Category Archives: Monastic Life

A Few Thoughts on the Big Question: Why a Monk’s Life?

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Just now, on rediscovering a quote I’d noted down months ago, I spontaneously decided to download again the book I took it from. This will be the third reading: seems to be one of those books that keep calling you back.

The book (The Abbot’s Shoes by Peter Robertson) tells the story of the author’s foray into monastic living in New Zealand way back in the early 1970s when he was twenty something.

One of many mini monastries we’ve been blessed to live in

I’d like to share the mentioned quote with you, because I think it really speaks to my own commitment to the contemplative, hermit life, which is for us a monastic life too – a hermitage is actually a mini monastery.

Sitting in his apartment one night, completely dissatisfied with life the universe and everything, the author contemplates the state of the world around him.

‘All the marching, all the writing, all the campaigning in the world isn’t going to change this insanity, brutality, and carnage.’

Actually this isn’t the quote I’d made a note of; it’s the preceding  sentence which I saw again today and it seemed to just fill out the context for me. Anyway, after a few moments of quietness and thought, the author concludes:

‘I somehow intuited that the most powerful, significant , and influential  action I could take to change the course of this kind of history, was to hide in a monastery.’

He goes on to reflect that by doing so – living simply, in a community devoted totally to contemplation and prayer – he could become a tiny part of ‘the turning of the tide’.

Years later, reading Thomas Merton‘s diaries, he discovered that Merton had felt the same way, concluding that those living simple, prayer filled, contemplative and quiet lives were ‘keeping the universe from crashing in pieces and falling apart.’

There is a strong sense among contemplatives, hermits, nuns, monks, that this is their function: keeping the whole thing going. Or as our author says, each playing a tiny part in the big picture. I would say, like I know Merton did many times (and acted upon his words), that action in the world is absolutely necessary; it’s just that it can’t do all the work alone.

In our hermitage we too speak often of these ideas, and think about them deeply and try to realise how they affect our lives as hermit monks.

So, hiding in a monastery? Or in a hermitage? It’s true it’s very much a hidden life in many ways. For me though, it’s not about  being hidden, it’s more about just what Black Elk says, I’m trying to make my every step a prayer.

Speaking for myself, it’s not that I’m unwilling to pray for a specific individual, or for peace in such and such a country, or relief from poverty, and oppression for specific individuals or communities.

It’s more that: picking and choosing in that way risks leaving people and issues out inadvertently or through some unconscious bias.

I have chosen to live this life apart as much as possible from the world in order to minimise the anxiery being ‘out there’ causes me, to have the quiet, the time, the ‘head and heart’ space to simply pray. To make of my life a prayer

Let every step you take upon Mother Earth be as a prayer

Black Elk (Ogala Lakota Holy Man)

My partner hermit is fond of reminding me of the well known aphorism that a stone dropped in a pond will make ripples that spread out and out. Just like the vibes – the vibrations – emanating from a prayerful life, from all the prayerful lives.

Foster Your True Self: It’s A Big Deal

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Today I finished watching  a beautiful and extremely fascinating documentary.  It was about life in a Trappist monastery as well as a fascinating history of that movement. I was struck by something one of the monks said.

He was referring to what he and his fellow monks are actually doing with their lives in the monastery. He said their lifestyle was helping them to:

‘foster who we truly are before God.’

Hearing this, I had to pause the video, make notes, and do some thinking. What had actually struck me, my first thought on pausing, was that this is exactly what I’m doing as a hermit monk dwelling in our Hermitage. Exactly what I’m doing. Well, at least it’s what I’m aspiring to.

There are two aspects or primary intentions that inform the life I try to live as a hermit and monk that are in fact integral one to the other; they merge actually to become one primary focus of my life.

I practice an ever evolving and I hope intensifying devotion to the divine, with the upliftment of the world and all beings as its central theme.

The other, integral focus, is an equally ever evolving and intensifying quest for self-knowledge, for the answer to the question, who am I?

In other words, I am attempting to foster who I truly am before God. Foster as in ‘encourage the development of …’ (as one definition puts it).

In this case, the development is the growth of the knowledge of my true nature – who I am above and beyond this physical (and mental) creature running around madly trying to figure things out.

In my life there is much effort devoted to the cultivation – a synonym for foster – of that knowledge: meditation, prayer, contemplation, study, just sitting, being still. Did I mention the aspirational nature of all this? It’s an ongoing project to say the least.

Speaking of aspirational: Two more synonyms for foster that I like are nurture and support. Both are even more in that aspirational category; at least it feels like that sometimes. Actually, maybe there’s a more accurate way for me to be putting this.

After all, as I think about it now, even I would agree that my whole lifestyle, my entire way of being in the world supports and nurtures me.

Except for me, myself, and I, that is: Lest the inner grammarian sends me mad in a search for antonyms for foster, let me just say that I am overly skilled in the self-critical and self-destructive departments. My ability to put myself down and to tear myself apart is legendary.

Anyway, with overwhelming nurture and support coming from my partner hermit all the time reinforcing my sense of Self, all I have to do is work on ridding myself of these self-destrucitive and self-critical tendencies.

So, the conditions for the banishment of self-loathing are there; all that’s missing is discipline on my own part in seeing the Divine in myself as I profess to be trying to see it in everyone else.

I need to be rid of the forgetfulness  that blinds me to the Truth that is actually very plain to see.

Speaking of the Divine, the ‘before God’ is the vital element for me. God is all there is, so it is always before God that I act, whether in a positive or in a not so great manner.

The best prescription is for me to remember. To remember that God is everywhere and everything (did I say that already?). To remember that me, myself, and I, are also included in that everything and everywhere.

I think that once I do remember these truths even for the odd moment now and again, then the real fostering of who I truly am will have begun.

To Sleep or To Not Sleep?

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One of the stories I’ve been telling myself for pretty much as long as I can remember, is that my life has been impacted, influenced, directed, controlled, by depression and fatigue. As with all stories, there are elements of fact, fiction, fantasy, real life experience, truth, and the not so true in this one.

Anyway, with the fatigue factor in mind, I’ve recently made an intention (I call it a sankalpa) to lie down for an hour or two every day whether I ‘felt like’ it or not. The idea was that a daily break would be like a catch up, a preemptive measure if you like. Even if I didn’t sleep, it’d be an opportunity to just be still, listen to nice music, relax for a while, a quiet time.

Today, just after breakfast, and getting deeply into my spiritual practice, I suddenly experienced an epiphany. Or to be a little less grandiose about it, I had a little insight which has lead to me to make these notes.

Despite that feeling of exhaustion, and despite the previously mentioned intention to rest more, I resisted going to lie down, thinking I can lie down later in the day.

Why? Surely a person who thinks their life has been ruled by depression and fatigue, would welcome any pretext to lie down, to sleep, to shut the world out for a while.

And, then comes the insight: All of a sudden I realised why I was resisting taking rest: Well, the fact was that I didn’t want to sleep because, well, I’d be asleep. I’d not be able to continue my practice, read, write, to ‘live now’. Putting it another way, I simply wanted to keep on keeping on doing exactly what I was doing.

But wait, I hear you asking: how can you fully live now when you’re so tired?

Excellent question; the exact question in fact that I asked myself. The answer I got from Self was interesting: fatigue as a symptom and outcome of depression is one thing; fatigue resulting from living a full life with enthusiasm (sort of sometimes) is quite a different thing.

Actually, now I think about it, there’s another little insight making its way to the surface of this over-active, over-full mind: The very fact that I thought I had living to do now is a very clear signal that, for at least the moment, depression is not dragging me around, or down, or anywhere else.

Just that concept of wanting to be awake to live this moment? Well, isn’t that a joyful thing? But what about being so tired? Should I go and lie down now anyway?

Ummm… Actually I don’t know; I can’t say really. So, I think I will just keep on doing what I was doing when I began these notes.

Which was chanting the names of God.

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare.

Now that should wake me up for a bit.

PS It’s a bit later in the day, and I’m typing up the notes as a post for the blog. I did in fact carry on chanting for a while, I’ve had lunch, and I think after I post this, I might go for a walk around the neighbourhood. And no, I haven’t had to lie down yet.

Maybe later!

The Hermits (and the Lion) Sleep Tonight

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The Lion Sleeps Tonight. That’s the song name I always think of. Sometimes you might hear it called Wimoweh. While it’s the song’s Zulu title, it’s actually not a real word: it references a mishearing (and subsequent recording by a group in the early ’50s) of Uyimube (the original chorus) which is Zulu for you are a lion.

In any case, I feel like I’ve known the song all my life. I suppose I have: it was a smash hit when I was seven or eight years old. It’s been one of those songs that have stuck, become a constant presence, to be hummed occasionally, to be sung even less frequently, heard rarely, but loved and familiar.

Anyway, recently (in March I think) my affection for the song surfaced. I was thinking about something my partner hermit had said about creativity and suddenly the melody to The Lion Sleeps Tonight came into mind.

That melody, and my memory of the lyrics then became integral to the poem I wrote to express some of my thoughts about my partner hermit’s statement. It helped me say what I had to say.

I hope you like it – the song – Listen to the Tokens doing their version from 1961; check out the lyrics too. It’s a happy song, a reassuring song of safety and love.

With that I humbly offer my poem. Enjoy

THE HERMITS SLEEP TONIGHT

A creative way to start the day.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

In Samsara’s jungle there is a village, a suburban village.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Near the village – no, in the village
the hermits sleep tonight.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

The walled enclosure,
their very own paradise,
like a castle keep,
keeps them safe.
A peaceful way, a peaceful way.

Hush my sisters; hush my brothers.
No need to fear the jungle.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Day breaks; Surya rises.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Sleeping hermits gather, to break the fast.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Fast broken, sacred tea imbibed.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way

The hermits begin, begin their day of prayer.

A creative way to start the day.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

It’s Dhal Day Today

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This morning I announced here in the Hermitage to anyone within range, that today, I would be making lentils. No, I thought, I can’t ‘make’ lentils; my job is to cook them so they might become Dhal.  Jokingly to myself I stated by way of correction in my best mentally affirmative voice ‘It’s Dhal day today.’

Dhal is an important staple for us here at the hermitage. Please don’t imagine I’m exaggerating  when I say that we eat it everyday. Actually, come to think of it, it might be just an ever so slight exaggeration.

Very very occasionally we choose some other evening meal, always vegan. But to tell the truth, we all like Dhal so much that we hardly ever feel the need for a change.

Anyway, as I say, it’s one of my relished responsibilities to once a week, or thereabouts, play my part in producing the Dhal that sustains the community for the next week.

Just a little aside: Lest you think Dhal is all we eat, I should mention we eat lots of fruits and vegetables, rice and breads, beans and various other things that come to us one way or another.

Please, the inner editor is begging me, can we just get on with today’s topic? Actually, the topic is the Dhal making that has taken place today. So, really, we are still kind of on track.

Right then. Not long after my announcements to the community and to myself, I got to it,  to the task at hand. First, I pour red lentils into a largish saucepan.

Not my picture. Just to give you an idea of what I saw that prompted my feelings

I watched as the lentils streamed from the packet to form a little mountain, first at the bottom of the saucepan, growing to full saucepan scale. Funny thing to say but I was kind of mesmerized by this mountain building. I was struck by the thought – more like a feeling – this is wonderful, this is important.

I mean to say that I felt a little awestruck by the abundance. In a sort of gratitude induced reverie, I scooped a handful of said lentil mountain, letting lentils stream back to Lentil Mountain in the saucepan.

Then it’s rinsing time. You see, you need to rinse the lentils to get rid of excess starch, bits of dirt,  little stones, or twigs. This is a vital step in the process according to the Dhal Grand Master who taught me this life-sustaining art.

In any case, it’s at this stage that you’re allowed to get your hands right into the mix. Run water, swish the lentils around, drain off now starchy, twiggy, stony water. And repeat five, six, or more times determined by the clarity of the water after each rinse.

I like that bit too actually: kind of pleasant sensation as lentils swirl through fingers and you get experience something of the lentils themselves. Nice feeling.

Next step, fill a giantish sized saucepan (I call it the big pot) with the rinsed lentils, add water (very exacting amounts too, but don’t ask me for precise details), bring to the boil occasionally scooping off any remaining bits and pieces as you watch the alchemy happen.

Then, once boiling, it’s time to stir in various spices. Once again, exact amounts are called for, but, well it’s kind of a trade secret. By which I mean, I couldn’t tell you measurements; one just knows. Could be a cook thing. Or maybe it’s a monk thing?

Enough cooking (sometimes the inner editor doesn’t know when to leave the writer alone).

Okay then.

Gratitude. And wonder. Both experienced today – and not for the first time.

Wonder at & gratitude to Surya (the Sun) which gives and sustains all life, including lentils

Wonder at the aforementioned alchemy that transforms dried, red lentils, a few spices, and water, into a delicious, substantial, healthy and nourishing, food that satisfies and sustains.

Gratitude that I am able to take a small part in this alchemy. Gratitude for the beings who sustain us – me, our community, you, all of us on Earth. Gratitude for the grace I have been granted that actually allows me access to such wonders and abundance.

It’s a lot to be grateful for. All I can add is that it is my deep gratitude that will keep me ‘making lentils’ always.

Realisation of Reality; It started With a Joke

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‘I like looking at you,’ says the hermit.

‘You must be sick in the head,’ replies, as quick as  you like, his partner hermit of 40 odd years. (Obviously an old and oft shared joke).

‘Of course I’m sick in the head,’ bursts out of the hermit in response. ‘It’s like saying the sun comes up every morning. It’s a given, a simple fact of life.’

Problem is, it’s not true is it? the sun I mean; it doessn’t come up does it? Doesn’t go down either for that matter. I mean it looks like it rises up every morning, and it looks  like it goes down every night. But it doesn’t. In reality it’s us here on planet Earth who are doing the turning.

At ‘sunrise’, our home planet in its continual revolving has us looking at a stationary star (our Sun, Sol, Surya) that is, rather than going up, just sits there as we revolve downwards leaving it behind, Same story at night with the sunset, just the other way round.

Our experience when looking at this scene is that the sun is going down behind the hills. But in reality it’s the hills and river and the viewer going up as Earth rovolves. Hard to get one’s head around.

To explain what we see, what we experience – or rather what our ancestors saw and sought to explain – the simplest, most obvious thing to do is tell it like we see it. Sounds obvious enough, but as we’ve just seen, the story we inherited and which was only recently (in historical terms that is) shown to be incorrect, of the rising and the setting of the sun was based on an illusion,

As to the hermit and his story – the long-held believed to be true story – well, if we’ve been able to establish that stories we tell ourselves are often based on illusions, then perhaps the hermit can look for another story concerning the state of his head health, that is based a little more on facts, not so much on illusion.

Or to put it in other words: It’s quite possible that if the truth of the matter is that the sun never goes up and never  goes down, then just maybe the hermit is not actually sick in the head.

Except perhaps when it comes to old jokes shared between beloved partner hermits.

Sounds and Vibrations

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Today’s post opens with what I think is called an oxymoron (funny word that)

No need to repeat here that I am a hermit; there you go, I repeated it, but it’s true nonetheless: I am a hermit. The oxymoron bit comes in when I make another obvious statement to the effect of, as a hermit I very much prefer to spend the vast majority of my time right here where I am right now:  in our hermitage.

This has become even more the case since our community decided to ‘settle down’ for a while in the one spot.

Obviously, just like everyone else, we have shopping and other chores that need to be done. Then there’s the occasional visit to the Doctor, and even the dreaded dentist, that will call me away from my safe-haven.

And that’s even before I mention walking for fresh air, exercise, and simple enjoyment. Or pursuing my Contemplative Photography practise. Both activities take me out and about, but usually not too far or for too long, from the Hermitage.

In any case, both these welcome (and absolutely necessary) pastimes have me mostly on my own, being quiet with heart, mind, and eyes open, or simply contemplating ‘stuff’.

No, it’s nore the occasions when I’m having to interact with people, or when there are crowds. Some might call me over-sensitive, but that label would only apply on my outgoing and gregarious days.

While that was intended as a little ironic humour, I must insist (internal editor speaking here) that I add that oftentimes said outgoingness and gregarious demeanor is an act, a cover for anxiety, and usually ends up making me feel worse anyway.

Although I guess you could also say that I’m allergic to the world and its ways, there are the occasional times when I want to, not so much ‘be around people’, as feeling the need to be somewhere where some life is going on around me. Not hectic life, as I’ve said, more like people going quietly about their business, doggies walking and playing with their humans, maybe people sitting chatting to friends. I guess you know the kind of thing.

This Mystic Tree stands for all the Tree People

The hermit gods blessed us in placing us in a hermitage which we love more and more, literally five minutes walk to a low-key, friendly indoor/outdoor café overlooking the village green with it’s big tree in the middle, and its nice lawns where the above-mentioned not so hectic life with it’s chatting, sitting, and relaxing people, and its doggies leading their humans in games and walks goes on. The coffee is okay too.

Except. People can be friendly, which in itself ,of course, is a lovely lovely thing, but as I’ve been telling you, I’m not really very good with people in those kinds of situations. Keep a low profile, is my ongoing advice to me.

The poem I share today was composed as I sat in the sun on a recent visit to that coffee shop. This visit prompted me to try to describe something – in poetic form and in ‘real time’ – of what I’ve been sharing with you here. No, what it actually describes is my strategy on that occasion for keeping said low profile.

This poem also holds a timely reminder that arrived with, what I can only think of as divinely inspired timing.

SOUNDS AND VIBRATIONS

My eyes are cast down – not downcast.
The brim of my hat pulled low.
As good, I hope,
as a Do Not Disturb sign.


For a hermit, out of his cell,
the cell must be reconstructed.
He is his cell.
Eyes focused on these words revealed;
hat brim, the walls.

I never forget, but just in case!


A chime resounds, but it does not disturb,
for I know for what it tolls:
Chant Hare Krishna, it calls to me.
So, these words must conclude;
words of praise now commence.

Hare Krishna. 

Cause and Effect: A Poetic Sharing

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Greetings my friends, and welcome

Another poetic sharing today. My resolve, my prayer, to write more devotional poetry does indeed seem to be bearing fruit, and I am deeply thankful.

With gratitude and with humility I make this offering to You.

Love and Peace

CAUSE AND EFFECT

Every moment is a cause in which lies a potential effect

Spiritual growth. This is the effect.

Yet, as we grow, our very growth becomes a cause –

   potentially –

as does a winged seed traveling on the wind –

the breath of God – carry with it the potential tree

On your soul, on the souls of other beings, on the soul of the

   world,

the cause, your one moment of growth, may have its effect.

Cause and effect; one and the same.

Let’s Talk

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I feel like talking more … Sorry. Start again. It’s not what it seems and, well rather than get into it now, just read on a bit and all shall become clear.

Anyway, there’s an old joke that goes like this: One friend says to another friend: ‘How come you’re always talking to yourself?’ To which the second friend replies: ‘Well, you see, I always like to talk to the most intelligent person in the room, so I look around and usually I find that it’s me. So I end up talking to myself’.

Okay, maybe not so funny. Could be taken as bad manners or rude come to think of it. But that’s how jokes often are isn’t it?

Anyway, and here we get to the little bit of clarity I promised, you’re probably going to remind me that I have often said I would like to talk less, and be quiet more often.

That’s still true, but this is different. You see, lately I’ve been feeling the need to talk more about various aspects of my ‘inner life’. You know the sort of thing: confusions and worries; niggling issues bugging me; that kind of stuff.

And my community hear and experience quite enough of my inner life, with its contradictions, mood swings, and the rest; I have no intention of being more of a burdon than I probably already am.

So, I look around and ask who’s left? Me! Myself! I! Not exactly the most intelligent person in the room, so there the joke breaks down, but it does indeed look like I might end up talking to myself after all.

Well, it’s kind of a yes and no sort of thing. ‘Myself’ is the individual with this mind and body, making these words appear on the screen. It’s the ego self, the me that’s the being who walks, talks, breathes, and … Well you know what else.

But, and this is the brilliant bit, if I separate the words to read My Self, will it’s a whole other story. For a start, Self is not ‘mine’. Self is that part of me that is consciousness; and it’s not a different entity than ‘your’ consciousness, or anyone or anything else’s.

So, if I start talking to this Self that’s actually anyone and everyone, and not just me, who is it that I am in fact talking to?

Sounds to me like I’d be talking to you, and you, and everyone else; to the trees, the birds; everybody!

And yes, that’s exactly right. For me, there is only Self – consciousness – that is indeed anyone, anything, everyone, and everything in the Universe, both seen and unseen.

In other words, I’d be talking to God; the Divine; the Absolute Reality; the Thou Art That described by at least one of the world’s great spiritual traditions.

Which is to say, I want – need – to spend some more time talking to, and in conversation with, God.

Phew. I’m glad I figured that out.

You might remember the prayer I wrote a while ago to the Divine Mother? Seems like a good place to share it with you again.

Love and Peace from Paul the Hermit

A Plea for Forgiveness

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It was way back in the earlier days of this blog, sometime in 2022, that I wrote a post about our community’s liking for snacking on plain toast by choice. It’s our more or less regular late evening, before bed, bite to eat. Perhaps accompanied by black tea, as I described in that post.

As I also point out in that post, I do actually enjoy plain toast. It’s not that I no longer like jam or other yummy spreads; I like them too well truth be told, but sometimes, well, plain is good.

As the day winds down to become night, and we settle to our evening snack, I will sometimes make a joke about simple food, or monks with simple tastes, whatever. Anyway, a few nights ago I made a remark, a joke, that has had a profound impact on me.

‘I’ll just say a prayer for my two slices of dry toast.’

Of course I am just like so many other religious or spiritually inclined people, and say a prayer before I receive any and all food or drink. It’s a long time habit, and a blessing I like to perform. Just a thank you is all it is really.

This comment, this joke, as soon as it was out of my mouth, I realised, of course I will. Don’t I always?

It’s true that our community lives simply, as simply as we can. And that includes what we eat and drink. It’s also true that this is not some sort of ethical stance consciously taken; nor is it a kind of overlaid act of solidarity with those who have no choices due to poverty or other circumstances.

It’s purely and simple because we like simple. It really does suit our natures and temperaments and for us it is the obvious way to live.

It is no renunciation: we welcome simple. This obviously is not to say that we are unaware that our very natures and temperaments naturally steer us away from choices that are unethical or are out of sync with compassion (call it solidarity) for other beings.

The reason I’m ranting on about this off-hand comment thrown out as a so-called joke is, well just that: It was off-hand, and my misguided intention in making this ‘joke’ was insensitive and careless; it was lacking compassion for all the other living beings sharing life and consciousness with me.

And for that flippancy and carelessness, I ask forgiveness from the invisible community that is in fact all of us struggling to live in a material world.

My sense is that in saying ‘all of us’ I might instead say, all of us who are in truth One; We who are that one Self that seeks forgiveness.