You might not believe this, but I consider myself to be a fairly private person. No, seriously, stop laughing. I am an extrovert, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t keep a considerable part of my experience to myself. I find that the only way that I can “recharge” is by being alone every once in a while, and that what I have to say is of little real interest to most people (twitter being a notable exception to this rule, for some mysterious reason…)
I live by myself and I *love* it. Even my girlfriend, the lovely @Salty_Second, knows to give me a wide berth when it comes to “alone time”. I carefully manage visitors to my house, and have been quick to dodge roommate proposals in the two years since I moved into my current (rather spacious) apartment.
So, given all this, one might well be enthused to ask, “why the hell did I invite my good friend, adventurer extraordinaire, polytheist-gone-rogue, and infectiously-enthusiastic writer-entrepreneur @Rogue_Priest to *live* in my house for two months?” I’ve been asking myself this question ever since he decided to cash in on the offer.
I talked to my therapist about this the other day. He gave me this weird look, a mixture of curiosity, anticipation, and fear for Drew’s life. He asked me, “so how’s that experience being for you?” After a bit of reflection, I replied, “it’s an experiment, and I think it’s working out fine.”
Today on his blog roguepriest.net, Drew makes a beautiful observation on fellowship along the journey. I think that what he said applies to anyone who is on a spiritual path or a journey of discovery and self-development, the reason being that as one becomes more involved in what one is doing, it becomes harder and harder to find people to talk to
I consider myself fortunate in that I have a handful of good friends, people with whom I share deep, abiding connections, and for whom I’d be happy to provide aid or assistance to the best of my ability at any time. Of quite a few of those, I know they’d do the same for me if push came to shove. This is a great blessing; however, I can’t bring the hopes, dreams, and aspirations of my spiritual calling or my profession to every conversation with every one of these people. What I share with each of these men and women is different, and that’s OK. But frequently I find that I just don’t have anyone to talk to about some things.
Drew and I see eye to eye on many subjects (and agree to disagree on others), but I think that one of the most important things that we share is our sense of commitment to our spiritual path and the training in the traditions that we’ve chosen to follow along that path. I’ve loved every one of the conversations that we’ve had on this topic, and always I walk away with a renewed sense of purpose. So despite my misgivings about giving up a part of my privacy, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share space with a fellow traveler on this particular journey, even though sometimes I struggle with the actual sharing of the space. Drew is on a journey, the scope of which is beyond many people’s ability to understand without judging. By this fact alone we are familiar to each other, and even if he weren’t one of my most unique and wonderful friends, I’d feel compelled to stop him and talk to him, to find out what the journey is about for him. Opportunities like this don’t arise very often, and I am glad that it is a source of refuge for him as well.
The exercise on tolerance and acceptance this represents is being good to me, and my therapist seems to agree. We’ll see how I feel at the end of February, of course, but right now, two weeks into it, I can confidently say “so far, so good”, and feel thankful that, for a little while, I have someone to talk to about the journey.