Let me ask you a question.
How many of you enjoy being alone? Really think about it - sitting in your home, no phone, no TV, no music, no friends, no distractions. Just you and your thoughts.
Now, be honest: how many of you would start to feel restless within a few minutes? Maybe even anxious?
That reaction tells us something important. Because here’s what I want you to understand: solitude -time spent truly alone - is one of the greatest tools for developing intelligence. And yet, it’s one of the things people fear most.
Today, I’m going to explain why some of the most intelligent people you’ll ever meet not only tolerate solitude but actually choose it. And by the end, I want you to consider whether you might start choosing it, too.
First, let’s face the obvious. Most people hate being alone. You’ve probably heard someone say, “I can’t stand silence” or “I always need people around me.” Why do you think that is?
It’s because when we’re alone, there are no distractions left. We’re forced to face ourselves - to face our own thoughts, our own doubts, our own unfinished business. And that can be uncomfortable.
So what do people do? They drown that silence out with constant activity - hanging out, texting, scrolling, always needing some kind of stimulation.
But here’s the truth: the people who never learn to be alone also never fully meet themselves. And if you can’t face your own mind, how can you ever expect to master it?
Now let’s flip this around. Imagine solitude not as emptiness, but as freedom.
Think about it. When you’re in a group - whether it’s friends, classmates, or coworkers - you’re never entirely free. You’re constantly adjusting yourself to the group. You’re careful about what you say, how you act, how you’re perceived. That takes energy.
But when you’re alone, all of that disappears. You don’t need to perform. You don’t need to please. You don’t need to censor your own thoughts.
For intelligent people, that freedom isn’t frightening - it’s exhilarating. It’s the space where their best ideas emerge, where they do their deepest thinking, where they recharge their mental energy.
Let me give you a story to illustrate this.
You’ve all heard the tale of Isaac Newton and the falling apple. The story goes that he saw an apple fall from a tree, and this led him to the idea of gravity. Now, was it really that simple? Of course not.
But here’s the part most people overlook: Newton was in solitude. In fact, he had retreated from Cambridge during the plague, spending months largely alone in the countryside. And it was in that solitude - not in a crowded lecture hall - that his most revolutionary ideas began to take shape.
Solitude gave Newton the space to notice things that everyone else overlooked. It gave him the freedom to let his mind wander deeply enough to discover something entirely new.
Now let me ask you directly: how many of your opinions are truly your own?
Take something simple, like the music you listen to. Did you discover it by accident - or did you pick it up because your friends liked it? What about your fashion choices? Your political views? Even the slang you use - how much of it did you actually choose?
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: most people’s thoughts are borrowed. They reflect their group, not themselves.
That’s why intelligent people seek solitude. They realize that as long as they’re immersed in a crowd, they’re not really thinking independently - they’re just echoing. Solitude is how they protect their originality.
Let’s pause here. I want you to take ten seconds and think of one belief you hold - something important to you. Ask yourself: did I arrive at this belief because I reasoned it out for myself, or because it was handed to me by my environment?
That question alone can change the way you see your own mind.
And now another point. There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely.
Loneliness is when you crave company but don’t have it. Solitude is when you’re content being with yourself.
The people who fear solitude usually haven’t cultivated their inner world. When they’re alone, they feel bored. They feel empty. They need constant noise to fill the silence.
But those who embrace solitude? They’ve built inner resources. They read deeply, they write, they create, they reflect. Their minds are rich enough to sustain them.
Here’s a quick thought experiment. Imagine two people sitting in empty rooms. One has never developed the ability to enjoy their own mind - they’re restless, anxious, desperate for escape. The other has built an inner world of curiosity, reflection, and creativity. Same situation - completely different experience. Which one would you rather be?
Think about great breakthroughs in art, science, philosophy. Do they come from group chats and brainstorming sessions? Sometimes, maybe. But more often, they come from individuals who spent long stretches in solitude.
Think of Darwin, quietly studying specimens for years before publishing his theory of evolution. Or Emily Dickinson, writing poems in her room that the world wouldn’t even see until after her death.
Silence, solitude - these are the conditions where originality flourishes. Why? Because the group enforces conformity. If you share an unusual idea too early, someone will laugh, dismiss it, or pressure you to abandon it. In solitude, you’re free to let that “strange” idea grow into something extraordinary.
Now let’s talk about something very practical: energy.
Every social interaction, no matter how small, drains you. Think about a party - you might enjoy it, but afterwards you’re tired. That’s because you’ve been tracking dozens of cues - tone of voice, body language, unspoken social rules.
Intelligent people notice this. They see that if they give away all their energy to endless social obligations, they’ll have nothing left for their work, their passions, their thinking. So they guard their energy carefully.
This doesn’t mean they hate people. It means they’re intentional. They’d rather have a few deep, meaningful relationships than scatter themselves across dozens of shallow ones.
Something fascinating happens when you step back from constant social life. You begin to notice patterns.
You see how often people are just seeking approval. How they wear masks to fit in. How they repeat the same routines without ever questioning why.
Solitude gives you perspective. It allows you to observe without being absorbed. And that perspective can be unsettling at first - you might feel distant from others. But it also brings clarity. You start to see the truth of human behaviour, and with that truth, you gain freedom.
Here’s another story.
Henry David Thoreau, an American writer, once lived for two years in a small cabin near Walden Pond. He wanted to see what life was like stripped of unnecessary distractions.
What did he discover? That solitude deepened his awareness. He wrote, “I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.” For him, being alone wasn’t isolation - it was intimacy with nature, with his own thoughts, with existence itself.
Now, here’s the challenge. Choosing solitude takes courage.
It’s easy to keep yourself busy with constant noise, constant company. It’s harder to sit quietly and confront your own mind. That’s why most people avoid it.
But those who dare to embrace solitude discover something life-changing. They find creativity, wisdom, and strength that simply can’t be found in the crowd.
By stepping away from constant social engagement, intelligent people see life more clearly. They notice patterns in human behaviour, illusions of importance, and the psychological mechanisms driving society.
This clarity can be isolating because it makes participation in social rituals feel hollow. Yet, it also brings authenticity, intellectual honesty, and independence of thought.
So let me leave you with this.
The intelligent person who chooses solitude is not antisocial. They are not broken. They are not missing out. They have simply discovered that solitude is not emptiness but fullness - the fullness of a mind free to think, free to create, free to see clearly.
So here’s my challenge to you: this week, set aside just one hour. No phone. No music. No distractions. Just you and your thoughts. Notice what happens. Notice how uncomfortable it feels at first, and then notice what emerges once your mind settles.
That, my philomaths, is where intelligence begins. Not in the crowd, but in the quiet.
People who choose solitude are not just intelligent, but terrifyingly so. They threaten the social structures that keep most people trapped in cycles of validation and conformity.
Their independence reveals a kind of intelligence that is both rare and profoundly powerful.
