It’s good having people around. But our world is too full of people. Solitude connects us with the absence of others. And it is the absence of others which is one of the most poignant things we endure or enjoy in this life.
Growing up in Western Colorado, the most compelling and honest reverence I ever conjured was that for untrammeled spaces which connected me with something vast, where the only conspiracy was that of many natural forces. I learned early to feel at home there, safe in the wild. And on high, from a distant view, I regain my bearing for where I live: a Planet whose very spinning causes our Sun to seem to rise.
With this pandemic and social isolation, we are forced apart into solitude, but perhaps something is gained. A quiet street can be pleasant in ways we have come to miss, or have forgotten, or never knew. The same could be said for wilderness: social isolation at its best.
My favorite meditation is to sit on a rock with a horizon 50 miles distant, in early, late or broken light, and just watch.