The Problem With Solitude

Jan 20 / Rachel Dodd
 When I think about solitude, a winter scene comes to my mind. My imagination conjures up postcard-worthy images of landscapes thickly frosted with untouched snow. Everything around me is still, silent, and serene—and nothing like my reality.

 Although for some reason winter evokes images of solitude for me, typically in my home the very opposite happens during this season. When days are short and the weather is rainy (sadly, it very rarely snows where I live), our house becomes a bustle of activity as my husband and children hunker down indoors. Quiet moments to spend time alone, caring for my soul, become few and far between. So when I do find moments to reflect and pray in solitude, I'm grateful. The quiet, snowy winter scene in my mind serves as an invitation to deep stillness, and God's presence envelops me like the comfort of an old friend.

 As a spiritual director, I've learned to welcome silence and solitude. I look to the examples of monastics and mystics before us who teach us that the desire for a deeper connection with God will draw us toward time and space where we can most clearly listen to both God and our inner selves. For me, time away from the busyness and noise of everyday life is something to look forward to. But in recent months I've had the opportunity to visit a couple of friends who each experience solitude very differently. 

 One friend chose to retire to a picturesque town tucked away on the edge of a national park. For a large part of my visit, we sat together in silence as we watched deer nibble the grass in his yard and listened to a flock of ravens call to one another. But while I welcomed the break from constant conversation as a rare treat, his silence carried an edginess. A series of disappointments and broken relationships prompted his choice to curate a remote, undisturbed life in retirement. For him, solitude looks like an island and fulfills a desire to escape.

 The second friend I recently visited has been cognitively impaired over the years by a series of strokes. He lives in a cheerful, bustling residential care facility and enjoys being a part of a community. However, because of his physical limitations, communication has become hard work. Thus, he often seeks the solitude and quiet of his own room when barriers seem insurmountable. During my visit we watched a movie together, read from his favorite book, and spent some time in prayer—all things that did not demand too many words on his part. For this friend, I suspect solitude looks like a prison (or perhaps a hospital room), reminding him of all that separates him from the connection he longs for.

 In the world around us, some seek out solitude as a means to hide, while others find themselves visited by solitude that is not of their choice—isolated by rejection, the loss of a relationship, disability or poor health, or the passing of a loved one. Being alone can feel healing and freeing for some but lonely and sad for others. As spiritual directors, we seek solitude as a practice in which to nurture a deeper relationship with God. We approach it with warm feelings and positive mental imagery because our experiences assure us of God's reliable presence. But for those new to prayer and spiritual practice, I often wonder if less positive experiences of solitude can be a barrier that needs to be lovingly attended to before they can trust that God will show up in the empty space. In our spiritual direction sessions, we offer the security of community for each directee. At the same time, they grow more deeply aware of God's accompaniment with them so that they may gain confidence that God will be with them when they are on their own. We help them paint a new picture of solitude—one in which they're never truly alone.

 Here are a few questions that may help directees explore their feelings about solitude and the past experiences that may impact those feelings:

  • Do you find it easier to pray in a group or alone?
  • Describe a time when you were alone recently. What did that feel like?
  • What would it look like if you could paint a picture titled "Solitude"?
  • When you reflect on times when you've experienced God's presence, what patterns emerge? Where were you? What was going on around you?
  • What emotions come to mind when you think about the word "alone"?

Rachel Dodd
Rachel began her journey of faith at a young age, and has been on the irresistible journey to know God more—and help others do the same—ever since. Having spent more than 20 years in youth and family ministry, she's now a spiritual director, a writer and editor, and a lifelong student of the Bible.

Rachel has a Doctorate in Spiritual Formation and Direction and a Master of Divinity from Fuller Theological Seminary. She and her husband, their daughters, and their playful pets live in Seattle, WA.

Through spiritual direction, Rachel loves to make prayer and spiritual practices accessible for all. No matter where you are on your faith journey or how comfortable you are with prayer, together we'll explore and celebrate God at work in your everyday expressions of faith.

Find out more about Rachel or schedule a spiritual direction session at http://fountainandpen.com/