I host a writer’s group that meets when we are able to share our stories, discuss our projects, and to write. The process of moving forward in one’s writing is essentially a solitary endeavor, but it does not need to be a lonely one. In the levels of overwhelm we combat and cope with to varying degrees of failure and success in the digital age, loneliness is a hallmark. We’ve never had more ways to intersect, and yet, never been more insulated from true connection. My fellow writers and I annually set aside a few days at a monastery to overcome this, and this past weekend was our time.
The wise and lovely women I shared my weekend with alternately tapping away on our keyboards and drinking too much coffee laughed, musing and shared from multivariate perspectives. Merrily crunching through fallen leaves on the paths around the retreat center, the colors and shapes of the broken kaleidoscope seemed a perfect reflection of our happy assemblage: gathered and unified around a common hub, multiple spokes pointing in the divergent directions of the compass, all necessary for their uniqueness and the stability they provide. Thirty years ago, 25% of the people in a given county voted similarly. Now, the number is 80%. The pacification of virtual and literal echo chambers will never present a way forward to the cohesiveness and joy that alone comes when we choose one another, despite our uniqueness. Differences are like ingredients in a recipe: we need the baseline of distinction in order to create the delectable offerings that only emerge when we do, electing harmony over dissonance and isolation.