In his daily meditation book, Richard Rohr writes that even the simplest spiritual discipline is, to some degree, one of solitude and silence. And most people don’t like it.

“To be with our own thoughts and feelings is probably the most courageous act most of us will ever do,” he wrote. “Besides that, we invariably feel bored with ourselves, and all of our loneliness comes to the surface.”

He writes that without some kind of faith, most of us won’t have the courage to go into this terrifying place without a lot of love to protect and comfort us and override our self-doubt and fear.

Such silence, he says, is the most spacious and empowering technique in the world, yet it’s not really a technique at all. It’s the refusal of all techniques.

When I went running to the mountain in 2,000, I spent most of a year in solitude with two Yellow Labs, Julius and Stanley. I don’t know how courageous it was, but I remember how terrifying it was and still is.

I was never as naked and vulnerable as when I sat before a fire and underwent hour after hour of silence and weeks and months of solitude. I had a great deal of self-doubt, and the only love around me was the loyalty of those two dogs and some friends down the road.

I knew I could simply decide the truth about myself amid the real world’s distractions, noise, chaos, and demands. I had to go onside, on a mountaintop, where it was quiet, and I could be alone. I had the sense I would soon be leaving the normal and familiar behind. That was frightening all by itself.

The experience began my hero journey, always lonely and fearful treks.

It was in solitude and the space of loneliness and silence that I finally got a good and authentic look at myself, and that was a horror for me. It was the most terrifying experience of my life, as Rohr writes, which is why, I suppose, so few people want to do it.

Americans spend an average of seven hours a day staring at screens, injecting themselves with endless doses of violence, hatred, and disconnection. How can you be part of a community if you never go outside or offline? How can you find a way to see yourself and face the truth about yourself?

I teach a meditation class at the Mansion, as you know, and I always say there is no technique or right way to meditate, no right or wrong, no pass or fail. You look as deep into yourself as you can go, and if and when it gets unbearable, go back to your breath and breathe deeply in and out.

I find that older people are prone to meditation; they are often alone and free to think about their lives. The class works.

My year of solitude and silence allowed me to become more authentic and begin seeking the spiritual life that has grounded and enriched me. For the longest time, I couldn’t bear to see the truth about myself.

In time, I came to love myself, even to have meaning in my life.

People are shocked when I say I have no interest in being humble. I don’t think it’s good for me now. My new life is still fragile; I have to protect it.

I felt small enough as it was; I wanted to live a life I could be proud of, which would give me happiness and meaning. For me, humility was not what I needed.

I needed courage.

I needed the courage Rohr is talking about and the pride and determination. That’s what I got from solitude and silence. No regrets.