Solitude

I Would Have No Other Wife

I am long married — I call my lovely wife by one name: Solitude

Vastly underrated, is she.

Opinions vary (wildly) about which is the most beautiful word in the English language. Many hold up “willow” as an undisputed victor, others say “eclectic”.

Others:

“Inure” (Jesus, what are they thinking?).

“Mellifluous” (Not even close).

“Euphoria” (Why, why, why?).

“Cherish” (Well, all right).

“Demure” (Sweet).

“Elixir” (No, not for me).

“Eternity” (Great concept, but not a beautiful word).

“Felicity” (Nope).

“Epiphany” (Again, great concept, but not a beautiful word).

“Plethora” (Nope, no matter when or how you use it, you are putting on airs — and the “P” is an explosive).

“Nemesis” (Yeah, okay).

“Lithe” (That’s a sweet one, both in meaning and in sound; light, too).

“Elegance” (So, so).

“Renaissance” (So, it’s French; doesn’t make it beautiful).

“Lullaby” (Rolls right off your tongue, but beautifully?).

“Ethereal” (Very good one, that).

“Panacea” (Another exploding “P”, hurts my ear).

“Bodacious” (Are you kidding?).

“Ingenue” (A French word that is beautiful).

The list goes on, and I’m sure you could offer some candidates as well.

For me, the most beautiful word in the English language is “Solitude”, both as sound, and — even more importantly — as meaning. For this is my lasting love, my true darling, my forever friend and understanding ear, we will never part, Solitude and I.

Over the years, I have come across many accounts of people, both men and women (at about a 50/50 ratio) who fear loneliness, who cannot stand to be alone, who suffer living by themselves; who would do anything not to be or live alone. Translated to truth-tongue (and I don’t mean to be cruel, I just mean to tell it like I see it): these are simply people who, in varying degrees, cannot stand themselves — given themselves as sole company they (softly or harshly) panic and will do most anything to escape.

Yet, Solitude is the true nature of God.

Let me say that again:

Solitude is the true nature of God. No one is more alone than He, She, or It is. No one. For who can He/She/It turn to in times of trouble, in times of doubt or worry. Who can step up to lend Him/Her/It a compassionate and understanding ear? No one is who.

I don’t hear Him/Her/It complaining.

For good reason: Solitude is the most tranquil, peaceful, serene, restful, equanimous (choose, or make up, your own synonyms) state there is. She is the perfect companion, the perfect wife (or, of course, husband).

Though it helps, you don’t have to love yourself to enjoy Solitude; but you cannot hate or doubt or fear yourself. God doesn’t.

And you certainly cannot distrust yourself.

Buddhist Meditation Teacher Shaila Catherine once wrote, “The deeper forms of gladness arise when you trust your virtue. Happiness arises when you can trust the purity of your own heart’s intentions.” There are no other hearts involved here, just your own, and if you can trust it, then Solitude is the perfect partner. Should you, on the other hand, distrust your own heart’s intentions, you probably cannot stand to face yourself and solitude would be torture.

Blaise Pascal weighed in with, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” That, of course, only applies to the portion (albeit a vast majority) of humanity who is not pure at heart. Those who are, however, don’t mind sitting alone in a room for hours, weeks, years.

I meditate daily, at dawn and at dusk — Solitude sits by my side to keep irreverent thoughts and other intruders at bay. She does a wonderful job and is constantly rewarded by new insights bubbling up out of my endless nowhere and quietly exploding into our ever-widening mind-space.

No, I would have no other wife.

© Wolfstuff