The Value of Practising in Isolation

Practising in isolation is traditionally thought of as going alone into a forest, cave or long term retreat centre so as not to be disturbed or distracted, for long periods of meditation.

But we can do this at home, amongst others! We can still interact, play and love while having mentally stepped back. Of course, living on our own is easier, but with a good will, we can do this in company, within family life. We are not so detached as to make others feel uncomfortable: it’s being more spacious…that’s it! Rather like being isolated in a crowd, it’s a different way of seeing one’s role – to love and to guide. To be of strength and support to others. We become more reflective, taking time on our own for the teachings to do their job and be digested.

I spent forty years going on retreats once or twice a year, attending teachings and reading many books, all of which were extremely useful. But at some point one needs time to assimilate all this knowledge, for all the dots to join up. So, for the past four years, I’ve dropped all retreats and teachings, and don’t even read books any more: I just pick one up and read a line.

Gradually, all that knowledge sorts itself out, and one finds that one can stand on one’s own two feet, while still being extremely grateful for all the kindness of teachers, and the teachings.

One starts to find one’s own way/path, remembering that our path is our own confusion, specific hang-ups and attitudes. Teachings and books are like skating on the surface. Reflective practice is going down deep and feeling it for ourself. The Buddha did say, “Don’t take my word for it!”

When in others’ company, we are surrounded by their confusion, hang-ups and attitudes. When we are comfortable with this, then isolation practice for the householder is perfect.

After all, we are not becoming a clone! We gradually find our unique, natural expression, and it is what is it.

An example of this approach in ordinary, everyday activity:

As an artist, I’ve spent years studying other painters whose work attracts me, perhaps through some sort of karmic connection. Although useful, if I merely copy these, I just become a clone. I find that, although the skill of painting ‘realistically’ from nature may be physically refining, it can lack a reason, or purpose. Art is just a bit of theatre and needs a reason to be. It doesn’t have to be perfectly realistic, just attractive enough for someone to want to look at it. We can become obsessed with perfection, in the same way that some believe everyone who meditates should have a gentle and peaceful persona. That may be true during meditation, but their expression can be quite dynamic: such an expectation is limited, and illustrates why we have to be careful of cloned ideas.

With regard to ordinary, family life, we can still interact with others and use the same words but the meaning of those words is different for us: rather like being at a retreat with mixed levels of students, we find we can no longer chat about our own personal issues, as all that matters is the others’ experience and understanding. Talking about our own experiences would only confuse.

It is what it is.