Time to Be Alone

 I just started reading Long Have I Loved You: A Theologian Reflects on His Church by Walter J. Burghardt.  Not an autobiography as such, the book is more a reflection on the significant influences on Burghrdt's life and thought, and it honestly captures the theology and philosophy that has also shaped my own formation, both pre- and post-Vatican II.

We are culling books from our shelves at this stage of our lives, and frankly, this book was on its way to the donation box when I happened to flip through the last pages of Burghardt's Epilogue on Grateful Memories, where he includes authors or personalities that somehow touched and influenced his thinking, apart from those already addressed in major sections of his book.  His one-page entry on Anne Morrow Lindbergh stopped me in my tracks, and I thought, "I need to read this book."  Here is Burghardt's commentary:

Strange, isn't it, how a moment, a poem, a sentence can affect your life?  Anne Lindbergh and I have lived in completely different worlds: she a thoughtful essayist and poet, wife and widow of the American aviator who made the first solo flight across the Atlantic; I a theologian and editor professor and preacher.  Our paths crossed only in a book and a poem.  Her book: Gift from the Sea, each chapter crafted on a particular shell.  One segment centered on the need to be alone.  She discovered that her response to some invitations, "This is my time to be alone," was difficult for people to understand and accept.  Any other excuse, like a hairdressing engagement, was acceptable, but "time to be alone" sounded to many like a secret vice.  For in our hurried and harried existence, untold millions are reluctant to be alone.  Each empty space has to be filled with sound, often the louder the better.  Jog with a Walkman, cook with a radio, clean house with a TV talk show in your face ---anything better than that frightful s-word: silence.  Actually these are among the most important times in our lives -- when one is alone. Certain springs are tapped only when we are alone.  The artist knows he must be alone to create; the writer to work out his thoughts; the musician, to compose; the saint, to pray."

One of the members of our Wednesday morning book study group recently voiced the same feelings when she said that for years she had been making excuses why she could not attend some events she would prefer to avoid.  Lately, however, she has found the courage to say, "I'd rather not do that, but thank you for inviting me."  It might be time for all of us to find that same courage and to give voice to our need to be alone at times -- to think, to pray, to enjoy looking at the trees, whatever.  

Our communication devices, though a great convenience, have also become harsh task-masters, demanding that we be available and on-call at every moment, intruding even on our alone time.  I wonder how much writing and thinking Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Flannery O'Connor, and Walter Burghardt would have accomplished if their lives had been at the instant demand of cell phones, Instagram, and messages.  Something to think about!