Lacuna – from the Latin – means a gap or space.

In music, it refers to an extended period of silence in a piece.

A journey to the edge is, for me, a lacuna.

Some folks – extroverts mostly – don’t seem to require much space.  They seem to gain their energy from jumping into the heart of the mix.  They like noise and activity.  They thrive on constant interaction with others.

Others – like me – need to go off to quiet places to recharge.  The more remote the place – the deeper the silence – the greater the sense of peace.  Renewal comes in the lacuna.

I have always admired Thoreau.  He wasn’t a hermit.  But he understood the importance of solitude. “I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude,” he said.

Don Jose Rios, a revered Huichol Indian Shaman, who came to the United States at the age of 106, said:

“In my eighty years of training I have suffered much.  Many times have I gone to the mountains alone.  But you have to do this.  For it is not I who can teach you the ways of the gods.  Such things are learned only by yourself, only in solitude.”

When we step out of the battles, we see anew, as the Tao te Ching says, “with eyes unclouded by longing.”

The gap quiets the mind and softens the heart.  It allows for reflection.  It permits perspective. Out of lacuna, one is able to live more deliberately.

And so it is time for a lacuna.

Ann and I are off to Argentina to the incomparable Andes mountains.  We will hike a beautiful river valley.  We will climb a spectacular peak.  We will walk along the edge.  And enjoy an extended period of silence.

Lacuna.

I recommend it highly.  Even for you extroverts.

More when we return.