晨讀美文
Alone, we squander life by rejecting its full potential and wasting its remaining promises. Alone, we accept that experiences unshared are barely worthwhile, that sunsets viewed singly are not as spectacular, that time spent apart is fallow and pointless. And so we grow old believing we are nothing by ourselves, steadfastly shunning the opportunities for self-discovery and personal growth that solitude could bring us. We’ve even coined a word for those who prefer to be by themselves: antisocial, as if they were enemies of society. They are viewed as friendless, suspect in a world that goes around in twos or more and is wary of solitary travelers. People who need people are threatened by people who don’t. The idea of seeking contentment alone is heretical, for society steadfastly decrees that our completeness lies in others. Instead, we cling to each other for solace, comfort, and safety, believing that we are nothing alone—insignificant, unfulfilled, lost—accepting solitude in the tiniest, most reluctant of slices, if at all, which is tragic, for it rejects Gods precious gift of life. Ironically, most of us crave more intimacy and companionship than we can bear. We begrudge ourselves, our spouses, and our partners sufficient physical and emotional breathing room, and then bemoan the suffocation of our relationships. To point out these facts is not to suggest we should abandon all our close ties. Medical surveys show that the majority of elderly people who live alone, yet maintain frequent contact with relatives and friends, rate their physical and emotional well-being as “excellent.” Just as an apple a day kept the doctor away when they were young, an active social calendar appears to serve the same purpose now.