I am thinking about solitude, today. Specifically, about the solitude that’s been forced on many out there in the world who live alone. And less specifically about the solitude of those who have been forced to shelter in place without much solitude at all.
A few weeks ago, at the beginning of March, when governors and leaders began ordering citizens to shelter-in-place in order to flatten the curve, there were many posts in my socialmediaspheres hailing this time of social distancing as the time for introverts – at long last.
Most of these posts were jovial, shared and posted by self-identified introverts, themselves. What I’ve noticed, however, that as the days have stretched to weeks and the weeks to months, there are fewer introvert memes making the rounds. I like to think it’s because we introverts have fallen back into our ways: there’s no need to call attention to our solitary lives.
Except, of course, the best kept secret of many introverts is that we get lonely, too – that our introversion is a practiced balance between solitude and loneliness.
I don’t know why solitude would be a balm for loneliness, but that is how it always was for me in those days, and people respected me for all those hours I was up here working away in the study, and for the books that used to come in the mail for me – not so many, really, but more than I could afford. … For me writing has always felt like praying, even when I wasn’t writing prayers, as I was often enough. You feel that you are with someone. I feel I am with you now, whatever that can mean…. – Marilynne Robinson, from Gilead
No Accounting for Happiness 