An enclosure. The quote from Stephen Batchelor reminds me of a koan, an impossible question. How can we be alone and simultaneously connected with all of humanity? All beings?
That’s a felt experience as much as a piece to understand logically. Consequently, some keys to it can help. Being able to stand, loving and breathing in an expanse, is one such key—the picture above.
Click it to view the photo sized to your screen and pause.
From solitude’s promontory, we peer out into the expanse of existence and train our eyes to look with wide-eyed wonder at the improbable fact of it all. Solitude, so conceived, is not merely the state of being alone but the art of becoming fully ourselves — an art acquired, like every art, by apprenticeship and painstaking devotion to dwelling in the often lonesome inner light of our singular and sovereign being.
An enclosure, from in-clavis, is a contradictory word. A part of it, clavis, can be a key and a boundary.
That paradox, the two pieces—a key and a restraint is wildly present in these places, this wild coast. It’s isolated and isolating. Deeply connecting too, standing here, blasted by the weather, so close to the continents away it is blowing from and the people on them.
Enklavenes on this site are photos that can be keys.
Photos and videos by Festina Lentívaldi, (be) Benevolution. Reuse: Creative Commons BY-NC 3.0 US.