Solitude
A potent argument against eliminating the power of toxic people over our lives is “without them, I have nobody.” Let’s contemplate the true meaning of this phrase. Aren’t we just saying we are frightened of being alone? A lot of childhood fear focuses on things maturity reveals as utterly unthreatening. We used to be afraid of dark rooms, of night, of going to sleep. We learned to “get over it.” Some of us luck ones learned to love the night and to treasure the magic of sleep as a special creative state in which leaps of consciousness an imagination can be made. Some people – I among them – would argue that because of the “collective unconscious” we are never truly alone. Inside our minds is every experience we have ever had, every story we’ve been told, every picture we have ever seen. I personally feel the warm comforts of Pema Chodron, Jesus, Percy Shelley, the Dalai Lama, John Keats, Julian of Norwich, as I sleep. They are the sheep I send jumping over my fences. In solitude we discover who we are, who we have been, and who we can be.
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