Article: Loneliness and connection; finding nourishment in solitude
There are important distinctions to make between connection, solitude and loneliness. Connection and solitude are both states of being and could be opposing polarities on the same spectrum, whereas loneliness is an emotion that we all experience from time to time, and could feature at any point on that continuum. Loneliness is the feeling we get when we are disconnected from ourselves, or others. Thus, we can feel lonely when we are with others, and when we are alone. The paradox of “being alone with your self” is the only way to describe a certain kind of solitude that is nourishing; it is both disconnection and connection; being with and being without.
As people, we will all have different preferences for solitude and connection. One way to understand more about yourself in this regard is to find where you stand when it comes to introversion and extraversion: When you are stressed, do you tend to reach outwards for connection with others as a source of reassurance? Or are you more likely to withdraw into your solitude? If you sway towards the former, you may be an extravert. If it’s the latter, you’re more likely to be an introvert at heart. Dorothy Rowe describes these concepts in “Beyond Fear”. She asserts that introverts experience their sense of existence as organising, achieving, creating order, and that their greatest fear tends to be disorder, mess and chaos. Extraverts experience their sense of existence as connection with others, and most fear rejection and abandonment (cited in Ellen and Adrian, 2009). When we understand this, it is easier to see how some find solitude much more difficult than others.
Having said this, there is research that gives reason to believe that regardless of our introversion or extraversion, solitude just may not be in our genetic makeup. As a whole community, the human race is just one of three species of mammal that can be termed “eusocial”. “Eu”meaning true. According to Harvard Biologist E.O. Wilson, to qualify for this remarkable title, the species must live in multi-generational communities, practice division of labour, and exhibit altruistic behaviour, surrendering “at least some of their personal interests to that group” (as cited in Angier, 2012). In evolutionary terms, this self-sacrificing behaviour that we so often perform has ensured our survival and exponential growth as a species. However, along with our unparalleled success at surviving, what has also evolved is our technology. We are living within a connected-like-never-before culture where our smartphones, that we keep nearby at all times, contain online communities and are constantly reminding us of our obligation to connect. Several times a day, we are forfeiting our solitude in order to answer that call, respond to the text or email, comment, like, and share. Has our technological growth overtaken our biological evolution? It is no wonder that we can end up feeling guilty for, or even afraid of, not always being available for connection and also yearning for the solitude we so often fail at letting ourselves indulge in.
In Walden (1942), Thoreau said “I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude”. Virginia Woolf asserted that if women had been given peace and quiet and A Room of One’s Own, there would have been many more great female authors (1929). Michael Harris identifies three uses of spending time alone; “new ideas; an understanding of the self; and closeness to others” in his book Solitude (2017). Colloquially, we communicate our need for disconnection when we talk about our need to “get away from it all”, or for “me-time”. So, we know that it can nourish something in us, but we also have this evolutionary drive to be part of our community and moreover, to sacrifice our own desires and needs for the good of our species. We might also be extraverts and so our fears of rejection or abandonment can keep us constantly connected as a way to prevent time spent alone; we might worry that if we don’t respond to that text from a friend or a work email, that our relationships with these people cease to exist if we are not consistently available to connection.
So, there are benefits to both connection and solitude. However, the culture of omnipresent virtual connection has pushed us away from being alone and towards constant availability. In 2013 a study of American smartphone users found that 80% of users were on their phones within fifteen minutes of waking up (cited in Harris, 2017). This shows how committed we are to connection. It’s literally the first thing many of us think about when we wake up. But the question is; how committed are we to solitude? I think we need to find a better balance.
When was the last time that you were solitary? Truly solitary. No other person around, no phone, no internet. What is the longest period of time that you’ve spent in this solitude? Is it minutes? Hours? Days? I wonder how even thinking about being this alone makes you feel. Does it come with a stab of fear in your chest, or maybe the dull ache of dread in the pit of your stomach? Could that sensation be a yearning; are you curious?
I think that we do yearn for alone-ness whilst simultaneously our fear pushes against it. If you recognise the need for solitude, it is worth thinking about how you might also cope with it. A compromise might be to start to introduce small slices of true alone time into your day- refrain from picking up your phone for the first half an hour after you wake up. When you take a lunch break, set your device to do-not-disturb and come away from your desk. Take a walk alone, without listening to music or a podcast. Spend some time just day-dreaming. Research shows that when we suspend conscious thought in order to daydream and let our thoughts meander, a particular network of our brain becomes active- the Default Mode Network (DMN). It consists of various parts of the brain with astounding abilities: The medial temporal subsystem turns memories into mental scenes and imagery, a dorsal medial subsystem infers the mental state of others and observes one’s own, and the anterior medial prefrontal cortex and the posterior cingulate cortex seem to create personal meaning from both internal and external sources (cited in Harris, 2017) This is all a very convoluted way of saying that daydreaming is anything but wasting time “being blank”. We are in fact allowing our brains to work in a way that more conscious, structured thought doesn't; making room for those “a-ha” moments and out-of-the-blue revelations.
These realisations and solutions to life’s problems that we might stumble upon whilst daydreaming in solitude can be looked upon as bonus material. Everyone deserves nourishment from solitude- whether you’re introverted or extraverted, in spite of the innate drive our species has to be self-sacrificing, and especially because Virginia Woolf says so. It is selfish, indulgent, and all the things that our altruistic nature and social norms discourage. I’d love for you to be radical in pushing against those and finding that nourishing, just-for-you space where everything slows down and something about life can relax.
