Abandoning the knife-edge

 

If you are feeling lonely despite the crowd or the sprawl of nature around you, it means you are just walking on the edge. A razor-sharp slice, the knife-edge. The narrowest path possible for anyone to walk. You are cut off from the companionship of both humans and nature. A sharp edge whereupon only your isolated self can walk. There is no space for anyone or anything to give you company.

It’s primarily because you have rejected the offer of companionship by humans, books, trees, birds, animals, or some hobby, or any part of nature that gives company to someone in need. And as you walk on this edge, you cut your soles. It’s painful. It develops a vicious circle. All your energies are focused on your cuts. It further insulates you from the friendly overtures of some wild flower, some tree, some bird, some smile, some lovely emotion. You are cut off from the fabric of life. A feeble thread; fragile to be broken and blown.

Jump off this self-lacerating edge. Walk on the ground where there are people, birds, trees, books and lovely hobbies waiting to be acknowledged by you. It’s like coming back to the joint fabric of life. You can still stay aloof from the things and the people who don’t suit your structure of life. You can even walk alone on this broad plain. It doesn’t cut your feet. There are no edges of isolation.

By jumping off the sharp knife-edge, you have already accepted the little threads of coexistence, be it free air only. Now you are on the plain of many things even while being alone. You are not lonely. You are in solitude. In solitude you are equally near and far from everything around. It’s a feeling of grand equanimity.