 In Support of SolitudeI just returned from the backwoods of Maine, 10 days of serenity and silence, a rare treat in our high-speed interconnected world of talk, texts and tweets. Minus the TV and a cell phone connection, I had little contact with the noise of daily life, countered by an abundance of quiet time to commune with nature. Like Henry David Thoreau:
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach ...."
Well, not exactly....
Unlike Henry, I went to the woods with my wife and dog, and enjoyed many of the amenities of modern life (like indoor plumbing and electricity), but I spent my days quietly, reading, writing, and walking in the woods. And I more clearly understand Thoreau's obsession, though it was deemed a bit peculiar at the time. There's something about solitude that can replenish the spirit and restore the soul.
Solitude does not mean loneliness. Loneliness is marked by a sense of estrangement or isolation. It's possible to feel lonely even in a crowd of people. Solitude, on the other hand, suggests peacefulness, a quieting of the mind to concentrate on what matters most to you. It sequesters you from the pressures to conform and compromise. It helps you understand who you are and creates an atmosphere for reflection and resolve to be true to yourself.
Pulitzer Prize winning poet, Robert Frost, gripped by the despair of losing a son, placing his ailing daughter in a mental hospital, and nursing what he mistakenly believed was a case of tuberculosis, returned to his New Hampshire farm where, bounded by woods and fields, he found solace and drew inspiration for some of his most celebrated works. And beat-generation poet and author, Jack Kerouac, echoed:
"No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength."
Most of us are so busy dealing with external demands that we have precious little time left to focus on our internal well-being. We are all writing the story of our lives, but somehow devote lengthy chapters living up to the expectations of others, seldom breaking away from the noise long enough to listen to our own voice.
As a career coach, I witness firsthand the stress and unhappiness of people who have been lured into unfulfilling careers by external pressures. Their careers have generally happened by accident, ultimately bringing them to a place where their work feels like a life sentence. Their desire for meaningful work has been sacrificed for the expediency of just having a job - one that drains their spirit and provides little purpose other than a paycheck. Sadly, they can't filter out the chatter that tells them to be someone they're not.
Solitude is something you choose -- a gift you give yourself to be used for reflection, inner-searching, growth and development. To experience solitude is to clear your mind, to identify the person who lives in your skin and wears your clothes, where you can ask, "who am I?" without hiding behind externally-imposed judgments. Although we may differ in the amount, we all need periods of solitude.
I would heartily recommend a stay in the backwoods of Maine, but there are more practical ways to build periods of solitude into your work and life. Solitude is not a project, it's an integrated process. It is only when you silence the blaring noise of your daily existence that you can hear your true thoughts. An occasional walk on a secluded beach, a trip to a museum, or simply a mimi-retreat to an uninterrupted quiet place at work or home, can provide benefits that restore body and mind.
Here are some other simple ways to build solitude into daily practice:
For me, purposeful solitude has been life-changing, allowing inner-wisdom to answer many of the challenges in my life and work that elude me when I cannot be still and quiet. The result is often peace, joy and rejuvenation. Thoreau may have been right:
"I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude" |
