I’ve never felt solidarity except while making love, or with a tree or animal or while utterly alone on a river or in a swamp or in the woods. I don’t propose this as a virtue but as a matter of rude fact.
I’m somewhere between an extrovert and an introvert. More extroverted than most English men, more introverted than most older Americans. Younger Americans tend to be more introverted. I like drinking with friends. Sometimes, I like parties. After backpacking for a week by myself, I turn into a raging extrovert, chatting up everyone I meet. I remember entering the Red Moose Café in Sierra City after many days of solo hiking a section of the Pacific Crest Trail and staying there for three hours talking to every person who happened to come through. After that, I went to Sorracco’s Saloon and spent the rest of the evening drinking beer and talking to strangers some more.
On the other hand, I’ve never felt a connection to the crowd at concerts or other public events. The idea of swaying to music with others, or raising my arms in ecstasy at church, or even being part of a soccer or rugby team, holds no appeal. My moments of grace come when I’m alone.
Nehaveigur 