Monthly Archives: March 2022

What’s ‘Ordinary’ Got to do With It?

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Perhaps shameful is too strong a word, but that’s kind of how it feels. You see, I’ve been thinking of giving up on the book I’m reading at the moment. And you are thinking, this is a big deal? If you don’t like it, put it aside and try something else.

Yes, excellent advice, thank you. And usually that’s what I would do. In fact now I think about it there was a time when I would force myself to complete a book, even if I wasn’t enjoying it or was bored with it. But I learned a long time ago that this is a waste of time, waste of mind, waste of energy, and unfair to me.

Yet, on this occasion, I started to have some thoughts that took it a bit deeper. It’s true to say that I’m a bit bored with this book; it’s as if I’m not overly interested in the story the author is telling, and in the way she’s telling it. As well I had this feeling that the book was ‘ordinary’: meaning that it was a kind of day to day telling of a segment of a life with its mundane and routine elements included along with the ‘good bits’.

And it was that feeling of being not so interested that got me thinking. The author’s vocation, thinking, activities, and the subject of the book itself, is exactly in line with areas I am very interested in reading about, not only for entertainment but for my learning, for my own spiritual journey and way of life.

The way she’s telling it? Now, this one got to me even more. The book was put together after the author’s death and is made up of extracts from the author’s journals and from the many letters she wrote to family and friends during the period of her life the book covers.

That’s what I do isn’t it? Keep a journal? Write letters? These and the many many blog posts (which in a way are a lot like letters, and even journal entries do you think?) I’ve written over many years, and the journal I’ve been keeping for most of my life, are the core of at least the personal writing I have done over my lifetime. By rejecting this book I started to feel that I was rejecting my own, for want of a better word, genres.

Or, worse than that, I’m rejecting the invitation to share a life. And illogically I’m rejecting the life story and insights of a person whose own experience I actually value for my own quest and from whom I could learn a great deal.

And what about the feeling of boredom and that the book was too ‘ordinary’ and mundane? Well, to borrow a well-worn phrase, this really does take the cake. I mean if you were to look at much of my past writings and look at my photography blogs from times past, you would see that one of my main statements of belief was:

There are no ordinary moments, nor are there any ordinary people.

And I still believe this. Indeed, spiritual practice and study has only deepened my instincts that all there is is the moment; all there is is all the beings of the world experiencing that ongoing presence, that never-ending moment. There can be nothing in the least ordinary about that.

I’ve saved the best – or is it the worst? – for last: what the book is about. It tells the story of a three year period in the life of a person just out of university who looking for a deeper meaning to life and to finding a true course for her life, travels from her home to Japan and enters a Zen monastery to become a monk.

Her journals and letters give the reader an intimate and in-depth account of her experiences: what she learned; insights into the language, culture, and history of Japan and Zen itself; the people she met and knew, her own feelings and reactions to what was a huge shift in her life.

After three years the author left the monastery to travel slowly back to see family at home. Sadly she was killed in a bus crash along the way.

Pretty much everything that has to do with living a life. And here’s me rejecting it because it was ‘ordinary’ and some details were ‘boring’.

So, I’m going to stay with this book. It’s taught me a lot already, and I think there is more there for me. Perhaps, I can better put into practice by own so strongly held idea that there are no ordinary moments or ordinary people.

Peace and love from me to you

Talking About Sloth

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Sloth.  Its a good word isn’t it?  One of those words you don’t have to look up to know what it means.  But if you do look it up, you’ll find it has a couple of meanings.  One is: laziness, indolence and a reluctance to make an effort.

Is sloth a bad thing?  Certainly it gets a bad rap; I mean: lazy? Indolent? Not willing to make an effort? Hardly words of praise. On the other hand we value words like busy, productive, efficient, hard working, and the rest. In our culture, these are definitely words of praise.

Go out and play; Read a book; Go to school; Study hard; Get a good job (whatever that means); How much do you make a year? When are up for promotion?  Demands and questions like these are constants in all our lives, and they force us into defining ourselves by what we do whether we are a little kid at school, a teenager trying to sort life out, an adult trying to make our way in the world the best we can.

Yes, it’s true I think: it always seems to be a about defining ourselves by what we do, rather than who we are, or what we stand for.  Always we have to be doing something.  Ever heard that little identity joke, I’m a human being, not a human doing?  I wonder how many of us would feel lost if we shifted from that need to be a doer to another definition of our identity, one less reliant on what we do or on what we’ve done in the past, or will do in the future.

Well, I hear you saying, this is all fine and dandy, but my boss won’t pay me unless I show up, there are meals to cook for the kids, I’m running late for an appointment, the lawn needs mowing and after that I have to write a report for my night class.

All very true, valid, and all of them things that do need to be done. We all have a life don’t we? But perhaps sometimes, even just now and again, and perhaps just for a few minutes at a time, you can stop. Just stop. Thats all. Stop and just do nothing, or rather stop and simply be.

Have I mentioned a favourite little two word sentence I really really like? Just sit. Don’t read, don’t think, don’t try to stop thinking, don’t ‘meditate’. All that’s required is to do nothing. Do No Thing. Actually, I think I’ve found a new favourite.

On, remember I said there are a couple of definitions of sloth?  Well the other one tells us that a sloth is a slow moving nocturnal mammal noted for hanging upside down from tree branches.  It lives entirely in the trees and is capable of only very slow movement on the ground.

So, I guess you should be very careful when you tell someone else I’m a sloth. Mind you, putting aside the hanging upside down bit, and the nocturnal requirement, it’s probably not such a bad way of being to emulate, do you think?

Have a lazy (slothful) day.

Silence. Could I have some more please?

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Silence isn’t my strong suit. Or I should say, keeping quiet isn’t what I’m known for. One of the main reasons l live the life I do is because I am very sensitive to noise, but my problems start when I seem to forget that other people, and my own peace of mind, are affected by excessive noise created by me too.

And noise includes talking too much. Of course there are any number of reasons a person talks too much. Some people even believe they talk so much because it quietens the mind. No, afraid not. Been there. Not for me anyway.

Insecurity, nervousness, fear, low confidence, compulsive behaviours. The list could go on and on. When you think about it, the why isn’t always so important as the how to fix it question.

I spend a lot of time alone, in solitude, that gives other people and on rare occasions my mind, a break. I spend a lot of time listening to music to which I always listen intently. Of course that works on a number of levels, and is uplifting most of the time.

Speaking of listening to music, I usually use headphones like a lot of people. And I am blessed, absolutely and truly blessed, to have really good noise cancelling on my headphones. Anyone who uses ANC knows that it’s almost a miracle and makes the experiencing of music even better than it already is.

But I have discovered another use for the noise cancelling. I don’t always want to listen to anything: sometimes even I want some quiet, some silence. So, probably not the first person to do this, but I use ANC just by itself, just to shut out external noise.
But I’ve found it does more than this. Turning it on somehow creates another space. I actually feel like I’m enclosed in a space, or place. I hope that makes sense.

We tend to think of quiet and silence as meaning the same thing, and obviously they are similar and we use them interchangeably a lot of the time. But, sometimes they seem to be two distinct concepts. Quiet is an absence of noise. Whereas silence often seems to me to be a kind of solid state, an entity that comes into being for a short while (or longer hopefully) and encloses one in something like a cocoon or protected space.

Of course this state can be attained in different ways. For me lately I find with ANC on for itself alone, I can relax more quickly; I feel sort of ‘protected’ and safer somehow. Anyway, enough for this little tip from me. Perhaps headphone makers should change the label from Active Noise Cancelling, to Active Silence Creation

Peace and love

Look! I’m using two hands!

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Namaste my friends


In my last post I shared with you a poem. Just another note as I said then. Today I find myself thinking about sharing a drawing with you. Or it’s a design, a ‘symbolic’ illustration. I’m not sure what to call it. Actually illustration is a good word in this case: I’m not exactly sharing it for its own sake, but to illustrate the topic for today’s post. Anyway, moving right along.

For a lot of years I have every so often had an urge to create patterns and designs, and just to colour in things. Just to see colour on the page I think. Just to be making them. They are of many and varied shapes and some are paint, some markers, and some pencil. I picked this one more or less at random so you can see the kind of thing I’m spending way too many words telling you about.

I really enjoy making these things. It can be quite a meditative process; of course mind can wander as always, but I find that if I just focus on the exact mark I’m making or a particular detail, then it pulls me in. Into the zone as you might say. In that sense it can be an intense experience.

And therein lies the problem: Sometimes, particularly with pencils I can be be so focused and intent, that I end up hurting my hand. Holding the pencil too tight, pressing too hard trying to squeeze more colour onto the page (that’s what it feels like anyway), or just old fashioned and typical impatience pulling me to push harder.

Whatever the cause, nowadays if I even begin to use a pencil (writing with a pen is okay for some reason) my hand begins to ache. It’s not terrible pain, just a nagging thing. But certainly it is what you might call a disincentive.

While I was looking through a pile of old drawings a couple of days ago, I thought, I wander if I can use my other hand instead? Now I’m not one of those people who can switch between hands with ease; if there is an opposite to ambidextrous, then that’s me. But I thought, I’m going to try anyway.

So I took a coloured pencil and paper and with my non-dominent hand (that’s an understatement if I’ve ever made one) and tried to just pretend I was colouring in some shape. No lines as such, just colouring in strokes.

Alien alert! That’s what it felt like. Completely and utterly alien. Although my hand wasn’t totally out of control, it felt like it was. Still I persisted, and you know I won’t say I got to the point of it feeling natural or fluid or comfortable, but I could tell there was potential for that to happen.

In a funny way it wasn’t even my hand that was the problem; it was more a mind or brain thing where I just felt out of joint, not connected or something. Quite disorienting actually. But I think I’m going to try again. At least I thought I can use my other hand for the big areas, leaving my usual one for the finer work when necessary.

I suppose it’s like anything new isn’t it? Or rather in this instance it was about realising I’m not able to do a thing, an activity that is meaningful to me because the way I was doing it was making it too hard, or even impossible. And actually causing damage.

Who can say why it’s only just occured to me after so many years of struggling with the issue (on and off). I guess, there’s a right time for everything, or as I often think, there is never a wrong time. Life just is.

Never too late as they say, to do it differently. I guess we’ll have to see what happens. I might end up ambidextrous, who knows? Mind you, don’t be expecting fine art or lifelike portraits with my other hand anytime soon.

Homage to The Cockroach Man. With thanks and affection

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Notes from the Hermit’s Cave is what this blog is called. I promised to publish musings or notes of all sorts: your regular text blog; photos or other pictures; poems; and other assorted bit and pieces.

Well, I’ve rediscovered a poem that I think would be great to share with you.

Looking through some posts saved from old blogs no longer active, I came across theaforementioned poem. It’s about a guy I met in a cafe in India back in 2006. This person kept me and a crowd of other travellers spellbound for a couple of hours one monsoon afternoon. Not to mention the many conversations focused on him that followed in the next few days and the several pages in my Journal recounting the whole experience.

Anyway, as soon as I saw this poem again, I thought I just have to post it here. That trip was a big step for me in my own healing and spiritual journey. And meeting this guy has played a part in all that.

So, please join me in making this small offering of thanks to that guy, whose actual name I never learned, and who forever will be known to several very fortunate travellers as the Cockroach Man

THE COCKROACH MAN

This is what he said.
He’d lived many years in India,
and, in that time he’d done many things.
Even, he said, for a while he’d trained with a yogi, his guru.
This is what he said.

Yogic training is not easy, he said,
In fact, he said, one aspect made him sick
for a year.
This is what he said.

His Guru put beings in his head.
Beings like parasites he said.
Yes, yogic training, it made him sick.
This is what he said.

Parasites implanted in the head? A part of yogic training?
No. I don’t think so.
Actually, inserted was the word he used.
‘inserted beings in my head.’
This is what he said.

All gone now, save one, he said.
Only one remains—it’s like a cockroach.
And it’s still in him making him sick.
This is what he said.

At night, he said, there is sometimes relief.
The cockroach leaves and floats just below the ceiling.
Well, its astral body leaves his head and floats above his bed.
This is what he said

‘You’re a healer. You understand,’
is what he says as he turns to me.
Umm, no. Actually I don’t.
But this is not what I said.

Where is he now, the Cockroach Man?
‘It’s winter soon. I’m gonna give blankets
to the villagers.’
This is what he said.

He’s known suffering, he said.
And you could tell he was tired
from fighting the cockroach.
‘I’ll feed the poor.’
This is what he said.

Right Understanding:First Step on The Eightfold Path

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In my last post, I reflected upon a lovely Buddhist mantra, an invocation for peace and happiness for all beings (Lokah Samastah Sukhino). We discovered along the way, that it is no ordinary mantra: it actually amounts to a solemn promise to contribute to the peace and happiness of others (and Self obviously).

Then we thought about how to actually go about acting on this promise: Be kind. That’s what I came to. That’s all that is required. But, as you will recall, being kind sounds easy but quite often isn’t. The Buddha himself came to our rescue with  The Eightfold Path,

At the end of that last post, I declared I would devote this next one to looking at Right Understanding, the first of the principles in The Eightfold Path. I said I would just sit at the keyboard and see what emerges as I thought about what is Right Understanding.

Before we get started, let me make the point that The Eightfold Path is not a kind of ‘to do’ list where you tick off one item and move onto the next. The Path is more about integrating the principles into our lives, letting them overlap when they do and moving forward in one area, while (possibly) moving backwards in another as our lives unfold with all the usual twists and turns.

The Eightfold Path is a life-long (some would say lives-long) process; don’t think in terms of goals to be achieved.

Does this mean we will need to explore all eight principles on the Path? Well, we’ll have to see how this evolves over time. Although as I say it’s not a to-do list, I think it more than possible to at least think about the principles or steps on the Path one at a time.

The second thing to say by way of introduction is this: As I mentioned in my previous post, there are virtually unlimited places on the internet where one can source The Buddha’s Teachings, including many commentaries on The Eightfold Path.

I’ve made no use of any of these sources. I have sought only to put down some of my own ideas and learnings, as well as just letting my heart have its say.

If in that process I’ve made any errors of any kind, forgive me. I merely follow The Buddha’s own instruction: Don’t take my word for it; Ask questions; Do your own analysis; Think for yourself.

Now that’s all out of the way, let’s just describe briefly the Four Noble Truths. This is necessary because the injunction to follow The Eightfold Path, comes in the Fourth of those Noble Truths.

Putting them as succinctly as I can, The Four Noble Truths are as follows: The first truth tells us that life is suffering, the second that the cause of suffering is desire (or we can also say attachment), the third that there is a cure for suffering and the fourth tells us what that cure is.

That’s where The Eightfold Path comes in: it’s what you might call The Buddha’s prescription for the alleviation of suffering. At this point I would like to suggest that if you are not familiar with the Four Noble Truths, please take some time to check out the topic for yourself.

The Eightfold Path does, as I mentioned last time, in fact sound very easy when put it in list form like this:

  1. Right understanding
  2. Right thought
  3. Right speech
  4. Right action
  5. Right livelihood
  6. Right effort
  7. Right mindfulness
  8. Right concentration

Remember, though, as I said, it’s not a to-do list we can work through one item at a time. Or perhaps we can put it another way: It is possible to work on one item at a time, but it’s not about getting that one completed before one can move on to the next item on the list.

The first step on this Noble Path we have embarked upon is Right Understanding. Actually it’s not only the first, it is the ongoing one; and it is the final step also on this particular Path of Liberation. And it seems to me that I’m right in this: my life has been one continual search for undetstanding.

Not many people know this, but I spent some time working as a journalist. One of the fundamental principles (aside from telling the truth of course) that I followed was the, Who? What? When? Where? Why? and How? set of questions.

Now, I wouldn’t say that it was necessary to ask every one of these questions in every situation. But, as a general rule, they served as a useful guideline to getting as much information on all relevant aspects of an event, a person, or whatever the subject of a story was. And I have to say that I find myself quite often using this list or some varient of it when I’m trying to understand or figure out something.

Why those questions? Where do they lead? What am I trying to do by asking them? How do they help me? (See what I mean? I can’t help myself) If we sum it up, then we would say that asking the WWWWWandH questions have the potential to lead us closer to understanding.

Let’s say you are unhappy with the work you do on a daily basis. You don’t understand why; After all, it pays okay; the hours aren’t too onerous, the work itself is fairly easy as work goes. What’s the problem then? You just don’t understand. You know there’s something not quite right, but you just can’t put your finger on it.

Who is doing that job? I am, you say. But, really, who are you? Is it you doing the job or just a part of you that you kind of section off from the real you for the working day?

What are you doing that makes you unhappy? Is it being in that workplace? Is it the work itself? It might be ‘okay as far as work goes’, but is it really okay?

When are you at that job? I guess this question is about how many hours, what percentage of your life you spend doing that job. And, even more to the point of the when question: When are you really there? How much of your work day are you actually off somewhere else? (refer to the where question)

Where are you? Are you where you want to be? And, kind of getting back to the Who question, who is it that’s there? Is it the real you? Or is it that sectioned off bit of yourself you access during work hours while the real you is off somewhere else?

Why are you doing that job/work? Well most likely your answer will be something like: I have rent to pay, food to buy, bills to pay, family to support. Well, those answers have to do with what you do with the money you earn from doing that job. The question lingers: Why are doing that job? I mean, the real you; why?

How can you be happier at your work? By now you’ve got the hang of this. If you have answered all the W questions then you will already be getting some clues about the answer to the H question.

Asking variations of this set of W and H questions can help us in many aspects of life where we seek understanding. They don’t have to be put as formal questions, and they don’t have to all be asked in every situation. Also they don’t have to be thought based queries either, if you know what I mean.

The answers may well come by simply asking the question, and ‘sleeping on it’. By that I mean you don’t have to tirelessly mull over a question. Meditate on it, think about it, of course, but then forget it consciously and let the answer come to you. And, of course you can always literally sleep on it.

There’s a small art gallery in a desert mining down almost in the heart of Australia. On their window they used to have a quote by  Claude Monet:

I know we aren’t talking about art here (or maybe we are?), but I think this quote applies to many of us as we try to understand our lives and our place in the world. Especially when it comes to what makes us happy. All of us spend a lot of time, not so much pretending as in going through the motions. That’s because sometimes it’s just too hard to try and understand.

But, keep at it. Ask the questions but don’t worry about the answers: they will emerge when they’re ready. True understanding is close to love, as Monet says.

Peace to you from me

May All Beings be Happy & Free

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Lokah Samastah Sukhino

There is a little shrine at the foot of a huge and ancient tree, outside a Buddhist temple above the banks of the Mekong River in a little town called Chiang Khong in the far north of Thailand. As I looked at this obviously highly revered sacred site, through the viewfinder of my camera, I knew what I would call the photo:

Lokah Samastah Sukhino

Now, I already knew that this translates to: May all beings everywhere be happy and free. A friend of my son’s used to use this ancient Sanskrit mantra a lot and I’d long since discovered its meaning. Or so I thought.

Anyway, later as I readied this (what turned out to be quite a lovely image in my ever so humble opinion) I thought I would look up the mantra again. Just to make sure I had the right spelling and so on.

It was then I had a surprise. May all beings everywhere be happy and free is only the first part of this beautifully expressive mantra. I quickly discovered that this mantra is not simply some vague wish or prayer for universal peace and happiness; it is also a call to action. Here’s the complete translation as I found it:

May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all.

But, wait. There’s more.

As I read more deeply into the meaning of all the words in the mantra, I discovered that it’s more than a call to action or a simple invocation. I learned that the mantra as I knew it was missing a final word: Bhavantu. So with this word missing, a vital element of the mantra was lost: the use of the suffix antu at the very end in the original Sanskrit turns the whole thing into a solemn promise. Antu means it must be so.

This all got me thinking: How? I mean, how do we transform our ‘thoughts, words, and actions’ so that they will contribute to the happiness of all beings? And how can we actually make it a promise?

Then it suddenly occurred to me: the action required was summarised very nicely by the Buddha in what he called The Eightfold Path. We are meant to start living according to the principles in that teaching.

Now, The Eightfold Path is, on the face of it, a fairly straightforward set of life principles that, when understood and integrated into one’s life and being, will lead to the cessation of suffering.

Now, this sounds all very well and good, but I’ve been wondering if there was a way I could sum it up in just a few words.

Something succinct, and to the point.

Then I found myself (again suddenly, right out of the blue) scribbling a note on my phone:

Be nice.

That’s really what it boils down to

Kindness in all our intereractions with all the forms that life has taken: other humans; other animals; plants; Earth herself; the rivers; the oceans; the forests. You name it. All forms that life has taken.

So, how do we be nice?

When I say it like that, it almost sounds silly; I mean, how hard can it be? Be nice? Easy.

Well, I guess I can say for myself that it’s true, sort of, sometimes. Yes it is often extremely easy for me to be nice. And, then, other times I have to try to be nice. And then there are those times when try as I might, nice just doesn’t happen.

Which means, I guess, that it might not be quite that simple after all.

There are so many wonderful explanations of the Buddha’s teachings, including The Eightfold Path, on the Internet. On the face of it, that might seem confusing. However Buddha himself advised that each person should question the teachings and come to their own conclusions. In other words, he said, don’t take my word for it, check it out for yourself.

The Eightfold Path. I might know that lovely list by name (Right Understanding, Right Thought, Right Speech, and so on), and I’ve read a little about them, but maybe it’s time to dig a bit deeper.

I’m going to make a start with Right Understanding simply because it’s the first on the list, and has always seemed to be a pretty important starting point.

So, next post (or perhaps a later one) that’s what I’m going to do. Just sit and see what comes out of my heart and onto the page (or screen). Please join me then and we’ll see what happens.
Peace and love from me to you

Van Gogh: Mystic & Saint?

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A few weeks ago I finished one of the most extraordinary books I have ever read. Yes, I know: we live in the days of hype and the redundant superlative. Everything is the best, biggest, greatest. Or, conversely, the worst, most tragic, saddest; it goes on and on.

In this case however I am not exaggerating. This book was amazing. It’s Learning from Henry Nouwen and Vincent Van Gogh: A portrait of a compassionate Life, by Carol A. Berry. From this book I’ve learned as much and more about Van Gogh’s motivations, his vision, his art, and yes, his very nature and soul, than in everything I’ve read, seen or heard about Vincent until now put together. And that includes from several visits to the magnificent Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam.

The book had its genesis in a course the author sat in on in the 1970s put on by Henry Nouwen for Theology students. The course aimed at helping future ministers and pastors learn to connect with their future parishioners. Basically it was about accessing the compassionate sides of their own natures so they might better help others. Nouwen used Van Gogh as a the model of a person who had lived a life built on compassion for others.

The author has mined Vincent’s letters (mostly to his brother Theo) and studied deeply his paintings and drawings, in order to understand and demonstrate what it means to live a life of compassion, and to highlight the artist’s mission in life. For me that mission is summed up very nicely in a quote from one of Van Gogh’s letters:

Art is to console those who are broken by life.

Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo

I had a vague sense of Vincent’s spiritual leanings (I knew he’d been a missionary living among poor miners and their families to better understand and help them), and he’d tried to become a preacher. But, before finding this book my thinking hadn’t gone much deeper than that.

But, through reading this book I discovered Vincent was really what many of us might call a mystic. The author goes further and after what i’ve learned, I tend to agree with her: she thinks Van Gogh is a saint.

A mystic in the sense that he tried to live a holy and compassionate life. He viewed all nature (of which he concluded humans are simply one equal part) as being expressions of the divine. And a saint in that he dedicated his life to making art that would inject light and colour into the darkness of people’s lives.

As I mentioned, Vincent had been a missionary for a time. But his radical way of living among the poor and sharing their lives in order to know and love them better was shocking and way too extreme for his bosses, and he had to move on.

So, he finally settled on full-on immersion in his art. His mission was to make paintings that offered comfort and consolation to those who are suffering. And that’s all of us to one degree or another isn’t it?

You can see by now that this supremely accessible (and pleasurable to read) work has had a profound impact on me. This book isn’t only for artists, nor is it a religious book; it is as I have said an inspiration and guide to living a compassionate and loving life.

I don’t want to just say ‘I can’t recommend highly enough that you read this book’; I want to say instead Please, please read this book. Then obviously act on what you have read!

I’ve always admired – loved – Vincent, now I think I know why. Or as Don McLean says in one of the most profound love songs (Vincent) in history (remember, I never exaggerate):

Now, I understand, what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they’ll listen now

Perhaps.

Love and Peace from me to you

If You … Don’t Quote Me on This

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I don’t remember when I began to collect quotes; my early teens I think. I just started making notes of quotes from books (even comics in those far off younger days), from conversations overheard. Then, later, little excerpts from my own journals and other writings. Even slogans I’d see on t-shirts, billboards, or wherever else.

This doesn’t mean much in these times when you can type in a search for quotes on any subject, for any occasion, by anyone from anytime in history. But, in those long ago days before computers were in our hands, and certainly way before the Internet, it wasn’t so quick and easy.

Anyway, fast forward to the not so distant past;One day I sat at the computer (it was time for computers, thank goodness) and typed up all those collected quotes stored in several boxes full of little notebooks and scraps of paper.

The result is literally hundreds of pages of tightly typed quotes. That typing (which in fact took me quite a bit longer than one day) was in fact the genesis of a book that has remains half written.

You see, as I typed I saw so many great words of wisdom that I just felt compelled to put some of them together somehow.
Ive now been at that task for many years: its a very intense process and takes so much energy and, as any writer will tell you, the muse has to strike before we can begin to strike those keyboard keys! Anyway, it will be done when its done; the very notion of presence, of there only being now, is actually one of the major themes of the book.

As I got to the end of that original typing marathon, I noticed that, strangely, the very last quote in that long long list reads simply, If you. Clearly a sentence begun but left hanging. Who will ever know what would or should or could have come next but never did?

Some time ago I remembered that interesting little fact and began to think about its meaning. I decided to do a quick search of the whole collection for that little conditional phrase. The search revealed that there are 139 instances of quotes beginning with If you.

So, dear readers, dear friends and fellow travellers on life’s journey, here are eight (why pick ten like everyone else would?) of those quotes, chosen at random (is there such a thing really?).

No commentary or comment from me; you, the reader, can do very nicely without my two cents worth thrown in. Well, okay, just 2c worth: I have often learned a lot from quotes such as these (not necessarily these ones specifically); sometimes a simple quote has led to a healing or an important insight.

So, I thought it would be a great idea to share some of my collection with you and perhaps there will be one or more that strikes a chord:

If You …

  • If you allow things to surprise you, you will get easily confused.
  • If you always do your best, you will be free from regrets.
  • If you follow the eternal law, you can understand how to love.
  • When you forget who you are, and dont know what to do, act the way you would if you did.
  • If you really dont care, you arent going to know if something is wrong. The thought would never occur to you. The act of pronouncing something wrong is a form of caring.
  • If you have to ask questions all the time, you never get time to just know.
  • If you are not interested in this, then why are you here?
  • If you deny even one person entrance to your life, youll never get their uniqueness from anyone else.

So, there you are. Theres much to reflect on here. Lots to focus on, to meditate on, and contemplate.

Love and blessings from me to you

Dear Diary: The Story of Your Birth

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Namaste friends and Welcome

I wrote this little remembrance about the birth of my journaling life some time ago. I thought it might be nice to share it here on my new Notes from the Hermit’s Cave blog as keeping a journal has been such an important aid to my own ongoing healing, and has been key to my spiritual journey.

See the fascinating update at the end!

Photo by Jan Kahánek on Unsplash

For many of us keeping a journal is a key element in our efforts to live a good life, or even to have a life: it can be a tool for healing, a means to bring some order to the chaos in our hearts and heads, and a venue for reflections on life, the Universe, and everything. For me, it’s been all of these things and more.

I guess for most people Henry David Thoreau is best known for the book he wrote about his time living alone in a small cabin on Walden Pond in Massachusetts, titled funnily enough Walden. And I suppose most people would have no idea that all, or pretty much all, his writings, lectures and so on, came from his Journal. Note the capital: he himself called it The Journal.

Photo by Hester Qiang on Unsplash

A few years ago I read a very cool book called The Book of Concord: Thoreau’s Life as a Writer, which is an examination of, yes you guessed it, his life as a writer. What made it extra interesting was the way the author (William Howarth) used The Journal as his way into Thoreau’s writing and life.

Let me tell you one of the many things that jumped out at me from this fascinating book: the reason Thoreau started keeping The Journal in the first place. It seems that one of his neighbours in Concord was Ralph Waldo Emerson (imagine that if you can). Anyway, one day Emerson says to Thoreau,

‘What are you doing? Do you keep a journal?’

Now, it seems that Thoreau had been running around telling everyone he was a writer and that he was examining nature and studying the life of the town. All that writerly kind of stuff. But he hadn’t been keeping a journal.

So, he answered Emerson’s challenge by beginning The Journal. And, as I said, all his writing from then on came right out of that journal. Sometimes, believe it or not, he literally ‘cut and pasted’ from The Journal; he actually tore out pages or cut up passages and stuck them together to form the final manuscripts. Now, that is called having supreme confidence in your own work.

Anyway, after I read that, it got me thinking about my own journal and how I came to begin it. As I sit typing this, my journal is safely stored away in a trunk in my sister’s garage. (See the update at the end. Strange syncronicity indeed)

There are close to one hundred separate volumes, mostly school type notebooks (called exercise books in Australia), some exotic volumes from travel in India and a few odd looking specimens of varying shapes and sizes. Hard to believe really: so many words.

This is my personal journal; my art journals are another matter. Just wanted to make that distinction, though oftentimes it’s hard to tell the difference.

In late 1980, I returned to Australia after a few months in New Zealand. I wasn’t in great shape and was hanging around at my parents’ house and feeling like a ‘wet week in a thunderstorm’ (if you get my meaning). One day, my mother out of the blue said,

‘Why don’t you start keeping a diary?’

Of course you don’t know my mother, but believe me when I say that this is most definitely not the kind of thing I’d have ever expected her to suggest to her son as a way for him to deal with his very poorly mental condition.

But, just like Thoreau after his chat with Emerson, I headed to the shops without delay, bought a school exercise book, and began my diary (I often interchange the terms diary and journal). And I’m still at it, as I’ve said.

And you know what? Thinking about my journal now, I feel a sense of pride. I don’t mean arrogant, ego driven ‘pride’: my heart is glad. I have consistently for over forty years kept a record of my life which goes deep into my psyche and beyond. Well that’s what it often feels like.

Sometimes it’s been an extremely detailed account and written every day; other times there have been gaps with just scant little notes to record my doings, thoughts, feelings, and so on. But, at least it is there. I have a profound sense of achievement when I think of my journal. Maybe I need to adopt the capital like Thoreau: My Journal.

My final words must be then, thanks Mum. I know I thanked you when you were still in this world with us, but it can’t hurt to announce my thanks to the world (as much of it as reads this blog anyway) can it?


Update

The trunk containing The Journal has left my sister’s garage (thank you little sister) and is as I type this update, on a truck heading this way and will arrive late tonight or early tomorrow.

The timing is completely serendipitous: By ‘chance’ I came across the above piece of writing today as I was looking for other things, then a little while later got a call from the shipping company with the news! Pickup wasn’t scheduled for a few more days.

Of course I still regularly spend time with The Journal, perhaps more than ever, and it will be very nice indeed to have the whole thing with me once again.

Yet Another Update

Yes indeed, it certainly is, nice I mean. Here is The Journal in its full glory (one volume missing but will be here soon)