It is a curious thing to be alone and not feel lonely. The world imagines solitude as something torturous, when in truth it is more like a feast: the bookshelves are filled with the voices of the dead, the desk is alive with restless words, and even the outdoors is full of companions.
Loneliness, I feel, is not the absence of people but the absence of meaning. A man may feel lonelier at a crowded party than he does in an empty room, because empty rooms do not lie to him.
Solitude tells the truth. It says, “Here you are, with yourself.”
And yet, when good company appears, I do not turn it down. Rather, it’s the opposite— I delight in it more deeply.
Yesterday, a good friend invited me to an annual event I had attended in the past but hadn’t in recent years. I’m not comfortable in large crowds, but I said yes without hesitation— perhaps because I needed a change of pace, or maybe because I was looking for something.
The event was crowded and held outdoors, but I enjoyed every bit of it because I was fortunate to see many old friends from my college days. And, as it turns out, a few have seen my articles on LinkedIn and enjoyed reading them.
We shared a great deal and enjoyed each other’s company, then parted ways when necessary, having exchanged contact information for whenever we’d like to talk again.
The man who can laugh by himself is the man who laughs most heartily with others. I realized the more you are in your own company, the more joy you find in the company of others.
Perhaps the final joke is this: solitude and society were never enemies. They are merely two doors into the same house, and the wise man is happy to enter either.