Little comforts

As the storm clouds gather outside, my little vessel struggles her way through yet another dark night of the soul. You have never felt truly alone, I think, until you have spent a night by yourself far out at sea. The wireless gives a little cheer sometimes.

True isolation certainly gives you ample opportunity to get to know yourself a little better, and to understand the human need for companionship. We are all alone really - yet the comforting presence of others can help us on our voyage through life. Even in death, the ultimate solo act, we cling to those around us for comfort as the darkness approaches.

At sea at night, it can be most heartening to see the lights of another ship in the distance - even if you never exchange so much as a word. By times I have found myself given over to fancy, imagining who might be on board such a vessel and what they might be thinking as they look out at my little light. You see, even the imagined companion can give solace.

Sartre said 'hell is the other.' He was probably correct, as far as it goes. But what is the other, if not ourselves? Ourselves, looking across the ocean, wondering what this alien creature might be like -- this creature who has shared little of what we have experienced and thought. The hell of the other is the hell of our need for him. The comfort of the other is the warm blanket of human experience -- loss, lack, fear. And joy -- definitely sometimes joy.

In a way we are all like little boats, bobbing in the rough waters of life, listening to the wireless of our inner selves, looking out for the lights of the other boats passing with us through the storm.