For a long time, I’ve been identifying myself
as a loner. I saw myself as someone who functions better
and is also happier when in solitude. I wore this label proudly and even named my
channel after my self-proclaimed loner status. I aspired to be as solitary as possible in
most areas of my life. “I don’t need people,” I thought. “Of course I don’t. I’m a lone wolf! I can fend for myself.” I imagined myself walking as a lone, grey
wolf through the snowy mountains of Scandinavia, long separated from the pack. There’s no one to obey or command; it’s
just me against the adversities of nature. Such an existence appealed to me: a life unbound
by societal norms or group expectations, free to roam wherever I wish, expressing thoughts
whenever I want, and acting on my own terms and timeline. These fantasies of ultimate freedom were enthralling,
especially the idea of not having to deal with people anymore. So, as far as I could, I embraced a lifestyle
that provided me with copious amounts of solitude. Over the span of years, I underwent a transformation:
from a social butterfly, often amidst a crowd, to a lone wolf — an entity unanchored to
any group, determined to journey alone where others wander together. I lived alone, and most of the time, I ate,
slept, and spent my days alone. I also carried out my ambition to work independently,
allowing me freedom and independence. But, in retrospect, was I happy? Well, yes and no. The lone wolf’s
story has several sides. As with many ideas people aspire to, a degree
of romanticization is generally involved. The grass is always greener on the other side,
but when we actually get there, we discover, in many regards, that the other side poses
as many challenges, but just in different shapes and forms. Maybe you’re a proverbial lone wolf or aspiring
to be one. You probably have your reasons for it, and
so do I. But let’s look at the ‘lone wolf’ model
(or archetype) with a critical eye – let’s be honest about what such existence entails. This video explores the lone wolf. Imagine a hermit living a quiet life somewhere
in the mountains of China. He survives by foraging and farming and resides
in a self-built house. The rest of his time, he spends fishing by
the riverside, watching the movement of the water, and enjoying the songs of birds. And at night, he quietly meditates with the
sound of crickets in the background, undisturbed, without a single human soul around. This hermit delights in tranquility, quietness,
freedom, and autonomy; it’s just him and nature. We cannot deny the joys and benefits of being
alone. The quietness and peacefulness of not having
people around is something many consciously choose to create for themselves. Solitude is alluring. It facilitates a certain freedom of expression
– or ‘being,’ for that matter – that we usually don’t find in the company of
others. “A man can be himself only so long as he
is alone; and if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when
he is alone that he is really free,” wrote Schopenhauer. In solitude, we can do what we want, whenever
we want, without considering other people. We don’t have to explain to anyone where
we’re going, what we’re doing (and why), and when we’ll be back. In solitude, disagreements don’t exist,
as there isn’t anyone to disagree with. We can say anything we want out loud, and
aside from the echoes of our voices, no one responds. We don’t have to mask or downplay our genuine
emotions into socially acceptable forms; we don’t have to see and communicate with people
when that’s the last thing we feel like doing. We don't have to bear guilt for lacking “good
vibes” when there’s no one around imposing the unrealistic expectation of “good vibes
only” upon us. Also, we don’t have to endure other people’s
bad vibes or experience human behaviors that irritate us. How astounding is it to have no one around
who gets on our nerves, when nobody is telling us what to do, what’s right and what’s
wrong, and when, with everything we say and do, there’s no need to think twice, as we
might offend or bother someone? One of its most attractive features is the
mental rest we can experience in solitude, especially with our fast-paced, noisy society
in the background. Within this place of tranquility, other benefits
arise: take, for example, the opportunity to reflect on our lives. When we’re constantly interacting with people,
there’s hardly any time to look back on years gone by, to re-experience past events
and re-ignite the joy they brought us, or to contemplate more difficult episodes and
learn from them. Another benefit of the tranquility of solitude
is its assistance in creative pursuits, as many creative people can attest, which coincides
with increased productivity when alone. The pestilence, even though it was lonely
at times, I experienced as one of the most productive periods of my life. So, the benefits of being alone are plentiful:
the peace and quiet, the introspection, the freedom, the time and focus to spend on anything
we like. Being alone also implies a certain independence,
an absent need for someone to make us feel happy and complete. The loner engages in life’s adventure on
his own two feet, forging his unique and authentic path, independent from others. Who wouldn’t want that? There goes the lone wolf, finding her way
through the mountains of Scandinavia, looking for a freshwater source to stay hydrated. Her face looks weathered, and her eyes show
signs of hypervigilance as if she’s always on the run for something. Scars on her face and body tell a story about
hardship, perhaps a fight she had or an unfortunate encounter with a prey that turned out to be
too strong for her. But why is the lone wolf alone? Why does she instead fend for herself, which
is substantially more challenging in many aspects, than enjoy the convenience and company
of the pack? What drove her to part from her peers? Undoubtedly, the reason lies in the very thing
she strayed from. When Jean-Paul Sartre stated that “hell
is other people,” he didn’t mean that other people in themselves are hell. Sartre’s famous line originates from a play
he wrote called “No Exit,” which revolves around three individuals who find themselves
in a windowless room. The people in that room, condemned to each
other, realized they were in hell. Sartre’s hell didn’t consist of flames,
cruel physical torture, or eternal laboring in the heat of the underworld; its suffering
consisted of simply being in each other’s presence. People’s gaze turns us into objects of their
world, as they form opinions of us, tell us how we should live, and what’s deficient
about us in their eyes. And so we become painfully aware of ourselves
as objects of other people’s worlds rather than being free subjects of our own. We become, thus, alienated from our true selves
as we feel restricted from being and expressing who and what we indeed are. Being doomed to see ourselves through other
people’s eyes forever is Hell. As we take Sartre’s idea of Hell as a starting
point, we can imagine the blessing of solitude, the freedom it brings to be authentic, unencumbered
by the other’s gaze. Extrapolating from the notion of people being
the source of suffering, it’s not difficult to identify why people prefer being away from
the crowd. The amount of response to my previous video
concerning solitude and loneliness was unusual. Among the reactions, I found a common theme
regarding why people choose solitude. Here’s the comment that generated the most
likes, and I quote: “Surrounded by toxic hateful people; being
alone is a delightful choice.” Here’s another popular one: “As per my experience, the worst thing in
life is not being alone but being with people who make you feel totally alone!” Another one: “Yes, I'm the same. Most of my life, particularly later life (I'm
nearly 64), has been a solitary one, avoiding people. Never married, no children and romances far
and few between, I find that most people are emotionally draining. I don't fit into this world...... and I'm
living a pretty fine life, quietly.” Here’s another one: “I love my own company, I don't lie to me,
I don't ramble on about meaningless, materialistic crap, I don't insult me, I don't use me, I
don't take advantage of me, I allow me to be me without judgement. I love me, I love peace.” So, the common theme here is obvious: a significant
factor of the joy of being alone is ‘not being around people!’ Not having to deal with people who are toxic,
emotionally draining, and make you feel alone (which is pretty ironic as we generally seek
company to feel less alone), and not being around people who lie, use, insult, judge,
take advantage, and disrupt your inner peace; these are reasons why people choose to be
loners. These are just a selection of comments that
are essentially subjective and experiential. Still, I often encounter such sentiments,
not just on my channel but also in my offline life. People can be a pain in the ass, so can wolves. Thus, the lone wolf chooses freedom, freedom
from the tyranny of the pack. I think it’s essential to understand why
we choose to steer away from people. And even though I wholeheartedly comprehend
the sentiments voiced in the comments and share many of them, I’ve also come to believe
that plenty of downsides (and potential dangers) accompany the embrace of such a social resignation. Avoiding people can be delightful: not having
to deal with humanity’s adverse, destructive aspects, but still… there’s something troublesome about it,
something quietly dreadful that possibly made you click this video in the first place. As she doesn’t have the support of a pack,
the lone wolf only hunts small prey, such as rabbits and rodents. But lately, she’s been focusing on carcasses
of animals killed by other predators or died of natural causes, as obtaining these doesn’t
involve the effort of hunting. Surviving alone has been challenging due to
the many threats, weather conditions, and the ongoing struggle for food and water. The imagery of the lone wolf evokes both a
sense of admiration and melancholy. To
some, the lone wolf represents strength, authenticity, and independence; it’s a daring character
that refuses to conform. It represents an ideal – a way of being
to aspire to. We see ourselves exploring the world alone
in our own unique ways. But to others, the idea of the lone wolf brings
vulnerability, isolation, and an existence devoid of community and warmth. The lone wolf archetype embodies Schopenhauer’s
hedgehog dilemma we’ve explored in a previous video: not having to deal with other people
going hand in hand with the coldness of social distance while being close together comes
with the pain of intimacy. By walking alone, we pay a price. Our innate social character has driven human
evolution. Our shared histories, recollections, and intrinsic
need for companionship bind us to one another and the fabric of the community. There’s an indisputable power in numbers. Tribes and societies have been the backbone
of our survival. In many aspects, we depend on each other. Technically, we need other people for our
survival; we need people to keep the light on, keep the gas running, protect the borders,
and keep the environment safe. Where would we be without all these people
keeping society running? It would be very challenging to survive. But how about the ‘non-pragmatic’ aspects
of human interaction? What about friendship, romantic relationships,
and family bonds? What about our social interactions with people
close to us: a simple hug, laughing about a stupid joke, sharing a meal, sharing each
other’s experiences? Or what about waking up next to an intimate
partner, someone you care about? Just by observing human behavior over the
centuries, I think it’s safe to say that people are naturally drawn to these things. I’m not saying we cannot survive without
them; on the contrary, I think modern society allows us to remain alive with minimal social
interaction like never before. But I do see a strong tendency within people
to seek at least some form of human interaction across the board. For those who identify or have identified
as loners (such as myself), it’s an ongoing irrational pull to the very thing we long
to escape, an inherent longing we can hardly extinguish despite rationalizing ourselves
out of seeking social connection. It’s that sense of lack: a feeling that,
regardless of our peaceful, reclusive existence, something just isn’t right. Again, it’s the coldness Schopenhauer’s
hedgehog dilemma describes. For many, this coldness of being alone is
more than just an afterthought: it’s the source of emotional pain, a nagging feeling
of deprivation, which could lead to worse. Much research shows a correlation between
loneliness and mental health problems. Being alone doesn’t always imply loneliness. Some people are genuinely content without
human interaction. But for many, being alone does evoke feelings
of loneliness. No matter how much we deny it, the unexplainable
voice from within ultimately catches up, begging us to reconnect. Is it the cry of nature, perhaps? Or the howling of the lone wolf who, in essence,
and beyond his pride, craves for the pack? So, you’re a lone wolf? You’re the solitary animal that sustains
itself, doesn’t need the pack, and journeys alone through the tapestry of life? There are several misconceptions about wolf
packs. A common misconception is that the pack's
natural hierarchy is led by an alpha wolf, or possibly an alpha pair, who assumed this
leadership role after a battle for dominance. Scientists indeed supported this view in the
past, but it’s outdated; the latest research shows a hierarchy based on family bonds. I quote: In contrast, wild wolf packs are usually made
up of a breeding male, a breeding female and their offspring from the past two or three
years that have not yet set out on their own—perhaps six to 10 individuals. End quote. Thus, the pack’s so-called alpha wolves
are actually just the parents leading their offspring. Another misconception is the phenomenon of
the ‘lone wolf,’ who, for some reason, is done with the pack, leaves, and spends
the rest of his life alone. Indeed, wolves leave the group, but not because
they want to be alone – on the contrary. I quote: So really, a “lone wolf” isn’t one who
wants to be alone because they don’t like being around others. They’re a wolf who elects to be alone temporarily
as they try to find a mate and find a place to have a family. End quote. So not only is the wolf setting out on his
own a temporary occurrence, but it also has nothing to do with not liking his fellow wolves
or not wanting to be part of a pack. These wolves are called ‘dispersers,’
as they bring “new genes into the mix with different family groups.” Thus, the notion of a lone wolf, who prefers
to be alone, spending his life in a tribe of one, is a mere projection of a human desire
onto this animal species. There is no lone wolf, at least not in the
form we tend to imagine. That doesn’t negate a human preference for
solitude. But maybe we could learn a bit from the dispersing
wolves: their time spent on their own is temporary, and they eventually reconnect by joining another
pack or starting a pack of their own. So, whether you’re an outcast or have walked
away, is your situation final? Have you shut the door forever? Or could this perhaps be a transition phase,
a period of healing and introspection (if you will), after which you reconnect with
people again, this time equipped with better knowledge and understanding of what kind of
people to avoid and which to let in? Please let us know what you think about this. Thank you for watching.
