Volume 28, No. 3 April 5, 2015

MennoExpressions A publication of First Mennonite Church of Indianapolis, Indiana

Solitude

I have a shifting and complex relationship with solitude. Like many people, I suppose, I both crave time alone and long to be with those I love. Life’s curves and twists have led me to a place where I’m spending more time alone than at nearly any other point in the last dozen years. I’ve gone from being in a gently buzzing household, rarely by myself, to having long stretches of completely-alone-time on my hands. Anyone who has parented a busy young child knows that when you’re on, you’re on – it’s constant motion and connection. A few minutes of quiet, a cup of tea with no one talking to you, or a quick walk alone can be rejuvenating and energizing, clearing space for further connection with your child. As a single parent, especially, I find I easily get swallowed up in the busy-ness, longing for that breath of solitude even as I love being with my son. But when we are separated, a piece of my heart goes with him, the loss of his presence nearly physical as I watch him walk away, the clock ticking loudly on the wall in what had been a noisy room minutes before. Because of these longer periods of solitude, I am more grateful for the time I do get to spend with my son, and knowing that the time is limited helps me to be more fully present. It’s taken me several months to make friends with solitude on this larger scale. What do I do with all this time? At first, I just tried to fill it, to mask the feeling of emptiness that pervaded my alone evenings and days, keeping busy until I was tired enough to sleep. I’m sure I spent more time on Facebook and surfing the web than was necessary or healthy. I did all the mundane things: work (I am self-employed and building my business), cleaning, dishes. I started some projects: scraped and refinished furniture, made my first quilt. I also did more of the things I’ve always loved to do alone: I took walks down to the creek near where I live, soaking in the sound of water on rocks or the falling of the leaves. I

went on bike rides in the warm weather, the feeling of air rushing past as if near to flight, enjoyed feeling renewed strength and vitality in my muscles as I took yoga classes. I watched a movie or read a book. As I started to live into the solitude as it was available to me, I found myself being rejuvenated. I discovered space in solitude for creativity that had been on the backburner for some time. It simply started welling up, and I spent time composing music, drawing, writing poetry, journaling. Now I can just sit with a hot cup of tea and

enjoy the quiet, alone with my thoughts and the trees out the window. I settled into a rhythm of solitude, and found that I’ve learned to simply enjoy time in the stillness. My activities have been less about “filling” time than using it well – which usually means doing less. As a relatively new transplant to Indianapolis, I didn’t have an immediate social circle to fall back on to fill this time. While I am, of course, looking for connections to new friends, I am very glad that I have the opportunity to learn to be friends with myself in a new way for the first time in years. Without this period of solitude, I wouldn’t have been forced to look at

myself in the mirror and ask, “What do I want to do with all this time?” It has also deepened my faith, as I realize my total reliance on God's providence instead of the structures and paths I imagined for myself. Without this solitude, I wouldn’t have had the space and silence to recognize the incredible, unexpected grace made known by living through difficult times, and the nudgings of the heart when the Spirit says, “See, here's something I made you for.” Meagan Johnson is a parent, Alexander Technique teacher, voice teacher, choral conductor, singer, and composer. She relocated to Indy from other Midwest locales in 2013. One of her favorite places to be in solitude is among trees in the woods.

Meagan Johnson

Michele West

Captions, clockwise from top left: This was taken in Juneau, Alaska, when I was there for a conference last month.

The Alexander Calder sculpture is in downtown Seattle's Olympic Sculpture Park.

These are both of the University of Washington what they call the Quad. These were taken on my way to work the day they peaked, yesterday. Normally this area is packed, especially with the blooms, which is updated on twitter. It's a big deal and it's the topic of a lot of conversations.

The misty one is of Lake Washington with a view of Mt. Rainier. All photos by Carolyn Martin.

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I live alone. Is it solitude? Sometimes. Am I lonely? Sometimes. Solitude can lead to loneliness but loneliness is not solitude. Hearing the word solitude brings images of serenity: calm quiet moments sipping coffee while at a cafe watching the world go by, a walk in a park admiring the beauty of the landscape while reflecting on life, losing all sense of time while in the midst of the creative process. These are moments of solitude. However, my experience of solitude since coming to Seattle has not been quite so ideal. Without the family demands I once had (it is amazing how distance loosens the ties of obligations!), solitude has allowed me to live almost a completely different life and yet it is very much the same. With some freedoms come other limitations. Yes, I have more choice in my decor, what I eat, and how I use my time but, for example, the limitations of cooking for one diminishes my incentive and creativity, though I have far more time to actually indulge in the process. Life is often an exchange of opportunities and limitations. The move to Seattle did just that. I am not a big risk taker but I am not a fan of the ordinary. An opportunity was offered and I took it. I am so grateful to have this opportunity to live in this incredible landscape and progressive climate. Solitude has allowed me to explore the beauty of the Seattle area, observe its interesting cache of characters roaming the streets, and to get the more than occasional whiff of a newly legalized substance illegally enjoyed on the streets. I have taken note the practices and ideas that in the Midwest seem foreign or bothersome but are common everyday practices and just “another point of view” here in the Northwest. Though I miss the hospitality of the Midwest, it has been freeing to blend in with the racial mix. Since moving to Seattle, experiencing solitude has allowed me more time for reflecting and it has allowed me to live a more mindful life. I feel invigorated and empowered and I am savoring it. I enjoy the changes in my life and yet it does occasionally lead to loneliness. It is kind of ironic that I now have more free time but I have fewer people with which to socialize while before there were people but less time. So, I am looking forward when my partner of many years eventually will join me and I hope he enjoys it as much as I do. In this opportunity, solitude has reinvigorated, empowered, and broadened my life. I have no regrets.

Carolyn Martin

Captions, clockwise from top left: This was taken in Juneau, Alaska, when I was there for a conference last month.

The Alexander Calder sculpture is in downtown Seattle's Olympic Sculpture Park.

These are both of the University of Washington what they call the Quad. These were taken on my way to work the day they peaked, yesterday. Normally this area is packed, especially with the blooms, which is updated on twitter. It's a big deal and it's the topic of a lot of conversations.

The misty one is of Lake Washington with a view of Mt. Rainier. All photos by Carolyn Martin.

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Editor’s Note What do you think of when you hear “solitude”? Do you welcome solitude, or do you avoid it? It feels easy to avoid right now, what with the proliferation of digital devices and the real (or perceived) need to be connected, all the time.

But what do we lose when we are so available, so busy with responses and digital noise? What are we afraid of if we silence our devices, clear our schedules, and acknowledge, maybe even embrace, solitude?

Carolyn rightly points out that loneliness is not solitude. However, I think there are significant ways that they can overlap. Ann Patchett wrote, “Never be so focused on what you're looking for that you overlook the thing you actually find.” I often find that spending time in solitude, whether it's involuntarily during a long night with young children or voluntarily during coveted alone time, helps me consider what I might be overlooking. It provides perspective and a longer view of what's going on in my life, where I might need or want to make changes, and gives me the time and space to consider and contemplate those changes. Solitude refocuses me. While it brings my anxieties to the forefront - there is nothing to distract me from my fears or stressors - it also allows me the chance to examine them, confront them, and move through them.

Most of the contributions for this theme were visual and focused on nature. Two of our contributors mentioned finding solitude most welcome in nature. The calmness of being outside, connecting to the natural world, silencing our devices, perhaps getting a bigger perspective on things that worry us: maybe this isn't so much of a surprise. Where do you most look forward to finding solitude? - AS

MennoExpressions 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without written consent from the editor.

Editorial Board: Kenda Resler Friend, Abri Hochstetler, John Hofstetter, Marj Rush Hovde, Mary Liechty, Paul Shankland, Michele West, Cara Yoder.

Editor: Alison Schumacher

MennoExpressions is published six times a year by First Mennonite Church, on the first Sunday in February, April, July, October, and December, with an additional, special graduation issue in May. Any correspondence should be sent to the editor at 4601 Knollton Rd., Indianapolis, IN 46228; email: fmc@indymenno.org.

Michele West spends her days “in an endless dance with my boys as I seek to find solitude in my garden and they seek to deprive me of said solitude. I can slip into solitude easily, particularly in any kind of natural setting.”

Michele West