In defense of solitude

Brugmansia sanguinea. Long used as an entheogen by South American natives. Golden Gate Park.

An agent, in the language of reinforcement learning, is an entity that selects and executes actions based on the estimated benefit of those actions. It is common for people in our society to identify as such an agent. I am that which acts. In my opinion, this point of view contains a subtle error: the assumption that the actor is conscious of the various processes that choose and execute an action. Humans do take actions, but the one who acts is not fully contained in the I.

It is quite difficult to directly perceive this fact, because the mind has an astonishing capacity for self-deception. If you do not wish to know something, the mind will conceal it from conscious thought. Conversely, the information not available to conscious thought is often precisely that which has been rejected by the conscious mind. This process of rejection is usually habitual, and the mind will have generated narratives to paper over any discrepancies in thoughts or actions. Enabling the free flow of information from the subconscious into the conscious is therefore a lengthy process of self-discovery. Jung popularized this concept, and called it individuation.

The fundamental reason that self-deception happens, is, unfortunately, other people. Nietzsche said it best:

“A cold look or lips curled in scorn by those with whom and for whom one was brought up strikes fear even in the strongest. What are we afraid of? Isolation!”

The mind learns what is rewarded and rejected in its environment through interaction with others. It then imposes precisely that structure on itself, suppressing those thoughts and desires that imply social rejection before they can reveal themselves and cause harm. It usually conceals them even from the conscious mind, because the knowledge that one is deserving of rejection can shape actions and invite that consequence unintentionally. And each time one experiences rejection the chains of self-control tighten, and cut ever deeper into the flesh.

However, all mental bulkheads leak; all rejected thoughts invariably penetrate, at times, into conscious awareness. The standard response in our society is the attempt to drown all thoughts in a rising tide of noise. The mind, agitated by its self-rejection, seeks distraction through excessive social activity, substance use, narrative structures, entertainment, and physical exertion. This will not work; like the heads of the hydra, those thoughts that are suppressed redouble in strength, and this process manifests as a worsening anxiety. As more bulkheads are constructed, and as more of the mind is sealed off, the self retreats to its innermost sanctum. It comes to resemble a child with its hands over its ears, muffling the terrifying ruckus as a monster bangs incessantly on the doors and windows. And it is itself the monster.

To escape this trap: seek solitude.

Solitude, true aloneness, is deeply maligned in our culture. We value above all else connection, relationships, belonging, and love; a young person’s life is often seen as a quest for the ultimate romance. Aloneness is interstitial, the negative space on a calendar, unused time. It is conflated with loneliness, which is a shameful symptom of that unspeakable disease: being unable to get what you want. Solitude is maligned because, in life, we are confronted again and again with our nudity—and in solitude there are no reassuring voices to counter our learned disgust.

In the absolute calm of solitude, free from excessive stimulation, even the faint crackles of suppressed thoughts crash like thunder. In the absence of a controlling other, those thoughts need not be silenced or ignored. You will find, if you listen, that each one sings with your voice. And later, when the mind becomes quiet, learn to love that silence. Learn that there is no point in being around others, or being in a relationship, for the sake of companionship alone. Each mind plays host to its own unique ecology—and how few can be trusted to tend that most delicate of gardens? How few can stroll your dreamscapes and leave no prints?