It was strange because one of the geese flew down to the open grass of the park. Two other geese followed the first, displaying their majestic colors of dark brown and egg-white feathers, squawking their queries toward the first goose. And that first goose, the lone one with unkempt feathers and wandering eyes, didn’t squawk back. It remained quiet and dug for worms in the grass, listening to the sound of the autumn wind. The two geese continued their cries and often leaped ten feet into the air—trying to persuade the first goose to continue its migration south. But the goose merely ignored the two. I watched this for quite a while, thinking back to all the people who may have tried to befriend me. Eventually, the two geese left the first goose alone. And it was there in late afternoon that the first goose played. It was by itself and it stayed alone. Like Saint Hilarion of Cyprus, I now understood my spiritual isolation.

Spending time alone is essential for growth, and I’ll continue to grow. I may not be like others, but there are others like me.