A Season of Solitude

The Rainy Season Retreat is now formally over and the monsoon rains have mostly abated. We are now beginning the 'cold season' with cool NE winds blowing from the mountains of Laos and mostly sunny skies. This is the best time of year here when the vegetation is still green from the rains, the streams are flowing and the meadows are ablaze with wildflowers. The wildflower display is not as spectacular as in the Swiss Alps as the flowers are small and dispersed. However, the great profusion and intermingling of the various colours conjures a subtle and delicate beauty like an Impressionist painting. And in the last two weeks several trees have burst into blossom. One is a spectacular display of white and pink starbursts. The other has simple blossoms but an intoxicating fragrance which wafts around on the breezes.

With the end of Rains Retreat and the change of season I ask myself whether I should stay in the remote cave. Is it worth trekking two and a half to three hours daily up and down the mountain? The Buddha encouraged monks to seek solitary and quiet places for meditation. However, is this just some antiquated, historic ideal?

So what is the value of solitude these days, especially when few spiritual traditions give it much value? My own experience is that in solitude the sense of self lightens, softens and relaxes. The image which comes to mind is one of those Chinese tea balls which, when placed in hot water, unfurls like a blooming flower. When we are with people we usually assume or act out one or other of the many persona we have acquired in the course of life. However, in solitude we don't need to keep feeding them or they aren't drawn out of us by other people's dramas. With the support of mindfulness and investigation we have the possibility then to listen more clearly to the sounds, noise or tune which the self is playing – we can 'tune in' to our deeper self.

Some people might say that we get the same effect from silence, however, I think the difference is that in solitude this is amplified more clearly and consistently. When we are with people, even in a quiet place, there is always some human interference, if not overtly in sight or sound, at least energetically. I think most people will acknowledge that we each have our own 'psychic space', but do you know how big that is? In front of us it is approximately four meters (twelve feet). That means that anyone coming within four meters will impinge upon our personal space, and their mental/emotional energy will have some impact upon our sense of self.

During two weeks of the Rains Retreat I went alone for daily almsround to the village on the bank of the Mekong River. For these two weeks I didn't speak to anyone in English (except myself). During that time I observed a very noticeable increase in clarity of awareness which I attributed to the continuity of practice, uninterrupted by other people's story. I was not drawn out of myself and did not have to process the mental and emotional input which we receive from others.

By not having to engage with other people we can engage more with our self. Less energy is used dealing with people's demands and projections (assumptions, expectations,) and thus more energy is available for awareness of one's own behaviour and mental activity, and especially increase the continuity which strengthens and deepens it.

So do you know what 'tune' your self is playing? I like the image of a tune or vibration as a contrast to my own tendency to lapse into conceptual thought which is much more stimulated by sight than sound. It also helps to remind me and acts an aid to broaden awareness into a 'full-being awareness' rather than just a mental activity. As we all know: truth is beyond conceptual thought. Of course, it is also beyond 'tunes' as well, however, this image can be a stepping stone to help ease us out of dependence upon thought.

Usually we have many tunes, sometimes playing at the same time. We each have our own 'theme song' playing in the background. This is our main or primal purpose for being alive, and is usually expressed by our general character traits or what I call our mental/emotional climate – for example, whether we are cheerful and positive or depressed and critical. Then we have our 'classic hits', particularly meaningful tunes which keep popping up throughout our life. Sometimes these songs are drowned out by the sound of the latest popular tune, that is, our most recent life drama.

Relating this to the Buddha's teaching (maybe somewhat obliquely), I would say that our 'theme song' is fundamentally about the way we grasp the body-mind as self. For example, if we grasp at body-mind lightly we can flow with life's changes easier and be more light-hearted. If we grasp body-mind more rigidly or desperately we are more anxious and fearful in our approach to life. The 'classic hits' perhaps correspond to what are called the seven underlying tendencies (anusaya): sensual lust, resentment, views, doubt, conceit, lust for further existence, ignorance. You may recognize some of these classics continually recurring in your life. In fact, when the newest tune is playing see if you can find its place in this list of classics? Very likely you can recognize that it is really one of these classic themes with just a new melody. And how does it relate to your theme song? Yes, notice the connection.

So what if your self is playing an unpleasant tune? Even though it may be difficult to listen to, it is very important to hear it. That tune is playing in our life anyway, whether we know it or not. If we can listen to it then we are no longer being sung by it unknowingly – we can become the listener rather than the tune itself. We then have a choice to sing along with it, find a new tune or listen to the peaceful silence.

With some consistency of listening we may come to realize that we, as listener, are ultimately none of these tunes. Although it appears that we are playing these tunes, in truth the tunes are playing us. When the tunes end what is left?