The Emotion of Beyond Society and Solitude -- From a Life of Being Alone

(Philosocom's Directory On Emotions)

(Philosocom's Hidden Logic Systems Directory)

Summary by Anonymous

The article explores a unique emotional experience that arises during deep solitude. Mr. Tomasio describes this emotion as distinct from loneliness or isolation, characterized by a sense of detachment from human connection and a profound connection with oneself.

This unnamed emotion is seen as a catalyst for personal growth and self-discovery. By embracing solitude, Mr. Tomasio seeks to transcend the limitations of human nature and achieve a higher state of being.

The article also delves into the challenges and rewards of solitude, highlighting the importance of self-awareness and the potential for spiritual and emotional growth. Mr. Tomasio ultimately suggests that by exploring the depths of solitude, one can uncover hidden aspects of oneself and attain a greater, unconventional understanding of the human condition.

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The Unnamed Enigma: Embracing the Unfamiliar in Deep Solitude

I have discovered something unique, a hidden facet of my being revealed only during extended periods of disconnection from the world as a physical hermit. Not just silence, but complete isolation, devoid of even the faintest whisper of human interaction. Within this profound quietude, an emotion arises, one for which even language seems inadequate.

It defies conventional labels of positive or negative. No, it washes over me like a spectral tide, transforming me into a "phantom," adrift in a realm beyond conventional understanding. This mysterious, unnamed emotion is the true essence of solitude, a hidden gem veiled from most eyes.

Loneliness it is not.

The ache of isolation has long since faded, replaced by a quiet mastery of my own company. I can endure solitude for extended stretches, not just endure it, but flourish in its embrace, forming the article empire you read before you. It empowers me, grants me freedom and a sense of being a little less dead inside. This is why I've retreated partially from the world, finding solace primarily in my work for humanity, where the lack of noise grants me the space to cultivate this unique connection with myself, meant as a means for you, for altruism.

Yet, the emotion I describe isn't simply "Solitarus," the love one finds in being alone, a concept already foreign to many. That too, is a contributing factor to my semi-hermit status, for "Solitarus" or "Bdiduta" are fleeting moments glimpsed only in the deepest moments of isolation.

This unnamed emotion, however, was felt very rarely. It was a symphony played on the strings of my own being, its melody both melancholic and strangely beautiful, the same as it was alienating. It somehow makes sense, giving that, according to the "Grey Problem", we are containers of internal conflicts and contradictions.

Perhaps one day, I will find the words to capture its essence, to share this enigmatic experience with the world. But for now, it remains an unnamed wonder, a secret treasure unearthed in the vast, silent expanse of solitude. Either way, we are more than what we're letting ourselves to be.

Embracing the Alien Grip of Solitude

That emotion of love, so great it makes one wonder why else exist besides survival and other minimal pursuits, is not the emotion I speak of.

The strange emotion I describe pulls me away from "humanness" and towards something "alien." I can only attempt to describe this "alien" feeling through its effects. It's not exhaustion, for then I would crave the escape towards company. No, perhaps this is what I hinted at in my earlier work, where I spoke of solitude as something that can "ascend" the human spirit beyond the confines of its social nature.

While I can't pinpoint the exact number of times I've felt this "alien" feeling, the first instance remains vivid. I used to go on incredibly long walks, hours on end, devoid of any interaction. That particular walk wasn't anything special, I believe, yet the feeling materialized only there. A bittersweet melancholy, not quite misery, happiness, or sadness. It simply exists, obscure and enigmatic.

This feeling appeared rarely throughout my life; I would estimate less than five occurrences. If you've ever experienced the hauntingly serene ambience of the Silent Hill video games, that's the closest approximation I can offer for this alien sensation within solitude.

Some might subscribe to the philosophy that we've already unearthed the full spectrum of human emotion. But have we truly?

Society, you see, acts as a distraction, a means to avoid confronting the mysteries, blessings and illnesses within ourselves. Through acts of meditation we can transport the subconscious into the conscious, as we become aware of the things that manage us. The fears, the desires, and so on. We shouldn't expect society to understand what we ourselves fail to understand properly. For the person who is the most with themselves, is themselves. We are capable of professorship about ourselves, others might not.

By choosing solitude, I acknowledged the mental health risks that lurked there: alienation, boredom, and depression.

However, I yearned for what many others escaped from: to conquer the challenges that reside within the darkness of being alone, to transcend them, to become immune to the negativity that can arise from prolonged solitude. And ultimately, to dispel that darkness within me, so I won't be immoral like many others. That, if I were an alchemist, would be my "Philosopher's Stone."

In Search of the Nameless

Back when I wrote my books, I wanted to become my own variant of the "Ubermensch" as described by Nietzsche, but only when it came to society and solitude -- to be above them both, and thus truly independent of the emotions that follow each.

No loneliness; no craving for love; no desire to socialize; and finally, no suffering regarding either society or solitude; no suffering of any kind revolving around human interaction, or lack thereof. Is it what I seek, this strange emotion for which I have no name? It is blank as the winter sky, and yet, it is intense as lightning. It makes you feel like something's changing, like something is transitioning, but you do not know exactly what.

I've read about hermits more extreme than myself; people who lived days and months on boats, in the wilderness, in Antarctica. I still have that book somewhere, the Loner's Manifesto by Anneli Rufus. They did not describe the emotion I am trying to describe here, and I do not know why. Perhaps they kept it to themselves, I don't know.

What I wish to be, nonetheless, is a man who is beyond society and seclusion, someone who could work out with each. Since I have been so much with others throughout my life, in the form of school and work, I decided years ago that the next phase is to sink deep, deep into solitude, communicating with others only when necessary.

The definition of "necessary", however, is not as concrete as it may seem, so I had to write an article explaining it. I seek to survive beyond my death, and thus I made this site, so I will survive within your own memory, but of course, that's not the sole purpose of this site, as you may already know.

Beyond Duality, Beyond Suffering

Whether this strange emotion returns to grace me with its presence, I'm unsure. Perhaps I'll delve deeper into its nature, perhaps it will remain an intangible notion. What I can say with certainty is that physical isolation has often served as the spark, the catalyst -- that is what ignites my exploration of transcending the inherent "socialness" of humanity.

To become of greater humanity, morally. To become a more moral being, you must first know yourself better, so you will know what within you can be improved. Even through writing, we can discover ourselves better. We can do so, and empirically realize that we exist beyond many unnecessary dependencies, beyond our attachments, and even... beyond our solitude or loneliness.

I struggle to capture the essence of this emotion in words. It exists outside the binary dance of society and solitude, nurtured by profound moments of silence and physical disconnection. In its embrace, you shed the being a "concrete" human, dissolving into a "fluid" "phantom." Abstract, indeed.

You realize how small and miniscule you are, and you also realize how complex you are, at the same time. Indeed, as the philosopher Zeno realized, reality is infinite.