Upon returning to my home in Ashburn, Virginia for this past break, I decided to engage in the small space exercise for my journal entry. In the basement of my home there’s a small room with no furniture where my father stores old family photos, heirlooms, and other miscellaneous books. I decided on this space to complete this exercise because it’s one of the quietest spaces in my home, as well as one of the darkest, with only a tiny window in the top left-hand corner to provide natural light. I gathered my materials, set my timer, and picked a spot right underneath the window for lighting purposes while I wrote.
The first thing I noticed was how loud the quiet felt, especially when I heard footsteps above me in the kitchen from my mom or sister walking around. I began to think about where my family members were situated in my house, my younger sister in her bedroom two floors above me, my mom wandering around the house, and my two cats silently moving up and down the stairs. I could hear faint noises outside, someone walking their dog on the path in my backyard, cars pulling into garages, planes overhead landing at the nearby Dulles Airport. I felt physically alone in this space, without someone to talk to or to talk to me. Emotionally, though, I still felt connected to the people in my home and the people I could hear wandering outside. My legs and back started to become a little stiff even after 40 minutes, but I tried to stop myself from shifting my position in order to more realistically create this experience.
What I couldn’t know through this exercise was how years of spending time in this space could impact those emotional connections I still felt. I imagine if I went for more than a week in this room, I would begin to feel distant from my sister and mom, even though I would still be hearing their footsteps. I wonder if I would need physical or visual connection to other people to keep myself from fully becoming alone.
I wonder, in an age of overwhelming technology, if we as people can survive without physical interaction, or if modern forms of communication can replicate and fill this space for us? On the other hand, have we become so wrapped up in the lives of others that spending just a few moments alone with ourselves can provide us some benefit? If we learn to be alone with ourselves, I wonder if we can improve our relationships with others.