Strange bedfellows, intimacy and solitude. Craved for its heady high and delicate, delectable power, intimacy deludes its captors and eludes its pursuers in equal measure. He is not always what he seems.

Likewise, solitude subtly lures her “victims,” offering only teensy crevices between rocks and hard places, belying the truth of her oceanic depth.

We covet being deeply connected to at least one other person–its acquisition thought to capture and bottle the elusive happiness panacea. Some will argue that ironically it is our sexual pursuit of intimacy that hinders attaining it, and that only abstinence will allow us a more honest assessment of our desires and help us separate the chaff (a one-nighter) from the grain (a more lasting union). Others claim that without an initial sexual spark, true intimacy will rarely happen. Even the settling of this argument via a spiritual belief or the absence of one does not address the crux of our intangible malaise, this “tip of the tongue” feeling about naming the culprit, i.e. the reason so many of us walk around with the feeling that “there must be more to life than this.” And being the creatures we are, we seek “more” in various ways-drugs, alcohol, affairs, sex, movies, pornography, parties, dating, shopping, exercising, dieting, etc. –anything that feels as if we are switching things up a bit–either by escaping, avoiding, attempting to change our appearance, or simply interacting with others. We’ve all witnessed or been the lonely person who inappropriately unloads a bit of “TMI” (too much information) on the unsuspecting cashier.

It is far easier to get the quick emotional fix of superficial connections than it is to get deep ones. This is one of the main reasons social networking is so popular. Need to connect? Post something provocative and wait for friends to respond. Or, find an intriguing post and add a comment as if you were in the room or in the midst of a physical conversation. Though powerful and valuable, social networking and many of the other ways we seek to connect are not necessarily intimate–we are missing what even a great refiner’s fire cannot burn away: the need for intimacy with ourselves.

Our awareness of our acute need for some alone time (the kids are driving us crazy, the spouse or spouse-equivalent is smothering us), might push us in the right direction but then yield the ironic result of us sitting in Starbucks Facebooking–ahh, “alone” with 300 of our “closest” friends. This incessant, activity-rich decade or two has us (almost) believing that we are fulfilled by using our private moments to “connect,” If we are lucky enough to realize that we are not satisfied, we still have a difficult time slowing down long enough to identify the source(s) of our displeasure.

Managing the pace of our lives, thanks to the miracles of technology, has us so lubricated by instant gratification that our deeper needs slip by. And then our intimate relationships begin to suffer…sometimes weathering the tempest of our anxiety and dissatisfaction, sometimes not. As the storms blow through, we do not bend and adjust as we should. We do not stop to analyze what is happening, much less why. We shoulder on with our commitments, our cyber-connections, and our playdates, our responsibilities, the needs of others–oblivious to Solitude as she valiantly yet silently screams for our attention. Why do we avoid her? We are afraid of what we might find there, of course–afraid that we won’t like what we feel or see, or that because we already don’t like what we see, we will self-destruct, burn up, cease to exist if we get too close to the fiery hot truth of ourselves.

Still, only solitude can purify our thoughts, clarify our desires, and speak our deepest truths, leaving us with the closest thing to a philosopher’s stone we will find on Earth: authenticity. And, like the miles of training a runner puts in before competing in a marathon, this is our base, from which we are more likely to experience a satisfying level of intimacy, or at least begin to try. Intimacy and solitude are strange bedfellows indeed, but partners nevertheless–even if one is temporarily sleeping in another room.

I’m curious–as this is such a huge topic, what your experiences are. Are you willing to share some of the ways in which you either embrace or avoid solitude? Perhaps, since one woman’s discussion about this topic certainly falls short of adequacy, we can start a deeper conversation? I welcome your public OR your private comments (thejadedlens@gmail.com). Perhaps a future post can include (without naming names) the suggestions, the struggles, the victories you share. With gratitude…Britton