“The only time we waste is the time we spend thinking we’re alone.”
—MITCH ALBOM
I had a decision to make. I was sitting at an intersection and could either take the on-ramp to Route 10 or stay on this country road. I was driving from Houston to California for the third time and vowed on the spot, “I am not going through El Paso or taking Route 10, ever again.” The second I selected the blue highway, the anti-interstate, I knew I’d made the right decision. Whenever I got to a crossroad, I just took whatever road headed west.
I had always pictured Texas as hot, dry, and barren. But this was Hill Country in spring. Much to my surprise, everything was alive and full of color. I was driving at my favorite time of day—golden hour, the gentle moments just before the sun goes down and the air calms and shimmers.
I crested a hill and was treated with a golden field stretching out to the horizon and on all sides of me. I was … awestruck. I pulled over and shut off the car engine. The only sound was a slight breeze through a nearby tree. Otherwise, it was majestically silent. I was completely immersed in the moment. Blissfully connected. One with everything.
Connected? How could I feel connected? There was no one around.
Well, if there’s anything I learned on my Year by the Water, it’s that there’s all kinds of connection. There was connection to that place, to the magnificence of that moment, and to how grateful I was to be imprinting that extraordinary experience. I was in good company!
“It is only in solitude that I ever find my own core.”
—ANNE MORROW LINDBERGH
Are you thinking, “Really?! Didn’t you ever get lonely being by yourself?” Do you know that was the most frequently asked question on my Year by the Water?
My answer was always a resounding no. I never felt lonely. I felt … connected. Connected to my family and friends who were with me even when they weren’t with me. Connected to the warmth of the sun, the feel of the breeze, how fortunate I felt to be alive, free and experiencing this.
You may also be wondering if I ever got bored driving cross-country by myself.
Once again, the answer was an emphatic no.
When I was driving for hours (or days) at a time, I never got bored because I listened to books on tape and podcasts. Jonathan Fields’s Good Life Project. Guy Raz on NPR’s How I Built This. Ashlee Vance’s brilliant biography of Elon Musk. Misty Copeland’s Life in Motion.
To me, it was the best of all worlds. Discovering new physical territory and new psychological territory. New places. New ideas. Mental and visual engagement and stimulation. Bliss.
It was crystal clear to me. If I ever felt lonely or bored, it meant I wasn’t paying attention.
“We need society, and we need solitude also, as we need summer and winter, day and night, exercise and rest.”
—PHILIP GILBERT HAMERTON
Are you thinking, “Wait a minute. The last chapter talked about the benefits of a community, and this hack is called AFFILIATE, yet you’re talking about preferring to be by yourself?”
The answer to that is “Not all the time. Some of the time.”
I think many of us don’t get enough alone time. We work in cities where we’re surrounded by people. We live in apartment buildings with neighbors feet away. We drive on highways with people in front of us, behind us, and on all sides of us. We eat at restaurants, get gas and groceries, go shopping, see movies, and run errands with people all around us.
For many of us, having “space” is an anomaly, a luxury.
For example, I was driving out in the middle of nowhere listening to Gloria Steinem’s My Life on the Road. Gloria shared Virginia Woolf’s insight that “Every woman needs a room of her own.” I started laughing as I realized, “I have a road of my own.”
To me, an open road is the essence of freedom. No committees. No red tape. No one telling me what I can or can’t do. Just an open road offering limitless options.
One of the many reasons this was so welcome is that it was the opposite of my norm. For years, my days had been filled with events and appointments. I was often speaking at or attending conferences. Even when I was home, I was usually on the phone with consults, so I was interacting with people, even when I was home “alone.”
“What a lovely surprise to finally discover how unlonely being alone can be.”
—ELLEN BURSTYN
Some people I met on my travels had a hard time wrapping their head around the fact that I never felt lonely. When the guy at the counter of a barbecue shack heard I was traveling cross-country by myself, he said, “Really?! You don’t ever wish you had someone to share things with?”
“Nope. I’m loving every minute just the way it is.”
He said, “I don’t get that. If I didn’t have someone with me, it would feel kind of … empty.”
I thought about why being alone feels “full” for me instead of “empty.” And it brought back what it was like walking into Lincoln’s Cottage in Washington, D.C.
I had spent the day training the international board of an entrepreneur organization. They had arranged to host a private dinner at this historical spot where Lincoln rode his horse to get away from the pressures of the White House and write the Emancipation Proclamation.
I got there an hour before the rest of the group so, except for the caterers, I had the place to myself. The first thing I noticed as I walked in was how “spare” it was. Each room had just a few items. A desk. A chair. A table. One picture on the wall. As I looked around at the absence of stuff, it was as if the walls were whispering, “Space to think. Space to think.”
I instantly got it. This was where Lincoln came to be alone with his thoughts. This was where he was able to escape the “madding crowd” and find the solitude to create that visionary document that changed the course of our nation. I don’t think Lincoln was lonely while working there; I think he welcomed the opportunity to immerse himself in that much-needed isolation.
Lincoln wasn’t anti-social; he was pro-solitude. I’m projecting but I believe Lincoln understood the need for, and took responsibility for, creating a balance of solitude and socialization.
Many inventors and artists talk about their need for solitude. It is when and where they do their best work. It is when they are alone they are able to dig deep—without distractions or interruptions—and envision innovative ideas or break-through solutions. They don’t see solitude as being lonely; they see it as a creative necessity.
Yet in today’s rush-rush world, few of us have the time and space to go deep into contemplation and creation. And that can result in a life that feels “crowded.” A life that’s not our own.
“I have to be alone very often. That’s how I refuel.”
—AUDREY HEPBURN
How about you? Are you around people all the time? Do you feel “crowded”? Do you yearn for a room, a road, a space of your own?
A mother with three young children told me, “I can’t even go to the bathroom without having one of my kids pound on the door, wanting something. When I go grocery shopping and my husband takes care of the kids, I sometimes stop at a park on the way back home to steal a nap or just to do nothing.”
How will you take responsibility for getting some alone time? It’s not being standoffish, it’s crucial to your mental and physical well-being. As Audrey Hepburn pointed out, we need a little psychic territory to get away from the pressures of daily life and refuel.
The caveat to this? Many overwhelmed people told me they crave alone time, but some people told me they’re afraid to be alone. In fact, a Science.org article by Nadia Whitehead was titled, “People Would Rather Be Electrically Shocked Than Be Alone with Their Thoughts.” She shared a study done by University of Virginia in which participants chose to voluntarily shock themselves rather than sit in a room alone with their thoughts and with “nothing to do.”
Where are you on this spectrum? Craving quiet time or avoiding it?
“To go out with the setting sun on an empty beach is to truly embrace your solitude.”
—JEANNE MOREAU
Mark, a musician who’s considered the life of the party everywhere he goes, told me, “Everyone assumes I’m an extrovert because I’m such a public person. It’s true that I come alive and can be ‘on’ when I’m around people. But if I don’t follow it with some private time, I go crazy.”
He’s not alone. Some people are both extroverts and introverts. There’s even a name for this—ambiverts.
That was another reason my Year by the Water was so satisfying. It was an exercise in ambivertism. I wasn’t around people all the time and I wasn’t alone all the time. It was a sublime balance of both. If I’d been solo for a few days and was ready for some company, all I had to do was ask someone at the next table, “What do you suggest I do while I’m in the area?”
The quickest way to turn strangers into friends is to ask for their advice. As Malcolm Forbes used to say, “The way to a man’s heart is through his opinion.” The way to almost anyone’s heart is to ask for their advice. For example, asking “What do you suggest…” is the quickest way to bypass superficial chitchat or meaningless small talk.
A participant in one of our Someday Salons pushed back when I told our group how easy it was to connect with people on the road. He said, “Sam, it may be easy for you. But I’m shy. I can’t walk up to a total stranger and strike up a conversation.”
I told him, “Yes, you can. I think labeling ourselves as ‘shy’ becomes an excuse for not approaching people. It might be helpful to understand that most people feel uncomfortable in the first few minutes of meeting someone. Even famous people admit to feeling butterflies when walking into a room full of strangers. The key to is decide you’re not going to let a label keep you from leading a full and satisfying life.”
“But how? How do you overcome shyness?”
“Do what my son Andrew did. When we moved from Maui to the Mainland, he realized it was a chance for a fresh start. No one knew him at this new school so he could be anyone he wanted to be. He just made up his mind that instead of self-labeling himself as shy or socially awkward he was going to be the guy who could talk to girls.”
“He got over his nerves just like that?”
“He still felt nervous. The thing was, he knew that girls wanted boys to talk to them. But boys were standing around too afraid to approach the girls because they didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to look uncool. Somebody had to get things going. He figured it might as well be him. Andrew overcame his initial nervousness and got good at kick-starting conversations. Now, he speaks for companies like Google, Zappos, MasterCard and teaches people what he calls SOCIAL FLOW. As he says, ‘A new friend is a smile and a good question away.’”
You may relate to what author Elizabeth Gilbert said, “I am far more of a loner than people would imagine. But I am the most gregarious and socially interactive loner you ever met. The thing is, I am fascinated by people’s stories.”
How about you? Would you call yourself an introvert, extrovert, or ambivert? Do you, like Andrew, call yourself shy, but now realize you can overcome self-consciousness by asking good questions? Do you, like Elizabeth, enjoy being a loner but understand you can connect with anyone, anytime, anywhere, if you’re fascinated by their stories?
Whatever your answers to the above questions, it’s important to know where you are on the Solitude–Socialization Continuum. Yes, just like the Serve Others–Serve Ourselves Continuum, it’s helpful to have a way to visualize this issue instead of just having fears swirling around in our head.
Remember my friend Lee in chapter 12 who wondered why she felt so burned out and then realized she’d been out twelve nights in a row? She instituted some boundaries around how many evening functions she would agree to so that wouldn’t happen again.
And remember that mother of three kids who talked about stopping at a park on the way home from a grocery store to “steal” a nap? That was nothing to feel guilty about. That was taking responsibility for her alone time.
If you’re wondering how, with all your responsibilities, you can carve out time and space for creative solitude, you’ll learn how poet W. S. Merwin did that (and you can too) in chapter 23.