Time to enjoy the “bliss of solitude”

My reading has tugged me in opposite directions lately.

On the one hand, Atlantic magazine featured an article about how people are surrendering themselves to “immersive”entertainment. The piece, “We’re Already Living in the Metaverse,” asserts that “reality is blurred, boredom is intolerable and everything is entertainment.”

In other words, we can’t live without constant amusement, even if we get our fix through documentaries about airliner crashes and pseudo-historical TV productions such as The Crown.

On the other hand, I’m re-reading William Wordsworth’s epic 19th Century poem, “The Prelude,” which I studied as a college senior in 1976-77. “The Prelude” documents the influences that shaped his growth as a poet.

Wordsworth is Western culture’s greatest nature poet. Nature was his source of spiritual nourishment and moral admonishment, brought to him through episodes of solitude that he calls “spots of time.” Solitude. We have so little of it these days. We get in the car and tune in our favorite music or audio book. We arise in the morning and turn on the TV while we prepare breakfast. Any wait or delay invariably logs us on to news feeds, social media or video games.

We are, indeed, living in the metaverse. The word derives from the Greek word that means “after” or “beyond.” In Hebrew, though,“meta” means “dead.” There’s nothing inherently wrong with electronic amusements, except that we live in them to excess. We don’t like to be alone. We like to be entertained — as if we want to live permanently in the Holodeck 3-D simulator featured in Star Trek’s New Generation series. Even the Jan. 6 committee, Atlantic notes, was successful in part because it presented its findings through compelling TV.

Amusement should not be the sole purpose of life. Our thirst for entertainment can distort the truth and take the edge off our outrage or sorrow. Disagree? TV News broadcasts that report tragedy blunt our reaction when they immediately switch to more mundane or happier events. This may be unavoidable, but it robs viewers of time to process what they’d just seen. The need to do so is why we observe “moments of silence” — a form of solitude.

I’m as worthy as anyone else of Wordsworth’s admonishment that “the world is too much with us.” But I do make time for solitude.

As much as I love music, I often drive with all audio devices silenced. I don’t listen to the radio news. I don’t own earbuds to accompany me on walks or gardening tasks. I watch little TV. I hate laptops. On trains or planes, I limit my cell phone time and stare out the window. Moments of solitude give me space to take stock of my life, churn over ideas or take in little epiphanies. One occurred last month, when I snowshoed near Mount St. Helens with two friends. I very much enjoyed their company, but I occasionally broke away to better absorb the snow-imposed silence, which was disturbed only by the stretching and crunching of my snowshoes and the bubble of brooks draining the melting snow. The sky was as deep blue as Sevres porcelain. Tuffs of snow clung to clumps of moss on the tall, platinum-barked alders. Solitude heightened my sensitivity to the scene, bringing me easy breathings and an almost religious bond with nature. These, as Wordsworth would say, were gifts from “the bliss of solitude.”