The Beauty of Solitude - That Strange Feeling of Oneness That Exists in a Dark Room at Half Past One in the Morning

Good evening, everyone. As I type this first sentence, it is 1:04 AM, July 31st, 2013. If you've been observant, you may have begun to notice that I do a lot of my writing in the later hours of the night. While this may not exactly be beneficial to my circadian rhythm, I've found that this practice has some advantages that would go unutilized at other hours. In a time like this, when the fireflies have come to a cessation of their nightly phosphorescent festivities and the moon rises high into the sable blue-black of the dome of the sky above us, I find that my creative and expressive abilities come to a zenith. I don't know exactly what it is. All I can offer is that at a time like this, my mind feels somehow lighter. It's not light in a way that would mean it's disoriented (or empty and lacking weight, mind you), but it's light in a way that it feels swifter and more maneuverable, freer and more open.

As much as a late hour can do for my expression, there's still a component that needs to be there as well: solitude. I suppose at times I can be a little introverted. Sure, most times I love to be with people. I like communicating with people and talking to people and listening to people. I hope to base my career around people, after all. But yet there comes a time at least once in every day where I need a hiatus from people. It's not that they've done anything wrong necessarily; it's just that I need some time away to just be with... me. I need to be able to think for a little while without influence. I need to be able to pace the floor in a single circle for twenty minutes if I feel like it. I need to be able to talk out loud to no one but myself. Does that make me odd? "Oh, wow, this guy likes to talk to himself, he must have a screw loose." Relax, folks. Talking to one's self (in the appropriate time and place, of course) is not a sign of schizophrenia. Admit it, you do it yourself sometimes. Everyone does it at one point or another. It's our minds way of letting us express our ideas to ourselves. We as humans, obviously, have the gift of speech and the use of words. We have the beautiful ability to take these thoughts in our mind - these nervous impulses in the depths of our cerebra, worked up to the cerebral cortex and processed in the Wernicke's area - and transform them into words that permit us to transfer these thoughts out onto the whole of civilization if we so choose. It truly is a thing of beauty. Your mind is constantly thinking, constantly processing information and ideas. The release of these ideas is a natural thing. Talking to yourself is a natural way for these ideas to be released. If you can take control of it, it can be something you can use to your advantage.

When you're alone somewhere, you have the freedom to release any idea in your mind without the judgement of anyone but yourself. The sorts of things that your mind can process in such a state are simply breath-taking at times. In my times of solitude, I find myself falling into streams of thought about human nature, patterns in history, metaphysics, or even love. And it always happens right in that certain time of night, that time where my eyes are heavy but my mind is active. It's a strange but almost divine-feeling state of mind.

Unfortunately, I've not felt that state of mind as frequently as I would like.

Here at Penn State, it's hard to be alone. Though it's only the summer semester, there are still people everywhere. I of course share my dorm with my roommate, so there's only so much privacy. I can't really take a walk to a secluded area, because there are almost always people walking about. I can't exactly try to be alone on a walk at night either because, really, it's a little odd to see some bearded fellow out walking around campus at one o'clock in the morning talking to himself. That's not exactly the sort of person I'd like to be, thanks.

All this makes me miss home. I was the only inhabitant of my bedroom, so I was free to ponder and contemplate as I pleased, all in the peaceful, quite sanctity of my own space. If the space of my bedroom wasn't enough, I lived in Juniata County, Pennsylvania, where there were more cattle than people. It was so easy just to take a stroll out in the hills and fields, even at nighttime. Granted, I had the possibility of running into a bear or a coyote in such an event - not the case here in good ol' University Park - but I was still up to the intriguing but highly unlikely danger of it all. It made my pondering seem more noble, I guess.

Point of all this rambling, wee-hour-of-the-night ranting is this: free thought to yourself is a beautiful thing. If you don't consciously and frequently do it, try it sometime. You'll find yourself re-having old conversations. You may find yourself coming up with witty responses in arguments that you had last week. You may find yourself coming to a logical conclusion as to why your girlfriend wants to wear a fly-fishing lure in her hair (yeah, I guess that's the thing now). You may even find yourself writing a new life philosophy. Ladies and gents, private thought is wonderful. Some night when you're alone with nothing to do, play the album below, sit back (or pace the floor until you wear a circle in the carpet), and just think aloud. It's easy.

Good night, all. My thinking and pondering for the night is complete.

My sincerest regards,
Brandon