Why write about solitude? It’s not that important, is it? And anyway, who’s got time for it? And by the way, what the hell is it, really?
Good questions, and here are my answers. I’m writing about solitude today because it has power, the power of revitalization, the power of clearer thinking, better decision-making, even healthier for one’s body and mind. The importance of that power is being lost on today’s busy people, and it shows.
Part of solitude’s problem is that it’s fairly subtle, almost an afterthought for many. Most of us, especially as Americans, have never been taught the value and the potential power of quiet rejuvenation. We know we need to recharge from time to time; many of us have learned little tricks, like a quiet, hot bath in the evening, a week on a sunny island beach, several drinks before (and after) dinner, even sex. And they work… to a point.
But solitude, real solitude, is more than that. It’s more than simply relaxation, getting off the grid briefly, recharging one’s batteries. It can be a fascinating voyage into one’s inner self, to learn of our dreams and fears, the things that a busy day won’t allow us to pursue. Solitude can be a seed that grows into a deeper understanding of ourselves, where we are in life, and why. It can grow into a deeper, clearer perception of life outside of ourselves, and how we might find ourselves better and more productive, and happier, within it.
I meditated for years before I retired. And it worked for me, all the time. But I found a new, different, better feeling of peace after I moved back to Montana, bought a little travel trailer, and began spending more time in the woods. “Real life” slowly descended upon me, if you will. The sound of the wind in the trees of the high country, the sweet sound of Alder Creek, gurgling just outside my trailer door, the Oh-So-Subtle truth of nature’s great outdoors… a new kind of peacefulness crept into my brain during those seemingly endless days and evenings by the fire. During so many of those summer Montana camping trips, I slowly made my peace with so much of my life. It was invaluable. For nature in the wilderness is loaded with solitude. But you have to let it in.
Camping on Alder Creek, in SW Montana
Camping at Sureshot Lake in SW Montana
Of course many see solitude as loneliness, a feeling none of us like. There is much written about the difference between “alone” and “loneliness.” People who are used to a busy daily life are far more susceptible to loneliness, as the lack of people and activity around them is experienced by them as an emptiness, producing a fearfulness of too much quiet, too little activity, almost a feeling of entrapment by the quiet that suddenly surrounds them.
Too bad, in my opinion, as that same quiet can be a giant invitation to solitude, to a peaceful reflection of where we are in life right now, resting mind as well as body in that special time. Often an extended quiet time for one can re-energize, re-direct and often re-define one’s understanding of oneself, often helping to point the way to a better, happier, more peaceful existence with the time we have here on the planet. As I said, there is power in solitude. It’s a subtle power to be sure, but an important power that we seldom access. We’ve fallen victim to so many of the empty lessons of the perceived importance of meaningless production that our culture has sadly planted within us.
Is the subject of solitude boring? Yes, to virtually all busy people it is. “I don’t have time for that shit,” is a common response. Or, “Sure, when you’re old and can’t do anything, then you get it whether you want it or not.” In both cases, however, I disagree. Busy people need a little solitude perhaps more than anyone else. And when we’re old, solitude doesn’t just pop in on us one day and say, “Lucky you! You’re old now, and here I am, your solitude!” Oh god no. More often than not to old ones, solitude rolls in as simple loneliness, and we’re not ready for it, don’t know how to deal with it.
And I get it, at least to a point. If you’re 60-70 years old, it might be easy to think, “Maybe I don’t need so many people in my life anymore, but I still need someone!” For we’ve all had enough of people who have hurt us, intimidated us, lied to us, cheated us and disappeared for no reason. Enough of that, right? But still it’s so deeply imbedded in our nature to need someone, sometimes almost anyone, simply to not be alone. And to me, that’s sad. Aren’t we supposed to be our own best friend?
Merriam-Webster defines solitude this way: 1: the quality or state of being alone or remote from society : seclusion
2: a lonely place (such as a desert)
Wiki says this: Solitude, also known as social withdrawal or seclusion, is a state of being alone, either by choice or circumstance. It can be a positive experience, allowing for reflection, inner peace, and a deeper connection with oneself. However, solitude can also be a negative experience, especially if it leads to isolation and loneliness.
Further, Wiki tells us :
Positive Aspects:
• Time for reflection and inner peace
• Improved focus and concentration:
• Increased creativity:
• Stress reduction:
• Enhanced self-awareness:
Part of solitude’s problem is that it’s fairly subtle, almost an afterthought for many. Most of us, especially as Americans, have never been taught the value and the potential power of quiet rejuvenation. We know we need to recharge from time to time; many of us have learned little tricks, like a quiet, hot bath in the evening, a week on a sunny island beach, several drinks before (and after) dinner, and of course, sex. And they work… to a point.
But solitude, real solitude, is more than that. It’s more than simply relaxation, getting off the grid briefly, recharging one’s batteries. It can be a fascinating voyage into one’s inner self, to learn of our dreams and fears, the things that a busy day won’t allow us to pursue. Solitude can be a seed that grows into a deeper understanding of ourselves, where we are in life, and why. It can grow into a deeper, clearer perception of life outside of ourselves, and how we might find ourselves better and more productive within it.
There seem to be a lucky few out there who appear to be born with a sense of, an innate understanding of true peace, of real serenity. They seem to almost exude it, with quiet confidence. If it turns out to be simply an added genetic substance that only a few inherit, then that’s simply blind luck, and I wish more of ys had it. But… that’s not to say it can’t be learned, because it can!
Of course many see solitude as loneliness, a feeling none of us like. There is much written about the difference between “alone” and “loneliness.” People who are used to a busy daily life is far more susceptible to loneliness, as the lack of people and activity around them is experienced by them as an emptiness, producing a fearfulness of too much quiet, too little activity, almost a feeling of entrapment by the quiet that suddenly surrounds them.
Too bad, in my opinion, as that same quiet can be a giant invitation to solitude, to a peaceful reflection of where we are in life right now, resting mind as well as body in that special time. Often an extended quiet time for one can re-energize, re-direct and often re-define one’s understanding of oneself, often helping to point the way to a better, happier, more peaceful existence with the time we have here on the planet. As I said, there is power in solitude. It’s a subtle power to be sure, but an important power that we seldom access. We’ve fallen victim to so many of the empty lessons of the perceived importance of often-meaningless production that our culture has sadly planted within us.
Most artists and writers know the value of solitude. They easily slip into it every day that they create, sometimes not knowing it’s a form of solitude, only knowing how good it feels when they are creating something. Naturally their particular kind of solitude comes from the concentration needed to bring forth any art form from only a thought, an idea. And it is a great feeling, however briefly leaving the cares of the rest of the world behind.
There is a deeper solitude, however. It’s the kind of solitude that comes with meditation, with personal reflection. It is an intentional solitude, the one that many of us fear. Intentional solitude is so rewarding. For one thing, we lose the fear of it, of silence, of being alone with our thoughts.
The restless mind dislikes any silence, and will often turn on the tv as soon as they get up in the morning, if for no other reason than to fill the silence with… something, anything. I fear for those, as it appears they want/need to let the outside world entertain them, even help them define how they should feel today, to direct them out there into the main stream of madness that they’ve long taken for granted as “an average day.”
This is all very easy for me to write, of course. I sit here in my favorite chair this morning, having just finished my second cup of coffee, soft piano jazz on the stereo, some rain on the roof, at peace with where I am, with who I am. It’s disgusting, I know. My wonderful lack of fear of solitude is part of the power I mentioned earlier. I have indulged solitude to the max, I feel, and have learned much about myself, and mankind, in the process.
I have vowed to never try to push my spiritual convictions on anyone else. Hell, it wouldn’t work anyway. But I can’t help but tell you how much the Buddhist philosophy, and Eastern thought in general, has helped me. They tell us, in such gentle terms, to go easy on ourselves, to take care, to rest and recharge, to take time, to consider how we’re doing, and how we can make it all better. Good advice, regardless of our religious and spiritual leanings.
And of course they’re huge on solitude, for solitude is the best setting for meditation, contemplation, which they are also very big on. And this will probably sound weird to you, but the more one makes their peace with solitude, and with being by themselves, the more they slowly realize more of the workings of the world, and their place within it. And with that usually comes, gasp!… wisdom!
Wisdom?! Now you’re really off your nut, Hulse. Yes, probably true. These days I’ve found most of my truth and integrity about life inside me, or with my Betty. She’s all over it, seeing life and living it on her own terms. She sees the same deceitful outside world that I do, yet negotiates it so beautifully. She is at peace with being alone, she enjoys our solitude and has struck a most beautiful balance between her few remaining friends and the quiet daily life we usually lead now. And she does it all so effortlessly. I could be jealous of her, but that would be counterproductive to my sense of peace and solitude. And we can’t have that now, can we?
My weaknesses have been sometimes painful to discover, and there is no excuse for them, other than I am a mere mortal and have made many bad choices. I have been so weak at times, occasionally hurting others in selfish attempts to justify and protect myself. Pain within solitude? Sure, In this dualistic, yin yang existence there probably is no “perfect peace,” but we can tilt the scale in our “peace of mind’s” favor by simply acknowledging our faults and weaknesses, allowing those greedy little guilt gremlins to run their course and slowly disappear.
When our mind can rid itself of those “gremlins,” there is finally a space for something more positive to enter and invade our consciousness, something that, in time might actually turn into that dreaded, wonderful solitude. And if that’s not enough, it might be interesting to note that a persistent feeling of comfort with solitude will open the door to Serenity! Don’t really know what serenity feels like? Careful, it’s addicting!
Steve Hulse
