“We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.”
Well, Orson, I do not agree with you, at least not entirely.
Having given birth several times, I can say that my babies were not born alone, they were a part of my body, and then they were welcomed as individuals into my arms and my soul. That love, that connection, is not an illusion. It is real conceptually, it is real organically. “Science” could probably affirm that organic connection, if it chose to, but it does not.
All living entities share this beautiful blue orb, that travels through the vast blackness of space and time. We are all part of this system, every last organism. I belong. You belong. We all belong. This is an observation, humans do not decide who belongs and who does not. Some really bad ass humans try to dominate the planet, but as we have seen, they are blips, mere blips, they come and they go. Between blips the rest of planet earth carries on as usual, evolving, changing.
When I sit on the forest floor, “alone”, and close my eyes, listen, feel, open myself to my own body and its presence in the environment, I am not alone. It is my choice as to whether I allow myself to feel my simultaneous significance/insignificance in the universe. My place in this planetary system is not defined by humans, but it may be a function of the reality of the planet.
When I lived in downtown Toronto I experienced the same connectedness. Sitting in a busy cafe, people everywhere, none familiar, noise, bustle, surrounded but “alone”. I could close my eyes and open myself to my own body and its presence in the environment, and that knowing of belonging would seep into my being.
So, Orson, even though those few bad ass people would move mountains to have us perceive ourselves as alone, we do not have to believe it.
And I, for one, do not.
Date: 9:12 AM EST Monday 11 November 2013
Condition: Light Snow
Pressure: 101.4 kPa
Visibility: 4 km
Wind: S 18 km/h
“One single grateful thought raised to heaven is the most perfect prayer.”
G. E. Lessing (1729 – 1781)