I rather think it depends on where one is in the arc of life and on how much choice is involved in the matter (among other factors). Children absolutely need adults and like having other children around them. It's how they feel secure and how they learn, including how to socialise. I didn't experience much of the latter (other children to play with) as a youngster in a mission house on the edge of an African village, which possibly accounts for my somewhat reserved manner and the fact that I am perfectly happy with my own company for long periods of time, having got used to it from an early age.
That said, I've actually been in long-term relationships (co-habitations or marriages) for the majority of my adult life and I've only actually lived on my own, here in the house on the strand, for the last six years of that span. Being intimately close with someone all the time has its delights and of course its drawbacks. Living on my own has certainly proved less stressful than the emotional rollercoaster of the previous ten years with a high-maintenance spouse. I don't know that I will always live on my own from now; but whatever transpires, I think I shall always want recourse to a certain amount of personal space/solitude as a matter of choice - it's the healthy option.
For the very old, those whose life partner and perhaps the majority of their friends have passed away, isolation and its concomitant sense of loneliness or desertion is a serious challenge to the very quality of life. I re-watched the sci-fi movie Contact the other night, Carl Sagan's story starring Jodie Foster as the single-minded astronomer searching for extra-terrestrial intelligence among the millions of galaxies, billions of stars and trillions of planets populating the omniverse. As I've commented before in blogs on the theme of 'Are we alone?' either intelligent civilisations are ten a penny out there or we're unique - and someone in the movie remarks at one point to the effect: "Supposing all we have is each other."
Indeed. Maybe that should be our guiding principle unless/until proved otherwise and the acid test of our success or failure as a 'caring' society.
And so finally to this week's piece of politically pointed poetic allegory, fresh from the imaginarium and prefaced by an epigraph from Rumi's Spiritual Verses. Once again, I'm not sure if this is its final form but it will have to serve for now:
I am his servant who at every hostel
does not claim he's enlightened at the table.
And many's the hostel must be left behind
so that one day the man will reach his home.
Scintilla
The rates are cheap,
room service non existent
in this Hotel of Lost Souls
and so here we all are, ensconced
each in our own drear, dysfunctional lives
yet having this in common -
the poet, the priest, the alchemist and courtesan,
mechanic, logician, painter and musician,
nurse and teacher, the merchant and the sage -
our isolating, stultifying fear.
We hardly greet each other
if we pass upon the stairs,
guarded eyes cast down for worry
of giving anything away,
some spark of recognition,
a complicity which might betray us
to the dark informers in our midst
and leave us prey to undercover soldiers
and those rabid politicians who rage
against all better instincts.
It doesn't have to be this way.
We need to search inside,
re-find and nurture that bright spark
which fired us all upon our chosen path,
check out of this third rate
accommodation to an austere status quo
and boldly go together
where our moral compass leads,
lighting by example so others can follow
the route to a more fulfilling tomorrow.
Thanks for reading. Don't forget to register to vote! Until next time, S ;-) Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook
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