Isolation vs Solitude

A little more than 50km south of Dublin, gently nestled in the wild of the Wicklow Mountains, sits the quaint and cozy community of Glendalough. For many, it is sacred land – a ‘thin place’ where those seeking solitude and sanctuary have travelled for centuries to reconnect with nature and spirit.

The centerpiece of Glendalough is St. Kevin’s “Monastic City” – a 6th century settlement whose ruins remain a reminder of the region’s religious roots. Read more about St. Kevin here; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kevin_of_Glendalough

The area is also home to the Glendalough Hermitage Centre, where I recently spent some time in silent retreat.

After an overseas, overnight flight from Montreal, my humble one-room abode – a single bed, a small table, a well-worn armchair, and an old wood stove – grounded me in the simplicity of a smaller life. And, without wi-fi, the fire would be my only companion.

Initially, the isolation felt a little intimidating. Sister Peggy, the facility’s resident prayer leader – and likely the gentlest soul I’ve met on the Emerald Isle – noted that many people have a deep fear of being alone. Isolation, she shared, can be dangerous, especially when difficult or darker emotions arise. Solitude, however, has the power to heal.

Over the coming days I would learn the difference between isolation and solitude.

At first, though, unplugging entirely from social media, email, text messaging, music streaming, etc. seemed scary – and even suffocating – and it was a challenge not to go off-site to connect with family and friends or to post the “guess where I am?” selfie in real time. Instead, I settled into a “real” time routine of prayer, meditation, collecting firewood and tending the stove, boiling water for tea, walking, wandering, wondering, and just being – simple, but not easy. At times it felt like I couldn’t breathe, while at other moments it was as if I had taken my first real breath in years.

It has been said that prayer is the act of speaking, while meditation is the art of listening. In silence and surrender, be it by the fire or walking aimlessly through the nearby valley, that conversation with my Higher Power released long-dormant ideas and emotions. In my “aimless” walks I discovered a kind of music in the natural world; the rustling of leaves, the rhythm of running water, the rise and fall of my own breath. For most creatives, and as has been well-documented by writers, painters, musicians, etc. over the centuries, the best ideas often arrive in solitude and in nature.

While my soundtrack for the week (Clannad, U2, The Waterboys, Van Morrison, Hothouse Flowers) kept me company, my core source of inspiration was poetry; Leonard Cohen’s Book of Longing, John O’Donoghue’s Eternal Echoes, and the great works of Seamus Heaney held my hand and walked me through some particularly quiet moments.

The story of St. Kevin and the Blackbird, a powerful symbol woven throughout Glendalough, stayed with me through the week, speaking to compassion, patience, and deep communion with the natural world – a reflection of the retreat experience itself.

I share this story as a reminder of the importance of seeking out solitude, embracing silence, and finding sanctuary – and not only in distant places or silent spaces on sacred lands, but in the ordinary, everyday moments of our daily lives. There is much to be heard in the silence when we take the time to listen.