Why is the Journey of and into Existential Solitude Sometimes Frightening?

[[Dear Sister, your [response to the questions on Jesus' abandonment by God] was dense but wonderful. I really had not thought of things in this light at all, and I am still chewing on it. Thanks for that. I wondered if you could say more about this part of my original question: [[Hi Sister, is the inner journey you speak about under the name "existential solitude" frightening? Maybe that's a weird question, but you have said that everyone hesitates to undertake this journey even though it is necessary in order to be truly human. Why is this form of solitude so scary, or why do people want to avoid it? ]] I like being by myself and don't find solitude scary, so I wondered why existential solitude is so frightening to people. I got a sense that your own journey and Merton's were dark and terrifying at times, but why is that? Thanks for letting me ask again!]]

No problem with asking your questions again. I really appreciate it. When I start writing a reply, it's not the same as writing an academic article, for instance. I typically follow my thoughts until I have developed an answer to at least some part of the question, and that means I don't always get to all parts of it; usually, that leaves some important bits out of the picture. Sorry for that!! I am grateful you returned to keep me honest! So why is the journey I have spoken of frightening? Why do people avoid it? I will also add the question about why I undertook it and, in fact, committed my life to it in a search for God and to allowing him to be the One He willed to be for me and our world. After all, given the seriousness and danger of the journey, there must have been some even stronger reasons to undertake it.

All human beings grow up recording everything that happens to them.  We "remember" things because of our brain's capacity to store these in long-term storage to be accessed as needed, but we also remember things in our bodies and nervous systems more generally. Even when our memories are not conscious, they are stored somewhere within us and can influence who we are, how we behave, how we respond or react to current events, etc. Beneath all of this is our deepest self, the self God calls us to be in, through, and sometimes despite all the rest of it. Beneath all of this is also God, who dwells in our depths and summons us to life, to the decisions we will make in affirming life, to our vocation, etc. 

Unfortunately, some of these stored memories are associated with a personal woundedness that can block our access to God and our truest self. They can lead us to build up defenses to the pain associated with these memories, and prevent the kind of openness needed for union with God and our deepest self. At the same time, these defenses can prevent us from functioning at our fullest capacity in the present. Perhaps trusting others is difficult for us, or we are plagued by a tendency to withdraw. Perhaps we develop a bad self-image, an overweening self-critical voice, some degree of perfectionism, and so forth. Sometimes they will cause disproportionate recurrent reactions --- reactions that are either completely inappropriate or that are too little or too much to be a response to the present situation alone, because they are linked to what I describe as pools of suffering or woundedness carried deep within us. (Think of someone who "goes off" on folks at the smallest provocation, or someone who refuses to go out of their house for fear of everything, and think of all the variations and degrees of these things you have met in your own life.) We all have these "pools" of pain, just as we all have sclerosed or "scarred" and hardened patches within our own hearts.

In learning to listen to God who is deep within, and to realize the potential of our truest, deepest selves, the inner journey we are asked to take will mean "remembering" (and often reliving in some way!), and expressing the memories our body and mind have stored within us. Depending on one's life experience, such a journey will mean encountering darknesses (our own and others') and suffering we may only partly remember consciously. Similarly, it will mean dealing with and working through the deeper injuries we might never have suspected having sustained. The image I have used to describe this is one of a peach that is bumped on its way to or from the store. Imagine that this bump leaves a slight mark on the surface of the peach. If you were to peel the skin off at that place, you might be surprised to discover a larger area of injury, and if you slice off a layer of peach at that point, you may find an even larger area of woundedness. Were you to continue slicing off layers of the fruit, what you could find is a much deeper and more extensive area of bruising or woundedness than the surface disfigurement gave any real hint of. Our own woundedness can be like that, and the journey to the depths of ourselves will only gradually and surprisingly uncover this. 

The process of facing ourselves and our own history (because even without difficult memories, we each have a shadow side) can thus be painful and frightening. Merton's description here is a good one that his personal history and vocation made possible and necessary. You can imagine what it might be for someone with a different history than Merton's, a history of varying grief and trauma, for instance. But this process is also the way to healing because it means gradually reclaiming our whole selves, healing what can be healed, and accepting the limitations that cannot be changed, even as we also embrace with a new energy the potentialities that have lain undeveloped and waiting within us. (These are as much a source of our hunger for fullness of life as our woundedness is.) It requires working with someone who can support, encourage, and guide one with real understanding and expertise. It requires an experience of such a person's love (agape) and consistency, as they accompany and truly listen to us. And of course, it requires faith and some degree of hope on both persons' parts, because God is summoning one to undertake this journey and the healing it leads to; here it is especially true that what only one can do, one cannot do alone.

Not everyone can, or will, undertake such a journey, especially in the focused, committed way a monk or hermit is called to do. Most people will undertake the journey of existential solitude only to the degree required to function well in everyday life. After all, it takes time and real energy to undertake such a healing journey, so not everyone is free or able physically or psychologically to do this. Sometimes, though, even physical solitude is something folks will embrace only occasionally for retreat, or when life circumstances like illness or bereavement require it. Most people surround themselves with people, activities, noise, and distractions of all kinds to prevent themselves from facing themselves and what is buried deep (or sometimes not so deeply) within. 

But for some, the hunger for fullness of being and meaning, the yearning to be whole or holy and to allow God to be Emmanuel as fully and exhaustively as he wills, both for one's own sake and for the sake of others, will demand a different kind of commitment, a deeper and more exhaustive engagement with and in existential solitude. Some of these persons are called to be hermits.  Consecrated eremitical life is an ecclesial vocation undertaken for the sake of God's call to fullness of life. That call belongs to each of us and to the Church itself. The hermit embraces the call and journey she does to witness to the God who is the ground and source of abundant life, meaningful life, eternal life, LIFE in relationship!! She explores the depths of herself and discovers that God is truly present, reaching out with love and mercy at every moment and mood of her journey -- even in the shadow of death and despair or near-despair. This is the fundamental way the hermit comes to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ for the sake of God, God's Church, and God's entire creation.

As always, I hope this is helpful, and if it is unclear or raises more questions, feel free to get back to me! I am serious about that. When you do, it is helpful to me and likely to others reading here as well!