Saturday, 22 October 2016

Solo




They say that the word loneliness is a creation of the English language to express one’s pain for being alone. The word solitude, however, with the grandeur it indeed carries in its sound, expresses the glory of – what appears to be – the other side of the very same experience. Yet one of the cruelest punishments people experience in prisons around the world is dubbed “solitary confinement”. 

When I stay too long in my 16 sqm comfortable warm room that has a private bathroom, small kitchenette and fast internet access – and for which I have my own keys – my mind finds a way to think about solitary confinement. How can linguists (I believe) associate the word solitude with grandness and politicians (or who else?) choose it as a label for a most horrifying ordeal for the mind? Euphemism cannot be an acceptable justification. It feels like a betrayal.  

My first encounter with the word “solitary” was on a boat trip in Ireland. As our boat sailed near the banks of the lake we saw an elegant white bird, standing alone, holding its head high. They told us that it was called the Heron and that it was a “solitary” bird because it lived alone. A few years later, I studied English literature in secondary school. Our teachers often emphasized the soliloquies in Shakespeare’s plays. They were significant character highlights – analyzed in detail and read for insight. The soliloquy seemed to not only be the character’s personal voice, but their true self and the heart of their dilemma in the classic drama. I wonder if the words “solitary” and “soliloquy” are drawn from the same linguistic source. 

Since I moved alone to Berlin, I am often left with a lot of time to myself. And even while I do things, I feel a quietness in my heart, as if I am in a world where no one else is. I walk down the streets, take the underground train, shop at the supermarket, visit the bank, stand in line, go down and up the stairs and in the middle of the hustle – my ears seem to hear nothing. I walk like I am in a dream. I would imagine that it feels as though I am in a movie where the camera concentrates on my steps or my face while everything else is a blur. And the only focus is on my very own self.  

I cannot figure out if my quietness, which is not serene, but sometimes sad and other times calm, qualifies as solitude. I would like to think that I am trying to be a Heron, proud and beautiful alone. But does the Heron feel isolated from the tree branches, water banks and blue skies? I do not think that it does. While it may be absent from company, it is not absent from life. And this is indeed why it earns its description as solitary and why the word exists to pay tribute to this unique experience.

I did believe, however, before I came to Berlin, that it would be easy to be a Heron. What not to admire about solitude? It is a complete reconciliation with the self. An end to the tumultuous battles of the mind. A forgiveness for all the guilt and all the shortcomings. It is a heartfelt acceptance for one’s being. And along with all of that: a deserved indulgence in life and feeling alive. 

It was innocent of me to believe that this would not be hard to achieve. Another thing that people say is that you may run away from everything, but you will always end up against yourself. So during my days and nights I often find myself thinking about memories from the past - mistakes, embarrassments, loss, anything and everything. There are memories that I wish I hadn’t remembered (or wish had never happened), but there are also things that do not pain me anymore. Herons are born solitary, but maybe we should be just as reconciled with our lives being a work-in-progress, herons-in-progress. 

Also, ganz allein hier! I ended up with good old Reem, whose brain thinks of why they gave “solitary confinement” its name. I cannot help but think that it was a shallow choice. Maybe the decision was made by people who did not really experience any solitude or loneliness in their busy lifetimes. Why didn’t they call it “individual imprisonment”? And rip it off completely of anything resembling a natural human experience? It is unfair.




1 comment:

Unknown said...

I identify with what your saying. I find serenity in being alone but sometimes long for company...just not too much. When I'm alone I'm able to connect with myself, hear my thoughts and digest them. It doesn't mean I'm not connected to what's going on around me, but that I choose to block it out and listen to something else.