There is a special power in going inward and spending time in the cavern of your soul. If your solitude is not lacking, if your solitude is never about deprivation, you can experience a kind of inner communion and there listen whole-heartedly to the song of yourself. Like Rumi said, “We rarely hear inward music but we’re all dancing to it nevertheless”. What is this inner music inside? To listen to what really moves you, you must steal away 20-30 minutes each day. I prefer the wee hours of the morning before the day starts to rumble and roar. It is like climbing down a kiva, into the sacred space of your being, down below the ground of your everyday social self. It is a time for you to connect to your indwelling spirit. But it is never easy to do. We live in a society that pings us and prompts us to stay alert. We live in anticipation of each new notification, each new bit of text.
Now, of course, there are merits to extroversion. When we are convivial in conversation, we get amplified and uplifted. When listening to a podcast we come into the company of novel ideas. Yet time in solitude provides its own kind of upliftment. First, you may have to sort through reels of dialogue and debate cycling through your head. But in time, as you attend to the subtle rhythm of your breath, the quiver of a pulse or the passing of a memory, something shifts. Unbeknownst to you, a Big Presence enters the room. In your own way and time, you attune to your Maker. I am not thinking of The Maker as some God on high, but a direct experience of the world being made right before your very eyes.
In this space, give your body time to play, to roam, rant, or be still. In solitude, know that your body-mind will find its own equilibrium. Of course, it is always about striking balance between alone time and time with others. Day by day, week by week we do the dance between going inside and going out, until the inner and outer become one seamless way of being. So the next time we meet, while both inward and outward, let’s do this dance together.
-Tias Little
