Wisdom in Solitude?
I’ve often mused that if, like some latter-day Carlos Castaneda, I claimed to have ventured deep into little-known lands — a rainforest or desert, perhaps, or three-quarters of the way up a mountain in Bhutan — to receive the wisdom I share, I could probably have written a best-seller.
Instead, I tell the truth. I get it from a guy in a hoodie in London.
There has always, always been a recognition amongst humanity that there are certain others who willingly (except, presumably, in the case of the little orphans taken by some medieval anchorites; we’ll get to them later) removed themselves from society and devoted their Earthly life to solitude and contemplation, in order to reach deep into the realms of knowledge and serve the Greater Purpose by sharing the wisdom found there with pilgrims willing to seek them out.
Whether it was Pythia, the oracle at Delphi, John the Baptist in the wilderness, or a Buddhist monk in a cave somewhere wildly inaccessible, these others had access to knowledge the rest of society wanted. People would tramp for days or weeks on end to sit at their feet and listen.
In the Middle Ages, there were hermits who hung out in secluded spots. Here in England, you can still visit some of their caves and cells, and read their stories on faded signboards.
The anchorites (who, incidentally, had first to prove to the church authorities that they had sufficient financial means to pay for at least two servants to bring them food and remove their waste for the rest of their lives) would choose to be quite literally walled up in a specially constructed cell adjoining a church. They had a squint hole into the nave to enable them to watch mass being celebrated, and a small opening for servants to perform the duties mentioned above and for pilgrims to consult them. Theirs was a one-way journey. They would never leave this cell. They spent a lifetime in silent contemplation, except, presumably, for the female anchorites who elected to have an orphan incarcerated with them. (Hmm. Presumably social services were less proactive in medieval times than now.)
At any rate, the wisdom and enlightenment reached by solitary individuals are still eagerly sought to this day. The idea that a life of silence and meditation reveals truths difficult to reach in the craziness of everyday life holds firm.
My own source of such revelations has been somewhat different. Asher always spent huge swathes of his time in silence, even as a child. He elected to share his revelations with me alone. In our 21st century version of hermitic solitude, we spent days on long train journeys together, in which he would sometimes sit in silence, and sometimes impart such wonders as his ‘map of all the atoms in the universe’.
When he reached adulthood, Ash was able to devote more time to his solitary investigations, separating his life up into segments and only placing the bare minimum of necessary consciousness and attention into his everyday duties. He was still keen to share knowledge with me, but the face-to-face meetings ceased and we used various psi methods (remote viewing and later telepathy) to communicate.
Recently, and with a determined nudge from Asher, my research has led me to discover those who do not speak and, in some cases, appear to access this greater wisdom. Some, such as can be found at https://www.lyricaandgayle.com/, offer ideas so abstract and beyond my own levels of understanding that I can only watch in amazement.
I asked Asher about what Lyrica terms the ‘autistic mystics’. This is how our telepathic conversation went:
Jes: Do you think you could explain multidimensionality to me — what you guys are actually up to?
Asher: Lightly embodied, in both senses. Kind of on the periphery of having a human body. The bodies are not a great fit. They’re compromised. We need help to function in the physical world. That’s because we’re mostly light.
Jes: Do the non-speaking people have more ‘light’ than you, for example?
Asher: Yes! Theirs is a more exacting process. I’m a sort of compromise. I am able to function within wider parameters with my body than some others. It’s like different orders of monks. Some are more extreme in depriving themselves of earthly experiences: anchorites as opposed to members of a community of religious brethren. It’s the same process as that undertaken in the middle ages, but chosen at soul level.
Here he showed me how non-speaking individuals with severely compromised physical bodies may, if they wish, devote themselves to transcendent cosmic matters, such as Lyrica references in her Gaia interview on the website mentioned above, and are able to commune with one another at a far more elevated level than are those like himself who are, ironically, termed ‘high functioning’ in our society.
He explained his way of separating his mundane existence from his spiritual explorations using an ‘astral envelope’ but for the sake of clarity, I’ll record it here as a conversation. He had based the thoughts and sensations he sent me in mediaeval times, in the ancient abbey close to my present home.
Jes: So in order to function as you wish, you need to keep your physical and spiritual aspects strictly separated?
Asher: Yes. let’s go back to the monks analogy. Brother Jacob, say, is working during the day in the vegetable garden. He focuses on growing a good supply of fresh food for himself and the brothers. It is useful work and he feels good to be doing it. When the bell rings, though, he is called to prayer. He puts aside his gardening tools and heads into the church. He switches his focus entirely to his spiritual pursuits. This is also a very special aspect of his life and he relishes the division between the two. The sounds, smells, sights and tastes could not be more different. Here he is feeding his spirit, not his body.
Asher finished our discussion by showing me that any overlap between his two lives
would be as odd and intrusive as Brother Jacob taking his hoe into a church service.
Slowly, gradually, I have come to understand more about this strange and fascinating young man and the people who delve still deeper into a universe of silent contemplation, with its attendant sacrifices and rewards.