Noble Leisure
Photo by Federico Beccari on Unsplash
We crave connection.
Whether physical or digital, through active interaction with others or by passively observing their lives through news and social media feeds, we want to be connected.
Connection makes us feel like we are part of a community – even more so in times where being part of real, physical communities has become increasingly difficult – and appears to soothe our ever-increasing collective loneliness.
But it also prevents us from accessing loneliness’s positive (although often ignored or misunderstood) counterpart: solitude.
Rather than a sense of isolation and lack of connection, solitude is a positive and fruitful state, one of introspection. It can be a source of deep calm, creativity, and strength we can only find within ourselves.
But to get to it, we need to venture into deeper areas of our own psyche, wading through the shallow and sometimes scary regions characterised by loneliness.
One force that keeps us on the seemingly safe shores of connectivity, far away from confronting our own undisturbed thoughts, is the addictive power of connected technology.
In his book Solitude: In Pursuit of a Singular Life in a Crowded World, Michael Harris argues that technology, particularly smartphones and the always-on, always-there connectivity they provide, is largely responsible for our fear of solitude.
“It’s utterly compulsive and compulsory, a phantom umbilical cord. […] It’s this adolescent urge to be needed, connected, loved – and, yes, groomed – all poured into a shining totem.”
Harris cites a 2013 survey that revealed that 80% of American adults are on their phones within 15 minutes of waking up. And the numbers are even higher for teens. Teenage anxiety and mental health issues have skyrocketed in generations born after 1995, precisely the generations which were the first to grow up on smartphone use and don’t even remember the solitude without.
Harris suggests a simple solution: reclaiming our mornings:
“Mornings are the best chance we get, every day, to recall our solitude. They are brief glimpses into a default mindset that arises before the world pours too much noise into our eyes and ears.”
It is not just a connection to others, which creates the noise that disturbs our solitude. “Apps like Candy Crush are,” Harris writes, “an invasive species, dominating the ground where solitude would otherwise grow.”
In the early 2000s, the iPod changed the way we consume music. We started listening to music (or podcasts or audiobooks) almost the entire time, leaving us no mental space to be alone with our thoughts.
The smartphone then gave the final push against solitude, now even banishing the briefest moments of solitude and boredom by providing rewards for quick glances whenever there is the slightest risk of idle time.
Author and Computer Science professor Cal Newport argues in Digital Minimalism: Choosing a Focused Life in a Noisy Worldthat solitude doesn’t require physical separation from others; it’s a “subjective state in which your mind is free from input from other minds.”
Using this definition, even when we are physically alone, we might never experience solitude if we constantly get input from others via television, computers, and smartphones.
Solitude has become both much harder to achieve and also feels much more wrong now than it used to because our FOMO has been amplified. Never before has solitude been so distant from our usual way of operating.
As a result, Newport worries, many of us suffer from solitude deprivation, spending close to zero time alone with our own thoughts.
“We need solitude to thrive as human beings, and in recent years, without even realizing it, we’ve been systematically reducing this crucial ingredient from our lives.”
One thing that was traditionally closely associated with solitude was nature. Nowhere else is it easier to get lost in our own minds than far away from the bustling cities and our local communities.
It was in nature, on the solitary shores of Walden pond, that Henry David Thoreau wrote, “I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”
But we are now trying to keep nature largely out of our lives, or at least allow it only in controlled ways. While Newport worries about solitude deprivation, Harris is concerned about another major threat to our health and sanity: “nature deficit disorder.”
This is not just Harris’s subjective opinion but backed by an increasing number of peer-reviewed studies: A lack of exposure to nature leads to impoverished sensory experiences, and we might also suffer from a shorter attention span and a diminished sense of contentment as a result.
One particular study by Stanford scientists found that
“participants who went on a 90-min walk through a natural environment reported lower levels of rumination and showed reduced neural activity in an area of the brain linked to risk for mental illness compared with those who walked through an urban environment.”
The simple act of going on a short walk in nature can provide us enough solitude to notably boost our mental health.
But the more we rely on external tools like Google Maps (ideally filled with reviews and recommendations of others), the more we numb our own awareness.
We have lost our ability to get lost.
But being lost, and even somewhat uncomfortable, is an important part of the experience. It leads to growth.
Truly venturing out into nature – the real nature outdoors but also the metaphorical wilderness of our own mind – makes us lose a sense of agency and control. But exactly that is valuable. It gives way to awe and wonder.
I recommend you try it for yourself.
Turn off your devices and allow yourself to get lost, ideally in nature but if that’s not possible you can also just do it in your own neighborhood, or even in your own mind.
Take it step by step. Don’t immediately aim for a multi-day disconnect if even 5 minutes without your device feel unbearable. But make sure it is long enough to feel at least a little bit uncomfortable.
The discomfort is a good sign, it’s crossing through the shallow waters of perceived loneliness that separate us from deep blissful solitude.
Once you get there, enjoy the peaceful clarity and deep sense of awe and wonder.
This article started its life in an early draft of my bestselling book Time Off: A Practical Guide to Building Your Rest Ethic and Finding Success Without the Stress, as part of the chapter on solitude. While it didn’t make it through the final editing process, I hope you enjoyed it in this standalone form. And if you liked this piece, I’m sure you would love the book.