Being Present & Seeking Solitude

BEING PRESENT

In my last post, I mentioned that during periods of my life I recognize I was "creating the life more than living it."  It’s an unsettling thought which led me to some wondering and research.  I wonder, can I be in an quiet, uneventful afternoon without my mind lifting me out of my actual life?  

    

We spend nearly half of our waking hours thinking about something other than what we’re doing.  And where our attention sits matters more than the content of our lives.  An ordinary afternoon, met with our full attention, can feel more satisfying than a special day with our mind somewhere else.  A wandering mind, more than the activity we’re involved in itself―tracks how generally content we feel.  

 

Most of us have stopped recognizing the low background noise of distraction.  It’s not our fault; the mind wanders by default.  It's built to plan, rehearse, replay, to scan the horizon for what's next.  Staying present takes effort precisely because drifting is the resting state.  But coming back is the exercise―bringing ourselves back to what's in front of us.    

 

Being in the moment doesn't mean pretending that moment is thrilling.  To be there on purpose for routine moments―morning coffee, five minutes outside, the drive home in silence―is sometimes even more impactful.  It may change which life we're living—the one in our head or the one in front of us.

SEEKING SOLITUDE

I savor my solitude.  I can go days without human contact and be perfectly content.  I always look forward to time alone and I'll even wake up eager to tackle some small pursuit by myself.  I don’t think I’m antisocial, I just genuinely enjoy my own company.  Am I odd?  

 

Healthy solitude is chosen, self-reliant, purposeful, and rewarding.  It's never lonely.  It seems there are two main personality traits and reasons people seek solitude. 

 

The first people who choose solitude are extroverts who finds a need to retreat from feeling overwhelmed by the outside stimuli and stresses of today’s world and the busy lives they find themselves in.  It’s to decompress, restore, rejuvenate―to reboot.  This solitude leaves them calmer, clearer, focused, with improved emotional regulation and more capable of connection when they return to their social world.

 

What motivates introverts to relish solitude is a personality characteristic.  Solitude genuinely fills a need that can't be fulfilled any other way.  In solitude, these people are not looking to quiet their minds―solitude energizes their brains.  They’re not usually good multitaskers and by dismissing distractions they can do the kind of thinking that requires the absence of other people.  They can peacefully consider, reflect, explore, create and do things they find interesting.  And their own company is sufficient. 

 

I am the latter, an introvert.  But I don’t have to deliberately separate myself from society for my solitude.  I live an intentionally isolated life―alone and a short distance from friends and family.  It's a quiet preference.  For me, solo time is my baseline, and social activity is the departure.  Solitude provides me a conducive environment for being present and focussed on whatever I'm doing.  I rarely experience boredom when I’m alone, however, I know when it’s time to seek others.  I'll start to feel a bit restless, the need for distraction, and I'll desire more than just my own company.  And I enjoy my time with others more because of my time alone.

THE END