I’m writing this don’t so I don’t forget. For Christmas, Hermes gave me a book of poetry with one poem marked for me to read. Then, a bit later, we were chatting about us and he told me that, when he first saw me when we rendezvous’d in the bookstore for our first date, time just stopped for a moment.
As most of you know, I intend to spend the next month and then some immersed in the subject of loneliness and longing and come out on the other side with a Master’s thesis on the subject, followed shortly thereafter by a degree in depth psychology (the psychology of the unconscious). I’ve done a lot of reading the subject. I’ve read the religious perspectives, the psychological perspective, the mythological perspective, the physiological perspective, and the poetic perspective. And now I’m going to put it all into a vessel and place it over a fire and let it cook. But y’all could help me get the spark going to light the stove.
If you would be willing to share it, I’d love to hear in your words what the qualitative experience of loneliness has been for you? In moments of loneliness, what’s your first thought about what it is that you need? No judging it. Make it long or short. Messy or well-constructed. It could be a litany of adjectives, a story (fact or fiction), a comparison of the meanings of loneliness and solitude, a review of the role of longing in your life, or just stream of consciousness writing. Anonymous posts are welcome.
Thesis. Day 1.
So, here it is. I’m ready. I think. I better be. It feels like I have a row of carrots all lined up, dangling in front of me, trying to get me to finish my thesis. And the irony and perfect symmetry and timing of my situation has not escaped my notice. Here I am, finally putting into print my big letter of heartache to the world that I’ve been trying to compose for almost 37 years. Me, whose loneliness often seemed so complete that I just eventually came to assume that it was who I was, it was a natural part of my destiny–I’ve evened ached for the option to just join a monastery or something like it so that I could get inevitability over with. And now I’ve just met someone that I so far feel so evenly matched and complimented by, emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually, that I have to wonder if I’m standing here holding an empty bag of amusing ideas.
Jeeez, I really hesitate to put that last sentence out there. Shit. I don’t want to tempt fate to prove me hopelessly, embarrassingly delusion. But, then again, I am nothing if–and this thesis will be a waste of words if–I am not willing to make myself vulnerable and make my humanity accessible. Starting right now. So, let me take off the hat I walked in with, the one that is tall and square and hides in it a full toolbox of authoritative, condescending explicatives. Let me hang it on the hook by the door. Instead, if I don anything on my bare head for the next 4 weeks, let it be a scarf that I can use in moments of soft, undefended humility and reverance.
Let me have hopes, however fanstastic. Let me undress myself of structure, objectivity, and sound predictions, and instead roll naked through poetry. And, here’s the hardest one of all … let me expect your patience, generous leeway, and forgiveness.