How It Feels When….
I am Completely OK Being Alone
By Dani Katz
If we channeled all the energy that we, as a species, put into seeking love outside ourselves – be it trolling for snacks at the farmer’s market, hunting big game on personal site X, or dolling up to pose boozy and available at bass-boomin’ disco Y – we could easily sustain the planet’s every energetic function, and have enough power left over to share with a neighboring star system.
We live under the false illusion that without a spouse, a lover, a partner or an other to “complete” us, that we’re somehow broken or wrong or weird.
We are autonomous individuals who sometimes choose to come together. We are neither monogamous by nature, nor dependent upon a pair-bond to be fulfilled.
We all die alone; wouldn’t it be wise to learn how to live alone?
Mastering alone takes practice – daily. My favorite practice is in being grateful for what is – instead of complaining about what isn’t (a cultural past time that enslaves us to our lack and our misery). Every day, I acknowledge – out loud and/or in writing – the beauty of my freedom – of not having to compromise or share the bed or sleep in the wet spot or panic that my period’s late or fly to Miami for a stranger’s Bar Mitzvah.
I relish the privilege of doing exactly what I want when I want, of the luxury of following my whims and moment-to-moment urges without having to check-in with anyone else’s schedule or self-esteem.
I appreciate deep sleep and early mornings spent meditating and tuning into myself. I give thanks for the freedom to flirt or not to flirt, to leave the party early because I’d rather draw, or to stay until the crack of dawn because I’m having such a great time.
I thank the time and the space I have to myself to learn to play guitar, to sing loudly and shamelessly while I make falafel, to talk to myself in silly voices, to make art, to cry, to shout, fart and burp, to dive deeper into the mysteries of me and to know myself more fully and more intricately than I could have ever imagined possible, and to fall in love with every single part of me, even the dark, icky ones, because they are as much me as my wit and my pretty ankles, and it’s okay because I am human, and we humans are complicated and flawed and perfect in our every paradox.
I still hold the vision of sharing orgasms and adventures with a sweet, funny, grounded, brilliant bad-ass of a man, but my grip has loosened considerably. I welcome the experience when my stars align for love, and in the meantime, my life is full and dazzling and I am floored with gratitude for all the fun I am having on my own.