Solitude: too much of a good thing?
Balancing the hermit's call
The following essay is the third reflection for our June focus on the spiritual practice of Solitude. Read more here about our exploration of the spiritual disciplines in 2025 through creative and reflective writing.
Philosopher Jean Paul Sartre wrote the line, “Hell is other people.” Certainly, it is mostly in the presence of others that we are confronted with our shortcomings and aggravations. In his book about heaven and hell, The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis says the opposite, depicting hell as a place where each person’s dwelling drifts further and further away from the others into a grey mist. Crammed in together or fraying apart, both can be hellish. I wonder sometimes if our society is becoming like this, a barely joined picture of hell, thanks to the isolation caused by the pandemic and deepened (ironically) by “social” media.
I live a life of enforced solitude. My chronic illness (myalgic encephalomyelitis or M.E.) stops me from producing energy. I have almost no stamina, and everything is an immense effort. As a result, I can barely tolerate even a brief visit or conversation. My husband Rowan is my full-time caregiver, and we exist on short exchanges snatched from the jaws of this beast of an illness. We both feel trapped by it. A friend might sometimes come up and give me a hug and a couple of sentences, but then I will feel like a wrung-out dishcloth for the rest of the day. Often the next day, too. It’s unfathomably hard.
Yet at the same time as I feel crushed by this solitude, I am also enraptured by God within its bounds. Such paradoxes often mark the Christian life. Prayer has become the bedrock of everything for me. I wonder if I was brought into this spacious place of solitude and quiet in order for that to happen.
I have discovered similarities between my life and those of hermits like the Desert Mothers and Fathers of the Early Christian period, who went to pray in caves or dwellings in the deserts of Syria and Egypt, or like my beloved Julian of Norwich, a 14th-century anchoress. She wrote the first surviving book in English by a woman, voluntarily shut away to pray and contemplate the visions God had given her. She speaks to me so much that I wrote a book about her and her theology.
While these dear ones of God went into their cells and solitude by choice, I have been forced to withdraw from the world because of my declining health. Yet the isolation has also been strangely freeing. I know mothers of young children dream of some solitude, even if only to go to the bathroom on their own for five minutes of peace. Susannah Wesley (mother of John and Charles) would flip her apron over her head when she was praying, and the boys knew not to disturb her. We all need time apart, time and space, and quiet, solitude, in which to foster a relationship with our Lord.
Jesus tells us to go into our room and close the door when we pray. He would regularly take time for himself during his ministry to spend time alone with the Father. Likewise, as a writer and artist, solitude is helpful. Virginia Woolf was correct in saying that, for a woman to write, she must have a room of her own. Roald Dahl had a plain shed in his garden where he would retreat to write.
Yet, balance is necessary. Even Mother Julian had three windows of human contact. One for her maids, one to the church to listen to the service and receive the Eucharist, and one onto the street for her to give spiritual counsel. My window is mainly the internet, which is sometimes more a source of distress than comfort. I do have some wonderful friends online, including an amazing best friend in Vancouver (which couldn’t be further away!). But I am struggling to feel connected, especially to the Body of Christ. The Redbud Writers Guild has been a lifeline in that regard, and I’m immensely grateful for their sisterhood, grace, and support.
Solitude can be both a calling and a blessing. However, too much of a good thing can be unhealthy. We need alone time to go deeper in prayer. We need space to devote ourselves to God, to listen, be heard, and grow. This is the healthy space we all need to carve out. It is delicious, like cool spring water. Once we reach that clearing, we want to spend more and more time with Him, till all that love starts to enlarge like a swelling heart. There we find ourselves “praying without ceasing” and that God is with us in every moment of life. We are then, as Brother Lawrence would have it, “practicing the presence of God.”
Such solitude is an antidote to all kinds of ills, especially self-centeredness, bitterness, anger, and self-pity. Loneliness too. But we can feel, as Rowan and I still do, rather cut off from other people, not because of prayer but our ill health. A prayer-filled heart wants to be with and bless others. I have to do this from a distance, through words and art. But God knows that I’m a creative, and an introvert, so I will continue to trust that He knows exactly what He is about.
Certainly, I hope that as more and more of my creations find their way out into the world, I shall be more connected to the Body of Christ. Serving my fellow Christians, rather than existing as a heart beating alone in her chamber. I hope my heartbeat will join with hearts all over the world and echo God’s love everywhere, just as he intends.
Keren Dibbens-Wyatt is a chronically ill Christian contemplative, writer and artist. She is the author of Recital of Love (Paraclete Press, 2020), Young Bloody Mary (Mogzilla Books, 2023) and the forthcoming All That is Made (Herald Press, 2025), which is available for preorder now. Keren lives in South-East England with her poet husband and is housebound. You can connect with her @honeycombhermit on X and Bluesky.
SAVE THE DATE - upcoming webinar
Big Picture Editing: Why to Leave the Red Pen in the Drawer
Thursday, June 26 · 10:00-11:00am PT / 1:00pm-2:00pm ET
How do you approach editing a manuscript independently? How do you know when it's ready for an editor? And what kind of editor?
Not every editor looks at your manuscript with the same eye. If she is a line editor, she is deep into the process already and expects tidy storylines, fully-developed characters, and tight dialogue. But a developmental editor has her watercolor pens out, ready to paint broad strokes that help you define the direction of your work in progress. Copyeditors fall somewhere in between.
This webinar will discuss the different editing stages and a few simple ways to prepare your work for an editor.
This webinar is free for Redbud Writers Guild members (no need to register), $15 for non-members. All proceeds go to support our Women of Color Mentoring Program.
Recordings will be sent to everyone who is registered.
P.S. Know someone who might be encouraged by this post or interested in our upcoming webinars? Forward this to them today!
 | A guest post by
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Dearest. Thank you for these wise words that come out of your experience of 'practising the presence of God." It is a wisdom that has been found and formed in your trenches, your hard, hard place of battle. I appreciate how you are always willing to share life from those dark places and for how you remind us of God's constant presence with us in whatever circumstances we might find ourselves in. Thank you for not being triumphant, but grateful for all you have learned and for loving the world with your beautiful art and writing. LOVE you. <3