It's very nice to sit alone in a low-lit room with Tchaikovsky piano concertos spinning by on the spindle. It's very nice to write and sip spiced rum. I haven't had very much to write about lately, or I haven't been able to write about very much. It's the nicest thing to be alone, after a day of people. I can think my thoughts at my pace (slowly), I am not in anybody's way, nobody is depending on my actions. I can read, or pray, or write, or none-of-these, without interruption. I'm not really alone anyway––besides the spiritual world, there is the spider on the wall by my pillow; I don't mind her, she minds her own business and I hope I don't roll over on her in the night––but the absence of people is wonderful. (Meaningful conversations with friends are also nicest, but heavens to Betsy, the sure do require effort! I cannot sustain it. I had several this past weekend and I am tuckered.)
I am trying to be better at people. People are messy and selfish and very stupid, and it is enough to put up with my own allotment of these characteristics without needing to sort out the amount belonging to other people. Still, lately I have realized how very little I have invested in my people. I don't call back, I intentionally avoid you, I don't talk deep. I am sorry. I'm sorry I'm so ashamed of my relationship with God that I'd rather avoid relationships than talk about it. I'm sorry I'm afraid to open my mouth because I don't have all the answers, even though it's so obvious that none of us do. I'm sorry I so often feel no need for others, and assume others have no need for me. We're all brothers, sisters. I don't love anybody as much as I love myself.
Paul writes in favor of singleness when it comes to marriage-type relationships, but he is vehement about the importance of my relationship with everybody. Communal relations come before romantic ones. We our not our own, we do not belong to ourselves. We belong to God first, and our brothers and sisters second. We are last and least, as individuals. (Oh dear, theocratic communism!) Christ, THE KING, served the lowliest of us all, yet we put ourselves before all others, unkingly in every sense. I wish Christians would focus less on Christ's saving of our souls and forgiveness of our sins, less on personal salvation (it's all about me!), and more on Jesus' humility and servanthood, more on our actual position relative to the physical and spiritual reality of the universe and its Grand Creator. What are we, compared to El Elyon? Yes, Jesus loves me. He also loves the annoying people, also loves the politicians-of-the-opposite-parties, loves the unforgivable-sinners, the rapists, murders, dictators. Let us diminish, let Christ increase.