The security of living your life comfortably, with people you’ve always lived your life around, kind of makes you numb to the beauty of solitude. Being “alone” somewhere is quite often seen in a socially negative light. Even moreso, the initial perils of being in a foreign country “alone” is one of the most intimidating ideas ever. I guess you never realize how fulfilling it can be to be on your own until you’re thrown into an experience where you have to be, quite simply, on your own. 

Today I had one of the nicest mornings I’ve had in a while, the type of morning I would never treat myself to back home because of the demanding nature of my all-consuming, self-proclaimed, “busy” schedule.

After my one-hour seminar, I began the 20-minute trek back to my flat. It was a typical England morning – cold, windy, gloomy, and rainy. I knew as soon as I got to my room I’d either sleep, or… sleep. I figured I would make use of my time, so I stopped by at a cafe, grabbed a hot chocolate (I have yet to be converted into a coffee/tea drinker), and cozied myself on a couch right beside an art-plastered window stained with rain drops. It was there I spent a good hour and a half reading a book and taking an occasional break to think, to ponder life, to absorb it’s beauty. In those moments I would stare out the window, at the rain, at the people, at the cars, and back at the window. My eyes began focusing like the lens of a camera – one second the glass was sharp and the happenings of life blurred past me; the next second the glass was hazy and the life was real.

I’m not sure I can exactly describe the feeling of companionship with yourself and only yourself. It’s peaceful, it’s reflective, it’s revitalizing. It’s nice to not have to intertwine your life with the lives of others all the time. Being alone is not just for losers or the socially inept. Being alone is beautiful.

But after all, there’s not a moment I’m alone. The King is by my side as well as on His throne.

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