As a wayward 20-year-old college dropout, I would listen to Pink Floyd’s album “Dark Side of the Moon” over and over again. It seemed I was on the verge of some music- induced transcendental experience that could take me further and deeper into the mystic. It was better than drugs or the Zen discipline I had briefly practiced.

Pink Floyd was more cerebral, less visceral than most of the music that rocked the clubs and bars through the ’70s.

“Dark Side” was a private experience for me. I was drawn in by the poetic voices of Gilmour, Waters, and others. And the heavily synthesized production of the album was mesmerizing. It was a cosmic experience.

Last week a different band of explorers journeyed to the dark side of the moon. After days of marveling at the magnificent mother earth from afar, the astronauts were now in a different place altogether, a place of ineffable aloneness – a place where the only life ever known to them had disappeared. Artemis II Astronauts Wiseman, Glover, Koch, and Hansen spent many hours as witnesses to this void.

As I write this, my computer’s autocorrect feature blue-flags the word “aloneness.’ It suggests “loneliness” as the correct form of the word. As we should expect, AI fails to understand nuance: Loneliness bears the connotation of something negative, connecting to separation, isolation, sadness, abandonment, and loss. This is not my intent.

Undoubtedly, being alone might cause distress for most people. After all, we are a physically inferior species whose survival depends on a group mentality.

But I would argue that although being alone can make us feel vulnerable and fearful, it also provides the opportunity to better understand and appreciate the world in which we live. Moreover, it is the time and space in which man creates his masterpieces, and where miracles are conceived.

As a child, someone might have told you that if you cover one of your ears with a conch and plug the other ear, you can hear the sound of the ocean. Maybe so. But in that moment of solitude, you are also listening to your own body, your own breath. In a similar moment of aloneness, let’s say at night after shutting off all your devices, you might try plugging both your ears and listening deep into your body – not just your beating heart or your breathing lungs, but also of the amazing machine-like thrum of organic energy that is the life-force running through you.

Scuba divers must know the sound of aloneness as they explore the ocean canyons where the sun does not exist. The surgeon is alone as he/she makes the critical incision that will save a life. The baseball pitcher and the batter at the plate – each is alone in the moment before the full count pitch. The concert soloist embraces self-reliance in his or her ascent through each movement of the symphony.

While we may be inclined to define ourselves based on our natural abilities and our relationships with others, perhaps the true measure of our worth, of our soul, may be discovered in the time we spend alone. Martin Luther King was alone in a deep and passionate thought process when he wrote “I have a Dream.” Abraham Lincoln was alone when he wrote the Gettysburg Address, and as he grieved the loss of three children.

While Christians everywhere celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus, many forget too quickly that Easter season has just begun. It was after his death on the cross that his words began to spread more widely. It was then, in the days and weeks that followed, that his spirit permeated the lives of those who knew him, and enabled them to tell his story to the world. Seeds, scattered and sown. A new garden to be grown.

Jesus, it seems to me, was alone most of his life, not just in the Garden of Gethsemane or his 40 days in the wilderness or at his moment of doubt on the cross. The cross to bear was his from the start, and his alone.

I think we all need to practice being alone sometime. After all, when the moment comes marking our final journey, the last hand we hold will not be that of a family member. It will be the hand of something much greater, something that will take us beyond the dark side of the moon and into eternal light. It’s gotta be worth the effort!

Musician, writer, house painter Pete Howard lives in Dunkirk. Send comments to odyssmusic20@gmail.com