When It Is Good To Be Alone

The Dalai Lama says:

Spend some time alone every day.

That is a mantra for myself. I have others, but this is one that suits me, and has suited me long before I became a teacher.

I remember when I was as young as fourteen seeking moments and places where I could be alone. I didn’t understand it then. I just knew I wanted to be alone. I didn’t do anything significant when I found these moments and places, but that was because I didn’t know that what I did really was more significant than I could know.

Often, I would do absolutely nothing but think. It was the thinking that was significant, but I never would have considered thinking as an important thing to do. Not as a child.

I didn’t get rave reviews for my thinking ability. My grades did not reflect that I was a deep thinker. My verbal responses in a conversation certainly didn’t show off any thinking prowess. Not until I was in my late thirties/early forties did I become truly aware of my cognitive abilities, and how they were a strength for me.

I grew up in a family of seven children. I was the oldest. I was seldom alone. For many years, from the time I was a very small child, until I was about seven or eight, I remember sharing a bed with my sister, so even the act of going to bed did not enable me to be alone. We got along fine as long as she stayed on her side of the bed and I stayed on mine. If one of us strayed too far over the imaginary line that we both understood lay between us, we’d usually start playing and giggling, and that would get us into trouble. So, we stayed on our respective sides of the bed. Most of the time.

Since I was the eldest, I was selected to be the responsible one. I took the role seriously. It wasn’t that I liked babysitting or didn’t like it. I had to do it, and I tried to make it fun whenever possible. Most of the time I could.

Mom  always kept the house clean. We kids did a good job messing it up again. We were, and should have been, told to clean it up. It was our mess. I know that now. I knew it then, but didn’t like it because in my opinion, I didn’t mess the house up, they did, but we older sisters were given the chores, and often, I had to supervise them. That put me in the role of “boss,” and who likes the boss? That’s why I tried to make the work fun.

One way I did that was to play music while we worked. Music helped me get my work done, made the work more pleasant. I figured I’d try it on the younger kids, sort of motivate them, although I didn’t realize that is what I was doing. I remember a particular story we had. on record, about the wolf and the seven little billy goats.

We loved that story because we imagined that we were the seven little billy goats. As the story was being narrated, a song would interrupt to entertain the listener further. The song would be catchy, easy to remember and sing along with. I loved the story, though I was nearly 14. I could recite the story by heart, using the same intonations and phrasings as the narrator. My siblings loved it when I repeated the story imitating the record version. (We didn’t have access to tv and video games back then.)

One day I got the idea to play one of the songs, “Sweep, Sweep, Sweep the Floor.” It was a silly little rhyming song, but it was catchy. Easy to sweep floors by. I remember playing the record, and sweeping the living room floor. I danced with the broom, and was having such fun collecting all the dust, hair, dirt, etc from the floor that my younger brothers wanted to join in. I gave one of them the broom, while I kept singing and dancing beside him. I don’t remember which one it was that took over the job of sweeping the floor, but we were all singing and dusting, and cleaning, and sweeping, and putting toys and clothes away while we sang. It really was fun and the work got done.

The point to this little narrative is this: I found times to be alone, and during those times, I was able to leave the noise and the confusion of growing up for a little while. I think that by allowing myself to do that, by seeking solitude, I was able to be more imaginative and free to enjoy the special moments we had in our family.

I remember hearing remarks from other well-meaning adults as I grew older. Some thought I was withdrawing into my shell. I heard thatI was escaping reality. Another was that I lived in my own little world.

Certainly, I may have been doing all of those things. But when I was there, in the silence, in the stillness, I could calm down inside. I didn’t think or know God had anything to do with it, but looking back, I see that He was the One calming me, comforting me, and holding me. I always felt safe and secure in this aloneness.

When I seek this quiet place of being alone, even if only for a few minutes during a busy day, I feel the same calmness embrace me.

Only now, it is Christ I imagine with me.