Alone
We’ve been watching the latest season of Alone. It isn’t the best group; some of them are very annoying. I still need to see who wins though. There’s one episode left, and we’re saving it for tonight.
When we watch, I like to imagine myself in that scenario - out in the wilderness, living off the land, solving problems as they arise. From the comfort of my couch, I look over at my wife and tell her what I’d do differently and how I would definitely be more successful building shelters, hunting/fishing/trapping, and braving the elements. I take her rolling eyes as tacit agreement. Never mind the fact that I abhor killing and the last time I hunted anything was over 15 years ago in Afghanistan. Facts need not interrupt my macho fantasy.
Barring medical issues, the biggest issue facing contestants is psychological in nature. The loneliness makes them crack. They start making foolish mistakes and their health deteriorates quickly. I like to think of myself as a perfect candidate for the show. I love being alone; solitude invigorates me. But if I reflect on that honestly, is that the truth?
The last time I really spent time alone was in Scotland. I loaded up a pack, hopped on a bus from Edinburgh to a little village on the east coast, somewhere around Cockburnspath (yes, I still giggle at that), and headed south on foot along the Berwickshire Coastal Path. Incredible sea cliffs, a Smugglers’ Trail, and ruined castles, all to myself. The weather was uncharacteristically perfect as I traversed farmlands and beaches, rocky crags and too many miles of gorse, a.k.a. "the Murder Bush."
I stayed the night at a quaint little B&B in St. Abbs and crossed the border into England the next day, finishing at the train station in Berwick-Upon-Tweed. It was a wonderful experience, but as I sat on the train back to Edinburgh, I realized I was most excited about telling my family about it and sharing the photos I took.
This image I’ve had of myself as a man of solitude had some cracks. To this day, I wonder if such a persona was merely a defensive posture. A way to steel myself against tragedy and abandonment. If so, then it’s a farce and should be abandoned. We can’t live authentically while wearing so many masks.
I took the reflection a bit further. Look at everything I have and rely on day to day. I don’t grow the tea I drink or the food I eat. I don’t make the clothes I wear or the technology I use. I can’t even heal myself when sick or comfort myself when down. I am completely and utterly dependent on others.
Now, this perfectly jibes with the Buddhist concept of Dependent Origination, the idea that nothing exists independently. That was something I accepted as obviously true, but always from a distance. It was sort of academic, in my mind. It wasn’t until I turned the eye around that I understood it as a fundamental truth.
There’s irony in all of this. Until we’re comfortable being alone, we can’t genuinely be connected with other people. Relationships become competitive, parasitic, destructive. However, being without others isn’t conducive to survival, spiritually or physically. As with everything, a middle way is necessary. I’m only just now realizing this, at the midpoint of my life.