A couple of nights ago I laid in my bed and allowed my mind to wander in and out of that moment where the darkness of your shut eyelids and the darkness of watching the shadows on your ceiling merge into one indistinguishable amorphous blur. The world as you see it and feel it makes no difference at all. A thought crept into my mind:
True loneliness is this exact described darkness. It's being trapped inside your own mind with the belief that nobody in the world -- not even God or a god -- would be able to hear you. Loneliness is this, forever. No promise of a morning to wake to. Just yourself. Terrifying.
I read this passage in Life of Pi that I recently finished that describes this terrifying experience beautifully:
I shrunk my head back into my covers for the faintest moment, channeling that childish nature we have to hide from that which we are afraid of. Then, I realized that I never had to worry about that, because when the blackness lifted away, He would always be there at the centre, radiating, even if for a moment (or longer) I had lost sight of him.
They say that a season of loneliness is a prerequisite to a call to leadership. It's only when you are able to stand alone and rest assured of what you fight for and believe in that you are able to bring others alongside you in that fight.
True loneliness is this exact described darkness. It's being trapped inside your own mind with the belief that nobody in the world -- not even God or a god -- would be able to hear you. Loneliness is this, forever. No promise of a morning to wake to. Just yourself. Terrifying.
I read this passage in Life of Pi that I recently finished that describes this terrifying experience beautifully:
Faith in God is an opening up, a letting go, a deep trust, a free act of love -- but sometimes it was so hard to love. Sometimes my heart was sinking so fast with anger, desolation and weariness, I was afraid it would sink to the very bottom of the Pacific and I would not be able to lift it back up. [...] Despair was a heavy blackness that let no light in or out. It was a hell beyond expression. I thank God it always passed. A school of fish appeared around the net or a knot cried out to be reknotted. Or I thought of my family, of how they were spared this terrible agony. The blackness would stir and eventually go away, and God would remain, a shining point of light in my heart. I would go on loving.
I shrunk my head back into my covers for the faintest moment, channeling that childish nature we have to hide from that which we are afraid of. Then, I realized that I never had to worry about that, because when the blackness lifted away, He would always be there at the centre, radiating, even if for a moment (or longer) I had lost sight of him.
They say that a season of loneliness is a prerequisite to a call to leadership. It's only when you are able to stand alone and rest assured of what you fight for and believe in that you are able to bring others alongside you in that fight.
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