Tag Archives: quiet

Alone, not Lonely

I’m fortunate to live a life surrounded by people I love and who love me. I don’t take this for granted, it truly is a blessing and a gift. I feel lucky to have this, and I know not everyone does.

I also feel fortunate that I have always enjoyed alone time. To me, moments of solitude are precious as well. As a kid, I spent a fair bit of time on my own. I shared this yesterday,

“I grew up on a dead end street, and there were no kids my age nearby. This was in Barbados, and my grandparents owned a motel (actually rental apartments) on our street. I had a few friends that visited yearly but a lot of summer days I spent either playing with my younger sister or an older cousin when he’d put up with me. Or, I played on my own. I had quite an amazing imagination and could entertain myself for hours.”

I was often alone and never felt lonely.

My grandparent’s house was across the street and I probably spent more waking hours in that house than in my own. It was like their house was the main house and ours was our sleeping quarters. I remember driving my grandmother crazy. I’d go to her dining room table on one end of her huge kitchen, a massive table that could easily seat 12, and often did for dinner, and I’d pace around it.

Flat footed, I’d walk circles around it, my feet slapping against the tiles. Twenty, thirty, fifty times I’d circle the large table in a meditative state of imagination. Like an autistic child stimming, I’d find pleasure in the repetition of motion and sound as I circled the table. Externally I was in a monotonous or boring behavioural loop. Internally I was in an imaginative world far removed from my stimming body.

Alone, not lonely. By myself and fully enthralled, even entertained. Until my grandmother interjected. “Boy, what’s the matter with you?”

She wasn’t being mean, she was concerned. I’m sure she was thinking, ‘What’s my grandkid doing, stuck in an en endless loop, mindlessly circling my table?’

“Stop that boy, why don’t you go outside and play?”

“I’m fine.”

“Go play outside. It’s nice out.’

So, I’d go outside and find somewhere else to be comfortably alone. But I’d often find my way back to circle the big table. A place of comfort, shaded from the hot sun, and feeling the cool kitchen tiles with my bare feet.

I may not take being surrounded by family and friends for granted, but I have always known that solitude is comfortable for me. Nowadays I tend to fill my alone time with audio books and podcasts. This is partly because I have tinnitus and quiet time is no longer quiet, it is interrupted by a continuous tone in my ears. So, I fill the quiet with external input. It’s also because I love to learn and find joy in learning on my own time.

So now I have less true ‘empty’ time compared to when I was a kid. I’ve come to realize that my writing time is my quiet time. This is my time of solitude, just me and my thoughts. Me in silence, alone every morning. Thinking. Writing. Absorbed in my own words, my own world. Alone. At peace, and very comfortable. I love that I never feel lonely when I’m by myself. This, like being surrounded by loved ones, is a blessing and a gift, and I cherish it.

Early morning quiet

Silence is different at different times of day. Early morning quiet is especially unique. Before the sun rises, before most people awake, there is a stillness to the day. Before the planning begins, before the morning routine, the quiet is calm, serene. There is a chill in the air, but it’s crisp rather than cold.

Early morning quiet is not a true silence, even as I write this the furnace is blowing warm air, yet there is a stillness. A single car drives by the window, yet it was in solitude and not in traffic. I can see the empty road it drives on, feel the wait of the nearby traffic light, too long of a wait with no traffic passing the other way.

The early morning quiet is a feeling, it is a solemn emotion more than a lack of sound. It is a moment of solitude, where time seems to slow. It is the stillness of a day not yet discovered.

Sitting in silence

We almost never sit in silence anymore. Music, podcasts, tv, social media, and even humming or singing to ourselves, we fill the silent void.

There is no room for boredom, no space for quiet contemplation, no moments of solitude. Only noise, distractions, and attention to external inputs. What can we fill this quiet space with? What can we pay attention to? And what else now?

Sit in silence for a while. Sit with your own thoughts. Let them linger, let them settle. Let them get past the sensation that you should be doing something, anything but this. And breathe.

Sit in silence for a while.

Early morning silence

There is a special kind of quiet in waking up before the birds start chirping. A stillness. My cat knows it’s too early for me to let him out, and he nestles into my lap. The leaves outside are motionless. Even the air feels still, though not stale.

It reminds me of being at a cottage in Ontario. I can imagine the glass-smooth reflection of the water, the quiet of an open, still space. The crispness of the morning air.

It’s like my mind is taking still photographs, witnessing frame after frame, rather than a continuity of time. The silence is the space between the shots.

Silence is the space in between. In between the night and morning. In between the sound of my fingers typing letters. In between sounds of any kind. Silence is a comfortable solitude. Early morning silence is not lonely, it’s comfortable. Silence keeps me company.

There is no better way to start the day, than with early morning silence.

Eating Alone

Every now and then I used to enjoy eating out on my own. I would be alone with my thoughts. Now I’m not alone even when I’m eating by myself. My phone connects me to others, to work, to news, and to entertainment.

Now it seems that I’m always connected to others. Alway ‘on’. The next time I eat out alone, my phone is staying in my pocket.

What alone time has your phone robbed you of? What did you used to do alone that you no longer allow yourself to do alone anymore?