joie de vivre

This weekend my dad visited us because he was in town for a business trip! Since we don't get to see him too often, I really do enjoy it when he comes, and try to make him feel as welcomed as possible. Sometimes I wonder how he gets on the way he does… 5 day atlas-crossing business trips, major jetlag, stress-consuming job…

One Friday when I got out of work early and was running along Santa Monica pier, I noticed all sorts of people leisurely soaking up the sun… people who work nearby taking breaks, parents strolling with their kids, fitness buddies running together… but in particular, I noticed this one Asian man who was fully dressed in his business suit pacing along the path. He caught my attention not only because he was wearing a business suit by the beach on a sunny day, but because he looked out to the ocean with this sense of longing, like he was completely lost in thought and separated from the rest of the world. He didn’t seem menacing or was lurking creepily in any way, just kind of wandering… with the most prevailing sense of loneliness.

Now, I have no way of knowing if the loneliness is my projection, my interpretation of his demeanor… he could have just won the lottery or something and was celebrating by the beach.

But anyway, sometimes I look at my dad and I wonder if he’s lonely, or if he wishes he had a family around, or simply just that he wasn't by himself all the time. And I wonder what he thinks about when he’s so lost in thought, which is basically all the time. And I wonder if, when he takes weekly walks in the park (which I know he does), others look at him and feel a tinge of sympathy for him, and see what I saw when I looked at the man at the beach --a kind-hearted middle-aged man who appears to be lost in melancholic contemplation, walking aimlessly.

I felt more than a tinge of sympathy, because for some reason looking at the man by the beach that day caused a world of loneliness to sweep over me as if I could feel the longing and emptiness of every single person in the world. Does he have a family? Does he have friends? What is he thinking about? What happened to him? Why is he at the beach by himself in the middle of the day? Does anything make him happy? Why do people feel so removed from the world sometimes, as if no one can ever understand? And why some people moreso than others? The contrast to the sunny beach and crashing waves and happy families was a bit disconcerting.

And if he were anything like my dad, then he may not be unhappy, but he most likely isn’t content and happy, either.

I once noticed another man when I was at a UCLA Vivaldi concert with my mom, sister, and Mike. He was sitting in the Powell Rotunda, and I noticed him because he was just as entranced by the music as I was. He came alone, and he had a pleasant smile wiped across his face, captivated by the harmonies of the music, sitting in the very back corner, unaware of anybody around him. I thought it was interesting that this unassuming Asian man in his 30’s came to the show by himself, simply ready to be captured by the music.

A few weeks later, I noticed him again while I was running around my neighborhood, and this time he was biking somewhere. Pedaling steadily, without rush, the same pleasant smile across his face, the wind slightly feathering his hair. I know he didn’t notice me at all, nor is he probably even aware that we were at the same concert together. He was just as lost in his own world. It actually didn’t completely register with me that it was the same man until I had passed him.

Seeing this second man brought a different sense of solitude, one of subtle joy and appreciation, for life and all the little intricacies weaved within it. He also emanated a sense of loneliness, maybe because both times I saw him, he was by himself. But instead of feeling sympathetic towards him, I felt a sense of comprehension and reassurance. As if he still enjoys life, even though he may not have the conventional family surrounding him, the camaraderie of friends, the grind and nonchalance of the everyday.

Lots of people have to face this world alone, whether in long or brief stints, or for their entire lives. I went through a period of obsession with loneliness when I was younger, hoping and praying that nobody I loved would ever have to feel a speck of loneliness, which of course I know is impossible. I thought it was the most abominable and dreadful facets of life, and I've tried my best to prevent anyone I love from feeling that. But I also know that it is unavoidable.

And I hope for my dad, that rather than that desolate loneliness that swept me when I saw the man by the beach, it is a sense of comfort, humanity, and poignant solitude that tinges him and other people when they cross my dad’s path, whether he is eating dinner alone at a restaurant, waiting by the airport alone for his next business flight, or taking a stroll by himself in the park.