Going to a concert alone is not as scary as it sounds. Trust me, I’ve gone and I’m still here to tell the tale. It occurred to me recently that my enjoyment of spending time with myself — visiting museums, going on walks, or aforementioned concerts — was something that needed an explanation; a reason to not spend time with others.
A self-proclaimed extrovert, I do have my share of fun with friends. I love hanging out one-on-one, or being out and about with a large group of boisterous friends. But there is something unique and thrilling about planning a trip for myself.
Though my experience is limited to fairly local day trips and the thought of traveling does sound enticing, they never cease to excite me and awaken this visceral feeling of peace. There is a difference between being lonely and being alone: Whereas the former represents unsuccessfully seeking the company of others, the latter is when one celebrates her solitary status.
I recently experienced what I’d call ‘harmonious consciousness’ when I attended the Brooklyn Book Festival on my own. I had originally invited two friends — cool people who would appreciate attending New York City’s largest free annual literary event. Both cancelled within a few hours of each other. I bear no grudge, knowing their excuses were genuine.
Oh, and I was excited to go alone.
One friend immediately felt guilty when she heard that the second friend, unbeknownst to her, had also cancelled our afternoon plans. She was shocked that I went to the fair alone, thinking that once both partners had canceled, I would have preferred to stay home than attend the fair. She was wrong.
The fair was delightful. Hundreds of vendors: publishers, poetry groups, libraries, books stores, all handing out free bookmarks to eager hands. I loved that I could pick which panels to attend without worrying about coming to a compromise with another’s wishes. I reveled in the fact that I could spend forty-five minutes reading on a stoop outside the Brooklyn Historical Society (not loitering; I was waiting on line for a popular event from which I worried I would be turned away) whilst really eavesdropping to two hipsters’ conversation with one another.
To be alone is to realize what makes you ‘tick’. What makes you happy? What makes you think, “I am happy in this moment. This is a positive experience that I will look back to with joy.” The trick is that you must be in the moment to appreciate it.
Of course, there’s nothing like telling a good story to a friend, but there’s also something to enjoying an afternoon to yourself without constantly posting updates of where you are, who you’re meeting; a commitment to live presently, waiting to accept what the day has to offer.
To have a day trip with oneself is a luxury for some. I see it as a necessity. Because the truth is, you’re not really alone. As Henry Thoreau once wrote, “I am not alone if I stand by myself.”
Fellow students: challenge yourselves to go to an exhibit, a play, or even dinner, alone. Watch what happens not just to the people around you, but make sure to pay attention to the person of the hour: You. You might find yourself uncomfortable with the silence, the nakedness of the moment, bare without conversation to freckle it with stories. Take a deep breath and be present to your surroundings. Be present to you.
As poet Tanya Davis says in her viral YouTube video, How To Be Alone, “Cuz if you’re happy in your head then solitude is blessed and alone is okay.”