Tag Archives: Alone


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VoiceSamuel Barclay Beckett (13 April 1906 – 22 December 1989) was an Irish avant-garde novelist, playwright, theatre director, and poet, who lived in Paris for most of his adult life and wrote in both English and French. He is widely regarded as among the most influential writers of the 20th century.

Beckett’s work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human existence, often coupled with black comedy and gallows humour, and became increasingly minimalist in his later career. He is considered one of the last modernist writers, and one of the key figures in what Martin Esslin called the “Theatre of the Absurd”.   Beckett was awarded the 1969 Nobel Prize in Literature.


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It’s not easy to say what I really think about Life in this Universe.  It’s complicated.  It’s a Love / Hate relationship. The random, unpredictable drama of it is entertaining, amusing and terrifying.  I love the sensual scenery on Earth and the impassioned sensations of sex.  I hate pain, lies, stupidity and injustice.  The wonder and mystery of an endlessly starry night is a facade of pretended majesty.  The sounds of soft, subtle jazz are sublime.  A trusted companion is comforting.  Ice cream is irresistible.  The blissful buzz of booze is bemusing. I am enamored with the innocent insouciance of animals.  Life Forms are reflections of The Divine Essence of Life.

Yet, I detest greed and the callous brutality of possessions.  I would love to love this universe.  But, it’s not my universe.  It’s not the universe I would create if I could create my own. It is full of recycled pain and dying and death. Agony, mystery and ignorance are everywhere. There are no real angels or faeries here. No honor. No Integrity. No Justice. No Mercy. No Poetic Magic. This universe in impassive and intolerant of nonsensically nonsequitur nonsense.

This universe is frozen, dark, impartial vacuum dotted with incandescent infernos of light-emitting balls of eternally burning gases!  Sprinkled, intermittently, throughout are gaseous clouds of radioactive poison and icy balls of rock.  It swirls and grows relentlessly in an eternally timeless now of revolving, random rotation. It is not me. It is not mine. I can’t own it and I don’t want it.  Yet, I can’t leave it behind!  (as far as I know, I’m stuck here….)

Does it have a purpose and destiny?  Does it know that I exist?  Does it care?

No. It does not.

I am a Nothingness of Thought.  I’m not from here. I didn’t begin anywhere. I am not a Thing. I Am Endlessly Emitting Emotions, Ideas, Compassion and Creative Notions.

I am Universes Apart from this universe.  Universes apart.

In My Own Universe I Am what I dream: Sensual, Dramatic, Comic.  I AM.  Motionless.  Curious. Playful. Joyful. Pleased with my Own Existence.  I Create. I Change. I Destroy, or not, at My Whim. I Am My Universe in My Universe.  You’re welcome to share it with me, as long as you Admire My Creations.  I’d like to Admire Yours too.  More than anything, I don’t like being Alone and Bored.


— Lawrence R. Spencer. Saturday Night Musing. November 2012.


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Do you feel as though you are completely alone?  Do you ever feel as though there is not one other person who really cares who you are, or what you think?  It is possible to honestly and opening share your deepest thoughts, dreams or emotions with anyone?  Do we really understand our OWN thoughts, dreams and emotions? If not, how can we honestly say that we can understand those of another being?

On Earth it seems that communication using language symbols  with other beings actually prevents complete understanding!  Our social facades, sexual-biological programing and cultural customs may temporarily soften the reality that we are, and have always been alone. As much as we may desire admiration from others, or feel admiration for others, we are the only person who really knows and understands the depth and breath of our inner, immortal self — if this is even possible at all.

Sharing life, love, understanding, hope, dreams and illusions with other beings — and losing them — awakens the soul-crushing brutality that we are, in fact, alone.  There is no greater pain that any being can suffer than this awareness.  Yet, this seems to be the fact of existence as we know it on Earth for the vast majority of beings.

When we die and have no body we literally disappear from physical universe reality.  People may have memories of us, but these fade and die each each person fades and passes from “reality”.  Religious propaganda tells us that “you are loved”.  But, are you really loved by another person, and an unseen spirit?  Do you even “love” yourself? Your relationship with yourself — yourself alone — is a subjective experience that cannot be shared with anyone.  If we want to be “loved”, we must do it ourselves. Love is an experience that is self-created.  However, when we’re dead we can “rest” assured that everyone else is alone with us, or without us. The pain we all endure alone is the reality we share together. ~ Lawrence R. Spencer, 2015.