It’s holiday season, and you know what that means: food, fun, and family dysfunction. Many people find this season comforting—all ugly sweaters and pumpkin spice lattes. But it is also common to find the season uncomfortable or even traumatic. Many people have challenging relationships with their families, yet feel obligated to spend time with them. Some have to deal with differing perspectives on politics, lifestyle, or religion. And others have to face people who have perpetuated abuse on them. Ironically, spending time with people can cause feelings of loneliness. So, what is the dharmic perspective on how to cope with this? 

Usually, when people talk about loneliness, they use expressions such as “combating loneliness,” “surviving loneliness,” and “overcoming loneliness.” The indication is that people view loneliness as a dangerous enemy requiring military-style intervention. Of course, there is good reason for seeing it this way: Loneliness can be very painful. But how much of that feeling is actual pain, and how much of it is perceived pain, based on thoughts and beliefs we’ve ascribed to through our conditioning? 

As a therapist, I regularly hear my clients say things, such as “Feeling lonely is unbearable”; “Nobody wants to be with me”; and “I’m weird.” These thoughts are often unfounded, yet people don’t usually spend a lot of time unpacking and unravelling them. Instead, most people—as much as possible—do almost anything they can to steer clear of these thoughts: they overwork, stay in bad relationships, consume social media, etc. All that avoidance just reinforces the idea that being alone is bad and needs to be avoided at all costs. 

Tim Colohan, a teacher at the Dharma Zen Center in Los Angeles, suggests taking another approach: “Instead of fighting loneliness,” he says, “why don’t you try inviting it in, like a friend?”

So next time, instead of calling or texting someone to stave off the feeling, how about leaning into it a bit? Try pausing and getting acquainted with loneliness—like getting to know that intimidating neighbor you’ve always been secretly curious about. How does one do this? Make a date with yourself. Go be alone in nature. Eat at a nice restaurant by yourself. Put on some music and journal for a while.

In psychology we call this habituation, or the diminishing of an emotional response via intentionally repeated stimulus. In other words, face your fears. In the end, you may find that the dreaded stranger is actually not so scary after all. This is similar to the Buddhist practice of working with the vedanas (often translated from Pali as “feeling tones” or “sensations”). The idea is that you note the arising and passing of pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral sensations, over and over, nonjudgmentally, to increase emotional resilience while reducing impulses to cling to pleasure or avert pain. 

“That’s great,” you may say, “but what about the holidays, when I actually want to get away from people, and I can’t?” Indeed, holiday loneliness is a special kind of torture. There is something extra painful about feeling lonely when everyone around you seems to be having a great time with each other. That’s the difference between solitude, which is the state of being unaccompanied, and loneliness, which is that unwanted feeling of being disconnected from people. Loneliness can happen whether others are or are not around, and, in fact, it is sometimes worse when they are.

In these cases, I find the “self-side-eye” to be an effective technique—I literally break the fourth wall and give the imaginary sitcom audience in my head an imperceptible sideways glance to indicate my displeasure with someone: a difficult family member, an annoying relative, an inappropriate dinner guest, etc. This gives me an outlet to vent some steam, while also providing much-needed self-validation for the misery I am being subjected to.

Children seem to have no problem entertaining themselves with imaginary friends, and yet we usually get away from this as adults. So why not return to it in times of need? In his commentary to a classic kong-an (koan) about a monk who talks to himself, the Korean Buddhist master Seung Sahn Sunim describes a little child, singing to himself while he plays: “Oh, you like me? I like you… La-lee, la-la-la!” Seung Sahn Sunim refers to this as Yu ju sam mae (translated as “play samadhi” or, “make two and play”). The child is profoundly absorbed in his own play, blissfully unbothered about being alone. In fact, the child seems to revel in it.

So, this season, if you find yourself feeling lonely, activated, or both, consider practicing your version of play samadhi or the self-side-eye. Whether you do it in real time at the dinner table, or you excuse yourself to “get some air” for a few moments, give yourself the gift of a laugh track that only you can hear. When it comes to loneliness, especially around the holidays, sometimes the best you can do is just be a good friend to yourself.