Loneliness as a Teacher

From artist Farah Billah’s Moth in a Disco Room Gallery, New Orleans 2022. Portrait of the author.

Loneliness and I go way back. Although it has been a tumultuous relationship throughout.

I can’t say the first time loneliness paid a call, but it has been a frequent visitor in the internal house of my emotions. For most of my life, loneliness also brought along sadness, shame, and intense insecurity with it as its companions.

Loneliness would peek its head in at different times. Often when I was alone, and when I wished to be surrounded by a person or people that I loved and they loved me. A desire to sit around a living room table, the space occupied with friend(s), warmth, laughter, and joy, and a sense of — ah I am seen and heard — and loved just as I am.

I remember being 10 years old, long-limbed and awkward, with oiled hair in two braids, starting at a new school after having moved once again and spending most lunches eating alone. Eating quickly so I could then spend the rest of my lunchtime in the library where I was surrounded by the comforting presence of books.

I remember sitting, in a dark room, on the top bunk of my college dorm bed. It was around 8 pm on a Friday night, I could hear murmurs and shrieks as people outside were together preparing for the night ahead. I had my laptop in front of me, a bag of Sunchips to my right, and a heaviness in my chest. I longed to have plans and people to go out with. A longing to be excitedly putting on makeup with my friends as we pregamed before going out.

I remember just this morning driving home after teaching a group of teens at a mental health center, having intrusive thoughts come in trying to tell me that I am not supported and am unworthy of love and creation.

In these moments, loneliness brings along questions like — is there something wrong with me? Does nobody like me? Am I unlovable? Do I not have any friends? And if so, where are they? This paranoia and anxiety cloud my perspective and lead me down into a dark place within myself.

These questions set off a spiral of sadness, shame, and self-doubt.

A sense of there is something wrong with me — something bad.

My inner voice becoming more critical and self-abusive.

Now after six years of continuous therapy (I still meet with my therapist weekly!), in-depth yoga study and embodied practice, and mindfulness work, I have learned not to place any emotions on a hierarchy. Each emotion is welcome as a villager in my inner village of emotions — all welcome to the party — even the saddest, most despondent, moaning, cranky, mean parts as well.

Now I understand when loneliness shows up, I am needing more self-compassion and connection. Not criticizing myself and creating even more negative thoughts. I now know and treat loneliness as a visitor with a message.

I can take a deep breath and invite loneliness to tea rather than handing it the driver’s seat of my life.

Lama Rod Owens shares in Love and Rage: The Path of Liberation Through Anger:

I started practicing loving anger because I wanted to be liberated from it. When I say liberated, I do not mean the erasure of my anger, but to no longer be caught up in a compulsory relationship with it. When I talk about loving anger, I am not saying that I love what it does or what it helps me to do or how it makes me feel. I don’t love it because of what it gives me. I love my anger because it is mine. Loving my anger means that I allow it to be there without judgment and without shame. I accept it. Moreover, loving anger disrupts its power over me and allows space for me to be in power over my anger.

This wisdom text reminds me to accept my loneliness and even to love it because it is mine. My loneliness and pain are some of my greatest teachers in learning to be with them and to develop a different relationship where I begin to understand my and others’ core needs. My loneliness connects me to the vulnerability we all share — a desire to belong and builds a bridge of compassion between me and other beings.

When loneliness comes to visit, I’ve learned to sit with it (although, still sometimes, I wish to run away!), and listen to what the message might be. Here are some messages that have come through:

1. A need for connection — with self and/or with others

When was the last time I really tuned into myself? Whether through seated meditation practice, a vigorous asana practice, taking four deep breaths, journaling, or by simply giving myself enough spaciousness to acknowledge my emotions. It’s this reminder that I am somehow ignoring my needs and I need to turn to myself with curiosity, grace, and compassion. Where can I allow svadhyaya, this self-study and fourth Niyama of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, to guide the way?

It can be a reminder to intentionally connect with others. When was the last time I checked in with a close friend or called my mom or turned to someone who makes my nervous system feel regulated and safe? We were never meant to live in isolation and a loving community is necessary for a healthy existence. This can be vulnerable to admit — that I need you, I need this connection.

…and that visibility which makes us most vulnerable is that which also is the source of our greatest strength.
― Audre Lorde

As humans, we all have the innate desire to belong. When loneliness visits, it invites me to check in to where I might be working too much or isolating myself — it reminds me of this basic need to be truly seen and heard — whether through self or by others.

2. If I feel this way, others feel this way as well

Loneliness arrives as both a strict teacher and a blessing to look outside of myself and acknowledge that we are all suffering in some way. I am not unique or alone in my feelings of despondence — many others through generations have been here as well! Then, how can I use loneliness to inform me and to create from this place?

This is how the Soul Buddy Program for the Womxn of Color Summit was created. “Be the reason someone feels welcomed, seen, heard, valued, loved, and supported.” I was at home for the holidays and feeling the familiar sense of disconnection that loneliness brings and instead of barreling down into the darkness, I decided to instead meditate on this loneliness. There was this keen sense and wisdom understanding of how others are also hurting and needing connection. So how could I make a difference in my small part of the world? And voilà, what arose was the Soul Buddy Program.

3. The understanding of impermanence as a core wisdom

Thich Nhat Hanh on impermanence in The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching:

The First Dharma Seal is impermanence. The Buddha taught that everything is impermanent — flowers, tables, mountains, political regimes, bodies, feelings, perceptions, mental formations, and consciousness. We cannot find anything that is permanent. Flowers decompose, but knowing this does not prevent us from loving flowers. In fact, we are able to love them more because we know how to treasure them while they are still alive. If we learn to look at a flower in a way that impermanence is revealed to us, when it dies, we will not suffer. Impermanence is more than an idea. It is a practice to help us touch reality.

When we study impermanence we have to ask, “Is there anything in this teaching that has to do with my daily life, my daily difficulties, my suffering?” If we see impermanence as merely a philosophy, it is not the Buddha’s teaching. Every time we look or listen, the object of our perception can reveal to us the nature of impermanence. We have to nourish our insight into impermanence all day long.

This teaching reminds me that even negative or hard emotions are impermanent! They too will arise and dissipate into another form. Loneliness will not stay around forever. That’s why the practice of consciously working with my breath to be with loneliness and to feel those feelings is important. Feelings will flow through, it is often the thoughts or stories I have created that continue to linger. I resonate with Thay’s reminder to integrate the teaching of impermanence into my life and not to treat it just as an intellectual concept.

When I take the time to sink into the present moment, I allow myself to be alive to all the goodness and beauty this world has to offer. How even the ugliness and darkness have something profound to teach me.

I invite you to allow yourself to be taught by your loneliness. For it to serve as a guide and not as a destination. A place to visit but not to reside. It has profoundly impacted the ways I tend to myself with more curiosity and gentleness — and to others.