in my solitude

For some reason on Friday night I felt moved to scan pictures from the old family albums that I hijacked from my dad's house last time I visited. This one caught my attention, because it pretty much represents my childhood. As an only child, I was my own playmate. At the beach, I invented a game called “big-a-bye” which involved moving sand from one location to another and saying “big-a-bye”. I could play it all by myself. (Although, sometimes Dad would join in.)

In a way, it looks kind of sad, to see this little girl sitting alone in the sand. And that's probably the reason why I feel so grateful for the wonderful friendships I have now.

But I don't view the loneliness of my childhood as a bad thing. I got to know myself so well, I did so much searching of my own mind and soul, so much contemplation, even as young as in this photo. I would lie awake at night for hours, envisioning my future, figuring out what I wanted out of life. Solitude came to be something that I was never afraid of; rather in solitude, I found solace.

I don't often seek to spend time alone anymore. I have gotten into the habit of wanting to be around people more often than being by myself. But I suspect this is largely because my alone time has become less contemplative, more practical, more of a time to “get things done.” This picture reminds me how enjoyable it can be to just ponder in private the silent wonder of the world.