Solo Flight: The art of doing what you love—alone
Reflections on how the things you love don't require an audience—and what you discover about yourself when you show up alone.
I got into tennis during the pandemic. At first, it was because I needed the exercise. My siblings tried it too, but after the first lesson, they gravitated towards other interests. When a friend learned about it, they were surprised by my choice in partner— or lack thereof.
“You play tennis? Alone?!”
“Alone,” I said firmly.
Here’s the thing we don’t always realize: most of the things we do, from after-work hang-outs to weekend hobbies, involve someone else. We usually do things, especially fun activities, with others because of the misconception that a person who is alone is lonely. But what if you’re the only one in your friend group who likes a certain band? What if there’s a hobby you’ve become interested in, but no one else you know wants to give it a try?
I’ve come to see these moments of solo activities as a form of quality time. And while that may sound scary or intimidating, it actually isn’t. In fact, some of the best moments I’ve experienced are those where I’ve been on my own. It’s during those moments of stillness, that aloneness, when I get to pay attention to myself and learn what I truly want and how I feel.
Playing tennis isn’t the only thing I do alone. In recent years, I’ve gotten into junk journaling by attending events and learning the craft. Now, journaling has become a sacred space for me to unwind, relax and self-reflect at the end of every day.
I’ve found that calmness and mindfulness are often the result of spending time by myself. There’s a different joy and wonder when you do things alone.
I’ve toured museums alone –wandering down long halls, gazing up at paintings and ancient relics—discovering the wonder of those things at my own pace. When you go with others, you have to adjust your pace to match theirs, your interests to mirror theirs. You find yourself skipping the bones display (which you love) because your friend prefers to obsess over beetles (which you don’t really care about). But when you go alone, you can take as much time as you want, lingering over the paintings that resonate with you, the sculptures that inspire you and reading the descriptions that fascinate you.
I have even gone to concerts alone –belting out songs at the top of my lungs and dancing like no one is watching – because in reality, everyone’s there to have a good time. I’ve giggled shyly with strangers before putting our arms around each other, singing and swaying as if we’ve been the best of friends for over a decade; we don’t even know each other’s names.
Recently, I’ve decided to challenge myself by traveling alone. I know not all the places I’ve always wanted to see or the experiences will make it to my friends’ bucket lists. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that those differences shouldn’t stop you from realizing your aspirations. Solo travel has actually become more popular over the years. Beyond the comfort of not having to consider anyone else, solo travel eases me into a different level of awareness. When I sit with the silence of who I am with no one else around, I learn things about myself that I don’t notice when I’m in a crowd.
Aside from the fun part of doing what I love, spending time alone also helps me clear my thoughts, grounds me, stabilizes my nervous system and brings me back to feeling like myself again. I can’t do anything like this when I’m focused on who I’m with or thinking of what they want out of the experience too.
Doing things alone doesn’t have to require extreme creativity or a certain level of oddity. It can be as simple as discovering a hobby that only you love or a music genre that’s too niche for everyone else. The point is finding what you love and doing it for you.
I used to regret all the opportunities I missed out on just because I couldn’t find someone to come with me. But now, I’ve learned that it’s okay to try out new things and do what I love —alone.
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