The art of being alone without being lonely: 7 practices people over 70 swear by

The other morning, I watched a woman at the coffee shop frantically scrolling through her phone while surrounded by friends, and it struck me how connected yet isolated she seemed.

Later that same day, I passed my 74-year-old neighbor tending her garden alone, humming softly, radiating a contentment that filled the entire yard. The difference between these two scenes captures something profound about solitude that I've come to understand more deeply with each passing year.

After spending time with dozens of vibrant septuagenarians and octogenarians through my volunteer work at the community center, I've discovered that those who thrive in their later years have mastered something remarkable: the ability to be alone without feeling lonely.

They've developed practices that transform solitude from something to endure into something to treasure.

1) They create morning rituals that honor silence

Have you ever noticed how the world feels different before everyone else wakes up? There's a quality to early morning silence that can't be replicated at any other time of day. Most of the older adults I know who've found peace in solitude start their days this way, typically between 5 and 6 AM.

I stumbled into this practice myself after years of chaotic mornings getting teenagers out the door. Now, I wake naturally at 5:30 and spend that first precious hour with just my tea and journal.

No radio, no television, no scrolling through news that will still be there later. This isn't meditation exactly, though some mornings it becomes that. It's more like giving my mind space to unfold without external pressure.

One 78-year-old friend describes it as "letting my soul catch up with my body." She's onto something. In that morning quiet, without the demands of conversation or reaction, we reconnect with who we are beneath all our roles and responsibilities.

2) They cultivate deep relationships with nature

"In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks," John Muir wrote, and the older adults I know who've mastered solitude understand this intimately. They don't just observe nature; they develop relationships with it.

My neighbor, the one with the humming and the garden, knows every bird that visits her feeders by their individual markings. She talks to her tomato plants and swears they grow better for it.

This isn't eccentricity; it's connection. When you develop these relationships with the natural world, you're never truly alone. The changing seasons become old friends returning. The first spring bulbs pushing through snow become tiny celebrations witnessed in solitude.

During the years I spent caring for my husband through his illness, I found unexpected comfort in a single oak tree visible from our bedroom window.

Watching it change through seasons while our life remained frozen in medical routines reminded me that there was still movement and growth in the world, even when I couldn't feel it in my own life.

3) They pursue creative expression without an audience

Here's what surprised me most: the happiest solitary older adults I know create things nobody else will ever see. They paint watercolors they don't frame, write poems they don't share, play piano pieces nobody hears. The joy isn't in the product or the praise; it's in the pure act of creation.

One 72-year-old woman I met keeps what she calls "throw-away journals" where she writes the worst, most honest, most experimental things she can think of, then literally throws them away. "It's liberating," she told me, "to create something just for the joy of creating it."

This runs counter to our culture's obsession with sharing everything, with turning every hobby into a side hustle or social media content. But there's profound freedom in creating for an audience of one.

4) They maintain curiosity about their inner landscape

Do you know what really goes on in your mind when external stimulation stops? Most people don't, and that's why silence feels uncomfortable. But the older adults who've mastered solitude treat their inner world like an fascinating territory to explore.

They ask themselves questions and wait for honest answers. They examine their reactions to memories without judgment. They've learned that feelings, even difficult ones, become less frightening when you sit with them long enough. As one 81-year-old put it, "I've become my own most interesting companion."

This wasn't natural for me. After decades of defining myself through my roles as teacher, mother, wife, the silence after retirement felt like standing in an empty auditorium.

But gradually, I discovered that the person underneath all those roles was actually quite interesting, with thoughts and insights I'd never given space to develop.

5) They establish boundaries without guilt

The people over 70 who thrive in solitude have learned to say "no" without elaborate explanations. They've discovered that protecting their alone time isn't selfish; it's necessary maintenance for their well-being.

They skip social events that drain them. They limit phone calls to certain hours. They take solo trips without feeling obligated to justify why they're not bringing anyone along. One woman told me she finally understood at 75 that "No, thank you" is a complete sentence.

This boundary-setting extends to their living spaces too. They create rooms or corners that are entirely theirs, where no one else's preferences matter. These spaces become sanctuaries where they can fully be themselves without performance or compromise.

6) They engage with books as companions

Virginia Woolf wrote about books being "the mirrors of the soul," and the solitude-loving elders I know treat them exactly this way.

But it goes beyond just reading. They have ongoing conversations with authors across centuries. They return to certain books like visiting old friends. They copy meaningful passages by hand, making the words their own through the physical act of writing.

During my years as a single mother, when adult conversation was scarce and exhaustion was constant, books became my evening companions. Now, I understand that relationship was training for this stage of life. The voices of writers I love populate my solitude, making it rich rather than empty.

7) They practice gratitude for small, private pleasures

The final practice might be the most powerful: they've learned to fully appreciate tiny moments that require no witness. The perfect temperature of morning coffee. The way light moves across a wall in late afternoon. The satisfaction of folding laundry while listening to rain.

These aren't consolation prizes for being alone; they're the main event.

When you can find deep satisfaction in these private moments, solitude becomes a gift rather than a sentence. You stop waiting for company to enjoy your life and start living it fully in each moment, witnessed only by yourself.

Final thoughts

Learning to be alone without loneliness isn't about becoming antisocial or pushing people away. The older adults who've mastered this art often have rich social lives; they've just learned that solitude and connection aren't opposites but complementary needs.

What they understand, what I'm still learning, is that the relationship you have with yourself sets the tone for every other relationship in your life.

When you can sit comfortably with your own company, you bring a different quality of presence to your time with others. You're not trying to fill a void or escape yourself. You're simply sharing the overflow of a life already full.