The Art of Solitude

“Whatever a soul is, the author goes a long way toward soothing it. A very welcome instance of philosophy that can help readers live a good life.”—Kirkus Reviews

“Forty years in the making, The Art of Solitude could not have come at a better time or from anyone else. Beautifully written, Batchelor’s wisdom shines through on every page, leading the reader on an engaging and illuminating journey into the very needed solitude about which he writes.”—Judson Brewer, author of The Craving Mind

"The Art of Solitude is a marvel. Carefully constructed and entirely original, it sings with a haunting melody of wistful contemplation. Reading it is a true joy.”—Mark Epstein, author of Thoughts without a Thinker

“With his long experience of Buddhism, meditation, and teaching it is hard to think of anyone better equipped to write about the art of solitude than Stephen Batchelor.”—Tim Parks

“In this exquisite contemplation on solitude that is intimate, brave, and wise, Batchelor brings us to the vast center of his life and realization.”—Roshi Joan Halifax, Abbot, Upaya Zen Center

“Batchelor's graceful writing guides us to the innermost recesses of solitude, illuminating it as a practice, way of life, and inescapable dimension of being human.”—Evan Thompson, author of Why I Am Not a Buddhist and Waking, Dreaming, Being

A conversation with Stephen Batchelor:

Why did you write a book on solitude?

 Since my first book, Alone with Others: An Existential Approach to Buddhism, I have been fascinated by a core paradox of being human: namely, to find oneself always utterly alone in the privacy of one’s thoughts and feelings yet at the same time inescapably together with others through one’s body, language, and social relations. As I now enter the final phase of my life, I felt called to return to this theme.

 So how does The Art of Solitude differ from Alone with Others? 

 Here I take a far more personal, literary, and experimental approach that draws on diverse experiences that have served to illuminate and deepen my understanding of this paradox. I am no longer interested in a purely Buddhist account of solitude. Solitude has become for me a far more eclectic site of human practice, which ranges from mindfulness, philosophical inquiry, studying the essays of Montaigne, contemplating art, making collages, going on pilgrimage, to participation in shamanic ceremonies with peyote and ayahuasca.

 What does the use of psychoactive substances have to do with your practice of solitude?

 I have found that these substances can suspend habitual patterns of mind to allow you to see more clearly and viscerally where you stand existentially. They have helped me take stock of my life. Such altered states of consciousness are, however, meaningless unless integrated into a philosophical, contemplative, aesthetic, and ethical vision. Solitude, for me, is the site in which these various strands mysteriously coalesce to make greater sense of one’s life as a whole.


 Praise for Stephen Batchelor's After Buddhism:

“In many ways, the most intellectually stimulating book on Buddhism in the past few years.”—Adam Gopnik, New Yorker

"A serious, secular reexamination of Buddhist ethics that acknowledges religiosity. . . . Highly intelligent, rigorous, and absorbing."—Publishers Weekly (starred review)