The gifts of solitude
My husband reminds me he will be heading off for four days next week. I feel a shiver of anticipation. I did not need a reminder. How could I forget that I was about to have four days of solitude?
Whenever I write about solitude, I feel compelled to say this: I adore my husband. I love spending time with him. I miss him when he is gone. But - four days of alone time? What a gift!
I have written extensively about solitude. A quick search through my blog reveals that I have mentioned solitude in over 18 blog posts. The Fine Line Between Loneliness and Solitude, remains one of my most-widely read blog posts.
There can be a fine line between solitude and loneliness. Strong social relationships are important to living a longer, healthier life. And I know that as social circles shrink in later years, loneliness can creep in.
The loneliness of my younger years still haunts me. Like the lines from Mary Oliver’s poem, “I too have known loneliness. I, too, have known what it is to feel misunderstood, rejected, and suddenly not at all beautiful.” There was a loneliness in always being chosen last in gym class, not being asked to the prom, and being the only one of my friends without a boyfriend.
I learned to be content with my own company, and over time, being alone was something I initially needed and eventually craved. I don’t think too deeply about why I need solitude. I would rather focus on the gifts of solitude.
Solitude is a state of being alone, by choice. It is deliberate and positive. For me, it is a time without any distractions from the outside world. And yes, this includes my husband - no television in the background, no interruptions, no need to factor in anyone else’s rhythms or needs.
Solitude transcends just being alone. Solitude also needs the right physical environment. For me, that involves forest, ocean, trails, birds, and silence.
What you do with solitude can matter more than solitude itself. For me, solitude is a prerequisite for creativity. I am most productive when I am alone. This is when you will find me curled up with a cup of tea at 4 am, filling pages in the quiet of dawn. No worries that leaving our bed will wake my husband, who will come looking for me to see if I am okay.
Solitude allows for a deep, inward focus of the mind. When alone, I regain perspective on my thoughts. Solitude allows for self-discovery through a deeper inner focus.
Solitude changes how I see myself and the world. Wendell Berry observed that in true solitude, one’s inner voices become audible and in consequence, one responds more clearly to other lives.
Solitude provides time to regain balance. As an introvert, I need solitude to re-energize after being around people.
While I crave solitude, I also treasure the people in my life - my husband, daughters, grandchildren, friends, and community. May Sarton, on returning to her New Hampshire farmhouse, said it best, “I am here alone for the first time in weeks, to take up my real life again, at last. That is what is strange - that friends, even passionate love, are not my real life unless there is time to explore and discover what is happening or has happened. Without the interruptions, nourishing and maddening, this life would become arid. Yet I taste it fully only when I am alone here…”
What kind of solitude restores you? When does solitude nourish you, and when does it begin to feel lonely?
