Lonely Tree?
A gospel song from choir kept coming into my head last week. Included in the lyrics were the words, "It's my desire to be like the Lord." I felt particularly impressed by that, along with the not so melodic alto part, and I decided to embark on a fresh reading of Luke's gospel. I got as far as, "Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed." This made me wonder, "were the places merely isolated, or did he actually feel lonely?"
This line of thinking led me to contemplating times when I had plenty of scope for feeling lonely, but somehow didn't. Here are three of those times:
1. I was in China visiting family members and we were taken on a tour of a temple. While the guide, Eddy, went up into the temple with my sister, I chose to sit down near the entrance and watch the people streaming up the hill. Mum was in the vicinity. Surrounded by trees with olive green leaves, and looking very much the odd one out, I felt strangely connected, part of humanity.
2. One night while living in Samoa, I was by myself in my house. Generally, I felt quite lonely out in the village, but on this particular evening, I felt like I was not alone. The air felt thick and I felt like I was in rare company. That experience stayed with me for some years in that I could deliberately tune into it. I called it my God Zone. I remember a church minister in Australia saying to me, "I wish I had a God Zone." (I think he was incredulous).
3. In recent years, I had a challenging and extremely frustrating experience at work (even more so than the many of these types of experiences that I've had). Soon after, I was sitting alone at my desk, head in my hands, and I allowed my mind to sink into the part of me that connects with God. It was a phenomenally rich experience and I now practise this frequently.
I might be starting to understand these experiences. They are diametrically opposed to clinging to the ego. They are about letting go rather than slogging it out. There's a connection to a famous quote from Jane Austen too: "We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be."

I once met a man who knew he was terminally ill. With an acute loss of mobility and being nursed at home by his wife, I asked him if he ever felt lonely. "Not lonely", he said, "but feelings of being alone." Further conversation between us revealed he also knew of the Divine in his presence during those moments in the absence of human company.
ReplyDeleteA thought-provoking story Bruce. Thanks.
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