We tend to appreciate that which is rare.
Flawless diamonds, semi-honest politicians, great art—all are valued in part for their scarcity, the scant supply versus the demand.
Maybe that says something about why the loner appreciates community. The loner is generally self-sufficient. After all, that’s likely to explain why he is a loner. The loner doesn’t need the validation of others, he is almost a self-contained entity.
But the loner is a human being and humans are social animals by nature. We evolved in clans and tribes, and we find purpose in helping to sustain the larger group.
During the twenty-two hour portion of each twenty-four hour cycle that I spend alone, I am usually content. I amuse myself, I think profound thoughts, I walk around. I seldom crave companionship. But I admit that, like guests who stay too long, the reruns of those stale thoughts do take on a certain stench. There’s also a gnawing spookiness to that echo chamber inside the cranium.
This is my clumsy way of saying that I appreciate you more than you know. The absence of you, my fellow tribesman/tribeswoman, does indeed make the heart grow fonder. You laugh, you offer a kindly smile, you indulgently pretend that I’m not nuts. You stand out in an otherwise sparse vista.
So…Thanks for stopping by…