Solitude and Mental Space Life

Solitude and Mental Space

Life can easily become cluttered. Not just externally, with schoolwork, and bills, and a job that doesn't cover those bills, and all of the other typical stresses of nearly-middle class life, but internally as well. The two are related, of course; external pressure can get us thinking about internal things, like job worries affecting thoughts about families and relationships, and at the same time internal worries can lead to increased engagement with external stressors, like worrying about intelligence level might lead to an inordinate amount of studying for an exam. Everyone experiences stress, and though these experiences come from different sources and manifest themselves in different ways for every individual, they always lead to a cloudy vision when it comes to determining the best course of action. Clarity of vision can be described, then, as a freedom from stress, or even further as an emptiness, a sort of hollow receptiveness. The clutter of life mentioned above disrupts this emptiness, attempting to fill it with loud and pointless distractions -- worries, in other words. Personally, mind can easily be over-ridden with thoughts of the future -- what my purpose is and if I'm fulfilling my potential, and other intangible quandaries that keep me awake at night. For me, then, solitude and "mental space" means being able to get away from myself, too.

This might not be the most accurate way to describe the phenomenon of mental space, however. It is not really an escape from my true self (not that I can tell you exactly what that "true self is; it is just something that I feel exists and that is essentially and indivisibly me), but actually an escape from the many false selves that I create -- that we each create, I believe -- throughout the course of a day. That is, it is freedom from the stresses, both internal and external, that I place on myself, and freedom from the various faces and half-truths that are required for polite daily interactions in our society. I can almost understand the pull Chris McCandless felt to disappear into the wilderness and cut off all human contact; it sometimes feels as though this may be the only way to truly get to know yourself and find some sort of peace. My method for finding my own solitude was not nearly as drastic as McCandless'. It might not be as effective in producing a sense of self-knowledge, but it is also very unlikely that it will end up killing me, and frankly, that's a trade-off I'm willing to make. It also doesn't involve any material possessions -- maps and compasses aren't even recommended -- so maybe McCandless would approve after all. If not, I'll get John Krakauer to write an apologia for me, too.

In his essay "Self-Reliance," Ralph Waldo Emerson suggests that truth is really only found within; that humans are basically good and we should all learn to trust ourselves. The problem, then, becomes how to listen to oneself. Most methods on finding this true and unadulterated "inner voice" begins with eliminating any external or false internal voices, silencing what is often referred to as "the censor" or "the doubter' -- that part of ourselves that questions our thoughts, beliefs, actions, and feelings. With these voices out of the way, the thinking goes, one need only allow the true inner voice to speak. Solitude, then, becomes something positive and productive -- rather than an absence or a remove, it is a connection and reinvigoration. For me, achieving this solitude is something I try to do a few times every week. It involves some very basic meditation techniques that I learned in an acting class.

I should preface this by saying that I have never really been able to meditate the way other people do, or at least claim to be able to; I always remain aware of the feeling of my body and the room around me, and am never able to completely turn off my thoughts. Still, by sitting on the floor or lying down and concentrating on my breathing, I have found tat I am able to greatly affect my mood and the clarity of my thoughts and decisions. To begin, I need to find a quiet and familiar place. Usually this is my room, although when this is too noisy to do roommates, I know a few places in nearby parks that usually work well. I prefer lying down on my back, with my feet flat on the ground and my knees up in the air, although I have done the same basic technique sitting up as well. I close my eyes and consciously relax every part of my body, starting with my toes and working my way up, through the legs, hips, torso, arms, neck and even face. At the same time, I try to stop regulating my breathing. Every time I do this, without exception, I am amazed by the amount I needlessly control my breath. When I am able to consciously relax it, it flows much more smoothly and is far more refreshing and relaxing. This is a very physical manifestation of the ever-present pressure to be something other than who I am. It is something most if not all people experience, and yet something I think most people are totally unaware of. Even the return of the breath back to its natural "me" rhythm lets the feeling of solitude and clarity begin to settle in.

The above described set-up is the only thing really involved in this process of self-discovery through solitude. The rest consists of gently pushing away any thought as it enters my head. This is the part where I always felt like I was less successful than others, but I have learned to accept it. My mind always starts out aggressively pushing the same few ideas into my consciousness, but after repeatedly pushing these thoughts away, they begin t drift elsewhere and come more slowly. Though I am never able to completely stop the flow of ideas, just ten minutes of this type of relaxation every couple of days really keeps me grounded. I find myself making decisions about things that were causing me stress, even things that didn't consciously come up during my quasi-meditation. It really is as though the gentle pushing away of ideas -- the creation of a solitude and inner quietness -- allows the simplicity of right decisions to speak through with and cloudiness or equivocation.