Alone Again, Naturally
by Lionel Fisher
 It scares us more than anything except death. Being alone.
Our fear of aloneness is so ingrained that given the choice of being by
ourselves or being with others we opt for safety in numbers, even at the expense
of lingering in painful, boring, or totally unredeeming company.
And yet more of us than ever are alone.
While many Americans have their solo lifestyles thrust on them -- people die,
people go away -- a huge and growing population is choosing to be alone.
In 1955, one in ten U.S. households consisted of one person. By 1999, the
proportion was one in three. Single men and women accounted for 38.9 million of
the nations 110.5 million households. Sixty percent of them were under the age
of sixty-five; roughly 60 percent of them were women.
On the cusp of the new century, approximately 14.3 million American women and
24.6 million American men over the age of twenty-five lived alone, according to
the U.S. Census Bureau.
By 1999, single parents with children under the age of eighteen made up 27.3
percent of the nations 70.9 million family households. Among them were 2.1
million father-child and 9.8 million mother-child families. Forty-two percent of
single-parent mothers had never wed.
Meanwhile, many more Americans are divorcing. In less than three decades,
reports the Census Bureau, the number of divorced men and women has more than
quadrupled -- to a total of 18.3 million in 1996, compared to 4.3 million in
1970.
And many more Americans are not marrying. The number of adult men and women
who have remained single has more than doubled in thirty years-to 44.9 million
in 1996 from 21.4 million in 1970.
"Never before in American history has living alone been the predominant
lifestyle," observes demographic trends analyst Cheryl Russell, who
predicts that single-person households will become the most common household
type in the United States by the year 2005.
Nonetheless, we persist in the conviction that a solitary existence is the
harshest penalty life can mete out. We loathe being alone -- anytime, anywhere,
for too long, for whatever reason.
From childhood we're conditioned to accept that when alone we instinctively
ache for company, that loners are outsiders yearning to get in rather than
people who are content with their own company.
Alone, we squander life by rejecting its full potential and wasting its
remaining promises. Alone, we accept that experiences unshared are barely
worthwhile, that sunsets viewed singly are not as spectacular, that time spent
apart is fallow and pointless.
And so we grow old believing we are nothing by ourselves, steadfastly
shunning the opportunities for self-discovery and personal growth that solitude
could bring us.
We've even coined a word for those who prefer to be by themselves:
antisocial, as if they were enemies of society. They are viewed as friendless,
suspect in a world that goes around in twos or more and is wary of solitary
travelers.
People who need people are threatened by people who don't. The idea of
seeking contentment alone is heretical, for society steadfastly decrees that our
completeness lies in others.
Instead, we cling to each other for solace, comfort, and safety, believing
that we are nothing alone -- insignificant, unfulfilled, lost -- accepting
solitude in the tiniest, most reluctant of slices, if at all, which is tragic,
for it rejects God's precious gift of life.
Ironically, most of us crave more intimacy and companionship than we can
bear. We begrudge ourselves, our spouses, and our partners sufficient physical
and emotional breathing room, and then bemoan the suffocation of our
relationships.
To point out these facts is not to suggest we should abandon all our close
ties. Medical surveys show that the majority of elderly people who live alone,
yet maintain frequent contact with relatives and friends, rate their physical
and emotional well-being as "excellent." Just as an apple a day kept
the doctor away when they were young, an active social calendar appears to serve
the same purpose now.
But we need to befriend and enjoy ourselves as well.
How does that old song go? "I've been to paradise, but I've never been
to me...."
"We must relearn to be alone," exhorts Anne Morrow Lindbergh in her
inspirational book, Gift
from the Sea. "Instead of planting our solitude with dream
blossoms, we choke the space with continuous music, chatter, and companionship
to which we do not even listen. It is simply there to fill the vacuum."
"We can't stand the silence," said Agnes de Mille, "because
silence includes thinking. And if we thought, we would have to face
ourselves."
Let us learn, then, from those in search of what they have not been able to
find and hold in the press of humanity around them: peace of mind, gentleness of
heart, calmness of spirit, daily joy. Those who are mastering the art of flying
solo and soaring to their highest human potential. Who have come to understand
that to know and to love and to be of value to others, they first must know and
love and value themselves; that to find their way in the world, they have to
start by finding themselves.
"Before we can surrender ourselves we must become ourselves,"
Thomas Merton pointed out. "For no one can give up what he does not
possess:" They are the men and women who have found nobility in turning to
themselves first when facing life's challenges -- and not blaming anyone else if
they fail.
Who find silence eloquent rather than empty.
Who have discovered that being alone can impose a startling clarity in their
lives, achieved through the personal reflection we seem to allow ourselves only
in times of severe loss and intense grief.
Who trust their aloneness, using it to embrace and nurture their
individuality, to celebrate themselves in their own special ways.
Who have become boon companions to the best friends they'll ever have. Guess
who?
Who are living alone well, even magnificently, in full affirmation of the
preciousness of life.
The premise of this book is timeless and simple: there are gifts we can only
give ourselves, lessons no one else can teach us, triumphs we must achieve
alone.
It is all right to be alone, to want to be alone, to be alone and not lonely
-- even to be lonely at times -- because the rewards of solitude are worth the
deprivations.
Above all, we must hail the silence.
This article is excerpted from:
Celebrating Time Alone
by Lionel
Fisher.
Reprinted with permission of the publisher, Beyond Words Publishing. http://www.beyondword.com
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About the Author
Lionel Fisher's reflections on solitude came into sharp focus during six
years spent by himself on a remote Pacific Northwest beach where he kept a
detailed journal to record his thoughts, feelings, and emotions during this
climactic period of willful isolation. The author of Celebrating
Time Alone: Stories of Splendid Solitude, On
Your Own: A Guide to Working Happily, Productively, & Successfully from
Home and The
Craft of Corporate Journalism, he also writes a column on the art of
celebrating time alone. He may be contacted by email at
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