Break the Illusion Blog by Davey Wavey

My mom and dad have expressed a great deal of concern that I’ll be alone. It started when I told them I was gay; they were concerned that I’d never have a family. Through the years, this concern has reared its well-intentioned but ugly head in other ways. Now they are worried that I’ll be all alone in Canada this summer.

So, what does it really mean to be alone – and how is true solitude even possible? It’s not. You can never be alone. Even now, as I write this blog, my room is filled with plants, birds are flying across the sky, trees grow outside my apartment, people scurry around on the street below. Mites and bugs and all sorts of creatures are probably in more places than I’d like to consider. And that’s only the living things.

Though I am the only person sitting in this room, I couldn’t believe that I’m alone. In fact, if anything, this room is bursting with creation. This room is crowded.

Yet, I am alone. How? Well, in the end, the same life force that runs through my plants runs through my body. The same energy that runs through the streets and the ground below is in me. Separation, scientifically and spiritually, is an illusion. We know that there is no “you” and “me” – there is only an “I” that includes all. Think of the tree, the grass – even the hills and mountains – as you. So, it is in this way that we are all alone, always.

This is the paradox of being alone: it’s impossible and yet unescapable.

The paradox aside, I think it is only healthy to appreciate solititude. Spending time with yourself should be enjoyable and cherished. The quiet and solititude of an afternoon to myself is something to which I always look forward. It’s why I feel that I’ll inevitably end up deep in the woods of Maine, living out my years in a cabin nestled near some long since forgotten lake in complete and utter bliss. Anyway.