Noble silence, part 2

When I wrote the first part of this post I said most of what I needed to say, but maybe not quite all of it.

• I said that this pause in my relationship with Debbie is like a meditational pause, a Noble Silence, and that’s true.
• I said that I find myself – unexpectedly! – relieved in some ways to be alone again, and that’s true.
• I said that this is because I have all these thoughts of spending my time and energy understanding what I want out of life, … and that’s true as far as it goes but there is more.

The other part of it is that I enjoy being alone.  At the same time that I enjoy falling in love, … at the same time that I find coupledom a very natural state, one that I fall and fit into easily, … I also really enjoy solitude.  These two sides of my personality are both very old.  They both have roots well back in grade school, if not before.  I don’t expect either of them to go away any time soon.

Only, … how exactly do they sit together?  More pointedly, how exactly do I honor my need for periodic solitude in a relationship with anybody, be she Debbie or the Lady of the Lake?  I found ways to get away from Wife from time to time, but my relationship with Wife is hardly where I want to turn for a model.  It was easy enough to get away from D because our only encounters were brief visits punctuated by long times in between.  (And you may recall that when our visits lasted as long as a week or more, they left me ragged and desperate to leave.)  I’m sure there is a way to get away from Debbie [if we ever get back together] or anyone else gracefully too, without jeopardizing the relationship.  Only … how?

Part of the reason I need to get away from people every so often is just for the rest, the peace and quiet.  Being around other people takes effort.  And I realized recently that what it requires in particular is the effort to be someone – to pay attention to who I’m with, to listen closely, to watch how she is doing (or he or they), to respond appropriately, all the while being the person I have to be.  I don’t mean anything deceitful here.  I’m not putting on a false face.  All of the persons that I portray when I’m around others are genuinely me.  Only, … when I’m with little old ladies I don’t tell dirty jokes and I try not to curse.  Fine, there’s a side of me that can be polite and serious, so he’s the one I play up.  Or when I’m around someone else, … well, maybe you get the idea.  Again, I’m not creating a false front.  All of these people are me.  But none of them – none of them – is all of me.  In fact I’d guess that “all of me” really isn’t anybody in particular.  He is by turns industrious and lazy, sensitive and callous, attentive and careless, polite and boorish, cheerful and depressed, sober and drunken.  Name a quality you think I have, and I can show you a time I display the opposite one. 

Nor do I think there’s anything special about me in this.  I’m sure it’s true of you too.  Only it’s not the kind of story we tell each other.  To make sense of our lives, to make sense of the world, we simplify reality by telling stories.  “Son 1 is athletic” – there’s a story.  “But I never was” – there’s another.  “Son 2 is adventurous” – see how easy it is?  But for every single one of these stories I can find a time when you would have sworn the exact opposite story was the true one.  You can play this game at home too, for what it’s worth.

My only point is that holding together an identity – any identity, even one that we believe is truly “Us” – takes work.  And when I’m alone, I don’t have to do it.  So being alone is a great relief, and a delicious one.  Yes, after a while with nothing but solitude I’ll start to get lonely: too much of a good thing, and all that.  I will surely need some relief from solitude in a while.  But in the same way I also need relief from company.

I’m still not sure what’s the best way to have my cake and eat it too.  Maybe with a little more silence and solitude it will start to come to me.