Before I get started on the concept of “alone,” a few notes on what I’ve been up to: The first few weeks in the UNESCO Heritage town of Luang Prabang have been filled with getting settled, making friends, my volunteer job, and making photographs. It was easy enough to find a place to live. I’m living in a charming little apartment on the Nam Kahn River, in the heart of the historic district, surrounded by gorgeous Buddhist temples. I really wanted to be able to sit on a balcony, and see a beautiful landscape. While I live in a beautiful home in Michigan, I often feel boxed in by my neighbors, and I struggle to see the sky. I didn’t want to feel that way here. So, mission accomplished, I have a beautiful view. I suppose the thought about where I’m living in Luang Prabang is sort of related to the title of this blog post because I live alone here, as I do in Michigan when my kids aren’t around.
I had been struggling with a little bit of loneliness, until I went to dinner one night, about 3 weeks into this journey. I was at a very popular restaurant/bar, and noticed that I was just about the only person there who was having dinner alone. Everyone else was on their phones. I realized that I’d rather be alone, eating alone, a singular human, than be a part of a group or couple where everyone was alone by virtue of staring at their screens, not talking to one another, off in their own worlds. That seems more lonely, more “alone” to me. I think one of the essential ingredients of not being lonely is presence, living in the here and now. It opens up your senses, you can see more, hear more, feel more. Life lived in Technicolor. It would surely be wonderful to have someone to share this experience with in an intimate way, but since that is just not my reality, I choose to drink it all in, revel in life’s beauty and grace. It turns out that I’m not really lonely, I’m fully with myself.