I finally got someone to agree to read poetry with me and she didn't show up. Oh, well, I can read poetry alone. Maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. Poetry, like art, can be enjoyed alone. The communication is between the author and the reader, or in the case of art, between the artist and the viewer.
When I read Robert Frost's poetry, it's my soul crying out to him or the universe or the snow storm that resonates in my mind. I don't really need other people. It is nice to share the experience with others, but the poem is just as meaningful when I read it alone.
The research studies teach us that isolation is detrimental. We will live longer is we have more human contacts. When I was studying to become a psychologist, one professor informed us that human contacts are correlated to longevity. He said that even if you don't like the person, you do need to maintain the relationship. More relationships mean a longer life. I keep remembering the old joke about living longer: Maybe you don't live longer; it just seems like it.
After living at the home for a little over five months, I have decided that I'm willing to take the risk. I don't really want meaningless connections. I would enjoy some relationships with more people if there is something to experience together or we can discuss ideas and events that bless us, but just joint boredom doesn't meet the criteria for friendship, support, or even casual acquaintance. I'll keep reading poetry and seeking someone to share it with. There are other things I'd do with others. Watch TV as long as there is enough silence to hear what the actors are saying. I'll even attend the watercolor class as long as I'm not really expected to be an artist. Human contact that is meaningless doesn't excite or inspire me. I don't think I'd go to the trouble of extending my life if that's all there is to it.
See also Alone in the Universe
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