independence

It hasn't been that long since I started this blog, but there are certain things I've written about over and over again.  I sometimes simply forget what I wrote.  And sometimes, it might be something I simply want to remind myself.  Either way, one of those topics is happiness and independence:

I think I quoted something like this before --

The best way to embrace loneliness is to be independent.  Being independent means knowing how to trust yourself.  To trust yourself, you have to spend some time alone, live your own life, prove yourself that you can do it.  Go through some pain.  Make some effort.  Shed some tears.  Pour some sweat.  Find what's really valuable to you.  Accept yourself.  Then you realize you're not lonely; you're just alone.

The other day, I saw a blind and deaf man being featured on a news program and thought: *this* is what you call 'alone'.  He was born deaf and had lost his sight when he was 31.  His father and brother had supported him but both were now dead.  He was 51.  He hadn't left his house in decades, and when he was interviewed, his vocabulary was too limited he had difficulty expressing his feelings.  He used to write on hands to communicate with his family but since they only had minimum communication, his vocabulary had shrunk.  He didn't even know the date.  "How did he manage to live in this loneliness?  Only he knows but he has no way to tell."

It struck me hard when they said he had forgotten his words.  Some people can still make music in their head after they become deaf.  Some people can still see the blue sky after they become blind.  I thought everything existed in the brain -- that imagination could take you anywhere.  I knew nothing might be as vivid as reality, but it hardly occurred to me that our world in our brain could shrink and lose its colors when we lost contact with the outside world.

The news program ended with some hope, featuring a young woman who was also deaf and blind but with support, had started to work as a teacher.  She said she was happy now, that she had so many great encounters through her disease.  She appreciated the support and seemed at peace.  Her genuine smile made me feel slightly ashamed.  It shouldn't cost us light and sound to find happiness.