The Interior Life

I've given lots of thought recently about what it means to have an interior life.  Part of the reason I have thought about this topic is because I am involved in planning a women's retreat for our church in which this is a predominant theme.  I've given it much thought because it has made me think about why I think the way I do, why I value certain things and how this all fits into the bigger picture of life.  

To me, an interior life has three understandings .  The first means a life without care for what others think but is instead a life in which one is only focused on how one perceives the world.  In this rather solipsistic aspect, one measures success not by any outward metric but by one's own definitions and measures, if one measures success at all, as that is not really a term that has much relevance for the interior life.  When I think about profound influences in my life, my college experience at Hiram looms large.  One of the reasons I chose Hiram is that it was in the middle of nowhere; a beautiful isolated campus in a sleepy little village was exactly what I envisioned when I was 17 and looking at schools. It fit my definition of an ideal academic atmosphere:  no distractions; a total learning environment filled with natural beauty; and time to sit under a tree and read Greek plays or English Lit or maybe even a little Sartre. It was a moment in time to spend crafting the interior life.  A moment in time that would not come around again.  I reveled in that atmosphere and took double the number of courses allotted so I could drink in every bit of knowledge and thought I could get my hands on.  College wasn't about football or anything other than soaking up every bit of academic atmosphere I could. As my blog title indicates, this season of my life was when my life of quiet examination began, albeit life hasn't always been quiet in the literal sense.

I also think interior life refers to our view of the world.  I enjoy being around people, but I also think we often need time to ourselves to contemplate and think things through.  Perhaps at no point is the need for solace more elusive than in the world of constant connectedness,  yet true interconnectedness eludes us. I remember one of the professors at Hiram who was married to another professor who sang in the choir with me.  She would talk about what she liked to do:  she enjoyed knitting and gardening and music and reading and had read and read and read and was one of the most beautifully kind people I have ever known.  She had traveled and had interests in food and films and we had such interesting conversations.  Then there was my vocal music teacher.  He was a gay African American musician from Boston and loved to tease me about my Ohio accent.  We had wonderful conversations about films and music and food and travels.  He lived in a simple apartment in Hiram but his interior life was as deep as the ocean.  My history professors were equally fascinating.  Stacks of books in their offices, things they were writing or working on.  They knew something about darn near everything.  It was so fun to sit in their office in the Victorian house that housed the history department or drink tea out of the Blue Willow tea set in front of the fire in the parlor talking about Churchill.  I wanted to have this kind of life where knowledge made the world go round and no additional stimuli was needed.  A fascinating interior life: one not dependent on others but only on what one found interesting,  interested me.  

And last but not least, an interior life is a deeply spiritual life. The phrase "Spiritual but not religious" has become a bugaboo phrase for many in religious traditions because it implies that one can be spiritual without a church and without in some cases much or any specificity about God.  I think one of the reasons studies show this part of the population growing is because people are searching for an interior life, a life of deep meaning and they often perceive that the church or a formal religious structure doesn't provide that deeper meaning. In some cases that's true.  Rigid orthodoxy sometimes prevents people from seeing the beauty of faith traditions or the beauty of faith  in those who don't conform.  Sometimes we get so caught up in form,  we lose substance.  Part of the trick here may be to achieve equipoise between these two aspects:  finding the balance between form and substance is not easy.  But we need to err on the side of substance in order not to alienate those who deeply need to be able to float like a feather on the breath of God.

I think the  spiritual component of the interior life has three purposes:  1.  To help sustain us in periods of great tumult in our lives; 2.  To help us discern how to help others when they face great tumult in their lives; and 3. To bring us into a closer and deeper relationship with God so we can do 1. and 2. We need to have silence and stillness in order to discern what we are to do with our lives and how God wants us to use our talents for the greater good of helping others, not to line our own pockets or save for college.   How do we achieve this interior life?  My next post will address the topic of silence.  Stay tuned.