Loneliness is, like, when you wish someone else was there, and

“Loneliness is, like, when you wish someone else was there, and solitude is when you enjoy being alone. I don’t always wanna be alone, but I definitely like pockets of solitude to recharge and come back to myself. I think that’s so important for everyone.” — Jonathan Van Ness

In these gentle, heartfelt words, Jonathan Van Ness, a voice of modern tenderness and truth, draws the sacred boundary between loneliness and solitude — two states that appear as twins but are, in truth, opposites of spirit. Loneliness is the ache of absence; it is the shadow that falls when one’s heart reaches outward and finds no hand to grasp. But solitude is the light that burns quietly within, when the soul is content to dwell in its own company. It is not emptiness, but fullness — a communion not with others, but with one’s own spirit. To understand this difference is to unlock a deep wisdom of life, for both solitude and companionship are rivers that must flow in balance.

Van Ness, a being of both vibrant energy and deep introspection, speaks from a place of lived truth. His words arise from the tension of a world that demands constant connection — where voices cry from every screen, and silence has become a stranger. Yet, he reminds us that to live well, we must carve out “pockets of solitude”, moments in which the noise of the world fades and the voice of the self grows clear again. In these moments, we recharge, not as machines, but as living spirits — returning, as he says, “to myself.” Such solitude is not escape, but restoration; not rejection of others, but a return to wholeness before we meet them again.

The ancients, too, understood this mystery. The sage Lao Tzu withdrew into the mountains to write the Tao Te Ching, and in that silence, he discovered the harmony between man and nature. Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, carried solitude within him even amidst the crowd, finding peace in his own thoughts when surrounded by power and strife. They knew what Van Ness expresses in modern tongue — that the soul cannot shine when it is never still, and that those who never sit alone will never know who they are. Solitude is the mirror in which the self first learns to see itself clearly.

Yet, we must also understand the wound of loneliness, for it, too, is part of the human story. Loneliness arises not merely from being without company, but from being disconnected from meaning — from others, from ourselves, or from the divine. The hermit in his cave may know joy, but the crowded soul, surrounded by many yet unseen, feels loneliness more acutely than any desert wanderer. Loneliness is not cured by company alone, but by connection — by truth, by love, by understanding. It is healed when the heart finds resonance, not just presence.

Van Ness’s wisdom lies in his balance — he does not glorify solitude as the only way, nor condemn loneliness as weakness. He recognizes that both are natural tides of life. He confesses, “I don’t always wanna be alone,” for solitude is sacred only in measure. Like a garden, it must be entered and left again; linger too long, and even peace turns to isolation. But when we step into it for a time, we emerge renewed — clearer, calmer, more whole. In this rhythm between being with others and returning to oneself lies the art of emotional balance, an art long forgotten in the noise of the age.

Think of the artist who retreats from the world to create — Beethoven, deaf and alone, yet birthing symphonies that echo through eternity. He did not flee humanity; he sought its essence within himself. His solitude was his sanctuary, not his prison. From silence came sound, from stillness came creation. And so it is with us: when we dare to sit in stillness, the best parts of us awaken — empathy, clarity, compassion, strength. Solitude gives us back to the world, brighter than before.

Let this, then, be your lesson: seek solitude as medicine, not escape. When your heart grows weary, when the world presses too close, step away and listen — truly listen — to your own spirit. Walk in nature, read words that speak to your soul, breathe without demand or distraction. Let your solitude be alive, a space of joy, not emptiness. And when loneliness comes, as it will, greet it with kindness, for it reminds you of your need for connection.

In this dance between loneliness and solitude, between the world and the self, lies the wisdom of balance. As Van Ness teaches, it is not selfish to take time to be alone; it is sacred. For only in those quiet pockets of solitude can we find the strength to return — whole, joyful, and true — to the embrace of others.