Source Pixabay
Hello dear Holos Lotus community,
There are many kinds of guests in a hotel restaurant.
Some arrive in large families, filling the tables with conversations, laughter and children moving from one chair to another. Others come as couples and spend breakfast talking quietly. And then there are those who arrive alone.
For a long time, I used to think that a person eating alone must be feeling lonely.
Perhaps it was because I associated having company with being happy. When I saw someone sitting at a table for one, I sometimes wondered if they were waiting for someone who had not arrived yet.
But working in hospitality has taught me to look more carefully.
I remember one guest who used to come to breakfast alone every morning. He always chose a table near the window. He would order his coffee, serve himself slowly and then sit down with a book.
He never seemed in a hurry.
Sometimes he would look through the window for several minutes before turning another page. Other times he simply watched the people passing through the restaurant.
There was something peaceful about him.
One morning, I realized that I had been looking at his situation from the wrong perspective.
He was not waiting for someone.
He was enjoying being there.
That made me think about the difference between being alone and feeling alone.
They are not always the same thing.
There is a kind of loneliness that hurts. The one that comes when we wish someone were beside us and there is nobody there. The silence in that case can feel very heavy.
But there is another kind of solitude that we choose.
The kind that allows us to drink a coffee without having to talk.
To read a few pages without interruption.
To walk somewhere at our own pace.
To sit quietly and simply listen to our own thoughts.
At 50 years old, I have learned to appreciate moments of silence much more than I did when I was younger.
Perhaps that is because working in a hotel means being surrounded by people almost constantly. There are voices, plates, cups, questions, greetings and movement from the beginning of the day.
So when I have a quiet moment, I no longer feel that I need to fill it.
I have also learned that being surrounded by people does not necessarily mean that we feel accompanied.
There are people who live in crowded homes and still feel deeply alone.
And there are people who can spend an entire morning by themselves and feel completely at peace.
We should not assume that someone needs to be rescued simply because they are alone.
Sometimes they are exactly where they want to be.
Perhaps that is one of the gifts of maturity: learning not to judge every silence as sadness.
The guest by the window eventually became a familiar part of my mornings. I never asked him why he traveled alone, whether he had family waiting for him somewhere else, or what brought him to Cuba.
I simply learned his routine.
I knew where he liked to sit.
I knew that he enjoyed his coffee slowly.
And I understood that his silence did not need an explanation.
Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for another person is not to interrupt their solitude.
Just offer a warm greeting, serve the coffee with a smile and allow them to enjoy their own company.
Because perhaps being alone does not always mean that someone is missing.
Sometimes it means that, for a little while, we have the opportunity to find ourselves again.
Thank you for reading.
Translation into English made with DeepL Translate.
Fuente Pixabay
Hola querida comunidad de Holos lotus,
En el restaurante de un hotel hay muchos tipos de huéspedes.
Algunos llegan en familias numerosas y llenan las mesas de conversaciones, risas y niños que van de una silla a otra. Otros llegan en pareja y pasan el desayuno conversando tranquilamente. Y también están aquellos que llegan solos.
Durante mucho tiempo pensĂ© que una persona que comĂa sola debĂa sentirse sola.
Quizás porque asociaba tener compañĂa con estar bien. Cuando veĂa a alguien sentado en una mesa para una sola persona, a veces me preguntaba si estarĂa esperando a alguien que todavĂa no habĂa llegado.
Pero trabajar en la hotelerĂa me ha enseñado a mirar con más atenciĂłn.
Recuerdo a un huĂ©sped que solĂa venir solo a desayunar todas las mañanas. Siempre escogĂa una mesa cerca de la ventana. PedĂa su cafĂ©, se servĂa tranquilamente y despuĂ©s se sentaba con un libro.
Nunca parecĂa tener prisa.
A veces miraba por la ventana durante varios minutos antes de pasar la página. Otras veces simplemente observaba a las personas que atravesaban el restaurante.
HabĂa algo de paz en Ă©l.
Una mañana comprendà que estaba mirando su situación desde una perspectiva equivocada.
Él no estaba esperando a nadie.
Estaba disfrutando de estar allĂ.
Eso me hizo pensar en la diferencia entre estar solo y sentirse solo.
No siempre son lo mismo.
Existe una soledad que duele. Esa que aparece cuando deseamos que alguien esté a nuestro lado y no hay nadie. En esos momentos, el silencio puede sentirse muy pesado.
Pero existe también otra clase de soledad que elegimos.
La que nos permite tomar un café sin tener que conversar.
Leer unas páginas sin interrupciones.
Caminar a nuestro propio ritmo.
Sentarnos tranquilamente y simplemente escuchar nuestros propios pensamientos.
A mis 50 años he aprendido a valorar mucho más los momentos de silencio que cuando era joven.
Quizás porque trabajar en un hotel significa estar rodeada de personas casi constantemente. Hay voces, platos, tazas, preguntas, saludos y movimiento desde el comienzo del dĂa.
Por eso, cuando tengo un momento de tranquilidad, ya no siento que tenga que llenarlo.
También he aprendido que estar rodeados de personas no significa necesariamente sentirnos acompañados.
Hay personas que viven en hogares llenos de gente y, sin embargo, se sienten profundamente solas.
Y hay personas capaces de pasar toda una mañana consigo mismas y sentirse completamente en paz.
No deberĂamos asumir que alguien necesita ser rescatado simplemente porque está solo.
A veces está exactamente donde quiere estar.
Quizás ese sea uno de los regalos de la madurez: aprender a no interpretar cada silencio como tristeza.
El huĂ©sped de la ventana terminĂł convirtiĂ©ndose en una parte familiar de mis mañanas. Nunca le preguntĂ© por quĂ© viajaba solo, si tenĂa una familia esperándolo en algĂşn lugar o quĂ© lo habĂa traĂdo a Cuba.
Simplemente aprendĂ su rutina.
SabĂa dĂłnde le gustaba sentarse.
SabĂa que disfrutaba su cafĂ© lentamente.
Y comprendĂ que su silencio no necesitaba una explicaciĂłn.
A veces, lo más amable que podemos hacer por otra persona es no interrumpir su soledad.
Simplemente ofrecer un saludo cordial, servir el cafĂ© con una sonrisa y permitirle disfrutar de su propia compañĂa.
Porque quizás estar solo no siempre significa que nos falte alguien.
A veces significa que, por un momento, tenemos la oportunidad de volver a encontrarnos con nosotros mismos.
Gracias por leer.
La traducción al inglés fue realizada con DeepL Translate.
Thank you for reading.
Special thanks to 
