I am afraid of being alone, when I am really alone.
But I love being alone, when I am not really alone.
The only voices I need to hear are not of my own,
and they are neither close to me nor asking me
to return as their echos.
I am the kind of person who likes to be by himself. I’m the type of person who doesn’t find it painful to be alone. I find spending an hour or two everyday running alone, not speaking to anyone, as well as four or five hours alone at my desk, to be neither difficult nor boring. I’ve had this tendency ever since I was young, when, given a choice, I much preferred reading books on my own or concentrating on listening to music over being with someone else.
– Haruki Murakami ( What I talk about when I talk about running).
I have friends who I get along with who I know get very uncomfortable being alone, unless they’re with people, talking all the time. Whether it’s on the phone, or in person, they’re never by themselves. Whereas I could be alone for months.
– Viggo Mortensen
I admire a man (or a person) like Haruki or Viggo who does not seek or need anyone’s voice to fill their days. In my moments of weakness, I too have sought voices before. But I am embracing silence these days. Silence does not mean indifference to the world. Silence means listening to my thoughts. Silence means seeing the world with quiet eyes. Silence means not hearing myself speak. Silence means not searching for myself in the sound of others. Silence means finding validation within me.
Silence means clearing out the cobwebs, hauling the dirt away from a crowded mind. Silence means cleaner living.