On Isolation and Community: Moss always wins

Today at the park, I found myself in a serene and lonely clearing. I was surrounded by trees decorated with bright sprays of yellow flowers. Sitting down on the earth, I ran my hands over the cracked and crumbling concrete from a century before, which was now giving way to little bryophytes. My fingers caressed the soft moss and silly liverwort sproutlings, and finally, I felt I could breathe. 

Because when the inevitable human-caused apocalypse comes, sure, there will be pain. Climate disasters will send mountains tumbling down into the rising ocean. WholeFoods and Kmart will decay into nothing. Time will go on so long that even plastic will begin to disintegrate. You, and I, and your dog, will die. I won't wake up every morning and weigh myself, or put on sunscreen, or wonder if I am good enough. I will not have a body or brain to perform these surface acts with - my energy will be fully re-absorbed into the collective. Into the womb of the universe.

But concrete will split, and flowers will grow forth from the earth that had been previously concealed. Parking lots will return to forests. Deer and mice will have their babies where churches and malls once stood. Time will go on without humans, until and if we are reborn.

It was when I was on all fours, finding relief in the revelation that moss always wins, that I remembered what my yoga teacher had said this morning. She had told us that the Mayans, before the genocide that destroyed their family systems, often lived past 120 years old. Community, it has been proven, is a life force that guards us against physical and emotional sickness. My teacher compared the effects of isolation to the effects of smoking 7 packs of cigarettes a day. And suddenly, I felt very strange.

I felt as though I must be very flawed to enjoy being alone. All week, I had looked forward to a nice solitary stroll through this park. I hadn't considered that craving isolation in my free time could be making me sick. Tears began to flow forth as I realized that my inner pharmacist might need to retake her medical exams; Maybe, not all of my pain, joy, fear, and sadness have to be experienced alone in order to have value.

Naturally, having a lioness spirit, being alone has always ruled in my favor. My intuition is divine, my sense of self is strong. That stops being healthy, though, when love is offered to me and I refuse it, believing that I am always better off alone. The other day, a friend I love very much asked me to call them if I needed some support. I laughed and said, jokingly,  "I don't need support from anyone!". But, it wasn't a joke. I feared this person's love and knew that my own self-love would hold me over as I suffered through some sadness.

Therein lies the sickness. In that refusal of the flow of love lies the seven packs of cigarettes.

When the streets do crumble and become overrun with dirt and weeds, when the schools and grocery stores tumble to the ground and succumb to the new growths of the earth, all that will remain is love. Every action of love that we put forth accumulates in a healing force field that surrounds our entire earth. When we pass on, all of our love is released and re-absorbed to be recycled in the building of the future.

I suppose the answer to whether isolation is an enjoyable, salubrious gift, or whether it can lead to sickness and despair, depends on whether or not you are letting love flow. If your lion heart says you need to be alone, be alone. The love you give yourself will continue out into the collective consciousness and heal all of those who need your love. But, if your heart aches for connection, give it that connection. The love created is innately infinite.

Although you know what's best for yourself, you don't have to always fight your battles alone. You are not weak for needing love. Your outpouring of love is essential; It will help the moss regrow through the concrete in the years to come.