c Self-melted, I’m calm, cool, composed, fresh, and energetic — connected to the whales playing in the ocean, the brilliantly coloured bird hopping on the branches of a tree, sucking the nectar of a juicy fruit, and the rising sun sprinkling hues over the snowy mountains and the undulating jagged edges of the Grand Canyon and Wyoming peaks. Floating with the waves, I’m in a dream state — connected to life in its numerous forms. I feel my bond with the infinite cosmos, like a tiny grain of sand on the beach frolicking and dancing with the roaring, rising, and falling waves.
Enchanted and focused, I immerse myself in viewing the snow-covered mountain peaks at Mustang, Rupakot, Kanchenjunga, and the lush green hills and rolling waves of picturesque Michigan Lake. In sync with the Universe, I realise: all I have is this moment — and nothing beyond it. This moment is in my grasp, yet slowly slipping away like water I’m trying to hold between my fingers. But then, I’m floating — and on the ocean waves, I’m on my journey to eternity.
“The earth, from here, is like heaven. It flows with colour — a burst of hopeful colour. When we’re on that planet, we look up and think heaven is elsewhere, but here is what the astronauts and cosmonauts think: maybe all of us born to it have already died and are in the afterlife. If we must go to an improbable, hard-to-believe place when we die, that glossy, distant orb with its lonely light shows could well be it.”
(Samantha Harvey — Orbital)
Henry David Thoreau, the American transcendentalist, writes:
“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, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.”
Embrace Solitude
“This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is one sense, and imbibes delight through every pore. I go and come with a strange liberty in Nature, a part of herself. As I walk along the stony shore of the pond in my shirt-sleeves, though it is cool as well as cloudy and windy, and I see nothing special to attract me, all the elements are unusually congenial to me. Sympathy with the fluttering alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath; yet, like the lake, my serenity is rippled but not ruffled. These small waves raised by the evening wind are as remote from storm as the smooth reflecting surface. The fox, the skunk, and the rabbit now roam the fields and woods without fear.”
“...The best thing you could do for yourself is to withdraw from the noise and harrying world, find a quiet corner, and truly face yourself. This exile is a necessary journey one must make — entering the darkness inside, the darkness of solitude which can be a wellspring. For, in being alone, with only your own soul as companion, you have the opportunity to glean your own meaning. Out of the solitude comes independence, a richer sense of self, and — if you are lucky — a vision of who and what you must become.”
(Hermann Hesse)
Marx said it is leisure — the privilege to contemplate in solitude and reflect on the finer things in life — that separates the ruling class from the working class. No, I never belonged to a ruling class, and yet it has been a huge privilege to have the time to hide quietly in the shadows of mountains and trees, to watch the songs and dances of nature in quiet moments of supreme isolation, and to feel — it is indeed a huge blessing in life!
“There is no doubt that solitude is necessary for each of us, that it gives us space to listen — truly listen — to the music inside us. In this quiet, we recover the fragile voice stifled by noise, demands, and social duties. But solitude also brings up dark water from the depths of the heart: all that we do not wish to see. Being alone, one cannot escape oneself. It asks us to make peace with the person we find there, to learn to live together with that spirit. Only then does the alchemy begin — the secret work whereby loneliness is turned to gold, and the inner life becomes a source of light.”
(Mary Sarton, Journal of a Solitude, 1973)
“When we see the beauty of the snow, the beauty of the full moon, the beauty of the cherries in bloom, when we brush against and are awakened by the beauty of the four seasons, it is then that we think most of those close to us, and want them to share the pleasure. The excitement of beauty calls forth strong fellow feelings, yearnings for companionship, and the word ‘comrade’ can be taken to mean ‘human being’.”
Yasunari Kawabata called it “the essence of the human (Japanese) mind.”
With great sensibility and sensitivity, we must strive for what he recommends.
Joseph Jebelli (PhD, neuroscience) says: “In these moments of isolation, the default network is busy forging new synaptic connections, strengthening our skills and ability to absorb new information, and nurturing our creativity more effectively.”
Some of the most intelligent people enjoyed solitude. Bill Gates retreats to a cabin for a week with nothing but a stack of books for company. “Solitude is useful in those moments when you feel stuck or lost. Leonardo da Vinci was a contemplative genius, reportedly staring at The Last Supper for hours before adding a single brushstroke and walking away.” That deep stare transforms into the power of imagination, and creativity flows like a gentle stream.
“Keep close to Nature’s heart... and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”
(John Muir)
“I thrived on solitude; without it, I was like another man without food or water. Each day without solitude weakened me. I took no pride in my solitude, but I was dependent on it. The darkness of the room was like sunlight to me.”
(Charles Bukowski)
“I need solitude. I need space. I need air. I need the empty fields around me, and my legs pounding along roads, and sleep, and animal existence.”
(Virginia Woolf)
As a writer and reader, I yearn for quality time in solitude — moments all to myself for deep reflection, savouring memories to refresh and rejuvenate myself, and to explore the frontiers of imagination with awe and wonder.
Now you understand why I sing the songs of solitude.
