Solitude vs Loneliness
Nelly, my wise and feisty Irish Nana, used to say, “Wherever you go, there you are.”
It took me a while to understand what she meant. Or, to be more precise, what I believe she meant—because there was never a follow-up explanation. It was just a simple statement. What was I supposed to do with this idea? What did Nelly do with it? And what would you do with the idea that ‘Wherever you go, there you are’?
I live in the United States, where toxic individuality has eroded connection and community. Hyper-individualitydemands that we always be on the lookout for danger rather than seeking refuge in the collective strength of a supportive community. When survival is framed as an individual pursuit, we become hyper-vigilant, perceiving others as competitors rather than collaborators. This constant state of self-preservation cultivates isolation rather than connection, making it difficult to experience the deep sense of safety that arises from mutual care and interdependence.
Human flourishing is not achieved in isolation—it thrives in connection. We need one another not just for practical support but for the recognition of our shared humanity. When we move away from hyper-individuality and toward a culture of reciprocity, we cultivate true belonging, where solitude becomes a space for reflection rather than a symptom of loneliness.
What I’ve come to understand is that cultivating a loving relationship and deep understanding of Self makes it possible to be alone or in a crowd and still feel whole. Still feel safe. Many of us crave safety right now as our democracy seems to be crumbling before our eyes. But we do not need to crumble in response, nor do we need to numb ourselves to preserve our sanity.
To respond to our current circumstances, we must care for our nervous systems, our hearts, and our minds. Absolutely. But we must also pay attention. And we must act. It’s okay to choose just one or a few things to focus on. What matters is that we do something.
Here’s what I’m doing to take responsible action in alignment with my personal beliefs:
I am shopping at establishments that reflect my core values.
I am examining every purchase I make: Do I really need it? Can I get this used? Can I live without it? Where does the money from this purchase go?
I am consuming news intentionally, avoiding random or unreliable sources, and choosing where to direct my attention and energy to stay informed.
I am moving away from platforms and technologies that track me, sell my information, or support anti-democratic politicians.
This is a slow process. Like many people, my electronic life is deeply embedded in technology that has, over time, transformed into something that feels like a dark force.
Solitude is not the same as loneliness. Loneliness is the aching absence of connection to Self, nature, and others. It is a symptom of a culture that values hyper-individuality and prioritizes profit over people. Solitude, on the other hand, is an intentional space—one where we can reflect, reconnect with ourselves, and make conscious choices about how we engage with the world.
I am choosing solitude over loneliness by stepping away from the noise, making thoughtful decisions about where I invest my energy, and aligning my actions with my values. But solitude does not mean isolation. I am also engaging thoughtfully. True well-being comes from balancing time alone with time spent in meaningful community—one built on shared values, mutual care, and recognition of each other’s humanity.
We do not have to navigate this moment in history alone. In choosing connection over division, intentionality over mindless consumption, and courage over complacency, we can create a world that is safe to be part of. And a sense that solitude is a source of strength, not a symptom of disconnection.
