My solitude was lonely when I was young and my loneliness was lonelier when I was young. Now that I am older (and ironically, less alone), I have also understood that some of us are lonely together. We may have different responsibilities and concerns than our neighbors or colleagues or sometimes even our friends, but we are never truly alone. There are unseen others who are learning to make peace with their solitude or have come to fully embrace the strength in their solitude. Especially if we are readers and/or writers, we are never truly alone. We are alone, yet together. And not that far away from one another. This is what I tell my daughter too.
That's a beautiful insight, Malathi. Being alone and feeling lonely are two separate things, I think. We can feel alone while in the thick of a huge crowd, or we can be alone and feel incredibly connected. It's strange how that happens. As you mentioned, it is good to remind ourselves that we are never alone, even when we feel lonely.
Loneliness chosen intentionally becomes solitude. I love this, Jeannie. Thanks for redeeming some of your pain here by ministering to all of us with it.
Oh, I like how you added the element of "chosen" loneliness. I think that's an important distinction between isolation, which is when we have felt powerless in our alone-ness. Thanks for stopping by today, Kelly, and for your thoughtful comments, as always!
I'm wholeheartedly with you Jeannie! "I can’t continue to chase the Western cultural paradigm of acquisition and productivity, this narrative that a person is only worth as much as their home or vehicles or position in a company or wealth, that a person is only worth as much as what they can do rather than who they are." For the same reason I always say in my yoga teaching that I have no interest in DOING yoga, but BEING yoga - and that is what I teach. To remain present for those uncomfortable quiet moments that feel more like a volcano erupting takes courage. And I'm glad you have a good friend who allowed you to do just that. Friends used to apologize to me when they burst into tears in front of me. I used to always tell them, "that's okay, let it out. I'm not intimidated by tears." Better this rage, sadness, grief finds it way to be expressed, or it will eat us from within. And I know you already know this, but your daughter Sarah is a beautiful, wise human being from everything you write about her.
Oh, Imola, you know what? I love how you keep writing "I have no interest in DOING yoga, but BEING yoga." That is your whole theme, isn't it? Of what you write - the being rather than the doing? I love that so much. This philosophy, to me, is essential in helping us reframe our perception that our worth and worthiness is found only to the extent of what we can offer society. A totally false framework. I guess having a kid like Sarah taught me that humans are inherently worthy. That may seem like a "duh" moment to some, or many, but to me it was a vital recognition that none of us really has to "do" anything in order to be loved and lovable. I extended that to myself, and how I felt about myself. Love your perspective here, and I was so happy to see your name pop up here today!
Awww. And now you bring me to tears! I had such a tough day, so this is such a lovely thing to read. Again, I know, a shocker, but I agree with you. Nothing humbles us into some uncomfortable truths like our children. Just be kind to yourself, always, as you learn these lessons. I say this because I am not always that kind to myself. And yes, being yoga, and being in general is what I’m all about. Doing is just an act. Being is messy. And vulnerable. And beautiful. Just like everything you described in this post. Much love to you soul sister.
I feel you on this, Imola. Sometimes I find that just living in this exhausting world is enough to bring me to tears - not even always with a specific reason, just the way I absorb the weight and suffering and heaviness that surrounds me most days.
I don’t know if you are a highly sensitive person or not, but I know that I am. (Of course there is a book about that called - surprise! - The Highly Sensitive Person by Dr. Elaine Aron.) Anyway, being highly sensitive, I find that I need to take frequent breaks into the quiet, to recharge my energy, to allow myself to process how I’m feeling, to be gentle and patient and kind to what my body and mind and soul need.
My hope is that you are able to do this, too, to give yourself whatever you need today.
What a beautiful reflection Jeannie! Oh, how I resonate with the silence, honesty and the howling, the rage... I feel you soul sister!
Beautifully written, especially this part: "Personhood is a gift. It’s inherent in each human. We don’t have to be, or do, anything in order to be fully valuable and valued, lovable and loved. The discovery of this truth happens when we give ourselves permission to pause in the stillness of a few quiet moments and lend our ear to our heart’s murmurings. "
You wrote, "What is inside that awakens when you spend time alone with your thoughts?"
This question has lingered with me. It's a beautiful invitation to explore the depths of our own being. For me, this solitude used to be lonely. Now, it is a place that awakens my creativity. ❤️
What an insightful, beautifully written essay! It is such a poignant piece. When something happens that causes us to grieve, people might be well-intentioned, but their asking a ton of questions can just exacerbate everything. Your friend who said she was there for you is a good friend. I think a good friend can bear witness to one's suffering without always giving their opinion or riddling someone with questions.
For me, a dedicated introvert, solitude is necessary to regain energy that's been depleted by socializing. I cherish my alone time to journal, read, paint, etc. This is not to say I don't love my daughter -- but sometimes solitude helps us feel safe and it's often a good way to handle things.
You make good points, Beth. I think we can love our families and want to be in their company while also needing time alone to recharge and reconnect with ourselves.
This was such a good read, it made me reflect on a friend whose baby was just released from the NICU and is dealing with the overwhelming tide of people, questions and help. Which I know will peter out in a few months and she will need then what now is just too much. For me, I live on my own, with my dogs, so I have a lot of time to myself, and I spend some every morning and evening in actual solitude doing meditation, which helps me cope with all the other things that go on in my life.
Your comment reminded me of a young family who lives next door to my parents, and they are in a similar situation with their baby boy who was a preemie and has Down syndrome. They've been living in the NICU and traveling to the children's hospital for over a month now. I remember those days so well when Sarah was a baby. It's tough and so important to find our grounding every day. Glad that meditation and solitude help you, Sharon!
I resonated with this so much. I’ve had a lot of time alone lately and I love those quiet times with myself. But others encourage me to be in community so I don’t isolate. I can’t say those together times make me feel better at all. Sometimes I feel better just staying home and connecting to God in the quiet. You are spot on about this. Thank you for bringing this to my awareness.
I'm so glad to hear I'm not alone in this feeling, Michele. I just read this morning from Henri Nouwen that it is in solitude where we become more attuned to what is good in others, in ourselves, and in the world. I really appreciated that!
Thank you for this personal and poignant reflection. I have been in a season of ‘wintering’, which is how I’m reframing my inclination to isolation in this season. It’s forced me to sit with my own shame around my isolation, over-extension and the ways that my body is responding to grief, stress & burnout. I love how you framed solitude here as a kind of generative period. For me, it helped me see my shame around these things as generative too. I write about similar themes in my recent essay if you’d like a related reflection: https://open.substack.com/pub/sundaymeditations/p/shame-is-a-doorway-to-revolution?utm_source=app-post-stats-page&r=1a795&utm_medium=ios
My solitude was lonely when I was young and my loneliness was lonelier when I was young. Now that I am older (and ironically, less alone), I have also understood that some of us are lonely together. We may have different responsibilities and concerns than our neighbors or colleagues or sometimes even our friends, but we are never truly alone. There are unseen others who are learning to make peace with their solitude or have come to fully embrace the strength in their solitude. Especially if we are readers and/or writers, we are never truly alone. We are alone, yet together. And not that far away from one another. This is what I tell my daughter too.
That's a beautiful insight, Malathi. Being alone and feeling lonely are two separate things, I think. We can feel alone while in the thick of a huge crowd, or we can be alone and feel incredibly connected. It's strange how that happens. As you mentioned, it is good to remind ourselves that we are never alone, even when we feel lonely.
Loneliness chosen intentionally becomes solitude. I love this, Jeannie. Thanks for redeeming some of your pain here by ministering to all of us with it.
Oh, I like how you added the element of "chosen" loneliness. I think that's an important distinction between isolation, which is when we have felt powerless in our alone-ness. Thanks for stopping by today, Kelly, and for your thoughtful comments, as always!
I’ll be stopping by more! 😊
I'm wholeheartedly with you Jeannie! "I can’t continue to chase the Western cultural paradigm of acquisition and productivity, this narrative that a person is only worth as much as their home or vehicles or position in a company or wealth, that a person is only worth as much as what they can do rather than who they are." For the same reason I always say in my yoga teaching that I have no interest in DOING yoga, but BEING yoga - and that is what I teach. To remain present for those uncomfortable quiet moments that feel more like a volcano erupting takes courage. And I'm glad you have a good friend who allowed you to do just that. Friends used to apologize to me when they burst into tears in front of me. I used to always tell them, "that's okay, let it out. I'm not intimidated by tears." Better this rage, sadness, grief finds it way to be expressed, or it will eat us from within. And I know you already know this, but your daughter Sarah is a beautiful, wise human being from everything you write about her.
Oh, Imola, you know what? I love how you keep writing "I have no interest in DOING yoga, but BEING yoga." That is your whole theme, isn't it? Of what you write - the being rather than the doing? I love that so much. This philosophy, to me, is essential in helping us reframe our perception that our worth and worthiness is found only to the extent of what we can offer society. A totally false framework. I guess having a kid like Sarah taught me that humans are inherently worthy. That may seem like a "duh" moment to some, or many, but to me it was a vital recognition that none of us really has to "do" anything in order to be loved and lovable. I extended that to myself, and how I felt about myself. Love your perspective here, and I was so happy to see your name pop up here today!
Awww. And now you bring me to tears! I had such a tough day, so this is such a lovely thing to read. Again, I know, a shocker, but I agree with you. Nothing humbles us into some uncomfortable truths like our children. Just be kind to yourself, always, as you learn these lessons. I say this because I am not always that kind to myself. And yes, being yoga, and being in general is what I’m all about. Doing is just an act. Being is messy. And vulnerable. And beautiful. Just like everything you described in this post. Much love to you soul sister.
I feel you on this, Imola. Sometimes I find that just living in this exhausting world is enough to bring me to tears - not even always with a specific reason, just the way I absorb the weight and suffering and heaviness that surrounds me most days.
I don’t know if you are a highly sensitive person or not, but I know that I am. (Of course there is a book about that called - surprise! - The Highly Sensitive Person by Dr. Elaine Aron.) Anyway, being highly sensitive, I find that I need to take frequent breaks into the quiet, to recharge my energy, to allow myself to process how I’m feeling, to be gentle and patient and kind to what my body and mind and soul need.
My hope is that you are able to do this, too, to give yourself whatever you need today.
What a beautiful reflection Jeannie! Oh, how I resonate with the silence, honesty and the howling, the rage... I feel you soul sister!
Beautifully written, especially this part: "Personhood is a gift. It’s inherent in each human. We don’t have to be, or do, anything in order to be fully valuable and valued, lovable and loved. The discovery of this truth happens when we give ourselves permission to pause in the stillness of a few quiet moments and lend our ear to our heart’s murmurings. "
Oh, I love that - "soul sister." Yes! I feel that, too. So grateful to be building a friendship with you, Imola.
Yay!! The feeling is mutual Jeannie. I love your writing and all your comments on WITD.
Oh, wow, thank you kindly, friend!
You wrote, "What is inside that awakens when you spend time alone with your thoughts?"
This question has lingered with me. It's a beautiful invitation to explore the depths of our own being. For me, this solitude used to be lonely. Now, it is a place that awakens my creativity. ❤️
I can tell from what you write that solitude is important to you and your work, Alex. It's a joy to be in good company!
Hi Jeannie,
What an insightful, beautifully written essay! It is such a poignant piece. When something happens that causes us to grieve, people might be well-intentioned, but their asking a ton of questions can just exacerbate everything. Your friend who said she was there for you is a good friend. I think a good friend can bear witness to one's suffering without always giving their opinion or riddling someone with questions.
For me, a dedicated introvert, solitude is necessary to regain energy that's been depleted by socializing. I cherish my alone time to journal, read, paint, etc. This is not to say I don't love my daughter -- but sometimes solitude helps us feel safe and it's often a good way to handle things.
You make good points, Beth. I think we can love our families and want to be in their company while also needing time alone to recharge and reconnect with ourselves.
This was such a good read, it made me reflect on a friend whose baby was just released from the NICU and is dealing with the overwhelming tide of people, questions and help. Which I know will peter out in a few months and she will need then what now is just too much. For me, I live on my own, with my dogs, so I have a lot of time to myself, and I spend some every morning and evening in actual solitude doing meditation, which helps me cope with all the other things that go on in my life.
Your comment reminded me of a young family who lives next door to my parents, and they are in a similar situation with their baby boy who was a preemie and has Down syndrome. They've been living in the NICU and traveling to the children's hospital for over a month now. I remember those days so well when Sarah was a baby. It's tough and so important to find our grounding every day. Glad that meditation and solitude help you, Sharon!
I resonated with this so much. I’ve had a lot of time alone lately and I love those quiet times with myself. But others encourage me to be in community so I don’t isolate. I can’t say those together times make me feel better at all. Sometimes I feel better just staying home and connecting to God in the quiet. You are spot on about this. Thank you for bringing this to my awareness.
I'm so glad to hear I'm not alone in this feeling, Michele. I just read this morning from Henri Nouwen that it is in solitude where we become more attuned to what is good in others, in ourselves, and in the world. I really appreciated that!
Thank you for this personal and poignant reflection. I have been in a season of ‘wintering’, which is how I’m reframing my inclination to isolation in this season. It’s forced me to sit with my own shame around my isolation, over-extension and the ways that my body is responding to grief, stress & burnout. I love how you framed solitude here as a kind of generative period. For me, it helped me see my shame around these things as generative too. I write about similar themes in my recent essay if you’d like a related reflection: https://open.substack.com/pub/sundaymeditations/p/shame-is-a-doorway-to-revolution?utm_source=app-post-stats-page&r=1a795&utm_medium=ios