SOLITUDE
Reflections on Solitude Inspired by David Grayson
The Finite Reality of Humankind
I have read a lot about the prospect of man’s limitations. From Dietrich Boehoeffer's warning of man's propensity for sin when he surpasses his limits to devotionals relating truths about man's limitations ever since The Fall—man's attempt at equating himself to God.
We are finite in that every person will pass away from this earth, yet the universe lives on. The omnipresent Creator watches empires come and go like waves on a shore. Only when we are alone can we fathom our inconsequential existence and accept the humility of our finite strength—not to be put down but to be relieved of the full burden of the world’s troubles.
Winslow Homer. The End of the Day, Adirondacks, 1890. The Art Institute of Chicago
Raphael. Seated Youth Writing in Book, 17th/18th century. The Art Institute of Chicago
The Book of Life
The Bible has been used as a weapon, a prop for power, and even propaganda. But let it not be so! It is not a book of magic, full of spells and incantations, nor is it only a book of maxims giving guidance and consolation. The Bible is a living organism that cannot be pinned down, controlled, or mastered.
Scripture is beautiful, poetic, and life-giving. The wisdom it offers can not be attained in one sitting or perhaps even in a lifetime. The beauty of solitude is that it is a time when we can let words of wisdom and conviction seep into our marrow and be etched on our hearts like golden foil.
Nothing in Life is Free
Many people use this saying to explain why someone should deal with their problems. The poor and helpless are reminded that nothing is actually free, and the people pointing that out neglect their opportunity to help someone with an essential need.
The paradox is that people who suffer or struggle with hardship have a better grasp of life’s cost and a greater understanding of joy. Little things happen after a little struggle, but only great joy can come after a great struggle. When left alone, we are reminded of what matters and how far we have come.
Johannes Josephus Aarts. The Sorrowing Angels, 1898. The Rijksmuseum
Jacob Vosmaer. A Vase with Flowers, 1613. Metropolitan Museum of Art
Living a Language
As soon as I read this quote, I became teary-eyed. For years, I have been trying to learn or acquire a language. Like a job, I work at it and sacrifice other priorities. But a language must be lived if it is to blossom and last.
I hope to test this idea in the future by living in an environment where speaking my second language is my only option. The thought of such a shift is scary, and I can imagine all the things that could go wrong. But what if more things went right? What if I lived the language and grew in ways I could not have imagined? When I sit alone in my old age, I can look back with fondness and not regret.
There is a fear that being in a place far from home will make me feel more alone than ever. Yet, I recall times when prioritizing a second language left me feeling isolated and unsupported. The effort and dedication it requires is not for everyone, but it becomes much harder when a goal is neither recognized nor embraced. I hold onto hope that pushing myself out of my comfort zone will lead to a profound experience filled with struggles, yes, but enriched with perspective and newfound wisdom.
Hope Awakened
Truly, it matters whether someone says they have hope or if they act in hope. Too often, the words are said, and yet, they are flippant, casual, and unbelieved. We need to not only see the light at the end of the tunnel, we have the feel the warmth of its rays.
In the quiet hours of loneliness, hope can seem a far-off idea. Something that only other people experience. But what also can be found in solitude is a sense of gratitude, humility, and recognition of struggles overcome. Hope is rekindled when giving a reason. Most people have family or friendships that sustain them, but for others, hope needs to be awakened, perhaps from unexpected sources. Hope is the light that we see beyond the darkness after much toil and disappointment. Hope stands regardless of the day's outcome and is what can be had if one can hang on a bit longer. It is out there; we need only to reach out and touch for hope to become alive again.
John Frederick Kensett. The Sea, 1872. The Metropolitan Museum of Art
Marcantonio Raimondi. An allegory of Peace, ca. 1517–20. The Metropolitan Museum of Art
Peace, Not Primal
The insanity and chaos we are experiencing are merely symptoms of the lost clawing their way through the darkness. They seek temporary happiness, believing that what they can gain now will satisfy their hunger. But they awaken the next morning, still living in emptiness and giving in to their lowest depravities.
When one is alone, whether in the depths of the wilderness or in a teaming city, that feeling of insignificance can terrify even the steadiest of hearts. But in that solitude, one can be without distraction and hear more clearly one’s hope and know what needs to be let go. In that moment of companionless tranquility, the mind can slow, and the heart is open to the calling of purpose. We can enter a state of serenity when, regardless of the chaos of the world, we have faith in a higher order, one that is eternal and no one person on earth can contend with.
The Right Of Solitude
As a mother, I understand self-sacrifice all too well. Women went from an age of limitation to inundation. There is too much to do and too many reasons not to say “no.” Mothers are often criticized for keeping some part of themselves for themselves. We are called selfish, lazy, or, worse, bad mothers if we care for ourselves.
In the quietness of only reflection away from the noise, opinions, and judgmental looks of the world, we recognize the need to have limits. We not only have a need but a right, all of us, to keep some part of us for ourselves. To pull from another book,
“You will say to me “solitude.” You will remind me that I must try to be alone for part of each year, even a week or a few days; and for part of each day, even for an hour or a few minutes in order for me to keep my core, my center, my island quality.”
Gustave Courbet. An Alpine Scene, 1874. The Art Institute of Chicago