“A man becomes a solitary at the moment when, no matter what may be his external surroundings, he is suddenly aware of his own inalienable solitude and sees that he will never be anything but solitary.” — Thomas Merton, Thoughts In Solitude.

I feel as if I’ve had a powerful spiritual experience, one I’ve kept a secret because I don’t quite understand it, but I certainly felt it.

I’ve mentioned the quiet hours I began having some months ago, an hour in the late afternoon when my work is done, and I can take my shoes off because I’m not going anywhere.

I meditate, listen to music, spend some time in solitude. Zinnia, my Lab, has embraced this quest hour; she lies at my feet and is still for as long as I am quiet. We seem to be taking this trip together.

I ended something new to the quiet hour in the past week, and it changed everything. I bought a Beats Solo earphone to shut the world further out – I don’t want to hear trucks going by or a phone ringing or the sheep complaining and enjoying hay.

I began listening to music I love – the first music I listened to was Alison Krause, then I remembered Roy Orbinson, the king of brooding and loss, and something happened when I listened to him. The music took me to another place. It was like a spirit had come through the earphone.

I begin my hour by looking at my fish tank and entering another world. This has always drawn me to having a fish tank; I can leave my world and enter another, a spiritual experience in and of itself.

In my dark and quiet room, listening to my music, distractions of our world drowned out; I just traveled to another place, a place of peace for sure. I was suddenly aware of my own inalienable solitude and saw clearly that I will never be anything but solitary.

The noisier the world outside gets, the quieter my soul becomes.

Contemplation is essential to me at this point in my life; it helps me shed worries, stress, and hatred and distractions of the outside world. It leaves room for my mind to wander and be free. It is a place of clarity and new ideas.

I thought at first that I was sleeping, I was still for more than an hour, and when I woke up, I felt refreshed and strong. I don’t recall feeling this way before.

My first response was fear – perhaps I’m aging more than I think, maybe my mind is getting tired. I slipped into old talk, the excuse for failing to consider.

I confused feeling transformed with being tired. But I wasn’t the least bit tired, I was as awake as I can recall being.

It felt like I had gone somewhere; my mind and soul were still and at peace.

The earphones had a magic effect on me, they sealed the frenetic world out, and Roy Orbison’s voice was haunting and gentle and peaceful.

I was disturbed briefly – why was I sleeping so deeply and felt so far away?  Or was I sleeping at all?  Then, when it happened for the third and fourth day, I realized I did not recognize something powerful and meaningful.

I know I had gone to a different place, unfamiliar but safe.

Guided by the music and the silence, I had reached a spiritual place of peace and reflection that I only dreamt of, and of course, dismissed it as something abnormal or unhealthy. Today, I accepted that it was something else.

It was unorthodox, it was new, but it was a feeling I have sought for years and years and never quite been able to achieve.

I wasn’t dreaming, I realized; I was facing my truth.

It took time, faith, openness, and will to get there, but it feels beautiful, inspiring, and essential. I will have to think about it; I can hardly wait for late afternoon tomorrow.

Perhaps it just takes faith and hopes to get to this place; I’ve tried so many times in many different ways. Maybe my body is opening up now to it as I get older and face the truth about myself.

In my favorite Thomas Merton book, Seeds Of Contemplation, Merton defines contemplation as “…not trance, ecstasy, nor the sudden unutterable words, nor the imagination of lights. It is not the gift of prophecy, nor does it imply the ability to read the secrets of men’s hearts. Contemplation is no pain killer.”

Merton is my guide to contemplation, coach, and guiding spirit.

He writes that the fruitfulness of our lives depends in considerable measure on our ability to doubt our own words and question the values of our work. The man who completely trusts his estimation of himself is doomed to sterility.

The place I went had no blinding lights or amazing epiphanies, or stunning revelations to bring home. I didn’t talk to God or hear from him.  It was just a different space, a quiet place; the silence was of a different kind.

I always doubt my own words and question the values of my work. Without those doubts, I would be both worthless and useless. This is something I need to think about…okay, contemplate.

Merton wrote many times that the spiritual place could only be found in solitude, and it takes faith and will. I think I got there today, at least for a fleeting moment in a glancing way. Perhaps it was more.