Step 1. Come home to an empty house.
Step 2. Plop on the couch and try to beat your friends at an online video game. Spend approximately one hour on the phone (I’m playing Endless Lake, with beautiful visuals and an ambient soundtrack).
Step 3. Cook. Methodically, slowly, patiently. I marinaded some mince and soaked some rice. Planning to cook century egg congee tomorrow. For dinner, I decided to make grilled mackerel, with miso soup, and sautéed bean sprouts. I basted the mackerel with sweet unagi sauce and roasted sesame sauce, for a finishing touch.
Step 4. Tuck into a hot meal. The fish was amazing. I had dinner to a Youtube channel called “The Art Assignment.” The video was arguing for a “Case of Copying” in art. It posits that copying itself could be a form of art. That revered artists aren’t exactly doing anything original — they copy and are copied themselves. However, they have the advantage of social approval, which allows the copying to be seen as novelty. It was an interesting point.
Step 5. Take a hot bath. My mirror was steamed up.
Step 6. Make a cup of hot tea. Tonight I’m making “Riotous Rose” by T2. It’s filled my room with the smell of rose petals.
Step 7. Play a sad tune on the piano, and try to imagine that you’ve overlayed auditory sound effects on it. If I were to ever make my own musical track, it would be full of quiet piano and ambient, dreamy vocals— the sort of sound you hear when you combine a microphone, and reverbs.
Step 8. Put on the sweater you like.
Step 9. Let it sink in.
Try to remember that one of the most important things you will ever learn to do in life, is how to be alone. Who am I when there’s nobody around me? What am I when I’m stripped bare, and I have nothing? Will I ache for the warmth and company of another, or can I feel satisfaction and peace, and fulfilment, within my own presence?
It’s been a while since I’ve been alone, and it’s a bit like learning to breathe again. At first, the instinct is to run back to warmth. Anyone will do. You sit in uncomfortable silence, then you sit with it. You allow yourself to panic, then you find yourself calming down. You’re alone, you’re still okay. You trust that this is temporary, and there are many forms of company, just as there are many forms of loneliness. Sometimes loneliness hits right in the face of company. Sometimes silence is company itself.
Tonight I had a good dinner, by myself. I cooked and cleaned in meditative silence. I watched an educational Youtube video. I reached out to other people I care about. I made myself a mug of hot tea. Now I’m all rugged up in a nice sweater, listening to Breathing Underwater, in a series of acoustic musical sessions called Mahogany Sessions.
I’ve missed myself. It’s been a while.