No One But The Leaves

For those who aren’t afraid to spend time with themselves, I highly recommend a Sunday morning run. Minus the cell phone. Plus the iPod if you insist. But get ready to face your own self. I did just that this Sunday morning.  And, phew, I’m still alive and breathing. Here’s what happened to me:

I met no one but the leaves. And I crunched those crunchy leaves in peace. I found the occasional passing car to be just a nuisance disrupting my leaf-crunching.

In the hilly Suburban area I fondly call home, my twenty-five minute run spells out twenty-five minutes of solitude. A very well received twenty-five minutes of solitude, I might add. A time I can truly feel alone. Not lonely. Alone. Enjoying my own company.

I see myself as part of the hoards of people who parade the streets of New York every day. Yet, sometimes, when I’m the city, I just can’t knock the loneliness out of me. That loneliness is stubborn as a mule and no amount of foot traffic can fill that void. My fellow streetwalkers might be right alongside me, but really, they’re just too absorbed in their own selves to notice or care that I’m there.

After my run, I can say that I finally understand the difference between loneliness and aloneness. Loneliness is a certain sadness caused by a lack of companionship. Because sometimes we forget to be our own companions. But alone? Alone just means being in your own presence, with your own self as your companion.

So on my mid-morning run, I spent some time with the leaves and myself. And the air was crisp and my mind was clear. And I had a good time accompanying myself. As for you, though, here’s a thought to ponder: how good of a companion are you to yourself?