In Wim Wenders’ acclaimed film Perfect Days, we follow Hirayama, a Tokyo toilet cleaner who finds profound joy in the simplest moments of solitude — carefully watering his plants each morning, reading classic literature on his lunch breaks, listening to cassette tapes of forgotten songs, and photographing trees with the wonder of a child discovering the world. The film struck a deep chord with audiences worldwide, offering what BBC critic Nicholas Barber called “a meditation on the serenity of an existence stripped to its essentials.”
What makes Hirayama’s story so compelling isn’t what he has, but what he doesn’t need. He doesn’t need constant stimulation, social validation, or the frantic pace of modern life to find meaning. Instead, he’s mastered something increasingly rare: the lost art of being beautifully, purposefully alone.
This resonance isn’t a coincidence. We’re witnessing a cultural renaissance around solitude, with a wave of books, films, podcasts, and viral TikToks celebrating the power of being alone. From Emma Gannon’s novel Table for One to scholarly works like Solitude: The Science and Power of Being Alone, creators are pushing back against the assumption in our hyperconnected culture that being alone equals being broken, incomplete, or somehow less than.
The numbers tell the story of this shift. In the past two years alone, multiple major titles on solitude have hit bestseller lists: Solo: Building a Remarkable Life of Your Own, Nicola Slawson’s Single: Living a Complete Life on Your Own Terms, and forthcoming works like The Joy of Solitude: How to Reconnect with Yourself in an Overconnected World. Meanwhile, the number of people living alone has been steadily increasing over the last decade, and viral TikTok videos about the joys of living solo regularly garner millions of views and tens of thousands of comments from people sharing their own celebrations of chosen solitude.
The Great Clarification: Solitude vs. Loneliness
The pandemic gave us an unexpected gift: brutal clarity about the difference between loneliness and chosen solitude. For some, lockdown meant suffocating isolation — the painful absence of human connection that defines true loneliness. For others, it offered a rare opportunity to slow down, turn inward, and rediscover the pleasure of their own company.
As psychology professor Robert Coplan explains, “While loneliness is a serious and harmful problem for some people, it is a subjective state very different from solitude that someone has actively chosen for positive reasons.” The distinction isn’t just semantic — it’s transformational.
Think of loneliness as emotional starvation — a gnawing hunger for connection that leaves you feeling empty, anxious, and incomplete. It’s characterized by what psychologists call “perceived social isolation” — the sense that you’re cut off from meaningful relationships, whether or not you’re physically alone. Loneliness can strike in a crowded room, during a dinner party, or even while lying next to a partner in bed.
Solitude, by contrast, is like a carefully prepared meal for one, savored slowly and with intention. It’s the difference between having nothing to eat and choosing to fast. Author Emma Gannon, who advocates for “slow living,” puts it perfectly: the extremes of pandemic life — being cooped up with loved ones or going months without human contact — helped us “have nuanced conversations about the differences between isolation and joyful alone time.”
This distinction carries profound implications. Loneliness correlates with increased rates of depression, anxiety, cardiovascular disease, and even early death. But chosen solitude? Research shows it enhances creativity, deepens self-knowledge, improves emotional regulation, and actually strengthens our capacity for meaningful relationships.
Journalist Heather Hansen, co-author of Solitude: The Science and Power of Being Alone, watched the media’s narrative about the loneliness epidemic with growing frustration. “People are reflecting on their own lives and recognising that they are choosing solitude for various reasons that benefit them,” she explains. The problem wasn’t that people were alone — it was that we’d lost the ability to distinguish between healthy solitude and harmful isolation.
Challenging the Couple-Centric Narrative
For generations, Western culture has operated under what author Daniel Schreiber calls the “romantic love mythology” — the assumption that romantic partnership is not just desirable but necessary for a complete life. This narrative, reinforced by everything from Disney movies to tax policy, suggests that single people are somehow in a holding pattern, waiting for their “real” life to begin.
The data tells a different story entirely. As marketing and psychology professor Peter McGraw notes in Solo: Building a Remarkable Life of Your Own, “The message of rom-coms, love songs and Jane Austen novels — that we need a partner to be fulfilled — isn’t backed by data.” His research into longitudinal studies reveals that while happiness may spike around major life events, such as marriage, it doesn’t last. Within a few years, most people return to their baseline levels of happiness, regardless of their relationship status.
Meanwhile, a growing body of research suggests that single people often develop stronger networks of friends and family, pursue more diverse interests, experience greater personal growth, and report higher levels of self-determination. They’re more likely to volunteer, pursue continuing education, and maintain close relationships with siblings and parents.
This reality is increasingly reflected in the attitudes of different generations. According to a 2023 US survey, two out of five Gen Z-ers and millennials consider marriage an outdated tradition. In the UK, only just over half of Gen Z men and women are predicted to marry — a dramatic shift from previous generations. Rather than seeing this as a societal breakdown, we might recognize it as evolution — people choosing authenticity over expectation, personal growth over social conformity.
The shift is particularly pronounced among women. As Nicola Slawson observes, there’s been a cultural movement toward “freedom and independence, and especially a rejection of domesticity, as women are realising they don’t have to put up with things they might have been expected to in previous generations.” The viral TikTok she references — where a man analyzed his positive experience dating women who live alone and love it — sparked thousands of comments from women celebrating their chosen independence.
The Neuroscience of Solitary Brilliance
History’s greatest innovators understood something we’ve forgotten: breakthrough thinking requires breakthrough silence. Einstein developed his theory of relativity during long, solitary walks through Princeton. Virginia Woolf insisted every woman needs “a room of one’s own,” not just for writing, but for thinking. Lincoln made his most crucial Civil War decisions during solitary carriage rides, away from the cacophony of advisors and public opinion. Nelson Mandela emerged from 27 years of forced solitude not broken, but clarified in his vision for South Africa’s future.
Modern neuroscience supports what these leaders intuitively understood. When we’re alone and unstimulated — not scrolling, not listening to podcasts, not filling every moment with input — our brain’s default mode network (DMN) activates. This network, discovered only in the last two decades, is where innovation and intuitive problem-solving emerge. It’s the brain’s equivalent of defragmenting a hard drive, making new connections between previously unrelated ideas.
Dr. Mary Helen Immordino-Yang’s research at USC shows that DMN activation is crucial for moral reasoning, creative insight, and the consolidation of learning. But here’s the catch: the DMN only fully activates during periods of genuine rest — what researchers call “constructive internal reflection.” Scrolling social media, binge-watching Netflix, or even listening to music can prevent this crucial neural process.
As author Michael Harris observes in his exploration of solitude, “Without solitude, we become echo chambers of one another.” Constant connectivity doesn’t just distract us; it actively prevents the kind of deep, original thinking that changes the world. When we’re always responding to external stimuli — texts, emails, notifications, conversations — we never access the deeper layers of consciousness where truly novel ideas emerge.
This is why great leaders incorporate solitude into their practice, often through religious devotion. Bill Gates famously takes “Think Weeks” — solo retreats where he reads, reflects, and plans without interruption. Warren Buffett spends most of his day alone, reading and thinking. Oprah Winfrey credits daily meditation and journaling — both solitary practices — as foundational to her success.
As Yale’s William Deresiewicz puts it, “Solitude is one of the most important necessities of true leadership.” Leaders who never spend time alone lack the moral courage to make unpopular decisions, the creativity to solve novel problems, and the self-knowledge to remain authentic under pressure.
Solitude as the Foundation of Relationship
Perhaps the most counterintuitive benefit of solitude is how it transforms our relationships with others. Far from making us antisocial, learning to be alone makes us better partners, friends, parents, and colleagues.
Jungian analyst Marion Woodman explains this beautifully: “When we do not allow ourselves solitude, we risk bringing the unfinished self into every relationship.” People who struggle with being alone often rely on relationships as emotional life support, unconsciously demanding that others fill voids they haven’t learned to fill themselves.
Consider the difference between loneliness-driven and solitude-informed relationships. Lonely people often enter relationships from a place of desperate need, seeking validation, entertainment, or rescue from their own discomfort. They may struggle with boundaries, become overly dependent, or lose their own identity in their partner’s.
People comfortable with solitude, by contrast, enter relationships from choice rather than compulsion. They know what they enjoy, what they value, and what they need. They’re less likely to compromise their core values for the sake of avoiding aloneness. They can give their partner space without feeling threatened, because they genuinely enjoy their own company.
Research by relationship psychologist Dr. Eli Finkel shows that people who maintain individual identities and interests — often cultivated during alone time — report higher relationship satisfaction and are more likely to stay together long-term. They bring a fuller, more interesting self to the relationship rather than expecting their partner to complete them.
This principle extends beyond romantic relationships. People comfortable with solitude often develop richer friendships because they’re not desperately clinging to social connections. They can be present during conversations rather than constantly seeking validation. They develop their own opinions and interests, making them more engaging companions.
The Creative Sanctuary of Aloneness
Every major creative breakthrough in human history emerged from solitude. From Thoreau’s cabin at Walden Pond to Virginia Woolf’s writing room, from Beethoven’s solitary walks to Maya Angelou’s hotel room where she wrote lying down, creativity requires protected space away from the world’s demands and opinions.
This isn’t an accident or preference — it’s a neurological necessity. Creative work requires what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls “flow states” — periods of deep focus where self-consciousness disappears and the work takes over. These states are nearly impossible to achieve in social settings or while multitasking.
During flow, the brain’s prefrontal cortex — responsible for self-criticism and executive function — partially shuts down in a process called “transient hypofrontality.” This allows access to more primitive, intuitive brain regions where novel connections form. It’s why we get our best ideas in the shower, during walks, or in the moments before sleep — all solitary activities.
But creativity requires more than just the mechanics of flow. It demands the courage to think differently, to explore ideas that might seem strange or unpopular. This courage develops through solitude, where we learn to trust our own judgment without external validation.
Emma Gannon, whose novel Table for One explores a woman’s journey toward creative fulfillment, describes solitude as the wellspring of artistic vision: “I think solitude inspires a wonderful sense of creativity, it gets the juices flowing and encourages problem solving.” Away from others’ expectations and opinions, we can explore ideas too fragile for public scrutiny.
This is why so many artists jealously guard their alone time. Zadie Smith writes in a room with no internet. Jonathan Franzen uses software to disable his computer’s internet connection. Toni Morrison wrote her novels before dawn, in the quiet hours before her family woke. They understand that creativity is a conversation between the conscious and unconscious mind — a conversation that requires silence to hear.
The Spiritual Dimensions of Solitude
Across cultures and throughout centuries, spiritual traditions have recognized solitude as essential for inner growth and development. From Christian hermits in the desert to Buddhist meditation retreats, from Native American vision quests to Islamic contemplative practices, wisdom traditions understand that profound insights emerge only in silence.
This isn’t about religious belief, but about accessing deeper layers of consciousness that are typically obscured by the noise of daily life. In solitude, we encounter what Thomas Merton called “the true self” — the authentic identity beneath social roles, expectations, and adaptations.
Meditation teacher and author Cynthia Zak, who wrote The Joy of Sleeping Alone, describes this process as “more space to express what we need and feel, more opportunities to let go of fears and limiting beliefs, and more freedom to choose.” In solitude, we can examine our thoughts and emotions without immediately reacting or seeking others’ opinions.
This inner exploration isn’t always comfortable. Solitude forces us to confront aspects of ourselves we might prefer to avoid — insecurities, unresolved grief, difficult truths about our lives and relationships. But this confrontation is precisely what makes solitude transformational.
Psychologist James Hollis writes about the “middle passage” of life — the process of moving from living others’ expectations to discovering our authentic path. This passage requires extensive solitude, periods of sitting with uncertainty and discomfort while deeper truths emerge.
The spiritual teacher Ram Dass captured this beautifully: “The quieter you become, the more you can hear.” In solitude, we develop what might be called spiritual hearing — the ability to perceive subtle inner guidance typically drowned out by external noise.
Practical Mastery: The Art of Productive Solitude
Not all alone time is created equal. As Peter McGraw wryly notes, the goal isn’t “lying in bed, vaping and ordering Uber Eats.” Transformative solitude requires intention, structure, and what we might call “solitude literacy” — the skill of being alone in ways that nourish rather than deplete.
The authors suggest treating solitude as an adventure rather than an absence. Take yourself to a museum and absorb art at your own pace, without commentary or conversation. Sit in a coffee shop and people-watch, observing the human drama around you. Run or walk without headphones, letting your mind wander where it will. Take a long bath while listening to classical music. Write in a journal about your inner landscape without censoring or performing for an imagined audience.
Author Cynthia Zak encourages a particularly powerful practice: “Ask yourself, what is the thing that you most enjoy being alone with? Make a jewel of the moment you choose and give yourself the task to cherish this specific space more and more.” This might be reading poetry, gardening, cooking elaborate meals for yourself, or simply sitting quietly with morning coffee.
The key is intentionality. Random alone time — waiting in line, commuting, sitting in a waiting room — rarely provides solitude’s benefits. Transformative solitude involves choosing specific activities that engage your attention in meaningful ways.
Some people thrive with long stretches of daily solitude — writers, artists, researchers, and deep thinkers often need hours of uninterrupted time. Others need just small pockets throughout the day: a five-minute meditation, a solo walk around the block, a few minutes of journaling before bed.
The practice also involves learning to tolerate — and eventually enjoy — understimulation. In our entertainment-saturated culture, many people feel anxious when not constantly occupied. Building solitude skills means gradually increasing your tolerance for quiet, empty time where nothing external is happening.
Emma Gannon suggests engaging all your senses during solitude: “The soft blanket, the sound of music, the taste of your food. What can you see, smell, touch, and sense when you are alone?” This mindful approach transforms solitude from a state of deprivation into one of abundance.
Redefining Single Life: From Waiting Room to Main Event
For people who are single — whether by choice or circumstance — society’s subtle messages can be particularly toxic. From being asked “When are you going to settle down?” to being seated at the “singles table” at weddings, unmarried people often feel treated as incomplete or temporarily displaced.
Journalist Nicola Slawson, who wrote Single: Living a Complete Life on Your Own Terms based on her popular newsletter “The Single Supplement,” identifies what she calls “waiting room syndrome” — the tendency to postpone major life decisions, experiences, or investments until finding a partner.
“I used to find myself putting off doing things until I ‘settled down’ or until I found a partner,” Slawson explains, “but you need to live the life you have got and squeeze as much joy as possible from it instead of feeling like you’re in a waiting room, waiting for your life to start.”
This shift in perspective is revolutionary. Instead of seeing single life as a problem to solve, it becomes a canvas to paint. Instead of a temporary state to endure, it becomes a lifestyle to master. Single people begin asking different questions: What kind of home do I want to create? What adventures do I want to pursue? How do I want to spend my time and energy?
The practical implications are profound. Individuals who embrace their single status often develop richer social networks, pursue more diverse interests, take more risks, and experience greater personal growth. They’re more likely to change careers, travel, volunteer, and maintain close friendships across decades.
They also tend to develop what psychologists call “self-compassion” — the ability to treat themselves with kindness during difficult times rather than harsh self-criticism. This skill proves invaluable whether they remain single or eventually enter relationships.
Peter McGraw emphasizes the importance of rejecting society’s “default script” about relationships and life success. “The nice thing is, that there’s now an alternative script,” he notes. This alternative script celebrates autonomy, personal growth, and the many ways to create a meaningful life beyond traditional partnerships.
The Workplace Revolution: Solitude in Professional Life
The benefits of solitude extend far beyond personal life into professional success. In an era of open offices, constant meetings, and collaborative everything, many organizations have forgotten that some of their most valuable work happens when people are alone.
Research by Harvard Business School’s Leslie Perlow found that knowledge workers who had uninterrupted time for deep work — what she calls “quiet time” — were significantly more productive and creative than those in constantly collaborative environments. Companies that implemented “quiet time” policies saw dramatic improvements in employee satisfaction and output.
The most successful professionals often fiercely protect their solitude. They schedule “thinking time” on their calendars, find quiet spaces for reflection, and resist the cultural pressure to be constantly available and responsive. They understand that their best ideas, most strategic thinking, and most innovative solutions emerge during periods of focused solitude.
Leaders who model this behavior create cultures where both deep work and collaboration are valued. They recognize that while teamwork is essential, the individual contemplation that feeds great teamwork requires protected time and space.
This principle applies across professions. Doctors make better diagnoses when they have time to think quietly about complex cases. Teachers develop more effective lessons when they can reflect on their students’ needs. Engineers solve more elegant problems when they can contemplate solutions without interruption.
Solitude and Digital Wellness
Perhaps nowhere is the need for solitude more urgent than in our relationship with technology. The average person checks their phone 96 times per day and spends over seven hours looking at screens. We’re rarely more than arm’s length from a device designed to capture our attention.
This constant connectivity creates what author Michael Harris calls “a crisis of solitude.” We’ve become so accustomed to external stimulation that many people feel genuinely anxious when not engaged with media. The result is a generation that has forgotten how to be alone with their thoughts.
True solitude in the digital age requires intentional resistance to the attention economy. This might mean:
- Creating phone-free zones in your home
- Taking regular “digital sabbaths” where devices are completely off
- Practicing what Cal Newport calls “digital minimalism” — using technology tools only when they serve your values
- Learning to tolerate boredom without immediately reaching for entertainment
- Rediscovering analog activities: reading physical books, writing by hand, cooking without following online recipes
The goal isn’t to reject technology but to reclaim agency over our attention. When we choose solitude over constant connectivity, we’re making a radical statement about what we value: depth over breadth, reflection over reaction, internal wisdom over external stimulation.
The Artistic Legacy of Solitude
Art has always been humanity’s way of making sense of the inner life, and throughout history, artists have celebrated solitude as both a subject and a sanctuary. German Romantic painter Caspar David Friedrich captured this in his masterpiece “Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog” — a lone figure contemplating vast horizons, embodying what philosopher John Dewey called “the sublime experience of individual consciousness meeting the infinite.”
Edward Hopper’s paintings of solo city dwellers — women in hotel rooms, men in diners, figures silhouetted against urban landscapes — don’t depict loneliness but what one critic called “proud self-reliance.” His subjects appear comfortable in their solitude, even dignified by it.
Literature, too, has celebrated the solitary figure. From Thoreau’s Walden to Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, from the hermit poets of ancient China to contemporary writers like Jenny Offill and Maggie Nelson, authors have found in solitude not emptiness but abundance — a rich inner world worth exploring and sharing.
These artistic celebrations of solitude serve an important cultural function: they normalize and elevate the experience of being alone. They suggest that solitude is not a problem to solve but a condition to cultivate, not a sign of social failure but of inner richness.
The Economics of Solitude
There’s also an economic dimension to the solitude renaissance. The rise of what economists call the “solo economy” — single-person households, individual experiences, and services designed for one — represents a massive shift in how we think about consumption and lifestyle design.
From studio apartments designed for single living to restaurants with communal tables that welcome solo diners, and from travel companies specializing in solo adventures to apps that help you find activities to do alone, the market is responding to the demand for solitude-friendly options.
This isn’t just about single people. Married couples increasingly value time apart, leading to trends like “sleep divorce” (sleeping in separate beds) and separate vacations. The old model of couples doing everything together is giving way to recognition that healthy relationships require healthy individuals, and healthy individuals need time alone.
Finding Your Solitude Sweet Spot
The goal isn’t to become a hermit or reject human connection entirely. As Professor Robert Coplan reminds us, “Humans do need social interaction , but I would also say that humans need solitude. It’s finding the right balance that is the key to happiness and well-being. Everyone has a different balance that’s going to work for them.”
Some people thrive with hours of daily solitude; others need just small pockets of alone time to recharge and reflect. Introverts typically require more solitude to process experiences and replenish their energy, while extroverts may need less but still benefit from regular alone time for reflection and creativity.
The key is recognizing solitude as a skill to develop rather than a state to endure. Like physical fitness or emotional intelligence, solitude competence improves with practice. People who initially feel uncomfortable alone often discover, with time and intention, that solitude becomes not just tolerable but essential to their well-being.
This skill becomes particularly valuable during life transitions — career changes, relationship endings, geographic moves, loss of loved ones. People comfortable with solitude navigate these transitions more gracefully because they have an internal anchor that doesn’t depend on external circumstances.
Solitude as Social Justice
There’s even a social justice dimension to reclaiming solitude. In cultures that equate busyness with virtue and constant connectivity with success, choosing solitude becomes a form of resistance. It’s a declaration that your inner life matters, that contemplation has value, that you refuse to be reduced to your productivity or social utility.
This is particularly important for marginalized groups who face constant pressure to perform, adapt, or prove their worth to the dominant culture. Solitude provides space to reconnect with authentic identity, process experiences without external judgment, and cultivate the inner strength necessary for social justice work.
Women, in particular, benefit from solitude that’s free from caretaking responsibilities. Virginia Woolf’s “room of one’s own” wasn’t just about writing — it was about having space to exist as a full person rather than in relation to others’ needs. Contemporary feminists, such as Cheryl Strayed (Wild) and Rebecca Solnit (A Field Guide to Getting Lost), have written powerfully about solitude as a feminist practice.
The Future of Solitude
As we move deeper into the 21st century, the ability to be productively alone may become one of the most valuable skills we can develop. In a world of increasing connectivity, complexity, and stimulation, those who can access their inner wisdom through solitude will have a profound advantage.
The COVID-19 pandemic offered a preview of this future. People who had cultivated solitude skills before lockdown generally coped better with isolation. They had practices, interests, and internal resources that didn’t depend on external stimulation or social validation.
Climate change may also make solitude skills more valuable. As travel becomes more expensive and difficult, as resources become scarcer, as communities face more challenges, people who can find meaning and satisfaction in simple, local, solitary activities will be more resilient.
The workplace is already shifting toward more remote and flexible arrangements, requiring people to be productive and fulfilled while working alone. Educational institutions are recognizing the importance of teaching students how to think independently, not just collaborate effectively.
Reclaiming Sacred Silence
In our notification-heavy world, choosing solitude becomes an act of profound rebellion. Every moment alone is a moment reclaimed from the attention economy that profits from our distraction. It’s a declaration that your inner life matters more than your online presence, that your thoughts deserve space to develop without external input or validation.
This choice carries both privilege and responsibility. Not everyone has the luxury of solitude — parents with young children, people working multiple jobs, and those living in overcrowded conditions may have limited access to alone time. Those who can choose solitude have an obligation to use it wisely, not for selfish withdrawal but for the kind of inner development that ultimately serves the common good.
The mystics knew this truth: individual transformation and social transformation are inseparable. Individuals who have a deep understanding of themselves, having cultivated inner wisdom through solitude, are better equipped to contribute meaningfully to their communities. They’re less reactive, more creative, more resilient, and more capable of the kind of long-term thinking our world desperately needs.
As we navigate an uncertain future — facing climate change, political upheaval, technological disruption, and social transformation — we need people who can think clearly, act with integrity, and maintain hope in difficult circumstances. These qualities develop not in the noise of constant connectivity but in the fertile silence of chosen solitude.
The person you are when no one else is watching — that’s where your truest self lives. And that relationship, more than any other, deserves your attention, care, and cultivation. In learning to be alone, we learn to be fully alive. In embracing solitude, we embark on the deepest adventure of all: the journey toward becoming who we truly are.
The characters in Perfect Days understood this intuitively. In the simple rhythm of his solitary days, Hirayama found something increasingly rare in modern life: contentment that doesn’t depend on external circumstances, meaning that emerges from within, and a way of being that’s both deeply personal and quietly revolutionary.
This is the promise of solitude: not isolation from life, but integration with its deepest currents. Not withdrawal from meaning, but discovery of meaning that can’t be taken away. Not the absence of love, but the foundation upon which all genuine love is built.
In a world that’s forgotten how to be quiet, choosing solitude isn’t selfish — it’s essential. And in learning to be alone, we just might save our ability to be truly together.