Three Hermits: Finding Solitude Amidst Life’s Wilderness
What do a Siberian recluse, a Sardinian island caretaker, and a hermit with an online business have in common? Their pursuit of solitude reveals profound lessons on human fulfillment.
Agafia Lykova, Mauro Morandi, and Rachel Denton live lives that defy the script of modern society. Each found solitude in radically different forms—one in Siberian isolation, another on a sun-kissed island, and a third in a Lincolnshire cottage weaving calligraphy. Their stories aren’t just about escaping the world; they’re about discovering meaning through intentional detachment.
Lykova’s life in a taiga cabin began as survival and ended as a testament to resilience. Born to Old Believers fleeing Soviet persecution, she has dwelled in near-permanent isolation for 70 years, leaving her hut only six times. Even after her father’s death and her family’s tragic history, she rejects reintegration, citing city life as “unnatural.” Her minimalism contrasts starkly with the socialist realism of her homeland, a reminder that solitude can be both choice and refuge.
Morandi’s tale is accidental luxury. After his boat stranded him on Budelli Island, he embraced caretaker work, reading philosophical classics by day and crafting driftwood art by night. For decades, he found peace in solitude, yet never lost connection to coastal communities. His eventual forced relocation underscores how even the most self-sufficient lives aren’t immune to external forces—but his legacy thrives in his quiet critique of consumerism.
Rachel Denton’s hermitage is deliberate and modern. A former teacher and nun, she blended solitude with digital entrepreneurship, offering online courses and sharing her minimalist philosophy on social media. Her “Rule of Life” balances prayer, work, and self-reliance, proving solitude need not mean disconnection. When cancer struck, her priority remained clear: “My bucket list was to spend my life as a hermit.”
These three women embody a renaissance of the hermit ethos—a rejection of societal pressure, a search for peace, and a recognition that happiness often lies outside the noise.
Their journeys challenge us: What sacrifices do we avoid that might lead us closer to ourselves? Can solitude be both survival and self-discovery? In a world of endless engagement, their stories invite a quieter reflection on what it means to live fully—and to whom the wilderness speaks.


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