The Quiet Hours: Finding Solitude in Gym, Woods, and Music
The Quiet Hours: Finding Solitude in Gym, Woods, and Music
The quiet hours come in many forms — an empty gym on a rainy day, a path through the woods, or the glow of vinyl spinning late at night. Each reminds me that solitude is its own kind of luxury.
It was a rainy, gloomy day, and the gym was emptier than usual for our Wednesday lunch break group. I didn’t mind. In fact, I liked it. I’ve always taken pride in doing things when others are not.
There’s something about moving through the world when it’s quiet that feels special, like you’ve found an extra gear of life that most people overlook. I’ve felt it late at night, when the world is hushed and you’re alone with your thoughts. I’ve felt it in the woods, where the sounds of wind, birds, and rustling leaves take over and hold you still. Those hours feel magical, full of potential.
And yet, even in the quiet, you’re not entirely alone. At the gym, there’s a regular crowd I see week after week. We’ve never spoken, but I know they’re putting in the work, and when one of them isn’t there, I notice. I hope they notice me too. There’s inspiration in simply showing up. (More on that here: Seek Out the People That Inspire You).
Humans crave connection, yet there’s a luxury in solitude, when the world isn’t pulling at you and you can just be.
Lately, my favorite quiet comes at the end of the day in my listening den. It isn’t silent, but it’s quiet time for me. I drop the needle on a record, let the stereo breathe new life into albums I’ve loved for decades, and I’m transported. The music fills the room while still giving me the gift of solitude. I wrote more about this ritual here: Why I Began Collecting Vinyl.
It has become a rhythm to my days. The quiet of the gym, the quiet of the woods, the quiet of music at night. Each in its own way reminds me that quiet time doesn’t have to mean silence. Sometimes it simply means finding a space where the noise of the world fades and only the parts that matter are left.
What does it mean to truly understand something? From Feynman’s sixth grader test to AC/DC’s simplicity, from indigenous wisdom to the lessons of drumming, this reflection explores how mastery moves beyond names into songs that touch mind, body, emotion, and spirit.
One night of umpiring, vinyl, and baseball videos reminded me that even as Gio grows more independent, music and small moments still stitch us together.
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