Research on the topic of being solitary in nature – as opposed to the well-documented effects of simply being in nature – is still very new. But we can speculate about what may be going on when those two states are combined. In our Solitude Lab, we’ve heard from adventurers of all calibers that the combination of solitude and nature can foster a kind of supercharged state that seems to enhance the benefits of both nature and solitude while conferring entirely new benefits of it own. Here we discuss nature’s effects on people, soft fascination, and attention restoration theory.

What makes us durable in alone time is a combination of background, personality, mindset, approach, and mental tools. It may come as no surprise that adaptable, confident, and optimistic people are better at alone time, because those traits are important for resilience in any context. But we are also learning that those who are able to stop and introspect, who are generally curious and self-reliant, flourish when they’re alone. Perhaps more importantly, how we perceive solitude can make or break that time. Being able to see value or meaning in it, even when we must be alone, is critical. Feeling that we have interesting and challenging activities in that space also makes it more enjoyable.

Solitude is unique to each person but there are patterns we have observed that we believe shed some light on what kinds of changes we should be aware of and what those mean for well-being in that space during different phases of our lives. Across the lifespan, we tend to seek and tolerate time alone in a nonlinear way throughout our mortal journey from childhood to older adulthood. How we spend that time seems to matter quite a bit in terms of our contentment in solitude, as do the nature of our relationships beyond solitude. Solitude is like a garden in different seasons, what we sow and what we reap changes over time, and we have to be certain to plant what’s most likely to grow and thrive.

Imagine entering solitude, as either a familiar or foreign landscape; getting the lay of the land; then choosing a direction in which to go. With that approach to organizing our research subjects’ many diverse experiences, four categories of benefits emerged like cardinal directions on a map – north, south, east, and west. In solitude, we draw our own map and orient our individual compass as we venture down our chosen path. The direction one goes, toward a new or familiar destination, may vary depending on the day or moment, stage of life, or necessity or desire to achieve a certain goal.

Most often, solitude starts out neutral, like a lump of sculptor’s clay that we can shape into whatever we want. Our experiences, and those of our research participants, have shown us that there are a lot of positive outcomes possible when choosing to carve out some time alone. Why is solitude so potentially powerful for all kinds of people? That’s a question that has driven a large part of our research, and we continue to build on what we have learned. What we’ve seen so far points to the fact that solitude creates an environment where two important things can happen: each of us can captain our own ship, and while in that role, we can connect to our true selves. Think of it as the ultimate place to do what you want (autonomy) and be who you are (authenticity).

The concept of solitude has existed in stories and paintings, and in practice, for centuries. Looking at that history, as we do in this chapter, tells us a lot about the preconceptions we have about solitude today – who it’s for, is it positive or negative (or neither), and how we should undertake it. For better or worse, we also see and relate to solitude in part due to the way our various cultures treat it. The images we see and the stories we hear, both historical and contemporary, create chatter that affect how we think about the role solitude can and should have in our daily lives. Shedding light on biases and beliefs fed by historical narratives can help untangle why we approach solitude the way we do today, both as a society and as individuals.

What role do settings play in positive solitude? What value do quiet and stillness have? In this chapter, we talk about sensory overload in the modern world and about honoring our senses in solitude. Beyond anecdotal appreciation of the value of quietude is now a growing body of scientific evidence of its importance. Here we talk about quiet as a phenomenon that has been well-studied in recent decades. Those findings on the "science of quiet," in some cases, echo centuries of lived experiences in certain parts of the world and, most recently, the mounting benefits of quiet have gone mainstream.

In solitude, as with any human experience, choice is an important driver. We know that humans, in general, like having some decision-making capability, or at least the perception of it. Positive time spent in solitude stems from the desire to be with ourselves, and we talk about how to exercise choice to be more comfortable and stronger in solitude. Simply wanting to avoid other people does not unlock its benefits and opportunities. The fact that you choose to devote your morning walk, drive to work, or shower time to solitude is what matters in building an enduring practice of everyday solitude. In this chapter, we also consider involuntary solitude, like prisoners in solitary confinement and pandemic lockdowns. This chapter also looks at what it means to have a "preference for solitude," the importance of understanding motivation in why we’re choosing time alone, and what it means to have the right framing and expectations for solitude.

A theme that comes up time and again in our research is the importance of balance. Being with people 24/7/365 doesn’t benefit anyone, not the person doing it nor the people they’re hanging out with. If we’re constantly marinating in others’ thoughts and opinions, we can lose track of our own. By the same token, being on our own day-in-and-day-out isn’t good either. The trick is to have equilibrium between the two, the right amount of social time to fulfill an evolutionary imperative and the ideal amount of solitude to reap its reward. Ultimately, the needs for both belonging and separation are not opposing drives so, how can we achieve psychological integration? This chapter elaborates on how to do that and on the true cause of loneliness.

What exactly we mean when we say the word “solitude” is still up for debate in the research world. Defining solitude using the experiences of ordinary people – and not just the musings of the poets and prophets we met in the last chapter–was an important objective in our research and writing. In an attempt to create a definition that we and other researchers could share, we had to pin down its basic components, to build a better picture of the nature and conditions of solitude as many people experience it. When and how does it happen? Where does it happen and why? When is it good or bad, or neither? With the generous input of many people from around the world, we were able to describe solitude in an accurate and inclusive way.

Little in mainstream society indicates that when we choose it, solitude can be wonderful, even transformative. Instead, the focus on loneliness in modern life can make us think that solitude is a disease requiring treatment, and maybe cured by avoiding solo moments altogether. Until recently, science has supported those assumptions because decades of prevailing research have focused on humans as “social animals” and the fact that fulfilling relationships are integral to well-being. By comparison, scientists have spent very little time and resources on understanding the role of solitude, and the power of positive solitude in particular, in shaping our lives. That’s why we three researchers with very different backgrounds formed our Solitude Lab and have spent several years researching what time alone means to different people around the world. In Solitude, we share those insights from thousands of people from all walks of life who helped us to redefine and reframe time alone as a chosen place, a zone of truth, sincerity, independence, and intimacy where we can best connect with our values, interests, and emotions.