I remember when, one day while I was living in a mountain village in the Andes, an older lady came down from her little one-person hut in the Puna, about a day’s walk up from this remote place. She seemed remarkably easy to communicate with. Far more than most villagers, she listened. I asked her how she was able to live in a little cold hut all on her own and so far away from all others. “I live there with God” she answered. It made sense. “But don’t you miss people?” Then she replied – and I’ll never forget – : “you know, every human will one day let you go”. Something inside me knew she was right. If it’s not in the breaking of your ideals, or in literally moving away, it’s in the inveterate tendency to die. It amazed me that she smiled with it.
We’re approaching the darkest day of the year. This darkness guides me back into my inner world. I am very aware of the motions inside of me, to notice that even among groups of beautiful people, I have always been a very lonely guy. I notice that it’s simply very hard for me to tear down the projections and the expectations we all enforce on each other. To keep sensing through the facades. To touch each other from beyond the material or even the mental, and be aware of it. Because this is so hard to conceive, I settle for the cages casting themselves around me. I even fight to keep them there.
Out of this internal view, I see that most of my actions are attempts to avoid the loneliness upon me. I think I’m not alone in that. Career tigers, for example, seem merely to run so that one day their isolation vanishes before their eyes. I believe that the search for the spiritual is in fact a search for proof that we are not alone. Creativity a scream to be heard by the unfathomable other. Our fear for isolation stows us on towards utopia.
It’s in days like these that my expectations towards others disappear. We’re all in it, struggling to be in touch. The awareness opens the gate to another world. A place where everything is more common. Suddenly, I connect with people on a deeper level. Just as long as I don’t forget.
On that day in Huancaya, the lady from the highlands asked me “am I wrong?”