Re: One

from the catchmydrift.blog archives

I never thought I would admit this in public, but I’ve been lonely. I have been separated from my one and only, my best friend, my lover, my wife, for more than 200 days now. She is on an important mission and I am supporting her as best I can from afar. The oneness that I have experienced with her is not one sided, as she too feels the great chasm that comes about when you are not with the one you love. We both endeavour to be strong, while acknowledging that One is clearly the loneliest number.

There are so many individual ones in the world: Close to 8 billion singular human entities. On the spectrum of ‘personalities who need another in their lives’ the range might be from hermit types to polyamorous groupies. I have felt more in common with the hermit; sequestering myself from the massive throngs of civilization. That is one of the reasons why my recent feelings of loneliness are somewhat confusing. I do really appreciate my own company, that was tested in me as a child. I know I can confidently go it alone but I also know I don’t want to. I am Stoic. I am Vulcan. I take pride in the notion that I can control any desire to be ‘one with the collective’. I am Adam, yet I must have my Eve. Eden is not the same otherwise.

I have felt the power of oneness many times in my life and have discovered that being One doesn’t necessarily mean that you are alone. I have had many glimpses of what it means to be one-in-the-spirit. I have learned to trust. Those 8 billion collective consciouses can be a powerful support mechanism when most needed, like after personal trauma. Some believe that even dead souls can act as guides. So while loneliness may occasionally tear at my heart, I remind myself that I am never absolutely alone.

I admit also to being a romantic and a great believer in finding ‘the one’. This Romeo was lucky to find his Juliet in university. She accepted my formal proposal of marriage. Her family gave their blessing. We had the wedding service where two candles were extinguished and one candle was lit. We had many adventures, raised three boys together and approached middle age with confidence in our bond. When she died I felt lost and alone. I was now one, where I had been part of two, and I wondered just what I might do with the rest of my life. Imagine how blessed this Gilbert felt when he found his Anne. She too had known loneliness and found ways to appreciate being alone. Our meeting was one for the ages. We couldn’t believe our luck. We two could design our own Green Gables!

My wife and I celebrate the oneness of our combined families, while proving that one need not be limiting. Our grandchildren are learning to count, and they always start with One. It is the first number. It’s how we all begin, expand into community, and ultimately return to our singularity.