Aloneness (Part one)
but not with the connotations you might land upon immediately.
On-route to school drop-off through the green and blue that is the rivers and mountains, a drive behaving not dissimilar to the method that finds me words in the shower, a new and becoming antidote for the language I often can’t find.
The route to school gifts me a half hour drive with my daughters and their colourful soundtrack and a return drive home of silence, with windows sharing a moving visual cinema, to views that are over and over anew, because they are unfathomably beautiful.
When 2pm arrives I get the silent cinema all over again until I’m met at pick up to a car full of back packs, half eaten sandwiches, the telling of stories and the end of day decompressions.
The drive these past few weeks has become somewhat a place to unfold, a place I have opened up and shared with some dear women in my world, inviting them into a personal curiosity, an inquiry—and they were so kind to accept.
Their “yes” to my invitation has made the half hour drive much like a little conversation room on wheels, a cinematic driving experience through the green and blue, with the beautiful audible sounds of their voices moving around the car.
To drive and listen to voice messages and engage in half hour phone calls with women I love and deeply respect on the toing-and-froing of school pick up, where value and importance is placed upon the outworking and shuffling of inner dialogue and space is made at the table of togetherness, to give it sound—
It’s this kind of love language and the gratitude I have for the rich kind of togetherness I belong to that has me moving into an inquiry like this, to look at it all in reverse and ask the greater questions—like how such a beautiful thing came to exist. What material is it made out of and how did it come to be?
Patterns have become of notable interest to me, I don’t know if its because I’m soon approaching what feels like an important landmark (turning 40) that reflection would become the boat that carries me to its monument—but these past few weeks I have been immersing in a long-standing curiosity with a certain kind of hyper focus, allowing language to shape the essence of my inner questions. Maybe it’s age that gives the gift of a story in reverse with a view long enough to give clue to patterns, rhythms and repetitions— but something spacious has been opening up in this conversation and to share my findings feels similar to sharing a favourite poem or song…
*1917 ‘Seven figures’ by Ferdinand Holder
Dear Reader,
I invite you to lean in for a little while—
unfold into this conversation, as we ask the softer questions—not to find absolutes, but to make way for curiosity. Let us lean into the abstract intricacies of our glorious conditions of what it means to be human.
Would you care to un-carve some connotations with me, to re-see a word and gift it some light?
I invite you into my inquiry on Aloneness—
be it a learning,
a remembering,
a prompt,
or
an internal hallelujah.
This piece on Aloneness has shaped together and moved into a three part inquiry.
You are reading, Part one: Aloneness: An invitation. In the week to follow you can expect Part two: Aloneness: Words from friends (a beautiful collection of thoughts and writings from the women in my world) and as a beautiful feast and finale’ Part three: Aloneness & a friendship cake that will lead us home.
Now suppose I was to ask, What happens to your body when you hear it, read it, speak it? “Aloneness”. What happens when you close your eyes and see it? ‘Aloneness’. What feelings does it bring up in you? ‘Aloneness’ Is it unkind? ‘Aloneness’. Inviting? ‘Aloneness’…
I suspect your findings might hold a little light to the beginnings of your own inner out-workings.
I understand and with deep empathy know and feel that this may hold complexities for some—and for others it might evoke a warming familiarity just as an embrace from a longstanding friend—
I am learning that most things are multi-dimensional, with layers and stories within stories (within stories), paradigms & different realities, silent battles and implications that could be split into multiples. Blankets are far too heavy to be thrown over such beautiful matters of things, so I want this three piece inquiry to be a songbook of offerings that sing gently into the places you might find yourself—in your ‘Aloneness’.
To give definition from the place I speak, I invite you to sit and apply the below annotation to the word ‘aloneness’ with the hope that this body of work would be received with the intention it was written—
a·lone′ness n.
(əˈləʊnnəs)
A state of being.
Our inner sense of place 2. Our internal landscape 3. The place where there is an outworking of our interior dialogue 4. A gentle friendship with oneself 5. The art of inwardness. 6. Tending to the companionship with self 7. ‘The secret place’ 8. A place to commune with Spirit 9. Inner belovedness 10. Our inner world.
We have been communing together on the topic ‘aloneness’ via the conversation thread for the past month. I have sincerely loved reading the uniqueness in all our experiences combined as you have so generously been willing to share.
Together we have be orienting towards ideas that suggest that although ‘aloneness’ somewhat sings as a dichotomy to ‘togetherness’, there is a gentle harmony in their contrasts too.
A beautiful reader of ‘Catching Shower Flowers’ kindly shared an excerpt in our conversation thread from "Abba's Child: The Cry of the Heart for Intimate Belonging" by Brennan Manning that speaks into this potently.
“If I am not in touch with my own belovedness, then I cannot touch the sacredness of others. If I am estranged from myself, I am likewise a stranger to others. Experience has taught me that I connect best with others when I connect with the core of myself”.
More shared from readers of ‘Catching Shower Flowers’ via the conversation thread:
“This thought made me stop to consider. This is still somewhat unformed, but I believe the ability to have solitude is a great part of formation. Once we carve out space and begin to master this concept- the value of deep connections can be understood more fully”. — Erika Edwards
“I like that “ness” is essentially anchoring a state of being. Describing the being. So when I read “aloneness” it’s the state of being alone. What does that mean, obviously each will have their own meaning. It also describes “ness” as a quality. What is the “quality” of your state of aloneness. I like that. To ponder” — Kat Rivers
"Aloneness allows me to hear my heart and move forward with my truest of truths"— K J Stone
“I would see aloneness framed through the lens of solitude. Solitude reminding me of solace, which has a very comforting feel to it. Upon a very rudimentary exploration I found this about the origin of the word: First recorded in 1250–1300; Middle English solas, from Old French, from Latin sōlācium, equivalent to sōl(ārī) “to comfort” —Joelle Weddle
“A space of being held by Love itself”. — Em West
The state of being, that is ‘Aloneness’, the slow becoming in art of inwardness, ‘the secret place’, a friendship with oneself— as the late John O’Donohue so poetically put it, “A homecoming for the enriched memory of your unfolding life” has me wondering—
Is this where the honest response begins?
For if we can sit gently in our aloneness, might we then be able to sit gently with others—as themselves?