We are creatures of the herd. From infancy on, we seek companionship, avoid aloneness, conform to the whimsy of the crowd.
We are taught by the group that solitude is antisocial; when some aberrant soul commits mass murder, the first thing said about him is that he was a loner.
From the safety of the group we look out upon the world with suspicion. The stranger is always suspect. The newcomer must prove to the group that he “fits in.”
Someone whose behavior or ideas cease to conform to the group expectation is described as “out of it.” The poor fellow whose income slips below the agreed-upon poverty line is “down and out.”
The man upon whom fortune shines is viewed as “uppity.” Anyone whose thoughts, appearance or actions deviate significantly from the norm is labeled “far out.”
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The herd affords us safety and a sense of belonging. There is much to recommend herd membership. Having endured an entire year of COVID-19 and the disconnectedness it caused, we naturally long to resume our normal habits of togetherness.
But if we fear to venture into solitude from time to time, we miss something of enormous importance.
Solitude is the proving ground of the spirit, the place where we can’t find anywhere to hide. In solitude, we discover truths about ourselves that we would otherwise fail to confront.
Alone, we begin to wonder if our busyness arises because we have things of value to do, or if we are merely making lots of motion in order to avoid facing inner uncertainties.
Sitting quietly, doing nothing, wonderful things can happen. Free from the noise of the crowd, we can hear what mystics through the ages describe as the “eternal hum” of the universe. This hum, says writer Kent Nerburn, is “the unity that transcends us all and, as much as possible, reconciles us to the reality and inevitability of our deaths. It makes us part of something larger.”
This knowledge can only be experienced fully in solitude. In fact, solitude in the deepest sense means being at peace with oneself, at peace with the fabric of the cosmos, in sync with the heartbeat of the universe.
“In this awareness,” says Nerburn, “the whole world changes around us. A tree ceases to be an object and becomes a living thing. We can smell its richness, hear its rustlings, sense its rhythms. Silence becomes a symphony. Time changes from a series of moments strung together to a seamless motion riding on the rhythms of the stars.
“Solitude is a place you reach, not a decision you make.”
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It is a place of great calmness, tinctured with abiding joy.
Collections of Craig Nagel’s columns are available at CraigNagelBooks.com.
