THE COLLAGE.

Solitude is so sacred because it is the one time and one encompassing space that allows us to actually enjoy being alone and nourish our soul by reading a book, watching a movie, writing in a journal, painting, listening to music, blogging, hiking, cooking, etc. It is also sacred because, when used effectively, is a time for genuine self-discovery and introspection – a truly spiritual and transformative experience. While it certainly is a time devoted to dreams, ambitions, creativity and most of all, the self, it is no place for the ego. As Audrey Flack remarks, “If you build a stage set for the ego, it becomes a fortress. In a fortress, transformation is impossible. You have isolated yourself, and the intimacy that assists transformation is not there,”(8). It is in “the happier world” that we are able to “transform” our dreams and ambitions into a “vision of the future” in which we see ourselves as part of a larger reality and a citizen of the universe. Although we may be physically isolated as part of solitude, we are not “cut-off” from the influence from society. We essentially take one step backward, in order to take five steps forward. Solitude + solidarity = authenticity.


I’ve lived in the same house since I was born and inhabited the same room until I was about 9 or 10 years old. After we did a major renovation to the house, the physical confines of “my room” changed dramatically, but it remained the one place that allowed me to cultivate my authenticity. As Durkheim explains, “It is a well-known law that the sentiments arouse in us by something spontaneously attach themselves to the symbol which represents them. … This transference of sentiments comes simply from the fact that the idea of a thing and the idea of its symbol are closely united in our minds; the result is that the emotions provoked by one extend contagiously to the other,” (251). The room itself is not necessarily significant, but rather the symbols, images, and representations that are attached to the room as a space for solitude that remain despite physical alterations.

This humble abode isn’t very big nor does it have any extra amenities, but it somehow manages to contain all of the things (tangible and abstract) that help to make me authentic – childhood memories, favorite books, dreams, travel mementos, aspirations, photographs & artwork, hope, clothes & accessories, fantasies, collectables & knick-knacks. While the things themselves may change, be thrown out, or be forgotten, the space that holds them still remains sacred. When I wasn’t participating in extracurricular activities, out with friends on the weekends, or spending time with my family, I would spend most of my solitude in my room. Ironically, if I was ever feeling lonely, isolated, alienated, or stressed, I could retreat to my room, my sanctuary, and feel all the weigh lift off my shoulders. In my room, I don’t have to wear makeup or stylish clothing or feel self-conscious. Like Audrey Flack, when I’m working (on my solitude), “I become a vehicle, a channel; any strong color, clothing style, or hairdo stimulates the ego and acts as an interference,” (15). There is no place for the ego in solitude. In order for us to succeed in solitude, we have to breakdown the walls we work so hard to build up. Just relax. Let down your guard a little.

There is one corner in my room that has essentially become a giant collage, and it’s still a work in progress. When I was younger, the same wall was filled with images of teeny-bopper movie stars and musical artists ripped from the pages of J-14, Seventeen, Cosmo Girl, and Teen Vogue. One by one those pictures were replaced by different movie stars and different musical artists from similar magazines. Now, several years later, those images remain buried under layers and layers of new images. These images are less often of famous celebrities, but more pictures I just think are interesting or intriguing, have collected from my travels, and even some of my own photography. 

As new layers are added and the placement of pictures changes, the collage as a whole evokes different raw and unfiltered emotions. Each piece, each image on its own might be interesting but when those individual pieces are layered on top of each other, they create somewhat of a masterpiece. I now realize that my participation in this ritual and the accumulation of these images represents a sort of “happier world” in itself. Walt Whitman writes, “I have heard what the talkers were talking … the talk of the beginning and the end, but I do not talk of the beginning or end. … There was never any more inception than there is now, nor any more youth or age than there is now; and there will never be any more perfection than there is now, nor any more heaven or hell than there is now,” (ll. 30-35). I think he means that in the moment, the here and now, we can dream of our destinations, our future. Even though we are envisioning the future, we are also experiencing our reality as it happens. We can dream of a happier world while staying grounded in current reality. And if we are eventually able to “achieve” those dreams and ambitions, we aren’t inhibited to continue dreaming; in fact we’re encouraged. 

Like the images that make up my collage, our idea of “happier worlds” are layered on top of each other and are constantly being unveiled and revealed. While many of our dreams may be tangible things or visible action, like walking on the moon, going to college, or becoming President of the United States, we are always searching for our soul, our sacred self, and our authenticity despite our desire for fame, wealth, and success.