The Art of Going Alone

Proverbs 18:1 “Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire; he breaks out against all sound judgement.”

People usually think being alone means there is something wrong.

But I’ve found that some of my best adventures, best moments, the most grounded and most real have happened when no one else was around.

Two years in a row, I’ve gone to watch the Premier Lacrosse League games in Minnesota solo.

Brought a solo ticket. Pulled up. Walked the stadium. Watched the game.

Not because I had to but because I wanted to.

There was something about being in that space by myself that made it hit so much deeper.

I didn’t need anyone to make the experience valid. It already was.

I didn’t need anyone with me to make it meaningful. I wanted to be there, and that was enough.

I’ve also gone out, walking the busy streets of River North in Downtown Chicago.

Ate a nice dinner at Beatrix solo. Table for one.

Walked by the river.

Grabbed a drink at a bar on that very walk.

I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t bored.

I was present and I had fun.

I’ve been to Solemn Catholic Mass at the Cathedral of Saint Paul alone. More times than I can count.

Sat in the wooden pew, prayed, listened, stood in silence, shed a tear.

It’s one of the few places I feel fully seen, even when no one’s looking at me.

I’ve eaten alone.

Walked alone.

Worked out alone.

All of it by choice.

There’s something real about moving through life without needing an audience.

Being alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely.

It means I’m at peace with where I’m at.

I’ve learned that solitude is where I grow the most.

In the gym, in prayer, in moments where it’s just me and my thoughts.

Nobody hyping me up. No one distracting me.

Just me, showing up, no gameplan, winging it.

That’s the fun in all of this.