I was motivated to write this series of ‘Solitary mind’ blogs because I was concerned that some people would find social isolation hard: disorientating, unsettling, or even depressing. So a lot of my writing is about unpacking the nuances of that, and thinking about ways to survive the experience.
Alongside the challenges there could be positives to having a period of aloneness. The tedium and uncertainty of self-isolation or social distancing can make the experience feel interminable, but it won’t last forever. So for a pocket of time we have the opportunity to experience something unique, if somewhat discombobulating. For better or for worse, normal life has been suspended, something that is rarely inflicted on, or gifted to, us.
We are not just quarantining ourselves from catching or spreading the coronavirus; we are also quarantined from the world outside. Yes, news and perspectives can trickle or, depending on how addicted you are to news or social media platforms, flood in, but we always have the choice to filter, ration, or switch off these communications*.
We are living in a state of suspension. The ways in which each individual influences their own little corner of the world has changed, as has its influence on us. If we take the opportunity to tune out all but the most necessary interactions – for information and emotional connection – we could afford ourselves the opportunity to exist, for a while, in a liminal state; a state where things are on the cusp of emerging, of being consciously identified and understood.
Our instincts can form to become ideas or settle to underpin habits of thinking. There is risk attached to this; if we are finding our time alone an ordeal of isolation then our feelings can be ones of anger, gloom, pessimism, anxiety. Of course, these feelings are perfectly sane responses to a strange and stressful experience, but if they harden into clinical depression then that’s obviously a problem. Instincts for wariness, doubt, paranoia (of the government? of other people?) can also form. If the conditions of our isolation overlap with conditions of poverty, illness, or relationship breakdown then the ideas and instincts we will be grappling with will present us with the challenge of finding the resilience to survive this ordeal.
But if our isolation is less beleaguered by adverse conditions, then our challenges are of a different nature. One challenge we could choose is that of re-setting some of our thinking. While we are sitting in this space of not being seen or heard as much, how are we going to use it?
For this to work to our advantage, we have to commit to allowing our personal psychological space to be decluttered: don’t mess it up with mental busyness. Take plenty of breaks from work. Turn off Facebook and the TV. Go and sit in a different room from the one containing your housemates.
In our activity-obsessed society – where bustling is so often mistaken for productivity, confidence, or dynamism – doing nothing can feel weird, even decadent. But it is into the idling mind that insights and inspirations steal. The strange outlier thoughts slide in, and these are the ones that can lead to real originality. We can view our previous ‘normal’ lives afresh, start questioning that which had been the status quo. And it is these original thoughts that can lead to a refreshed connection to our sense of creativity or even identity.
This is a remarkable time, not an easy one but remarkable all the same. Allowing yourself to sit in the absence of the normal external and internal expectations that inflect your normal day-to-day life isn’t easy; it can feel odd or even uncomfortable. But try to savour the oddness of it all. Give yourself permission to try out new trains of thought, to ask ‘what if’? This is an adventure that we may never have again; it can yield its own unique treasures.
*For the sake of your mental health, please do access digital information discerningly.
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