Lonely but Not Alone

Lately, I’ve been pondering loneliness.

It’s not that I’m alone. I have Tiffany and Maranatha and the cat. I have friends nearby to hang out with and friends far away to call, and I even started skyping with my parents.

I’ve always had a strong spirit and sense of independence. And now, I really am independent. Financially and in other ways.

And it’s lonely. I’m not sure I can explain how it’s any more lonely than before, but it is. I feel it.

I think it’s farther from heaven. Independence.

But then, I’m drawn to God in a new, intense way. In a desperate way, really.
This can’t be all bad.

No, it’s a lot of good. Sometimes bitter. Sometimes sweet. Sometimes full. Sometimes empty. Sometimes warm. Sometimes lonely.

Back to lonely.

One day a few weeks ago, Maranatha and I met up with Brad Schleenbaker at the Patio Pantry for lunch. It was entirely unplanned, but great as usual.
We talked about a number of things…
And then, Brad surprised me.

We were talking about…
Engagement rings
Diamonds or pearls
The Pearl by John Steinbeck
Literary analysis that I read about The Pearl

Then, Brad made this unexpected and brilliantly interesting comment.

“Literary analysis is so cool!” raved Brad. “Have you read any literary analysis on e.e. cummings? Like what about a leaf falls on loneliness?”

A leaf falls falls on a what?

There was only one thing to do: Google it.
Get ready… Here’s e.e. cummings.


l(a

le
af
fa
ll

s)
one
l

iness


That right there is a poem, ladies and gentlemen.
It’s perfect. The letter “l” looks exactly like the number 1, the loneliest number. What’s lonelier than a single, dying, falling leaf? What’s more exclusive than stuff in parentheses? Then the word “loneliness” is separated into its loneliest parts. l…one…l…iness.

That’s it. EXACTLY!

I studied literature in college, but I forgot about e.e. cummings.
So glad my medical student friend reminded me of what is good.

What is good? What is lonely?

Me? Maybe.
____________________________________________

I pulled up my iGoogle page the other day to check the headlines and read Thomas Friedman’s latest column. On the “News” tab, I have a box that displays different quotes each day. On this one day, I found these words inside that little cyberbox:

“Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.” - John le Carre

In a more real way than ever I see emotional pain and loneliness around me. I see it in what I read, in the images that shoot into my eyes, in the people with their isolated routines and business faces. I don’t see many people laugh. The sun is always shining, but happiness seems undercover.

I know. I should just chill out. But I feel this atmosphere of carelessness or we-couldn’t-care-less-ness. You just do your thing and check each other out while you pass by only stopping if you think who knows what?

Lonely.

Are you? Maybe.
___________________________________________

Tiffany and I went to Costco where Tiffany bought Meet Joe Black which she watched three times in one week.
I watched it one of those times. There are worse things than watching Brad Pitt play Death.

In one scene, a dying, black woman from the islands recognizes Joe Black (Brad Pitt) for who he is: the Grim Reaper.

“Is it my time yet? Please take me,” she entreats him from her hospital wheelchair.
“No, sister. It’s not time yet,” he replies.

Later, Joe finds the woman in her hospital room silently enduring waves of pain despite the medication dripping through her IV.

“You in love,” she accuses him knowingly. He clutches the bouquet of flowers he had brought for his lover, a beautiful medical resident.

“Don’t you be fooled,” chided the old woman. “We is mostly lonely here, too.”

Are we? Maybe.
____________________________________________

Maranatha and I went to Disneyland after work one night two weeks ago. We rode the Indiana Jones ride twice and looked into the Forbidden Eye…twice. We ran around the park, walked through downtown Disney, and talked about relationships and the lack thereof.

“There’s a worse kind of loneliness than being single,” Maranatha said after a teenage couple walked past us arm-in-arm.

I think I must have nodded.

“The kind of loneliness you feel when you’re in a relationship and still no one knows you.”
__________________________________________

I’m convinced that very rarely will we be completely alone on this earth. But somehow we can be lonely almost all the time.

I’m convinced that heaven must be a lot like Southern Village in 2008 and 2009.

Community is hard to come by. Commitment is hard to make and even harder to find. But it’s the only way home to that place where loneliness doesn’t mean anything anymore.

I’m looking forward to that place and that time when we can’t remember what loneliness ever was.