From Loneliness to Solitude, a Thursday Offering

Rebuilding aliveness through small, steady staying.

After Tuesday’s piece on rebuilding aliveness, this week’s practices live where that story ended, with the body learning to hold itself again.

There was a time when being alone felt like collapse, not quiet.

The house echoed with absence, and every hour stretched too wide. Rebuilding aliveness began not with calm but with emptiness… the slow, awkward learning of how to stay. Over time, loneliness became solitude. It stopped feeling like exile and started feeling like being held again.

When I look back now, I can see that the noise the rain made became a kind of marker for that shift. At first, it was only a sound that made my body tense, my breath shallow. Later, it showed me how deeply I’d learned to treat stillness as dangerous and how slowly I unlearned that response. It took months for the sound to become simple again.

Just rain, just presence, just me staying.

That’s what rebuilding aliveness looked like. Not the grand return of joy, but the small, steady reawakening of trust, the sense that I could stay with myself even when nothing around me changed.

May Sarton wrote that loneliness is the poverty of self, and solitude is richness of self. I used to think that meant something lofty. Now I know it’s about capacity. Can I hold myself when no one else is there to hold me? Can I stay long enough to notice that aliveness still flickers underneath the ache?

These practices grew out of that question.

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Guided Meditation

From Loneliness to Solitude

A meditation to transform the experience of being alone, from the poverty of self to the richness of self, and to practice expanding into the spaciousness that solitude offers.

How to practice:

1. Sit comfortably and close your eyes.

2. Notice any feelings of loneliness or isolation that might be present.

3. Instead of trying to escape, breathe into them with curiosity.

4. Feel the difference between loneliness (wanting to escape yourself) and solitude (being present with yourself).

5. Practice expanding into your own spaciousness.

6. Cultivate appreciation for your own company.

7. End by feeling the glory of being alone rather than the pain.

Adaptation:

If loneliness feels acute, begin gently. Practice for only a few minutes. Let the goal be curiosity, not comfort. Start by noticing one small moment of ease in your own presence.

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Journal Reflection

Can I Stay With Myself?

A writing practice for exploring your relationship with being alone, and your ability to stay present without fleeing or performing.

How to practice:

1. Reflect on your current experience of being alone. Does it feel like loneliness or solitude?

2. Ask: When do I flee from my own presence? What triggers that urge?

3. Consider: What would it feel like to trust myself to stay, even when it’s uncomfortable?

4. Write about what helps you feel spacious instead of contracted.

5. Explore small ways to practice staying with yourself.

6. End with: I am learning to be my own strongest connection.

Adaptation:

If writing stirs anxiety or old pain, pause often. Start with brief reflections, a few sentences, a few breaths. The point isn’t endurance; it’s honesty.

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These practices open the door.

Each week, paid subscribers receive additional practices that keep us walking slowly, together, into deeper steadiness.

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