I was the youngest and on my own a lot. I think this probably

"I was the youngest and on my own a lot. I think this probably taught me independence and how to be okay with my own company. Also, it meant I read a lot." – Zoë Foster Blake

Listen, children of time, to these gentle yet profound words, for they speak of a truth known to all who have walked the solitary path of growth. When Zoë Foster Blake, a voice of wit and creativity in our modern age, uttered these lines, she was not merely reflecting on her childhood; she was revealing the quiet forge of independence and self-knowledge that solitude brings. To be the youngest, to dwell often in the company of one’s own thoughts, is to be both student and teacher of oneself. Out of such stillness, the mind blooms, and the soul learns the ancient art of being content within its own circle of silence.

For there is a sacred strength in learning to be okay with one’s own company. Many flee from solitude, mistaking it for loneliness. Yet solitude, when embraced with courage, is not emptiness but abundance — a garden where ideas, dreams, and inner peace grow freely. Zoë’s remembrance of her childhood solitude, filled with reading and quiet reflection, mirrors the timeless wisdom of sages who withdrew from the noise of the world to hear the whisper of truth within. The books she read became companions of the spirit, their words like ancient fires warming the chambers of her mind.

From such solitude have arisen many of history’s radiant souls. Consider the young Abraham Lincoln, born in a log cabin, with little more than borrowed books and candlelight to guide him. He too was often alone, the youngest in humble surroundings, yet in that aloneness, he cultivated a fierce independence of thought. He read and read again, his mind sharpening like steel against the whetstone of knowledge. Years later, when the storms of war and division raged across his nation, it was that same inner solitude — that peace with his own company — which steadied his heart and made him a light for millions.

To be on one’s own in youth is not a punishment, but a quiet initiation. It teaches one to rely on the self, to find beauty in thought, and to build inner worlds that no storm can destroy. Those who are constantly surrounded by others may never hear the voice of their own spirit. But the one who has walked alone learns to listen deeply — to nature, to the written word, to the soft murmur of conscience. Thus, solitude becomes not a void, but a wellspring, feeding the soul with strength unseen.

And yet, let us remember — independence is not the same as isolation. The wise do not close their hearts to others; they simply do not depend upon them for meaning. True independence is the freedom to stand alone without fear, and to join others in love without losing oneself. When one knows how to be content in solitude, one also learns how to offer genuine companionship — not born of need, but of wholeness.

The lesson in Zoë’s words is clear as sunlight after rain: cherish the hours you spend alone, for they are the foundation of your inner kingdom. Read much, for through reading you commune with the minds of the great and the departed. Reflect often, for in reflection you meet the person you are becoming. And when you walk alone, walk not in sadness but in gratitude — for solitude is the teacher of the strong, and the wellspring of creativity, wisdom, and peace.

So let the young and the restless take heed: when you find yourself without company, do not despair. Instead, sit beneath the quiet canopy of your own being and listen. Read, dream, write, or think — whatever calls your spirit to rise. For in those moments, you are not alone; you are in the presence of your truest self. And as Zoë Foster Blake discovered, to love your own company is not to withdraw from the world — it is to prepare yourself to meet it with strength, grace, and luminous independence.