One theme I have felt very strongly these five years in Sahuarita is Isolation. People who drive here for the first time call us to make sure there really is something south of Tucson. There is an Indian reservation between Tucson and our home. It feels like you’ve left civilization 10 miles before our house emerges from the cactus (and to be honest, from the shadow of a casino).
This is not to imply that our house is physically isolated from other houses. We live in a densely-packed neighborhood of brown stucco homes that look very much the same. The distance between our house and our neighbor’s houses is about 8 feet. We live in a community that is highly regulated, from how many cars we can park out front to the kind of swimwear we can to wear at the pool. Homogenized and crowded, our community is also very isolating. Our house was purchased during the housing boom of 2005-2006 and the house prices were very inflated. Most of our neighbors work all day to pay for their homes. Much of my street is abandoned from 7-5 each day. This is true for many neighborhoods everywhere. The most isolating places are often heavily populated but disconnected.
Isolation is something I have thought about a lot during my life. Even Dr. Seuss acknowledges that “Alone is something you will be quite a lot.” I have decided that isolation is not in itself the problem. In fact, I think some of my favorite authors, poets and theologians were products of isolation: Robert Lewis Stevenson, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Barrett Browing, William Tyndale, and more. I can relate to Jacob in the Book of Mormon when he talks about being separated from his people and feeling lonesome (Jacob 7:26). Some chose their isolation, and for others, isolation chose them. Through their isolation or because of it, they were able to be more introspective, more imaginative, even more inspired (did I steal that from PBS?); and like Jacob, more solemn.
I feel isolated from my extended family. I try not to complain, but I will always miss the associations that I might have had with my sisters, my parents, my brothers, and their families. On the other hand, if theology has taught me anything, measurements of time and distance are of little importance in the eternities. I will never cease to “Be” and this means by reasonable extension and through temple covenants, I will never cease to be a sister, a daughter, a wife, a mother. Because of this, I feel like I will have other chances to be a part of my family’s experiences someday. I do what I can to remain a part of their lives, but the voice that wants things NOW grows whiny when I miss the good and (strangely) the bad times with them.
On good days I see isolation as a tool in helping me have time to study and think, which are things I crave. On bad days I rival a cactus as I bristle and fight the solitude. I know I am no poet or writer or great anything (thank goodness), but I hope that this isolation serves its purpose in the chiseling of my character and serving God’s purposes. I have a personality that craves isolation, but also longs for very meaningful, direct, and illuminating interaction, too.
Well, I just read this post and I am debating whether I should hit “publish.” I’ve grown so introspective I’ve almost completely turned inside out a long tube sock of pity for myself. And yes, I realize that was a terribly odd thing to say.
