20 Sep Silence and Solitude
I had to consider how to make this threshold a stretch for me as silence and solitude are my natural habitat. I devised an exercise that would bring me back in contact with another part of myself that has been starved while I’ve been engaged in the intellectual journey of this intense graduate program.
While at first I rebelled at the idea of spending a half day or six hours on this exercise, this discomfort showed me how I have been conditioned to believe that only intellectual or productive work “counts,” that what we do experientially is second-class and not really a good use of our time. This is the whole prioritization of the rational, left-brained, logical realms over the emotional, somatic and spiritual that the patriarchy has brainwashed us into, and here it was in myself. This assignment helped me to see that I would think nothing of spending six hours reading journal articles and writing a paper on them, but spending six hours in an experiential way seemed wasteful in my busy life, especially as I’m struggling with deadlines for the other class.
I designed a ritual space: I lit a candle as I entered the designated place where I could recline or sit as I wished; there was food and water, my journal, art and poetry books, and several decks of Tarot cards. I would spend the six hours engaged with the other, neglected side of my brain, the right-sided, symbolic, literary, and artistic. I gave myself permission to nap if that happened rather than my usual strategy of fighting the non-productivity feelings with caffeine or Modafinil. No phones, no Internet, no interruptions, no schoolwork. When the ritual space was over, the candle was blown out.
My experience was deeply nourishing, and because I had thought it through, did not seem like a waste of time at all. I reconnected with why I’m doing this – at times of late school has seemed so overwhelming I’ve actually thought of quitting – and my purpose was surprisingly clarified by women artists and creators and the non-rational, rather than from this male, scientific world into which I’ve been unknowingly thrust.
While writing in my journal in my own voice (which must be erased in scholarly writing) I also considered how this is deemed “not-real writing,” that this daily reflection not-meant-for-publication or anyone else’s eyes is considered not a real thing. Journal writing has pretty much gone away for me as I’ve written for publication, but it was lovely to sit and document my life, for myself.
I wonder about taking this practice forward. “I don’t have time.” This is everyone’s excuse now for anything and everything and really means “I’m not prioritizing it.” The real question for me is, what is the cost of not staying in touch with art and the Mystery?
© 2023 Catherine Auman
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