a whole internal shift for me. I’m not sure if there’s such a thing as changing from an extrovert to an introvert, nor do I think the labels are that helpful but that period of time began a major change in me.

I joined Dave in his love of silence.

Not that long ago we were walking the dogs in the desert around sunset, as was our routine. They skipped along ahead, darting in and out of the tall grasses, running back to us every now and then to make sure they still knew where we were. We were home base. Safety. Their guideposts along the way and their ride home. 

Sometimes we walked in silence, lost in our own thoughts. On this day I was talking about something that was on my mind, a podcast I’d heard, the book I was reading, something I’d read about nutrition or….something. The what not being important now, the what is always secondary. The energy between us, the holy trinity of him, me and ideas or of him, me and love and respect, this was the magic. 

“Am I babbling? Do you need some peace and quiet?”

“You never interrupt my peace. Talk away.”

Today I sit in silence in the early grey December morning and vow to not lose that magic. I will listen in the silence for the easy cadence of his voice. I will feel the magic that was beyond the words. I don’t know if his spirit or energy is still here, but the effects of it are and maybe that’s the same thing. 

He was my home base.

My safety.

My guidepost and my ride home. 

He still is.