Let's Go, Jane!

About 10 years ago, I had the opportunity to participate in a one-day nature solo as part of a leadership program I was doing. We were a small group, maybe 5 participants plus a facilitator. We met in the early morning at a large state park about an hour’s drive away. I’d brought a backpack, with water and bug spray and a blank journal. I had no idea what to expect, but I’d heard past participants rave about the experience. It seemed like one of those opportunities I needed to say yes to, despite my trepidation.

Our leader, Bianca, gathered us in a circle to set our intentions for the day, then she sent us off in different directions to spend a few hours in quiet solitude. I wandered through the woods for a while, thinking and observing. About an hour into the solo I found myself at the edge of a grassy field, with the warm sun on my face. There were birds soaring over the field, gliding effortlessly and silently in wide circles. They were beautiful and graceful. To this day, I can still close my eyes and remember the feeling of peace I felt at that field’s edge.

I later learned that the birds were turkey vultures. If you’ve ever seen a vulture up close, you would not think of them as beautiful. They have no feathers on their necks, and they defecate on their legs to cool themselves off. They’re actually fascinating creatures, communal and smart. They play an important ecological role as scavengers. But I digress.

When we gathered at the end of the solo to share our experiences, one of my takeaways was that silence is restorative. I made the observation that there was not enough silence in my life at that time. My boys were young and rambunctious. Even when I wasn’t with the kids, I often had music or a podcast playing. There was constant auditory input. I vowed to create more moments of silence for myself, through meditation and hiking. To this day I prefer to hike alone, with no headphones. Just me and the trees.

Two years after the nature solo, my 9-year-old son was diagnosed with cancer. What followed was a long and very stressful year. On the days when it was too much to bear, I found myself closing my eyes and picturing those turkey vultures circling above, with the sun warming my face. It was a momentary escape, but it was enough to get me through that time. We were lucky, in that his cancer was operable. When he was finally cancer-free, I got a tattoo of a turkey vulture on my rib cage.

As I research ideas for this coming year, I keep seeing articles about the rising popularity of solo travel, and solo dining. Quiet travel or dining offers plenty of time for self-reflection and introspection. The beauty of silence is that it allows thoughts to bubble up to the surface. It makes space for feelings and ideas. It keeps you mindful and present. We live in a loud, chaotic world. The more we can carve out moments of restorative silence, the more at peace we will all be.

A high school friend recently suggested that I end my year of adventure with a 10-day silent Vipassana meditation retreat. This too feels like one of those opportunities that I need to embrace, no matter how intimidating. And given that they are offered all over the world, I agree that this could be the perfect ending too.