At the recommendation of a good friend in December, I went to the theater to see Interstellar with Matthew McConaughey, Anne Hathaway, Jessica Chastain, and a few other big names. I went to the theater by myself and I was the only person there. It was really quite fun, being there all on my lonesome.
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable. – C.S. Lewis in The Four Loves
“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on when in your heart you begin to understand: there is no going back. There are some things that time cannot mend; some hurts that go too deep that have taken hold.” – Frodo in the film version of The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
It takes a lot for me to feel lonely. More than a month ago, I moved to a new town and started a new job. A lot of my energy has gone into getting used to my job and to learning (or not learning) the secret of waking up early and arriving at work before sunrise every morning. I have spoken to people at work and to people at each church I’ve visited, as well as to some family and friends on the phone. But outside of work, Sunday church, and occasional phone conversations, I have spoken very little to anyone in the past few weeks. As some may call it, I have been “unsociable and taciturn”, and yet I have barely noticed.
“Do you never laugh, Miss Eyre? Don’t trouble yourself to answer – I see you laugh rarely; but you can laugh very merrily: believe me, you are not naturally austere, any more than I am naturally vicious. The Lowood constraint still clings to you somewhat; controlling your features, muffling your voice, and restricting your limbs; and you fear in the presence of a man and a brother – or father, or master, or what you will – to smile too gaily, speak too freely, or move too quickly: but, in time, I think you will learn to be natural with me, as I find it impossible to be conventional with you; and then your looks and movements will have more vivacity and variety than they dare offer now. I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close-set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high.” – Mr. Rochester in Chapter XIV of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, first published in 1847