Two summers ago, I embarked on a journey to Idaho to visit my god-mother. The incredible woman she is, she helped me realize something about myself during that visit that remained nothing but a confusing feeling up until that point in my life. On a hike through the colorful mountains with one of the people that know me best, she shared her wisdom. How similar we are, specifically within, which you can probably guess by the name of this article, our need for alone time. A moment to decompress, to hear the sounds of an empty room. These moments are those of singularity.
Instances of these moments are not confined to just empty rooms, of, as a completely fiction example, sitting on a quiet apartment balcony writing an article that was due twelve hours ago, but moments that can range as wide as driving home from a long day to a moment of awe on that beautiful Idaho mountain in silence with someone I love. Capturing a moment in your memories by experiencing it presently. Recently, moments of lonesome travel have been my most common experience of this. The same type of feeling that strengthens my love and leads me to find comfort in the streets of New York. To be a stranger navigating through an airport, a gas station, or whenever your destinations take you. These moments are those where I feel the most like myself.
Those brief serene moments, mostly facilitated by brief interactions with strangers or problem solving an everyday decision, let me, at least, feel as if all I am is exactly where I am. Nothing from my past or future affects any of those moments, they sit there always unadulterated by the butterfly effect. The serenity of these moments come from being able to take a break from the fear that every moment will affect every next moment forever. Yes, you still have an effect on whether or not you choose to be kind to the cashier, but that kind of stuff is easy. In these moments I’m able to catch a glimpse at myself and the lyricless world around me.