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September 12 - September 21, 2022
We tend to view alone time either as a problem to be overcome or a luxury we cannot afford—not as a staple we all need.
most of what we do is solitary. We may have lots of people around, but the path each of us takes is our own. Yet, the expectation that we attach ourselves to others leaves many of us feeling lonely and alienated. What if we referred to social interaction as withdrawal from solitude? What if we viewed solitude as the center of experience
“Solitude is very relaxing. To me it feels like casting off the straitjacket I have to wear around others. Solitude is the freedom to close my eyes and let my mind wander around the universe. Solitude is the satisfying ’clink’ when the last part of the solution to a wonderfully complex problem falls into place and I get to feel that refreshing rush of understanding engulf me.”
Yet boredom is a necessary precursor to creativity.
What is different for an introvert is that we don’t naturally look to others for comfort when we’re lonely. We think about it, considering the people we might talk to and how that will go, but then often opt for the privacy and expansiveness of solitary reflection. I am very selective when I’m in a tender place. I don’t want someone who will cut me short and cheer me up or too quickly offer solutions. I want someone who will give me a lot of room, someone who will allow me to be alone as we’re together. And I’m willing to risk being alone, by myself, if the alternative means compromising my
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we will all face times when aloneness is unbidden or ill-timed or extended beyond what we asked for or just hard. Don’t think you’re a bad introvert if you struggle during these times or that your solitary journey is less valuable than Thoreau’s if you glimpse the oppressive side of alone.
when we finally calm the din of fearful chatter and, with Whitman “inhale great draughts of space,” we can declare with the poet: I am larger, better than I thought, I did not know I held so much goodness.
Alienation is a psychological term for, simply, feeling like an alien—disconnected, weird, unreal.
Alienation happens in society when an individual does not feel recognized.
Recognition is what you feel when a friend sums up exactly what you’re feeling, when an author gives you the right words, when someone “gets” you.
people serve as mirrors, reflecting back a clearer image of who we are.
Even when we get the best parenting (and have genetics on our side) and enter the world with a strong sense of self, we don’t stop using mirrors. As adults, we feel empowered and understood when we see our values reflected in society.
In an extroverted society, we rarely see ourselves in the mirror. We get alienating feedback. Alienating feedback comes in the form of repeated encouragement to join or talk, puzzled expressions, well-intended concern, and sometimes, all-out pointing and laughing.
When an introvert looks at society and sees no reflection, she risks becoming alienated, either by staying true to herself and becoming alienated from society—called social alienation—or by adapting to society and becoming alienated from herself—self-alienation.
Another too common response is to side with culture and to turn on ourselves, asking, “Why can’t I just want what everyone else wants?” The Socially Accessible introvert looks like an extrovert on the outside and sees extroversion as a bar that he or she can never quite reach.
self-interrogation—society’s puzzled attitude turned inward. Alienation from self can lead to depression, which is, at best, a loss of empathy for the self and, at its worst, self-hatred.
These accessible types also tend to identify with people who have been snubbed or teased, so they strive to be friendly to everyone. They are the kids in school who are friends with geeks and jocks alike—and secretly prefer the geeks.
Negative self-talk is a particular risk for the Accessible Introvert. Because we have almost adapted to the extrovert culture, we get down on ourselves for not being more extroverted. We look in the mirror with puzzled expressions and worry about our capacities.
The Dilemma of the introvert: to disappear or to play along.
introverts, we have a greater tolerance for the contents of the mind.
internalize the assumption that extroversion is normal and introversion is a deviation.
Introverts more often see the workplace as a place to interact with ideas. A friendly greeting is fine and good, but workplace chatter feels distracting and intrusive. And if we work with clients or customers, we may be all the more protective of our social energies. Yet, the extrovert assumption is so woven into the fabric of our culture that an employee may suffer reprimands for keeping his door closed (that is, if he is one of the lucky ones who has a door), for not lunching with other staff members, or for missing the weekend golf game or any number of supposedly morale-boosting
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For us, the gathering will not boost morale—and will probably leave us resentful that we stayed an extra hour to eat stale cookies and make small talk. For us, talking with coworkers does not benefit our work—it sidetracks us.
When a song moves you, a writer “gets” you, or a theory enlightens you—you and its creator are connecting in a realm beyond sight or speech. Not all of these expressions come from introverts, nor does every introvert’s idea reach a wider audience. But connecting through the contents of the mind is the introvert’s way.
“the things we generally value most in life bring with them a whole range of feelings, both pleasant and unpleasant.” So the gentle, nonjudgmental acceptance of that range of feelings allows people to pursue what they value and ultimately have more satisfying lives.
I have been looking for a place to sit down that is just right—the place that feels comfortable and allows me to relax into who I am.
Introverts are, by nature, travelers.
We take a day off and then feel guilty that we’re not getting enough done or not having enough fun—or both.
We sit down to think, we become anxious, we pop up again and get busy to restore the feeling that we’re going somewhere. We have no idea where, but at least we’re going there.
We feel immense guilt if we don’t produce in the allotted time chunk. Work starts when the clock says it’s time, and it is imperative that you start, too. In our society, time is rigid, stingy, and running out.
Capture your wishful thinking. Pay attention to the times you say to yourself, “I wish I could ________,” or “Wouldn’t it be nice if ________.”
Look into the desire. When you catch a desire, stay with it. If the desire seems harmful, ask yourself what you’re really going for.
Fantasize. Once you get to the heart of your desire, give it some room. Think the desire. Visualize the desire. Edit the picture to make it just how you want
Replace the order to do with permission to allow. Simply allow the new desire, knowing its time may be sooner or later. Let conflicting desires sit side by side.
we really live only if we give time to what takes time.
Practice giving. Give time to what you value. Give up a little control. Work and play from a position of abundance, from an attitude of leisure.
“How beautiful it is to do nothing and then rest afterward.”
Allow yourself to shift from feeling you have to race time to feeling you have time, all the time in the world.
For an introvert, retreating is the ultimate indulgence: an inner life binge that fills our depleted energy stores.
When you feel like you’re living on automatic pilot, when pleasures diminish and life feels dull, it’s time to retreat.
When the clutter of life has confused your priorities, when you don’t know what you’re doing here, when it’s too noisy to hear your thoughts, it’s time to retreat.
When you find yourself tired, susceptible to illness, you can’t sleep or can’t wake up, when your energy is depleted, it’s time to retreat.
Recurring retreats become a touchstone for renewal. When the time comes, you are ready to retreat, and the retreat is ready for you.
“Violent passions are formed in solitude. In the busy world no object has time to make a deep impression.” —Henry Home, Scottish philosopher
a Solo Date is an outing with yourself to satisfy some of your introvert cravings.
Though introverts are drained by interaction, we can take immense pleasure in watching the scene around us: people moving about, their dress, movements, and preoccupations.
“I’m never happier than when I am alone in a foreign city; it’s as if I have become invisible.”
Let’s say you’re talking to someone—no, someone is talking to you—and that person is really enjoying the sound of his or her own voice. You feel trapped and don’t have the energy to withdraw. Try playing flâneur and look for the artistic, and perhaps comic, value of the situation. I have observed very boring conversations—no, monologues—come to life when I look at the speaker as a work of art: the character lines on his face, the way he or she gestures, the color of her lipstick. For extreme talkers, it usually matters not if we are listening—they just want to talk.
My identity is invisible. And it is this invisibility that frees me to study my surroundings.
We have an assumption here in America that the kind thing to do is to be “friendly,” which means being extroverted, even intrusive. The Japanese assume the opposite: being kind means holding back.
