All of us are solitaries: we are born alone through the birth canal into the world and time, and we die alone. No one can enter our interior experience, or its continuum with the outer world we call community. Solitude is the human condition, the universal vocation to be human. It is the willingness, with Love indwelling, to go to the heart of pain to find new life and share it with the world even though you may be separated from it physically. It is from this commitment to be focused through the narrow gate of solitude that self-emptying love is outpoured, and the heart of the community, the heart of its pain, is transformed into the heart of joy.
The breathing in and out of the earth's atmosphere by the body is a symbol of the eternal rhythm of the Self-I and Thou, in and out, up and down, forward and back, systole and diastole in their final unity. The conscious realization and incarnation of this rhythm, balance, unity, in the unique, individual pattern of one's life would lead — so I feel — to the breathing out of one's last breath into death into that air of eternity, which is the breath of life when the body is left behind.
~ from SUCH STUFF AS DREAMS ARE MADE ON by Helen Luke