I am celibate – partly by happenstance and partly by choice. At this point in my journey, I am grateful for my solitary status.
After years of tending children and wrangling with teenagers, I rejoice in the recovery of my sovereign territory. Loneliness comes from banishment; solitude is a celebration.
In my solitary station, I do not rue sexual trysts. I’ve had my fill and so can rest in peace with no regrets. My orbit is steady, with no pull from another satellite. I am the Earth sans the Moon, dancing free-form without a partner.
Or perhaps my dance-mate is a more distant luminary, the sun or some other far-flung star.
And perhaps, even better, the world behind my eyes has grown more intriguing than the world outside. I’m wooed and awed by the intricacies of the inner realms.
While writing Menopause with Science and Soul, I realized this was a key difference for most menopausal women – the world behind the eyes becomes more important than the world before it.
Of course, this is also the journey of awakening and the passage through the Veil of the Dark Night of the Soul. The inner realms, the focus on service, become more and more important on the other side of that passage.
So for now, I’m happy in my solitude, relieved to live by my own rhythms and inspirations.
This solo island is not separate from the world – yes from the busyness of the land, but still intimately connected with the ocean of All That Is.
I give up the daily grist of intimate, ongoing contact for a seemingly rudderless existence.
This island, though, is steered by larger forces, captained by wisdom beyond my control, as my island surrenders to the larger currents of ocean and cosmos.
Does a solitary hermit love?
Yes, I would say, even more fiercely than when I was licking the wounds of daily contact. This is not a sentimental “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” but rather a deeper truth that without the exquisite focus on one mate or partner, my love opens and expands, becoming a fractal of Creator’s divine bliss.
I’m not alone; I’m with everything.
I don’t love another; I am in love with Creation itself.
Instead of telescoping to a solitary focus, my heart is anchored in All That Is.