“I am the eyes of the Universe observing itself” Shelley
I would like to think that mindfulness meditation offers a new way of being alone. That would be the goal of inspiring the Mindsprings course this summer.
But in thinking about how we might reach this goal I have come across surprises. Several people have written to me with their thoughts about their subject and it’s been incredibly informative collating and comparing different people’s experiences. But in thinking about all our varied views on ‘loneliness/solitude’ I have stumbled against one big dilemma.
A dirty (dis)comfort or DD is a behaviour or way-of-being that seems to reduce anxiety but actually simply masks it
Last year, I led several courses on the subject of anxiety and one of the key concepts was from ACT therapy – dirty (dis)comfort. A dirty (dis)comfort or DD is a behaviour or way-of-being that seems to reduce anxiety. But actually simply masks it. And in doing this, the activity itself is spoiled. A good example of this would be binge eating. Food is an essential need and can be a real sensory pleasure. But when we eat to mask anxiety then the pleasure is vitiated. Far from being a real comfort, the bag of cookies or tub of ice cream becomes a “dirty (dis)comfort”. The “dis” is temporarily bracketed out as we tuck in. We dissociate the queasiness of the behaviour until afterwards when it comes back double strength. The anxiety has not been addressed. The pleasure was spoiled and now we are left feeling overstuffed and guilty.
This notion of ‘dirty (dis)comfort’ also applies to styles of being-in-the-world. Again, a classic example is the OCD tidy person. Having a nice fresh environment is a fundamental pleasure. But when the tidying is not about your home but is being hijacked to mask unexamined anxiety. Then the pleasure of a good Spring clean is leached away and it becomes an empty, obsessive discomfort.
So, warming to our theme. I would like to transfer this idea over to the “loner” personality or indeed the “solitary” way of ‘being-in-the-world”.
It allowed me to continue being ‘lonely’ in a positive way
In the previous blog, I talked about the dangers of labelling. And there is a certain amount of liberation one can win by simply relabelling loneliness as ‘rich solitude’. But thinking about my own life and also reflecting on what people have been writing, I am also aware of a pitfall here.
When “rich solitude” becomes a dirty (dis)comfort then we are in danger of duping ourselves. On the one hand, it is true, we are embracing our solitude and not running into empty, panicky consumerism. But on the other, there is a danger we are using habitual solitude as a (dis)comfortable bolt-hole.
Let me expand on this.
Through much of my early 30s I turned my life around. From a lot of unhappy and self-destructive partying to a passionate embrace of Buddhist practice and meditation. But what friends of mine spotted after several years of obsessive austerity was the ‘dirty discomfort’ of that life choice. I had embraced the solitude and self-justificatory isolation of Theravadan Buddhism because it allowed me to continue being ‘lonely’ in a positive way. However, it didn’t address the fundamental disconnection that lay under both my partying and my fanatical Buddhism.
While the retreats and monasticism was an ‘improvement’ on drug-taking, it was still (dis)comfortable because the cost of the comfort (being peaceful and ‘meditative’) was still massive: the dissociation of a lot of my needs for love, company, companions, pleasure, sex!
We pre-empt abandonment by choosing solitude
In this way, I had vitiated the true pleasures of what I now call “the art of being solo”. When done skillfully, this is the experience of dropping down into an embodied stillness that leads to connection. But my fundamental anxiety about that connection led me to turn being alone into a familiar, fragile and low-vibration safe spot. It became a DD against connectivity.
And it’s connectivity that I feel comes to be most important in this area of exploration. What are our natural anxieties about connectivity? And how does that impact (or distort) our ability to be comfortable on our own?
Returning to my last blog, we are fundamentally vulnerable beings – especially, though not exclusively, – when we are very young. For the human infant, abandonment is a death sentence. So the complexities of staying connected can become fraught with triggers. If the fear of abandonment is too much to bear, we might make do with self-sufficiency; retreating into a simple, carefully-controlled space that doesn’t have much vitality but doesn’t have that awful possibility of abandonment. We pre-empt abandonment by choosing solitude.
All our solitude has the possibility of fizzing into loneliness because it is not chosen
Within this framework, it is very hard to be truly comfortable. Because underlying the retreat is the idea that we are retreating from something terrible. All our solitude has the possibility of fizzing into loneliness because it is not chosen. Not enjoyed but tolerated out of fear of a worse alternative.
What is imperative if we’re going to master the ‘art of being solo’. It is to be mindful that we are not hiding in solitude. In fact, enjoying solitude as a gateway into connectivity. Instead of fire-walling ourselves from the vicissitudes of connecting to people who might let us down. Might exhilarate us, might disappoint us – we find a way of connecting in a more steady way that, paradoxically, comes out of our ability to be alone.
If we can walk through our anxieties and cultivate a warm, steady, breathing presence. One which softens the boundaries of self and gives a deep-rooted feeling of being ‘part of a whole’. Then it’s much easier to walk from our ‘solo’ time into connected time. Because we realise that we were never unconnected.
This is the viewpoint of the later turnings of the Buddhist Wheel, the Vajrayana schools of Tibetan Buddhism, which see the basic state as one of enlightened connectivity. This is not a state we have to work towards or change into. We are already in this state – we just haven’t noticed.
These statements can sound like annoying Buddhist platitudes to people who are afflicted by real painful feelings of isolation. So how do we relax down into this state? It might be worth me re-capping some of my thoughts – bearing in mind that they are all quite provisional:
Do I really need 500 friends?
First, I would suggest we acknowledge the existence of loneliness. Not banish this experience into the nether world of the undiscussed, the unexplored. Human beings can have the propensity to loneliness – it’s epigenetic and so it’s worth opening to it. “Nothing human is alien to me”, as the Roman playwright Terence said. Secondly, we should be mindful of what it is exactly – what particular cocktail of emotions and reaction to emotions do we commonly label ‘lonely’. Does the recognition that there is fear or shame or anger in there make it more porous to meditation? Thirdly, we should check what portion of the loneliness is actually created by the consumer world we live in. Do I really need 500 friends? Do I really want to be that family in the adverts? If we take a sabbatical from Facebook or magazines – do we feel better?. Then we should see if the fixed, shameful quality we associate with loneliness can be softened. Or shifted by relabelling it. Re-ascribing a different, more positive value to it: solitude, rest, relaxation, ‘me’ time Fifthly, we need to check that we are not retreating into ‘solitude’ defensively. It’s a safe but costly alternative to facing our anxieties around connectivity. Particularly if we have a history of abandonment or neglect. This is work that is best done together with another: a therapist or a counsellor. Sixthly, we need to find a way to be ‘solo’ that doesn’t preclude connectivity. A samadhi practice that lets us sink into the body is useful here. Getting out into nature as much as possible. Being ‘solo’ in the flow of natural happenings is a great way to stay aware of our permanent connection to the Universe.
I am the Universe experiencing itself
And this brings me to my last point for now. For me, the greatest tonic to a feeling of solidified loneliness is a growing sense of being a part of something really enormous. Shelley says it and Alan Watts says it in a slightly different but I say it like this: “I am the Universe experiencing itself”. It’s a simple phrase but if you make your mantra and say it enough. You begin to sense the liberating paradox in its core.
We are an infinitesimal detail in an unimaginably vast Universe but we are also totally unique and indispensable. We are indispensable because it is through our eyes that the Universe knows itself. Our unique, never-to-be-repeated experience of the here-and-now. No one anywhere will have this same experience. We are the sole guardians of this moment with everything that we experience in it: a breath. That bird, this smell, my hunger, my loneliness, my thoughts.
It’s a challenge and an honour and a responsibility to experience it as fully as we can. Because without us the Universe will never know itself here and now. Unique but never alone.
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I’d love to know your thoughts about solitude and (dis)comfort. Drop me a message with any thoughts, comments, questions, queries or insights that pop up while reading the blog. I’d love to hear from you!
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