“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”
Blaise Pascal
Solitude helps one appreciate company. Many things in life, perhaps even most things, are best enjoyed in the company of others. One of my favorite activities is body surfing in the ocean. I had planned to meet a friend for an afternoon of body surfing. When she didn’t show up for one reason or another, I headed into the ocean alone. What a hollow experience! Being able to exclaim, “That last wave was fantastic!” to my friend was just as important as actually surfing the wave! Sharing our experiences with others is a huge part of enjoying life!
Solitude is an indispensable companion for certain activities, however. Listening to music turned up loud is wonderful when I am alone but feels uncomfortable if I have a companion. Similarly, reading and watching movies are largely solitary activities. Cycling, in my opinion, is also best enjoyed alone. When I am camping near the highway, I occasionally hear cyclists passing by. They are almost always talking in very loud voices. There are safety issues when you ride with someone. It’s tempting to ride side by side in order to carry on a conversation. This will seriously annoy drivers if you are on a narrow road, however. If another cyclist is riding behind you, on the other hand, you are wise to warn them if you decide to stop so they won’t run into you!
Solitude helps us focus and get things done. I am sure this book would never have been written if I had traveled with a companion. Having an opportunity to really focus can help us accomplish tasks and answer questions. One question I worked on during my journey was “Why do I like cycling so much?” If you have specific questions or topics that you are working on, be sure to spell them out in their most elementary form. Then toss them in the air while you are riding. Once, on my bicycle journey, I came up with the following answer to my question “Why do I like cycling so much?” Answer: “The symphony of sound, the poetry of motion, presented in shades of blue and green.” After you come up with an answer, be sure to subject the answer to additional scrutiny on subsequent bicycle rides. I finally decided that the primary reason I like cycling so much is “the poetry of motion.” I simply love pedaling!
Solitude is very efficient. It is often said that “He who travels fastest travels alone.” I frequently talk to cyclists who are traveling as part of a group. They often tell me that they are envious of my ease in traveling alone. There is no waiting around. When you are ready to go, you just go!
Solitude is peaceful and quiet. I listen to the “Song of the World.” The cawing of crows, the whisper of breezes, the distant mooing of cattle, the sound of my breathing, all of these keep me company. I rarely feel lonely outdoors.
Above all, solitude is meditative. Pedaling around America alone allows me to spend plenty of time not thinking. Why is it helpful to not think? Before my bicycle journey, I would likely have dismissed the idea that it is helpful to “not think” as “magical thinking.” I am sure I would have pointed out that “magical thinking” never got anyone over the mountains! What counts is what you do, not what you don’t do! Based on my experiences cycling around America, however, I have changed my opinion regarding the benefits of “not thinking.” The phrase “not thinking” is perhaps not quite accurate. The experience might best be described as “observing yourself thinking.”
The argument for the benefits of mindful meditation goes something like this. First, mindful meditation allows us to separate, however briefly, from the emotional reactions that are constantly percolating within us. Second, this separation allows us to realize that these emotional reactions, which operate beyond our conscious control, are often inappropriate relative to the situations that produce them. Finally, this same separation helps us to realize that the idea of the self as the director of our actions is largely an illusion because we are so influenced by our emotions. In short, meditation provides a distancing effect that helps us discern how our swirl of emotions and delusions of control separate us from reality. It is important to emphasize that meditation does NOT halt the swirl of emotions and delusions of control. Rather, meditation allows us to stand to one side for a moment and observe what is going on.
The philosopher Martin Heidegger uses the phrase “unity of being” to describe the feeling of connectedness to the world that sometimes replaces the usual chatter in my head. In my experience, this feeling of connectedness usually occurs outdoors when I am tired and let my guard down.
On one trip, for example, fatigued to my very marrow, I stepped off the pavement into the Terra Incognito that defines the American roadside. Here you are likely to find, well, almost anything. Fatigue, heat, and the furious sound of passing traffic bestowed a hallucinatory quality to the objects that happened to be laying at my feet. Pieces of tires, animal bones, and stray items of clothing sent my thoughts reeling. What unimaginable series of coincidences possibly led me to stare down, at this exact moment, at this strange piece of an old shoe? The sharp edged reality of this moment was at once priceless and shattering.
Another time, riding along the Natchez Trace Parkway under an electric blue sky, I feel my vantage point shift overhead, somewhere above and behind me. The feeling of dislocation reminds me of Hannah Arendt’s question, “Where are we when we think?” Looking down, how small and insignificant I appear! At the same time, there is something dauntless about the way I am spinning across the earth’s surface, straight as an arrow, under that crystal dome! Looked at from on high by an omniscient being, I suspect even the greatest among us would appear to be both “pitiful” and “brave!”
“Maybe, if we looked at the world from on high, we’d say, What confidence!”
Jean Giono
“The Song of the World”
On another trip, I was looking for a campsite in the unfenced desert between Twentynine Palms, California and Parker, Arizona. A dirt road led me away from the main highway. The road crossed a dry river bed and the nice, smooth, sandy river bottom and the shade from the mesquite trees along the river banks were inviting. Flash floods are always a possibility, but conditions were clear and dry and it looked like it hadn’t rained in years. I decided to take a chance and camp on the sandy river bottom. Later, stars filled the sky and a deep silence, unlike any I have ever experienced, descended around me. The next morning, the rising sun filled my tent with golden light. In that moment, I felt extraordinarily happy and peaceful and connected to the universe.
Meditation allows us to peek for a moment at the reality which surrounds us. I do not find this reality to be terrifying. It is the swirl of emotions and delusions of control that are terrifying! People often ask if I am afraid when traveling alone. The answer is no.
Once, outside the IGA grocery store in Port Aransas, Texas, I was carefully packing my groceries into my bicycle trailer. A very distinguished, elderly gentleman stopped to ask about my trip. We talked for awhile. He told me that as a child in Germany at the end of the second World War he had walked up to a pile of rubble. It was apparent that human remains were sticking out of the rubble. A German soldier guarded the area. Pointing to the remains, he asked the soldier, “What is that?” The soldier answered, “You don’t want to know, kid!” Then, looking at me, and apparently referring to my trip, the gentleman said, “You are so brave!” Then he turned and entered the store. I couldn’t help but think, “I am not the brave one!”
If you plan to tour solo, I hope you will draw strength from solitude. If you feel lonely, however, here are some thoughts and suggestions:
- We are born into this world alone and we depart this world alone. Nothing can change these fundamentals.
- Ease your loneliness by starting conversations with as many people as possible without regard to sex, race, age, or social standing. It is easier to start conversations if you cultivate a jolly demeanor.
- No matter what your emotional state, resolve to take care of yourself to the best of your ability. Healing will come in time. Self medicate with exercise, good nutrition, sunshine, the beautiful outdoors, music, books, and, yes, solitude. Avoid self destructive behavior.
- It is wonderful, of course, to have a partner to share the journey with. Nevertheless, it makes sense to wait patiently for the right person to join you. While you are waiting, focus on learning to be secure and happy even while alone. Learn to be happy regardless of external circumstances. That is the only true happiness.
The dilemma of human existence is to live in relationship with other humans while being ultimately alone with oneself. In the words of the philosopher Martin Heidegger, “Being-alone is a deficient mode of being-with; its possibility is a proof for the latter.”
In his sublime poem, “Song of Myself,” Walt Whitman uses the phrase “Me myself” to identify that core part of ourselves that necessarily stands alone regardless of the people who surround us:
Trippers s and askers surround me,
People I meet…
The real or fancied indifference of some man or
woman I love…
They come to me days and nights and go from
me again,
But they are not the Me myself.
In moments of personal crisis, especially relationship crisis, I always remind myself of that last line, “But they are not the Me myself.” If I had to limit myself to a single piece of advice for a friend departing on a bicycle tour, my advice would be to read Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself” before departing!
Tyranny of the Road
On cool, spring mornings, I put on my rain parka to provide a bit of warmth. Almost always, within an hour or so of setting out, I start getting overheated and sweaty. The solution is simple. Stop and take off the rain parka! I notice that I don’t want to stop, even though doing so will only take a moment and will make me much more comfortable. The road has a hypnotic effect. It says, “Keep going! Don’t stop!” I have to enforce a simple rule: stop and adjust my clothing as soon as the need arises!
When I encounter other bicycle tourists, especially groups, I can’t help but notice that a frequent topic of conversation is the number of miles covered each day. Not a word about the magnificent views, the trees, or the beautiful seashore! If the group is nearing the end of its journey, the conversation usually focuses on making plans to celebrate the end of the journey.
I ride from sea to shining sea and back each year. I also ride from Canada to Mexico and back each year. What happens when I arrive at one of these natural endpoints? Absolutely nothing, it’s just another day on the road. You could say this means I don’t have anything to look forward to. I think the true meaning is that each day is just as beautiful as the day before. Endpoints are an artificial construct. I am still prone to focusing on intermediate goals, however. “When I get over these mountains I am going to take a break in Asheville!” Apparently, humans crave goals. I resist as best I can!
It takes six months to circumnavigate the United States by bicycle. I have scheduled an entire year to finish the trip. What a gift those extra six months are! One afternoon, I prepare lunch in the shade of a huge pine tree. The mountain view is magnificent. Sitting in my A-Lite chair, sipping a cup of coffee, I resolve to take the afternoon off and just sit in the shade and read.
A short while later, my eye happens to fall on these lines in Whitman’s “Song of Myself”:
Have you reckoned a thousand acres much?
Have you reckoned the earth much?
Have you practiced so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
Stop this day and night with me and you shall
possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun.
I look out into the distance and take a deep breath. Life is good! Very, very good!