Sesshin ended last Sunday. Then on Tuesday, the last beloved guests returned to their respective homes. Since then I have been basking in solitude, doing nothing "productive".
I have washed and folded sheets, drinking in their clean fresh smell and soft silky feel. I have piddled around rearranging bookshelves and organizing both Lammi bills for payment and some computer files. I have gone through 3 countries worth of clothes, storing some, cutting others into rags, (Juha - I have a piece of cloth for you to use in your rakusu sewing project), and, I have grumbled while putting glasses and cups and plates and whatnot back into their appointed places.
Yesterday, I whistled some Dixie (you probably have to be American to know that quip), listened to some music and an audio book while I started on returning the Lammi kitchen to non-sesshin condition. Today, other than washing out refrigerators taking things to the recycling bins and packing away a few perishables into mouse-proof storage, I have no other "plans" and will let the day unfold as it will (again).
I miss these kinds of days. They do not come all that often anymore, and they are exactly what I experience on long trails: quietly succulent, exquisitely peaceful, and deeply satisfying. There is a sense of timelessness as one thing effortlessly flows into another - step after step, breath after breath ......and noticably, on days like these, there are no other human beings in sight (only have had a few skype meetings this week).
This leads me to wonder what it is about other humans that can alter this currently present "solitude self" state of mine. I put "solitude" in quotations here because I am beginning to realize that the alteration I experience when people come into sensory range, may have nothing to do with aloneness at all. In fact, it is probable that this particular "solitude self" configuration just coalesces more easily when alone. This must be true because, with a very, very few - very, very intimate companions, this present morph/experience can, and does, appear.
Oh - I can list all kinds of "true" explanations about why this is probably so, but these explanations don't REALLY answer the question of why/when/what/how/who. (What is this? Don't know!)
For the most part, I do not find being with people aversive, just different - (busier somehow), and in the past, extended solitude has always led me back into a longing for contact with others of my species. Interestingly, animals do not disrupt this "solitude self" as people tend to, but actually enhance it when we acknowledge one another though looks and sounds. This makes me think about relational being and I wonder if there is some kind of lack in my usual connection (full trust?) with folks that makes most of my interchanges with people somehow incomplete.
Hmmmmm......as I write the above, the veil is pulled from the mirror and I can see it is indeed a lack on my part, a turning away from "full frontal boundary-less engagement". (That's an oxymoron if I ever heard one! - lol) I think more often than not, when I am with people, there is a small portion of myself always held apart in "observation" (neutral noticing? - hypervigilant monitoring? - analytical categorizing?) and as I taste this space in this moment, it definitely has a defensive flavor. It doesn't feel like this is a large part of what is going on most of the time, but I can see/remember that this "non-emotional" intellectual observer can grow much larger when threat is perceived (accurately or inaccurately). And when it grows larger it becomes "cold"(?) (Is this the same observer or different? Don't know - Do know that "solitude self" doesn't have a noticeable "observer" What is that? Don't know!)
But onto other navel gazing in solitude ---
I experience solitude as a "fasting" from communication/interaction with others of our kind. This fast develops/creates/enhances the hunger of loneliness in me .......and then, from this space, each morsel of connection/conversation/presence is savored for the unique flavors inherent in each. Gluttony of connection on the other hand seems to lead to indigestion, hedonism, and mild discomfort (dissatisfaction?) for me. I feel like I am "waking up" again from an unnoticed "sleep" in these few days and hours of alone. I ask myself - "Must one (I) be a hermit to truly experience the preciousness of all, of each and every person?" I answer myself, "Don't know!"
Oh - and one more paradox before we finish today, - I never miss solitude days when they are not here. I only miss them when I return to them.
Yesterday, I whistled some Dixie (you probably have to be American to know that quip), listened to some music and an audio book while I started on returning the Lammi kitchen to non-sesshin condition. Today, other than washing out refrigerators taking things to the recycling bins and packing away a few perishables into mouse-proof storage, I have no other "plans" and will let the day unfold as it will (again).
I miss these kinds of days. They do not come all that often anymore, and they are exactly what I experience on long trails: quietly succulent, exquisitely peaceful, and deeply satisfying. There is a sense of timelessness as one thing effortlessly flows into another - step after step, breath after breath ......and noticably, on days like these, there are no other human beings in sight (only have had a few skype meetings this week).
This leads me to wonder what it is about other humans that can alter this currently present "solitude self" state of mine. I put "solitude" in quotations here because I am beginning to realize that the alteration I experience when people come into sensory range, may have nothing to do with aloneness at all. In fact, it is probable that this particular "solitude self" configuration just coalesces more easily when alone. This must be true because, with a very, very few - very, very intimate companions, this present morph/experience can, and does, appear.
Oh - I can list all kinds of "true" explanations about why this is probably so, but these explanations don't REALLY answer the question of why/when/what/how/who. (What is this? Don't know!)
Hmmmmm......as I write the above, the veil is pulled from the mirror and I can see it is indeed a lack on my part, a turning away from "full frontal boundary-less engagement". (That's an oxymoron if I ever heard one! - lol) I think more often than not, when I am with people, there is a small portion of myself always held apart in "observation" (neutral noticing? - hypervigilant monitoring? - analytical categorizing?) and as I taste this space in this moment, it definitely has a defensive flavor. It doesn't feel like this is a large part of what is going on most of the time, but I can see/remember that this "non-emotional" intellectual observer can grow much larger when threat is perceived (accurately or inaccurately). And when it grows larger it becomes "cold"(?) (Is this the same observer or different? Don't know - Do know that "solitude self" doesn't have a noticeable "observer" What is that? Don't know!)
But onto other navel gazing in solitude ---
I experience solitude as a "fasting" from communication/interaction with others of our kind. This fast develops/creates/enhances the hunger of loneliness in me .......and then, from this space, each morsel of connection/conversation/presence is savored for the unique flavors inherent in each. Gluttony of connection on the other hand seems to lead to indigestion, hedonism, and mild discomfort (dissatisfaction?) for me. I feel like I am "waking up" again from an unnoticed "sleep" in these few days and hours of alone. I ask myself - "Must one (I) be a hermit to truly experience the preciousness of all, of each and every person?" I answer myself, "Don't know!"
Oh - and one more paradox before we finish today, - I never miss solitude days when they are not here. I only miss them when I return to them.
*hug*
ReplyDelete...your text made to think how my last years walking on this path with you have taught me to enjoy those moments when people's rough edges, mine included, touch one another. I used to see those parts in myself and in others mostly as short comings creating chaos and spoiling natural harmony. I still get disturbed, I still get mad at my dear co-habitants of this planet, but sometimes I find also some joy in us rubbing our rough edges against one-another. Conflict - no-conflict, what is this? I lack many things, and I lack nothing. We're perfect and can use some improvement ;)
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