A reflection from a solitary retreat in Ladakh
There was a time when life began to draw me away from worldly concerns, and I recognised this movement clearly. It was this inner orientation that led me to choose monastic life. Within the monastery, I found myself increasingly drawn to the lives of practitioners and yogis, and over time a strong longing arose to enter long solitary retreat.
I was grateful for the guidance of my Guru, because without it the spiritual path can easily become a marketplace—endless teachings, rituals, and promises, yet little real transformation.
Years unfolded in the mountains of Ladakh, held by deep silence, wind, and vast open sky.
Solitude served as a form of training, a teacher in its own right.
On the path of awakening, solitude is never accidental. Either one enters it willingly through discernment, or life leads one there through breaking the resistance barrier.
I entered with trust.
Even when solitude is chosen, the ego does not surrender easily. Silence reveals its restlessness. In the beginning, the mind searched for movement, affirmation, and reassurance. Old habits of seeking meaning through others surfaced again and again.
The ego craves distraction—conversation, roles, recognition. In isolation, it stages quite rebellions: self-pity, doubt, subtle longing for a different life. Living alone in the mountains, I learned to watch these movements without feeding them. The absence of social mirrors made it impossible to sustain an identity. Without audience or approval, the ego weakened through being seen directly in the eye.
The real practice was staying. Staying with long afternoons of stillness. Staying with boredom, fear, and longing as they rose and fell. Suffering arises when we resist what is present.
As resistance softened, silence revealed its gentleness. Days became simple: meditation, prayer, walking under an endless sky, studying the Dharma, and doing nothing at all. Life stripped itself down to breath, awareness, and the changing light on barren mountains.
Solitude is uncompromising. Over time, it stripped away not only worldly identities, but spiritual ones as well. Even the sense of being “a practitioner” loosened. What remained was presence—unadorned, intimate, and alive.
During this phase, I realised: it’s easy to follow a religion or a belief system that many pursue, because it offers the safety net and the comfort of belonging.
Spiritual awakening, however, is the awakening from all belief systems. These structures and concepts naturally fell away, leaving experience itself as the guide. One is alone, yet not separate.
The mountains, moon and the starry nights taught me to trust the unfolding of life-Unravelling mysteries.
Looking back, I bow to those years of solitude. What might appear as isolation from the outside revealed itself as grace. Solitude became my most faithful teacher- opening me to what remains when everything else falls away.