Sacred Solitude

Most religious and spiritual traditions speak of both the challenge and benefit of self-imposed solitude. Rilke writes of solitude “your solitude will be a support and home for you, even in the midst of unfamiliar circumstances, and from it you will find all your paths”. I have made many self-imposed voyages into the unknowns of my own mind. These include but are not limited to silent retreats, isolated camping expeditions and other forms of challenging exile. I return “not better, nor worse, but different."

 One day I shall write a book called ‘Tales from the Land’. It will include insights from the time spent in deep reflection, thought, and communion with mystery. The ups and down and the whispers of wisdom that penetrate when I allow myself to be. A voyager who for better or worse hears the words of the world’s great mystics as a cryptic instruction manual pointing towards the unearthing of the longing within my own heart.  

That book will one day be written (or not). For now, I will share an experience from my most recent adventure, life revealing itself one slowed turned page at a time.

“Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom,” Aristotle. Fear is what prevents most of us, me included, from venturing down this road, the underlying worry is that what I find won’t be pretty. Not fully trusting, while desperately hoping for what Tara Brach calls “the gold that lies within.”

In 2020, I ventured into the foothills of Alberta’s in the shadow of a mountain they call Chief. I spent four days and four nights in solitude and fast, giving myself to mystery, praying for a vision, and hoping my presence and intentions would be heard by something bigger than me.

The days in the scorching hot sun were long, the boredom, a feeling I have ran from my whole life felt like it would swallow me whole. The thoughts and fears creeped in, followed by moments, just moments of a voice that as Mary Oliver says, “I began to recognize as my own”. As the full moon rose on the third night, I felt myself falling in love. Love for the land, love for its creature and a wild passionate love for the girl whose feet lead me to this place on this night.

This is the gift of solitude, of sitting with all the emotions that make up the condition we call human. Eventually the fears subside, the worries float away and what remains is a mystery that can never be fully named.

On the fourth day as the sunset in the west, I finished telling Chief the story of my life. Laughing together at the ups and downs, grieving for all the times I had wished I’d taken different turns, and feeling gratitude for the way things always work themselves out. When I finished speaking and basked in the silence of letting go, Chief finally spoke

Chief: See beyond

Me: Wow…. Thank you.. but what the hell does that mean?     

Chief sat silently, and from my vantage point wore a smug and satisfied grin. It would be two years before I continued the conversation.

In May of 2022 I returned to the land, this time in arid mountains governed by the ponderosa pines, joining the topography for an unseasonably cold spring.

Perhaps it was the nature and nurture of the ponderosa pines, or the fact that instead of being fully with the elements I had the shelter of my cozy fire lit cabin, or maybe that instead of fasting, I instead ate meals that fed both my body and soul. Whatever it was, this time was gentler, I was immediately able to sink into my body and the experience of being nowhere else but there.

My intentions less grand than asking for a vision, simply wanting to rest, listen to the body, and experientially know what the Buddhist call my own “basic good.”

Sitting each morning, welcoming in all aspect of my being. Ahhh-ing and relaxing with whatever arises the practice of being nowhere else but here an internal storm, arises. The practice of meeting it described below:

Watching the comings, the goings, and the in-betweens.

Swells rising from the unseen.

Fear, worry, and grief hand on my heart I ask, “may I let this be?”

The waves keep thrashing, the thoughts oh so cunning, I, the witness to the unseen.

“what’s beyond” a small voice says from within and in a moment the waves settle again.

I realize that I am the sea, first presence then peace.

Through the stillness the sun of joy returns filling me with the mysterious light of being, which is not just mine, but also yours.

I say to Chief as if he can hear me “see beyond”. I am beginning to understand.

I can feel Chief’s mountainous smile gazing on me in my mind “oh my dear you have only just begun.”

Me – smiling back,

“I wouldn’t expect any less”

The rest of the retreat was more of the same tending, befriending, laughing, and letting go. The gift of this trip was a knowing in my bones that when I stop fighting the present moment all the conditions needed for pleasure and joy are right before my eyes.