The Hermit & the Undercurrent

1. The World

It's mid-October in Eastern Tennessee and in our house, we're transitioning over to accommodate a lot more time spent indoors. I think at this point we do it instinctively, in the same way we open the windows and clean out closets come springtime.

I'll rearrange the workspace for some wood projects, the youngest will develop a hyper-focus on Legos and the oldest will find more creative ways to be cooler than the rest of us. Ultimately, we'll adapt to the cozy and juggle all the regular day trips and traditions through the season that make our little world special. We'll stay caught up in all of it and find time here and there to relax and recenter together when we can.

That world, like yours and as nuanced as it is, could never be appreciated by someone foreign to it. It has it's own rhythm and, like yours, holds value mostly because we find comfort in that particular pattern within the larger social fabric. It's our familiarity in the fray.

Far from that image, on the opposite end of the social spectrum, is the recluse, or hermit. More than ever have I become interested in stories about people disappearing, mostly and completely, intentionally and unintentionally. I've always been interested in the isolationist and have read Walden, Into the Wild and even true accounts, like David Paulides' Missing 411, which alludes to aspects of nature, or humans living symbiotically with nature in a way that is a mastery even in Appalachia.

What does someone who doesn't need the rest of us hold reverence for? The sun? Fresh water and a food supply? Stories about living off the land from grandparents?

I think that in an age of social suffocation and hyper-interdependence, we can learn something about our own inner worlds from these masters and when finding people who prefer living in isolation, it goes without saying that there are a wide variety of them.

2. The Hermit

Through various roles, I've been able to meet individuals who would live no other way. They prepare tea in the morning almost ritually and have an intimate relationship with their home and immediate environment. I find them in the city as easily as I do out in the sticks, and a singular similarity seems to be that they derive much of their sense of self through their relationship with their environment over others in it.

Even though age is beginning to expose the drawbacks of living in isolation, they express a deep appreciation for their environment and those who live peacefully alongside them. I see how interactive they are in their environment, whether they live in clutter or tend a windowsill lined with plants that catch the sun as it sets in late afternoon.

I suppose we all do this to a degree, but in what we can only assume are days on end with no one to speak to, surely an internal dialogue and an intimate understanding of one's place in their environment develops.

I think people are raised to see hermits, introverts and recluses, living in relative isolation for long stretches of time, as problematic socially, but perfectly acceptable ideologically.

In fact, I'd say that living deep in a natural setting of our choice is something we all would aspire toward as we get older, but why? My guess would be to acknowledge that very human need for mental stillness, and silence.

If I described someone as being “in their own world,” everybody would agree, but we would struggle to define that world. I think, what we mean to say is, they are sovereign. They provide guidance to themselves, for better and for worse.

The reality of extreme isolation, conversation and words take a back seat to experience and thought. These folks don't need outside opinions and are comfortable, fully immersed in direct experience. They are less talk, more action, and I am all for it.

3. The Us

This great experience, the one we are collectively sharing with others, has been referred to as our 'consensus reality.' We can measure within it, make calculations using formulae and multiple disciplines can derive the same results with eachothers methods, to a point.

Anyways, I can't remember where I heard it expressed as 'consensus reality', but it helps me differentiate between the world we design skyscrapers in, and the inner world that drives one to become, say, an architect.

As we get older and more comfortable with our own failures and setbacks, we get less discouraged when life goes left. Some of us will immediately lean on family and friends for support, others will purposefully push people away until they have developed some tangible set of steps to take. Eventually, as always, we find a path through and out and if we've practiced awareness while doing so, we will undoubtedly emerge with greater insight and a greater understanding of ourselves, our limitations and our strengths.

I'd be lying if I said a lot of missteps were not my own doing, but some things are just not meant to be and forcing a job or friendship has never ended well. I have come to learn that change, growth and disappointment is inevitable. I know I can't plan for disaster, but I know how to build out of chaos.

As problems present, we get to choose how we react and I can tell you from observation, hermits don't react dramatically. It seems like they see their place in a larger system and are particularly good at affecting greater change, with subtlety. Personal inconveniences aren't heard by anyone other than themselves as the self seeks equilibrium. They become internal engines, self-sufficient, sovereign.

4. The Lesson

I'm learning that those who give themselves space, give themselves the power to control their reaction. They abandon the dramatics and aren't going to crumble for others to pick up. A recluse transitions between all roles out of necessity. They provide, nurture, plan, execute, probably do silly stuff, and hold reverence for things as they 'are' without taking more than they need.

Whatever form an isolationist needs to take to get through a brutal winter and maintain resources for themselves and any animals in their care, they become it.

I think that's the key. I think that wherever there aren't people to tell us who we are, we are free to explore that for ourselves and begin the process of individuation. This isn't saying to be arrogant, you have to be willing to jump in and get your pride hurt. And once you are good and hurt, you have to be okay resetting your own bones, without telling anyone about it. Sucks, but that's how we kill ego.

I'm learning that I don't need to, and often should actively avoid, looking to more than a couple other people for advice on what is right or wise. Usually, it's been less about or not a decision was right, but whether or not my reactions were.

I wonder how many opportunities I've lost by not taking trying to see if something would work or just keeping my head down and doing what I was told. I've been wrong enough that I can sit in the humility chair and look at my decisions, and the decisions of others, more objectively now.

I can ask myself whether or not something is an effective solution, or an effective solution for me? Those questions give one pause and allow us to move with more purpose.

I detach and let feelings drift up to find out if I'm ignoring anxiety or grief or exhaustion. I listen to my body and my environment reflects that where I can.

What I do give myself is space away from people's opinions and unsolicited advice. Lives recklessly crashing and conflicting against one another in a show of force. Surely this isn't us at our core and I let all that unfold up at the surface. It's the deep waters that move oceans and it's only during those bouts of stillness where one has the time to untangle an unwell personality.

Only you can identify who you are and what you'd like to do with you finite time here. It's a subjective experience. We create the hurdles that prevent us from moving forward, when the goal should be to maintain a 'peace of mind' in all environments.

In that calm, we are able to maintain awareness without losing focus. That undercurrent is the 'wanting to do' that you feel, even if you don't know what to do. If you find yourself with that want, entertain it.

The expectation to keep up with, or give attention to others is exhausting and allowing myself and my family to let go of that expectation has been nothing short of liberation.

We block the shadows of others and give one another the space to try something strange. I don't schedule much if my kids aren't up to it, because I find that they are up to doing stuff, they just don't need forced competition with other kids who don't even know if orchestra is there thing. It's weird.

I say this lightly, because dynamics can change, but my family moves together, splits in to groups when we need to get different things done, and watches out for one another. We listen to one another and move together toward our goals without a lot of outside interference. Everybody knows who they are in our family and how special they are to the other.

Put some distance between your critics and the critics of your family, I don't care if they are relatives. Start minimizing them in your life and hold that line. Be okay listening to yourself, not just hearing, but taking action on things that would feed your sense of self-esteem.

Buy a journal and write or doodle in it. I am watching my oldest develop beyond my own abilities in art in real time and I love it. I see some of the remarkable talent in our younger people. I hear them wanting to take action, but being deflected by adults who are better at preventing getting plans off the ground than getting things done because things might get messy.

Familiarize yourself with your own feelings and go with your flow, is the big lesson here I guess. I have a reputation for being impatient and while I can understand why someone would think that, I would add that I am biased toward action, and would rather get people's minds ready for the idea of change, via smaller actions, then layer upon layer of preparation and excited small talk about a million different things we're not going to do, and if they people running the show aren't focused, I'm out. Be that fast. They'll treat you way more professionally the next time around.

Too much planning creates distrust in change. Keeping an eye on what our goal is and choosing things that feed that goal, consistently, is how paths are made.