Solitude. Solitude is a simple word that contains just one meaning but at the same time has various definitions or rather various associations. Solitude is to be alone; the act of being surrounded by no one either physically or emotionally. I think most people will agree that a moment of solitude is not only necessary, but also desired at certain time intervals. Some people need just a few minutes to be alone during the day, such as when they bathe, or a moment of solitude and silence right before they sleep. Other people may not necessarily need a few minutes everyday, but prefer instead to take a day of a week or month to themselves to read, shop, or perhaps run a few errands. Yet, there are people who need and desire days, weeks, and perhaps even months of total solitude. These people take advantage of their time alone to read, write, paint, etc.; most tend to be scholars or artists that can reach their intellectual goals and ambitions only by extreme solitude. Perhaps this is the only way they can dedicate themselves to their art.
Yet, the types of solitude isn't what is important. The important aspect of solitude is the point of view or the outlook one has on it. Solitude to some, including myself not too long ago, is something completely undesirable. Solitude is the abandonment of love ones or the inability to attract people to us. Solitude means loneliness and failure, to be unloved and to be left behind. What is worrisome about this perspective of solitude is that it requires blame, either blame against those we want to be with for abandoning us, or blame against ourselves for not being interesting enough to keep or attract others. The blame does nothing to fix the problem, and, after an extended period of time, can lead to confrontations and an actual desire to be away from the person that demands more time. This perspective on solitude creates a vicious circle of dependency towards others and overall unhappiness because no one meets all our expectations nor fulfills our desires.
The other extreme of solitude is to desire it as the only means of achieving happiness and of creation. Throughout history there have been men and women who have purposely removed themselves from society in an effort to be happy. The most famous of these solitude-seekers are usually artists and intellectuals such as Van Gogh, Nietzsche, and Hemingway, and these bright minds created breath-taking art at their most profound moments of solitude. Yet two questions come to mind: Is their artwork worth the suffering they lived and was absolute solitude really needed?
At first, the answer to the first question seemed to be a quick yes because what men and women, such as the ones I mentioned, gave to humanity is priceless. What would art be without "Starry Night"? Where would psychology, psychiatry and psychoanalysis be without Nietzsche's theory? Would we have ever read about the old man at the sea if Hemingway would have adapted to society and not secluded himself? Yet, that is from the perspective of a lover of art and innovation. The humane and empathetic side of me answers a firm no; nothing can be worth the suffering of another living being. Yes, their creations have impacted all of us and perhaps changed the world, but their suffering deteriorated their lives and caused them, perhaps involuntarily, too much suffering and deteriorated health.
And hand in hand with the first question comes the second. Was solitude necessary for these creations? I don't know. When we involve ourselves with others, we loose time to write and think and reflect upon so many things, but with careful time management, we can give ourselves time to do most of the things we want. Perhaps an early morning of reading or a late night of writing allows us to finish the tasks; maybe even one day a week to ourselves dedicated for creation gives us enough to keep on creating and reflecting. I do believe time management is key to being not only productive, but also content with all aspects of our lives. Yet, time management isn't the answer to Van Gogh's or Hemingway's dilemma. a few days ago I was driving with my family and my sister, knowing my future plans, asked me to please write happy novels because when she read a spreading assignment for school, she suffered greatly with the protagonist. My mother quickly answered her that for me it would be hard to write such thing because I had lived an overall happy and very fortunate life. She added that if ever attempted such task, without undermining my talent and abilities, I would have to convert all my happy and joyful memories to sadness and suffering. The positive energy from everything I knew had to be transformed into negative. Although this little family anecdote does not directly answer the question, it does raise the topic of how each person's life can determine what he or she can and will create or even think. If I have never been hungry, I can never truly write about hunger because I don't known what it feels like. If I have never truly been alone for months, I do not know what my mind is able to create without any distractions, just like I would be unable to understand the true suffering of a secluded life dedicated to a passion of mine. Perhaps we all need long periods of time, depending on the economical as well as the emotional possibilities of each one.
Would any of the legendary "lone wolves" have chosen a different life? What would that life have brought them with more contact to family and friends? How would such a lonely lifestyle work in today's society where patrons or sponsors of artists are uncommon, perhaps even inexistent? Could anyone that does not posses a large family trust or some other type of economic advantage live such a solitary life? After much time to reflect and many words typed, there is no clear answer. We can only make assumptions and imagine the lives of those great minds. What we can only do to do their suffering any justice is to appreciate their work and be thankful for its impact on today's world.
