Alone Time

Imagine you are in Florence. In the popular Uffizi gallery. Standing in front of Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus. It’s the one with the Goddess herself standing nude on a large scallop shell casually covering her unmentionables with her arm and flowing auburn hair.

The painting is famous. People come from all over the world to see it, or buy a replica on a souvenir. There is generally a crowd gathered around the masterpiece. Necks stretched to get a peak.

In this instance you are completely alone. The room is empty. Serene.

This a moment in Stephanie Rosenbloom’s book, Alone Time: Four Seasons, Four Cities and the Pleasures of Solitude. It’s one of the library books taking up residence on my book shelf since March. An extended loan. Unexpected, not undesirable. I really enjoyed the book on first reading. The extended loan has given me time to reread passages from this insightful book.

Alone Time is part travel memoir. Stephanie, a travel writer for The New York Times, explores Paris, Istanbul, Florence and New York. But more than a travel guide, the book is about the joys of alone time. She has uncovered a wealth of research from psychologists, sociologists and well-being experts on the positive aspects of solitude. Each chapter melds a lesson with her travelogue. For example, being alone we tend to be more open to serendipitous moments (as she encountered picnicking in Luxembourg Gardens), finding pleasure from a new experience (trying a hamam in Istanbul) or slowing down to take a closer look at our hometown (on assignment in New York).

It was a chapter in Florence, Alone with Venus, that I found myself thinking about on a recent neighborhood walk.

I spotted a yellow bird on a lower branch of a tree. The bird was almost at eye level. Unusually close. In the split second I looked down to open my phone to take a photo, the bird flew away. Gone. What was I trying to achieve? I can easily search up photos of birds. Some resources, like this guide to common backyard birds, even have sound clips to help you identify your local birds, perhaps the one that’s supplying your morning wake-up call (ours is a cardinal).

Stephanie did the same thing with her moment in the empty gallery room. She raised her iPhone to take “photo after photo like some paparazzo”. By the time she realized what she was doing, she heard footsteps approaching. Her moment alone with Venus was squandered.

By trying to keep the moment forever, I denied myself the immediacy of the experience of the painting as well as the quiet gallery.

Stephanie Rosenbloom, Alone Time: Four Seasons, Four Cities and the Pleasures of Solitude (Alone with Venus)

Researching the matter afterwards, she also discovered that taking a photo may affect the memory of the moment. Depending on the circumstances, we may rely on the photo to ‘remember’ rather than investing attention to construct our memory.

In the fleeting moment I went for my phone, I missed the opportunity to take a closer look at the brightly feathered bird.

To observe its movements. Without disturbing. To listen to its call. Without distraction. To note its patterned feathers. Without a screen.

Next time I confront a fleeting moment, I will try to combat the impulse to reach for my phone. Try to remind myself of the Alone with Venus moment. And observe the masterpiece in front of me.

We can’t always escape to Paris or Istanbul. Nor do we always want to. Savoring the moment, examining things closely, reminiscing – these practices are not strictly for use on the road. They’re for everyday life, anywhere.

Stephanie Rosenbloom, Alone Time: Four Seasons, Four Cities and the Pleasures of Solitude (Ode to the West Village)