unexpected solitude
[Unexpectedly attending a live music event alone on a winter night.]
First thought: I had forgotten how aware it feels to be alone in public when I had not prepared to be; as if others can see how I am internally picking myself up, continuously. This coincidence made me learn again how to be careless in the face of unexpected attention, how to be messy in occupying that space and not label it as failing to show up correctly.
This happened a few weeks before my planned solo trip in NYC. I saw it as a premonition; the universe testing me before I submerge myself completely in the aloneness.
Second thought: It became progressively easier to anchor myself in present sensations, like the resounding echo of electronic music in the open-space bar, all the people's voices merging in a harmonious cacophony. Listening, letting go, listening more. It smells like incense and nostalgia for a moment that is blurred at the edges of my memory. The red light dimmed to near-obscurity, where the contours of strangers are only hinted at.
There is something to be said about being in this space with these strangers. Where, amidst the unexpected, I am choosing to remain.