Loneliness

I found myself this morning explaining to my old acquaintance why it is that I do not plan to acquire spoken fluency in any of the three languages which I am currently learning. To illustrate the point I described the party I went to last night: there was not a single person there whose thoughts or opinions about anything I was interested to hear; or who would have understood the least bit of what I had to say has I chosen to say it. So we talked about going bald, hair cuts, and the sexual habits of our hairdresser. (Blah). Arguably, the conversation would have gone more smoothly if they (Dutch speakers to a man) spoke better English, or German, or French, or Chinese, or Japanese, or even Italian; but it would have been exactly as contentless, empty, and dull. I had known this before I set off for the party. I only went to be polite; and conversed to be polite; and then, feigning work, left early but also, I hope, politely. Had these not been my neighbors with whom I have to deal daily, I would not have gone and I am relieved to think that I shall not have to go again until New Year's Eve.

Loneliness is something people oft complain about in their lives; and the motivation commonly ascribed to their actions: meeting with the lads for beers, moving in with him or her, attending parties of last night's sort -- it is all explained by loneliness and the need to overcome it. But loneliness cannot be overcome: think about it: there is no adjective that describes its opposite, because its opposite does not exist. Loneliness is the essential human condition and the only way to deal with it is the way T. E. Lawrence dealt with his match trick (he lit a match and held it between his fingers until it burnt into a cinder, burning his fingers in the process). Ouch, said someone to him, having tried the trick and burnt himself. What's the trick?! The trick, old man, answered Lawrence, is not minding that it hurts.