Solitaire.
This past weekend I spent an entire day alone. The only words I spoke the entire day were “iced coffee please.” I woke up and caught up on some news. I watched one show I missed from last week. I went to the gym. I came back home, I cleaned my apartment. I went shopping in SoHo for about three hours. I didn’t buy anything but coffee. I came home again. I cooked myself an extremely tedious dinner. I walked to the movie theater alone. Saw a movie. I came home, went to bed. It was the oddest day and I didn’t know why. As I was walking home from my failed attempt at shopping, I couldn’t help but try to remember the last time I was alone like this.
I can only recall two or three days in my entire life when I didn’t speak to anyone. I can’t tell you the last time I remember being so in-tune with my inner thoughts, fears, dreams, and ultimately, what my inner dialogue really sounds like. What I CAN tell you is that this day was not only terrifying, but so very important.
As people, we are innately social. Our first “milestone” is speaking. We are placed into social clubs, groups, circles, and relationships and interactions are woven so effortless into our daily lives that some people depend on them. Their survival instinct is to interact, laugh, and commiserate. One could argue that the majority of these interactions are surface level, routine, or just unloading your own shit onto someone else. The hard truth is this is easier sometimes than sitting alone and looking inward.
At 27 and in New York, I have all the chances in the world to be social. On this particular day, some plans fell through, everyone was busy, and I realized halfway through that I was truly experiencing the presence of myself. The dials of my internal conversation were turned up and I felt like I finally heard the truth of my own words.
Down to the smallest example: Normally I am with someone else or a group and the pressures of opinion cloud the truth. I buy a shirt because everyone is wearing it. I agree on the critique of a film because the group conversation is headed that way. I drink more because hey, everyone else seems to be enjoying. On this particular day, none of these possible influences, no matter their origin, were present. Just me.
Granted, it was in New York City. (Are you really ever alone there?) The answer is yes. At times, NYC can seem like the loneliest place on earth. Surrounded by millions, heard/seen/touched by none. Without the dialogue, the existence of my truest self took the highest pedestal. I believed what I believed and learned what I wanted to learn and took in what I chose to take in. Every little moment of that day shaped me, choice by choice. For 24 hours, I didn’t have to debate or defend. I was not changed by anything but time and mother nature. I didn’t engage in empty/unwanted pleasantries. I didn’t unload any of my crap on someone else, nor was I altered by anyone else’s either. The day was there and it was mine.
Silence has become a friend and a teacher: a teacher far more subtle than therapy or podcasts or the proverbial “vent session.” When I hang out with silence, the rhythm of my heartbeat matters more than my circumstances. The breaths I take are more vital than the events of my day. I can focus on me and why simply existing is enough. Overstimulation has been my demise for quite some time. Until this day, I never realized just how much. I ride the waves of daily life and try to make it through, but maintaining an immensely standalone individual who knows himself had not been my forte. When you are isolated, you can no longer be a chameleon to your world. The development of yourself without the dependence of others is one of the most powerful things you can do.
The issue now is that we are confusing solitude with loneliness. They are vastly different and should not be dangerously misinterpreted. My seclusion into a world consisting of just my atoms and consciousness is not the same as feeling alone. I know I am not alone. I never will be.
I am not ready to toss out my Super Soul Sunday or my Wednesday wine nights with friends. They are good for my spirit and a highlight to my week. I am, however, ready for more days spent with me. I want to know these values. I want to develop the style. I want to find that steady pace that doesn’t need a competing track. These days are good for you and they are good for me. Listen to yourself. You know what you need more than any company does.
Alice Koller said “Being solitary is being alone well: being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your won presence rather than of the absence of others.” Learning to be alone well is my new favorite activity. Read alone. Pray alone. Think alone. Study alone. Walk alone. This is where I grow. This where who I am meets who I want to be.
