in Western culture was that if you were not interacting in a relationship you hardly existed. Others shaped and proved our existence. They talked to us and touched us, therefore we existed.
I learned that introverts dig deep into their inner worlds to find existential confirmation. When in solitude, we are in tune with our inner voice and our personal values become clearer. There is no one to refute them. Too much external stimulation and interaction, and our inner voice is muffled.
I feel connected to others even when I am alone. I have time to miss them or wonder about their feelings. A desire grows to love and engage with them.
My wish is for solitude to be an encouraged and accepted state. Those who crave it should not be ashamed or misjudged as selfish. Many of our greatest inventions and works of art were born out of solitude. The benefits of making space for reflection are endless, but below are a few of the key ones:
• More self-awareness, a chance to hear our inner voice
• Less anxiety due to a removal of the perceived gap between what we are and what we should be
• More interpersonal understanding
• More intuitive decision-making
• Appreciation of beauty
• Creation of art
• Thoughtful actions and reactions
Like Thoreau, Bukowski, and so many other writers and artists, I found solitude to be a fertile space for curiosity and ideas to bubble up and form associations where once there were none. Creativity thrives in solitude. While running on a trail, driving by myself, or dreaming lazily in the shower, sweet memories and random facts joined to become solutions to everyday dilemmas or epiphanies to be shared in my newest endeavor, at the time, space2live, a blog about introverts and relationships.
SLOWING DOWN/PRESENCE
The tag line for space2live was: Pay attention. Reflect. Evolve. Back in the days of running errands, carpooling, and constant busy-ness, I had to fight to stay awake and not get lost in the details of doing and doing. I’d had a taste of personal and creative awareness, and I wanted to learn more. I longed to slow down.
“Willing is doing something you know already, something you have been told by somebody else; there is no new imaginative understanding in it. And presently your soul gets frightfully sterile and dry because you are so quick, snappy, and efficient about doing one thing after another that you have not time for your own ideas to come in and develop and gently shine.“ —Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write: A Book About Art, Independence and Spirit
The frenetic doing of modern life drained me. All of my energy went outward toward external tasks, but I was filled up by deep concentration and a new awareness of beauty.
Writing for space2live subconsciously forced me to become a steadfast observer. I wanted the details of the senses to fill my writing with flavor and imagery. There was a new appreciation for nuances and ironies. In order to catch those, I had to pay attention. It’s hard to quickly pay attention. Presence and awareness take time.
While on vacation in the Dominican Republic, my family and I took a tour off the grounds of the resort. While riding in our tour Jeep, we passed two Dominican women sitting in a doorway of a rusted tin shack. They were talking and smiling. They waved at us as our noisy Jeep drove by. A woman on the tour made the comment that Dominicans seem to take the time to enjoy life. Another woman quickly piped up, “Not me. I get anxious if I have too much time on my hands. My mind just doesn’t stop running.” It struck me as interesting that the poor Dominicans seemed to be more content than the privileged tourists. I wrote about it in a post for space2live using sensory detail.
Staying present eases the grip of anxiety, in that it keeps our minds from wandering to a future where negative “What if…” scenarios play out. Worrying about what has not happened yet is counterproductive and stimulates the primitive and reactive part of our brain. Presence gives us a feeling of control because there is certainty in now. We can see, feel, hear, and taste what is happening now. The future is uncertain—a guessing game.
For help staying present, I began to meditate and made a daily practice of it. I would spend ten glorious minutes sitting on my closet floor each day (a mom takes her privacy wherever she can find it), noticing my breathing and keeping my brain from thinking about what to make for dinner or if the kids’ vaccines were up to date. I’ve never had such a calm state of presence as I did when I would meditate regularly. Scientific research backs up my findings. A 2012 study done at Stanford University found that meditation practice was associated with decreases in negative emotion and social anxiety symptom severity, and used fMRI tests to show that the brains of meditators experienced measurable increases in attention-related parietal cortex neural responses (activity the more evolved part of the brain) when implementing attention regulation of negative self-beliefs.
THOSE WHO ALLOW YOU TO BE YOU
One day, years ago, I found myself sitting in the waiting area of the music school my son attended for guitar lessons. The school’s owner had come out and greeted me with a kind, gentle voice and then left. Within the quiet following his departure, I listened to musical notes drifting in from nearby classrooms. I smelled candles burning, their fragrance mixing with my slow, easy breathing. I noticed my frenetic spirit, rested. Personal ideas and dreams began to seep into my consciousness. I realized it had been a long time since I felt that at home and in tune with myself (outside of meditation and solitude). I imagined being a part of an artistic world of musicians, writers, creators. A world that seemed so magical, meaningful, and—for me—out of reach. I had never been especially musically gifted or artistic.
I considered taking lessons myself, but I was afraid to step outside of my safe routines. How would that kind of me time affect my family? Was it selfish to consider playing guitar? I kept thinking about the lessons but was hesitant to sign up. I sent an email to the music school’s owner saying as much. He responded with, “Why do you feel guilty about taking time for yourself? I feel it’s the best thing in the world to fill yourself up, and then it spills onto everyone else.”
I started lessons. The decision changed my life.
Over the next few years, the music school provided a sacred place for my true spirit to reveal itself. My courage grew within the safe discussions that took place during my guitar lessons. The first lesson, Mike, my teacher told me of his love of the 1970s television show, Little House on the Prairie. I thought that was a fairly vulnerable admission for a man. I found his honesty refreshing and inspiring. I credit Mike for making lessons more than perfect scales and pristine playing. Each lesson was about learning and exploring the world as well as music. We read books together and analyzed spirituality, relationships, writers, and creativity in between guitar playing. Mike had a calm, safe presence. We became friends. He listened without judgment if I spoke of my worries about falling short in my roles as wife and mother.
I still got nervous each time I played guitar with Mike observing me (a characteristic of those with Social Anxiety Disorder), but I also experienced deep satisfaction when we played together and I made it through a whole section (mistakes included). I was in a creative setting where it was OK to just be. I didn’t have to be perfect. I could play just for the pleasure of the sound, the experience, and the companionship.
YOU DON’T HAVE TO WRITE RIGHT
Buoyed by the positive experience of guitar lessons, I looked into another artistic endeavor. A friend mentioned a literary center in my area. She said it was a hangout and teaching center for writers of all levels. I checked out the website and found the course list inviting and non-intimidating.
I chose “Intuitive Writing” as one of my first forays into the world of writing. Again, the format was loose and informal. The teacher, Roxanne, wrote the mantra “Follow your energy!” at the top of the syllabus. Roxanne (a psychoanalyst) made up the intuitive writing label with the idea that we should write without censorship, without lifting the pen from the paper, and without judgment. Our thoughts should flow from our hearts, down our arms, and onto the paper. This, plus the sharing of our writing,