Solitude, Remembering, and Union

Celebrating a special soul and how we can live in peaceful alignment

Aug 12, 2024

My wife's grandma passed away a few weeks ago, aged 98. Her funeral took place this morning.

Grandma lived in a small bungalow for decades. 42 years. It was her special place, her calm and inviting space.

She called her home, "Solitude". A stone plate proudly stated this at the front of the house, even though the place itself had a number, not a name.

Solitude was Grandma's name for this joyous place she called home. And she took the quiet strength of this solitude everywhere she went.

I saw this quotation in the Farnam Street newsletter yesterday:

“Solitude is a condition of peace that stands in direct opposition to loneliness. Loneliness is like sitting in an empty room and being aware of the space around you. It is a condition of separateness. Solitude is becoming one with the space around you. It is a condition of union.” — Kent Nerburn

Grandma's outlook was always one of generosity and togetherness. Solitude wasn't just about the bungalow she lived in, but a peaceful way of living, with a respect for wherever she was and for everyone she spent time with.

The relaxation I felt every time I visited had nothing to do with the bricks and mortar, nor the style of decoration. That serenity was brought about by a big, accepting heart. Solitude engulfed me and I felt that union. It was hard not to. With a laugh in her words, I would be greeted with "Hello stranger, how wonderful!" or "How nice to see you, Martin!" or "I'm so glad you're here, how are you?".

That's the condition of union right there. Sums it up well.

Another thing I saw yesterday was a Substack Note from

Kathryn Vercillo

Needing the "healing of time alone" is a big deal.

And while I may be extrovert who recharges through connecting with others, I still believe there's a need for alone time. I feel it when practicing qigong daily or when I have a walk on my own. I can go introspective even if I'm not introverted.

In other words, though we have many different ways of perceiving the world and working within it, solitude can benefit us all in one way or another.

I've been left reflecting on Grandma's sense of solitude and how it went way beyond time alone and quiet moments. She lived in a way that prioritised a sense of purpose and connection with others.

So, how can you and I work toward our own solitude? What practices can help us transcend the empty room and actually become one with the space around us?

I've come to realise that, after having spent so much lovely time in wonderful fellowship and conversation with my grandmother-in-law, that there are certain principles that seem to align with the beautiful life she led:

Embrace a calm simplicity with a strong sense of purpose/duty and a generous mindset toward others (and yourself).
Find balance of celebrating others deeply and compassionately whilst also working inward with self-acceptance and peace.
Develop presence and a mindful outlook (even with a strong will and an assertive confidence!).
Connect with nature and art and life as broadly as you can, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

These principles start by accepting yourself and what truly matters to you. This is no easy task, as we are often compelled to do things far more than wanting or needing to do it.

With time and practice, you can direct your energies toward purpose and generosity. Just remember that the generosity begins with yourself and that peaceful acceptance and understanding you extend to others.

Outward compassion and inward peace is a balance. Looking to the world as a whole, it's clear the balance is hard to manage. We are flawed and strong. We are still and active. We are only ever in the moment, even though past and future keep on calling.

Within this mix, assertiveness and confidence can work alongside mindfulness and peace. The more this mix is nurtured and accepted, the stronger our connection to the world and a deeper understanding of ourselves.

This can all be made possible through connecting and engaging with the many beautiful things we encounter. This includes nature and art and just about everything we encounter. Even online! And even for things that don't have a tangible presence. Impossible thoughts and feelings aren't impossible if you've thought of felt them.

Within the four principles, there are infinite possibilities for peace and joy—both within and beyond yourself, leading to a deeper sense of connection.

I publish this piece today, in part to celebrate the life of a wonderful, deeply caring person, and in part to help that condition of union extend as far and as wide as possible. Solitude is about togetherness even when alone.

There's a yin-yang quality about solitude. And some of you will know I'm a sucker for that. Yin needs yang and vice versa. It's why the yin-yang symbol has a little bit of yang inside yin and a little bit of yin inside yang.

When Grandma let people into her home and into her heart, it didn't break the solitude—the solitude extended in powerful peace.

As a little extra,

Beth Kempton

has a seasonal poetry challenge in which she offers a one-word prompt to write a poem in 10 minutes, without editing. Today's challenge was "REMEMBERED" which is, of course, incredibly fitting for my family given the circumstances.

So I spent 10 minutes prior to the funeral, writing the following piece, which I'll leave you with. In peace, love, and solitude. Martin.