Solitary Confinement
Deep in the mountain forest, many miles from anything resembling a town, far from camp, I had seen no people, no cars, for some time. The only sounds were bird calls and the vague muttering of the wind. Standing on a ridge, looking out across the mountains, I considered the elements in the scene: the nearby pines dropping down the hillside, the rounded peaks reaching into the distance, and the clouds filling the sky, casting lazy shadows. The visual combination was in a literal sense breathtaking. It would make a nice photo. But what affected me most deeply, closing my throat and bringing tears to my eyes, was unseen, and could not be captured inside the camera. Solitude. Utter aloneness. The weighty realization that I was the only person taking in this glorious view. The feeling of complete isolation, with such wondrous beauty stretching out before me, underscored how fortunate I was. And also filled me with a yearning to share it. My wife would love this. My children and grandchildren would love this. I was able to capture the scene in a photo, a weak and feeble imitation that cannot carry the true sense of having stood there, in the moment. I could show them the photo, but I could never carry to them the force of wonder, the thrill, of actually being there.
Yet in this isolation, I knew that this was not an isolated occurrence. Each of us must walk the length of our days alone, experiencing the world in our own way. In a fundamental sense, we never truly, fully share the experiences that take place inside the solitary seclusion of our own minds, our own hearts. The stirrings we feel from a sight, a sound, a smell, a touch, are ours alone, whether standing on a mountaintop in solitude, or in a room crowded with people. The most we can hope to achieve is to find someone who can share our isolation, and coexist within our solitude.