MIND MOVES:LUIS BUÑUEL wrote somewhere that solitude is marvellous, provided you can talk to somebody about it afterwards.
It is true that there is nothing like solitude to bring us to a fresh appreciation of friendship and intimacy. But without some time apart from those we love, we may never discover the gift we want to give them. It’s all too easy to become lost in the mob, carried along by its fashions and whims, and lose touch with our own particular way of being in the world.
I have returned to my log cabin in the wilds of western Kentucky to be alone for a few weeks.
I say alone, but while the absence of human life forms is striking, a community of wild things fills my days and nights. Situated on the edge of dense woodland that spans 20,000 acres, this cabin is surrounded by trees that tremble with birdsong. There is a pond right below it where the deer and wild turkey visit and where many different types of duck land with a splash. Buzzards circle overhead against a clear blue sky.
I arrived here a week ago, but it has taken me time to land. It’s not easy to peel away the layers of self-consciousness and forget oneself. It takes time to transition from the business of doing to the simple pleasure of just being.
Yesterday I was awoken by the sound of thunder. I took a blanket and headed out to the porch, which thankfully has a generous overhang to protect one from the elements.
At first, everything was still. Then suddenly the wind picked up; it grew darker and the rain began to pour down. I have never experienced rainfall quite so intense.
A blanket of sound grew steadily louder and drowned out the dawn chorus. Blinding flashes of light momentarily turned a grey morning into a bright summer day.
At certain points, everything quietened down and it seemed to me that perhaps the storm had passed. But nature wasn’t done yet. She had more to say on the matter. The sound of rainfall intensified. A deafening blast of thunder exploded directly overhead.
And then, as quickly as it had begun, the storm subsided. Everything became quieter. The air felt lighter; the rain eased. A cool breeze arose from nowhere.
A family of ducks moved along the shores of the pond, as though they knew it was safe to resume their morning routine. They seemed to enjoy the rain or at the very least to be entirely indifferent to it.
This drama mirrored my own. I always find solitude unsettling at first.
While some may see it as an escape from reality, I find it more of a raw confrontation with everything that’s unfinished, unresolved, and contradictory in my life. It involves a gradual withdrawal from all the comforts and distractions that normally buffer me from these edges.
But if I can tough it out, silence and solitude bring me back to a quiet place in myself, from where I believe my true identity emanates.
We all need times of solitude, if only to hear ourselves think, to hear our own voice, to allow something creative to break through.
Today, I walked my longest route through the woods. It took me up and over ridges, across creeks and along some of the most beautiful forest trails you can imagine.
In my travels, I saw no humans and if I had, I fear my heart would have stopped abruptly. By the time I got back to my cabin, I had built up quite a sweat. I dusted off the tics and hopped in the shower. With every passing day, I feel my energy returning and my fatigue slowly drop away.
As darkness falls, I sit on the porch and open a beer. Tonight, a black heron is perched on a branch overhanging the pond. The tree frogs are really kicking up a stir, like they’re hoping for some action.
A full moon is perfectly reflected in the water and shimmers beneath the surface. Fireflies gradually appear and punctuate the darkness with their heart light.
For now, Nature and I both are at peace. Mamma told me there’d be days like this.
Tony Bates is founding director of Headstrong – the National Centre for Youth Mental Health (headstrong.ie)