Naked

Stripping Away Layers to Face Our Wounds

It is interesting to me that humanity's first impulse was to cover their nakedness. Since then, we have just added more layers. We hide to keep from being seen, either by others or ourselves.

Of course, I speak metaphorically. But it is no wonder we have such difficulty dealing with our wounds. 

We wrap ourselves in busyness. We shroud ourselves in noise and stimulation. We envelop ourselves in distraction. We live fabricated and curated lives to hide (or not have to deal with) what is below. We imagine with each new layer, we will have better lives and be more whole, or at least have the appearance of those things. But beneath the veneer and cosmetic application, we neglect the source of our dysfunction- the infected wounds we carry.

A friend of mine astutely asked, a few weeks ago, how to sit with our pain. I imagine our first move is stripping away the artificial layers that conceal our wounds. I stumbled into this wisdom while backpacking over the last decade and a half. While there are certainly other ways for a person to do this, the solitude of backpacking provides an essential stripping, if you will.  

In solitude, we intentionally remove ourselves from everything and everyone for a while. We cut ourselves off from all we have become addicted to or dependent upon. We escape the noise, the chaos, the rat race. We break free from the urge and temptation to reach for our devices because we have left them behind. In solitude, the masks we have worn become inconsequential and can be discarded.   

Solitude forces us to face our naked selves because there is nowhere left to hide. We metaphorically come out from behind the bushes and trees and stand exposed. We see ourselves more clearly, and our wounds become visible in our nakedness. This place of profound vulnerability is where we sit with our pain and decide what we will do with it. 

Solitude is not a one-time remedy that heals us but instead a necessary beginning point for the regular rhythm we need in our lives. 

Question

1. As you think about patiently transforming your pain rather than continuing to transmit it, what layers do you hide behind that need to be removed? How can you find space for solitude this week?

Peace,

Brandon