During this government-imposed quarantine, solitude has been on my mind. I am a city dweller and the urban lifestyle does not provide much space for solitude nor is it widely encouraged. Society’s reliance on extroversion can conflict with those who seek time alone and the balance becomes hard to find. Now, out in the quiet French countryside, I find myself in a completely different situation, forced into solitude, with unlimited space to explore it.
Naturally, solitude has proven to be a more difficult task than I imagined. I expected the language barrier to be a challenge and did my best to prepare basic French phrases. It turns out that my level of French wasn’t ready for the countryside where little to no English is spoken. When I visited my first cafe, I successfully ordered my first coffee in French and felt so proud of myself that I ordered another one. Now, noticeably jittery and anxious, I asked to use the restroom and promptly forgot the words for right and left. I found myself peering into the kitchen before finding the toilet. I returned to my seat, hoping that no one saw my blunder, and the bartender surprised me with a question about my coffee. I answered with a smile, a laugh, and the only word that came to mind, “Oui!” and suddenly I was on my third cup of coffee in the hour. Now, too caffeinated to form sentences, I holed myself up at my table and dug into my journal avoiding eye contact with everyone that walked in. I was done talking French for the day.
Without my mastery of the spoken language, socializing has been the most significant loss. Spending time with my friends brings me more joy than missionary. So far my only friend is a five-year-old named Chloe who happens to be great and talks just slow enough, and uses clever hand motions, that half the time I can figure out what we're talking about. I can’t imagine what it is like to be five years old and have to deal with the perpetually confused face of an adult but she’s much kinder than most of my friends back home. Unfortunately, she has the attention span of, well, a five-year-old and she usually gets bored with me after 20 minutes. Back to solitude.
In solitude, my world is remarkably simple. I wake up every morning and start my day with yoga and meditation followed by a cappuccino while I write in my journal. Afterward, I cook myself breakfast and indulge in some straightening before sitting down to blog. Sometime in the afternoon, I begin to lose track of words and use the opportunity to go for a walk. When I return, I finish whatever I was writing and help prepare dinner. Dinner passes and I sit down to relax on the couch where I read a little or catch up on the New Pope. Finally, I get tired and I go to bed.
In solitude, my world is remarkably small. I have a home and the town that I live in. I am not allowed in any other homes, establishments, or cities. As of today, I am not allowed in the town park. I have the miles of fields to walk through and, thankfully, I do so liberally. Even so, on these walks, I have few options and at a certain point, the walking becomes less about which canola field I see today and more about doing it. So I do it because it is an activity that brings me life and because I don't have much else going on.
In solitude, my world is remarkably quiet. I have two housemates, one of which speaks English and enjoys her alone time. The other speaks French and we communicate through food and sports. I spend hours of my day alone eating in silence, cleaning in silence, writing in silence, reading in silence, walking in silence, and breathing in silence. The roads are clear of cars, the trains run sporadically, and the sky is free of planes. This level of silence is pleasant. There is also an understanding that being loud and social is in my nature. I don’t know how to balance this just yet.
It is too early to tell how this solitude will change me. Throughout history philosophers, scholars, monks, priests, and mystics have all sought solitude as a means of seeking Truth. I have hope that solitude will make me a more patient, appreciative, and curious person. I have doubts that I am currently driven by the novelty of the experience and that the true, deeper, and darker nature of solitude will reveal itself in time. Given the current circumstances, I don’t have many options. All I can do is show up to each task of each day and allow the change to happen. It just requires a little curiosity on my part and the space to seek it.
