Then, when taking a break of the website … when I am alone … alone with myself … and with my thoughts and feelings … there in Nature I see these things that go on inside of me. I think it’s good to be alone now and again. If you can handle it. It’s sometimes hard to handle. I admit.
Sometimes alone becomes a kind of loneliness. But I’m not lonely at all. Or perhaps I am. Sometimes I don’t see the difference. Yet, I have you and I have the Earth. I have the forest and the mountains near me. I see life. It’s part of me … well, it is sort of me. Life is very alone, very lonely, because it’s all there is, isn’t it? You see, there’s nothing else. It’s there, entirely alone and all.
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It’s like this for us: you can act like not yourself because of family, society, pressure of needing an income, and so on. But if you can and try and are lucky, you can also seek yourself, find yourself, by being yourself. And you can only be totally yourself when being alone-together.
Within society you’re not alone and you’re not together. You’re split. It’s a paradox. It’s all around you, you’re in it, and still you’re not really feeling part of it. It’s kind of artificial. It’s about culture, norms, habits, rules.
But anyway, this really alone-togetherness is best to be found in Nature, I feel. Honestly, I don’t see any other way. And that’s why I believe I got lucky. Lucky to live here where I live. I need society, for sure, and it’s near, but I’m also so close to Nature being able to being alone and finding, seeing myself and living myself whenever I need it.
And all that together with you. Isn’t that nice? I think it is. It’s wonderful.
It’s wonderful to hike, walk, rest, see the trees, birds, plants, bushes, and mushrooms. Sometimes I stand still and observe just a square meter of the forest. It’s dazzling. So much life that’s going on there; insects, moss, rotting wood, leaves, a worm, a mushroom and other fungi, ants that busy themselves, a seed — this wonderful smell of decay and life together.
Alone-togetherness is being neither alone nor together. It’s being both, and none of that. It’s actually beyond words, because words tend to separate and distinguish. But walking in the forest and in the mountains make you blend in, there’s no separation, in the end there’s not even awe … you’ve become it. How can you be in awe of what you are yourself? You just are in it. A silent happiness. One that feeds you. Living and breathing it.
