The temptation is to come to believe that by walking alone, we can march faster, further, across a vaster expanse, than we should were we walking hand in hand with another.
Pity the man who knows no other men, but himself; pity the lonely figure on his single trail, consumed only with his personal footsteps. Maybe it the tragedy of an only child without brothers or sisters, or of unconnected parents, leading a child too long to focus only upon themselves. When our life is lived only for ourselves, then our march becomes a short trek indeed, leading often enough to no changes at all. Life at twelve years of age remains unchanged from life lived at two:
In meeting others sometimes the encounter shocks us, and in so doing helps us, to appreciate our own steps, giving us the gratitude to say: there but for the grace of God go I, and thank God for not being cursed with such little human interaction.
[Thanks to Flares into Darkness for the flying squirrels video, and thanks to my wife, the formidable Mrs Henry, for putting my frustrations over my work into perspective with that angry german kid video]