Like many others, I sometimes relish the thought of solitude. Sometimes we all need to just get away, if only for a little while, just to collect our thoughts, regain our bearings, and just breathe. I used to think that in order to find solitude I had to push everyone away and disappear. That is, after all, the definition of the word: the state of being alone. But, I’ve learned that I don’t actually have to be alone, at least not completely, in order to find my solitude. You see, solitude is less about your surroundings and more about your state of being. I’ll share one of my favorite tips for finding that solitude, that peace, that we all so desperately need on occasion, without actually pushing people away and leaving the house, or barricading yourself in a room somewhere.
The rosary.
Yes, that’s right. Those Catholic prayer beads that seem to cause so much controversy among non-Catholics. The rosary, regardless of what some people may think, is a very fulfilling, very calming, very time-honored prayer. It’s an experience that can actually change how you see things. And it’s a great way to find that solitude. There was a time that I would wake up early every morning or, when I was in the stay-up-all-night part of my weird sleep cycle, take my “rosary walk” around the neighborhood and just pray, rosary in my hand, God on my mind. It was humbling, and it was a fantastic way to just get away from the normal hustle and bustle of life.
I’ve realized, though, that I don’t need to really “get away.” I only needed to get away when home became a prison, as it often does when a marriage goes sour. But, I’m no longer in that marriage, that prison. My home life now is great, so I don’t need, or want, to escape. But there are times, still, that I just need a little bit of relief from the chaos in my head (yeah, my brain does some pretty amazing feats of stupidity when left to its own devices). And when I do, I reach for one of my many rosaries and just close my eyes, pray, and let the peace flow. I even have a rosary hanging on my cubicle wall at work (probably where I need it the most, honestly), and on occasion reach for it. I try to be careful, though, because who knows when someone may actually get offended about it and I end up in HR about it.
So, no, solitude doesn’t mean alone. I used to want that. I used to want to be by myself. I used to want everyone to just stay away from me and leave me alone. I no longer want, or need, that. I need what everyone needs. Love, safety, and God. And I have all of those things. So, I guess I just redefine solitude. Instead of “the state of being al0ne,” my new definition of solitude is “the state of being happy, free, and covered by God’s grace.” And that, my friends, is what life is all about, is it not?
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