Yesterday I went a little further afield than usual on my (theoretically) regular walk. We have two lakes within walking distance to the hermitage, and it was to one of these I ventured yesterday. I say further afield because I did in fact end up walking further than I’d planned..
The lake is called Budgewoi, and is really more a huge lagoon and part of a system called Tuggerah Lakes. I walked along part of the lakeside path and it was a lovely, quiet, and peaceful outing.
The foreshore has been covered in grass and other landscaping, but there are clumps (I call them groves, but not sure if that’s the right name or not. Groves does sound a lot better than ‘clumps’ though) of trees dotted along the way. Some of these standing ones appear to be old indeed.
Many of these groves line the shore and many attracted my attention and my camera’s eye. The poem I share today speaks of an encounter with a small grove of three. Small grove, but large and ancient trees.
Initially, I paused at these trees because the composition of the scene caught my eye, and my heart soon followed as I reflected, and listened to these old neighbours.
Please accept my small sharing of this effort to put down in words my experience there.
Namaste
OLD NEIGHBOURS
Were the words spoken? Certainly they were heard by one with, sometimes, the ears to hear.
Roots running deep, nourished by ancient Life; branches reaching to the gods of the sky. ‘We been neighbours long time’. As of one voice, or so I heard, these three standing ones, sharing a lakeside home place besides which I paused, in golden light.
Old neighbours – together lived and together shared the times of plenty, and the times of trial; endured the inundation of the waters, and the years when the waters withdrew, and all that came between.
Witness to the comings and goings of the winged ones; of the four legged; of the two legged, these standing ones – these tree people – have stood resolute. Prevailing always.
My pausing is but a fleeting thing spent reflecting in their shade and space. Yet a moment of pause can have no measure. Not for neighbours and their two legged friends.
Varuna and Surya. the Hindu deities of sky and all Earth’s waters (Varuna), and our sun (Surya). These names resonate for me. I like how such great natural phenomena fundamental to our existence on this planet, can be ‘personalised’ in this way.
I find that having acquired symbolic or representational names for sky, water, and sun, has allowed me to somehow relate to the inherent giving and preserving of the energies that power all life that water, sky, and sun provide in a prayerful, thankful way. Kind of makes it personal.
Let me put aside for a moment the obvious scientific reality that tells us we can’t live long without water, can’t live at all without the gases in our atmosphere, and if the sun goes dark for whatever length of time it is, then all life ceases to exist.
How many times have I stood in awe watching a sunset?
Or watched as big waves rolled in with a surfer hoping for a ride?
How many times have I welcomed the sound of rain on a roof and the sight of it nourishing trees or other life
And how many times have I sat on or walked along a riverbank feeling uplifted and a little more grounded?
Many, many times is the short answer. Varuna and Surya are constant presences in our lives. And I am grateful for the life-giving and life-sustaining natures of their existence.
Sharing with you today, a little poetic expression of one of those times when sky, water, and sun, gave me just a little more than those fundamental material energies.
ONCE AGAIN VARUNA AND SURYA
Once again, Varuna and Surya are coming to make rescue. They arrive on – as in fact they are – the currents and eddies of the river of life. In this way, the natural order remains in motion.
Shared with love
from Paul the hermit
Flow river go, past the shady tree. Flow river flow, flow to the sea. Flow river flow, flow to the sea.
Thanks to Roger McGuinn for one of the classic flowing on a river songs.
Earlier today I took my camera out for a walk. Which is to say, I had an intention that the walk would be more than exercise for the body (very much needed as it is), but also an opportunity for my eyes and heart to open up a little to the tiny part of the world I was to pass through.
I also hoped that my mind would join in so that I would be able to actually recognise what I was seeing and feeling, allowing me to perhaps make images of what I saw and felt.
One final prayer: In doing its job, I hoped my mind would stay focused, and work behind the scenes very quietly.
A few minutes walk from the Hermitage is the shore of a fairly large lake, and when I reached that spot, I sat on a conveniently placed little wall, so I could, well, just sit for a bit.
By chance, um. Sorry, let me rephrase that. By the brilliant synchronicity that results from the perfect working out of the natural laws of the Universe, right in front of me, nearer to the water’s edge, a dozen or more Corellas played and foraged. At least to my limited human eyes, that’s what they were doing.
Zoom in and share the fun!!
It’s mesmerizing watching them: tumbling with each other or on their own; picking up and wrestling with twigs and other small things. I was blessed too, to witness several of these creatures taking off, in flight, and landing.
You might have heard me say (or read when I wrote) that ‘I was just not there’. Well, not today; today I was definitely there. In a contemplative reverie in which I felt connected with what I was witnessing through my lens.
‘I had a small sense of being relaxed,’ I commented casually to my community when I arrived back at the Hermitage. And that’s what it felt like: I had relaxed for a time. I can’t say I was aware of the passage of time; it was more an eternal being in the moment if I was to try to label it now. It might have been thirty minutes or ten by the world’s measure; I have no idea really.
I’m only ever going to be a beginner when it comes to paying full attention, to contemplating and being completely immersed in the moment, and not forgetting trying to control the monkey mind. Practise will never make perfect in that department!
Anyway that’s why spiritual practices are called practices: they require the spiritual seeker to be committed to a life of ongoing and continual practise.
Of course encountering those birds at the lake today is definitely a practice I would be happy to practise anytime!
‘Why do you pray?’ I ask myself. It’s not a rhetorical question: I really do want to know; it’s one of those big ‘Who am I?’ kind of questions.
‘I pray because I pray,’ I hear myself answer, sounding as if I am indeed responding to a rhetorical question.
‘So’, one might think (as I well might and sometimes do) ‘you pray without any ulterior motive at all? You don’t pray to get things? You don’t pray for healing for others or yourself? You don’t pray for peace and happiness for the world or yourself? None of these things?’
These are good, valid questions. And the answer is of course I do; of course I pray for healing for others and myself; I do pray for communal and personal peace. And happiness? Well who doesn’t pray in one way or another for happiness?
I do, however draw the line at praying for material things like money and physical objects to possess, that sort of thing. I believe I don’t pray for ‘things’. I think so anyway.
So, what do I mean when I say ‘I pray because I pray’? Well, it’s not so much that it isn’t true, its just that at this moment that praying for praying’s sake isn’t the whole of life activity that I would like it to be. I would say it is a core aspiration that I am working towards.
You see, I want to pray, and to make my whole life a prayer. A prayer of praise and devotion; a prayer of gratitude and loving; and a prayer of service to all living beings.
If that’s the aspiration, then how come I’m still praying for all that other stuff of the world? Healing, peace, happiness, and the rest? How does that work one might ask (as I might and sometimes do ask myself).
Here’s what I’ve figured out so far: I have a strong sense that any prayers or prayerful activities I might make, are like vibrations, or ripples that interact with the vibrations and ripples emanating from countless, infinite even, other beings and from the fabric of the Universe itself.
In other words, not only the ‘created’ Universe, but the consciousness that is the origin and cause of the Universe, which is in reality life and love itself. Prayet is a way, I think, to make manifest an already existent link or union with what the hermits call the ‘Invisible Community’.
For example, if I’m chanting my mantra at any time day or night, I know that there are at least tens of thousands, if not millions of other beings all over the Universe doing exactly the same thing.
What I’m trying to say here is that, until I reach that pure state of making my prayer solely for prayer’s sake, for praise, devotion, gratitude, then it’s okay that I still pray for things that speak of a clinging still to the world (within my own boundaries of course!).
After all, all those creatures in who knows how many worlds and realms, all praying at the same time? There are some very powerful vibrations we’re talking about here.
I’ve been studying and thinking abut Bhakti – the absolute pure love for and devotion to God – for a while now. And, for me, God is all those other living beings and the Universe itself (or better to say, all that exists, which I might add includes me!). So, in that sense praying for healing, for peace, for happiness, well, it’s good for us all.
Another poetic and photographic note to share with you today. In the last month or so I’ve written two poems which are about angels. And both connected in some way with rain, or at least impending rain in one and actual rain in the other.
Initially I thought to just include the most recent of the two, but as I put my fingers on the keyboard it just seems to be emerging that I shall share both with you. And as you know I’m not one to ignore the demands of what types me!
Anyway, I offer them to your for your reading pleasure and perhaps cause for contemplation. Last shall be first in this matter I think. Enjoy please!
Angels, they are everywhere. Perhaps there are more than we know? Personifications of love, of compassion. Of charity too.
ON THE TEARS OF ANGELS
Is it good that angels cry? Anyway, why do they cry at all?
To wash away all the sorrows, to cleanse, to purify, to make new. And to ease the world’s pain.
Then, there are those of us who can’t conceive of ourselves as angels.
For those ones – each and every one – the tears of angels are cathartic; granting catharsis.
A CLOUD ANGEL SEEN
An angel wing seen in a cloud, ephemeral, gossamer. And the angel? She stands concealed within the silver linings of clouds, neighbouring clouds, heralding a soon to be descending deluge.
Today, a poem and a photo for you. I made the photo just over a year ago, and was very fond of it from the start. Then when I put into an editing app, it evolved to what you see today.
As well as that, as I ‘worked on’ the image, the little poem, (a kind of freestyle Haiku I think it could be called … sort of!) just emerged and I had to hurry to write it down.
Last night I was going through some poems of mine, and came across this one again. Not so much that I’d forgotten about it, more that I hadn’t thought of it since way back then.
So, I went on a search for the photo (also not forgotten, just buried deep in the hard drive!), so I could share it and the poem here with you on this blog. First the photograph:
In today’s post I’d like to share with you a photo. Actually, I share photos with you in just about every post don’t I? In fact, for me sharing photos (the vast majority of the ones I post on this blog are made by me.) is a really special and important element of my spiritual practice.
As is the actual making of them. My camera is – I think has always been – a tool for contemplation. Essentially, I wander around with my camera ready, my eyes open to see and receive, and with my heart and mind open. These last two are in the ‘much as I can’ category, but really that’s what I try to achieve: a kind of open, receptive, presence.
Then, sometimes, my eyes, mind, and heart all sort of see the same thing at the same time, or something draws my attention, or an insight dawns. Then, I raise my camera to my eye and the picture is made.
Anyway, let’s back to the topic. This isn’t a post about Contemplative Photography. My intention today is to share this photo with you.
It’s called At a Time of Prayer, and from the moment my senses, mind and heart too, coalesced to cause me to raise my camera to my eye and make the photo, it’s had a unique or special resonance for me.
And not only me: The photo has gone viral here at the hermitage, appearing on phone screens and tablet desktops and lock screens. And it appears very often in my thoughts and prayers, my contemplations and even in conversations. Perhaps you will allow me to share the little story behind this image as well as a possible explanation for its hermitage wide fame, favour, and love.
About a month ago I was walking along the lake front in the seaside town hosting the hermits at the moment, heading home after a long walk. I was listening to and chanting a favourite mantra (one about removing obstacles).
Absorbed in the music and the vibe of the mantra, I looked up – seemingly at random – and saw, well what you see in the photo. Without thought or hesitation and simply instinctively, I raised my camera to make the picture.
Ah yes, I see what you mean. You are quite right, I can’t exactly say I saw the scene in tones of grey, not technically. Though the camera did actually see and record it in monochrome. Let me explain.
You see, sometimes I switch my camera to only make black and white photographs, with the intention of shifting my way of looking and seeing the world around me. It’s always amazing to me how differently I start seeing things, once I get used to the change. I never get tired of it really. Like magic!
Anyway, once I lowered my camera, I said a prayer to Surya, the divine in the form of the sun.
Everyday, each morning when I first get up, I go to a window in the hermitage that faces the rising sun. I give thanks and praise for the life given and sustained by the sun; I praise its beauty too and give thanks for its light and warmth. Today, although the cloud is mostly covering the sun, I know it is still there and still shining, giving us all life.
Okay, back to the moment of the making of the picture. It was after my small prayer – my Surya Namaskar – my salute to the Sun – that the name of the photo came to me: At a Time of Prayer.
That made sense to me: I was already praying before I made the photo, then after it was made, I once more said a prayer. It truly was a time of prayer.
Now, the big question: Why has this particular photo had such an impact here in this haven of the hermits? Why, even now, do I find it a really appealing focus for contemplation?
Despite it being a dramatic photograph of start contrasts between light and dark, it seems to me to exude a kind of serenity. Perhaps it’s precisely the balance of those contrasts that makes for a peaceful easy feeling in what otherwise might not be seen as a quiet and calm image.
And it may be just that serenity arising due to that balance that contributes to the sense I get when looking at the photo: All is well.
All is Well. Why sense that in particular? Perhaps because I was there at the time. Perhaps because I was praying, looked up at just that moment and all my senses led me, along with my camera, to make the picture.
And in a sense, it’s a moment I can relive and remem ber through the photo, especially given the prayerful, contemplative mood in which it was made. At that moment of making it did indeed seem that All’s well.
And now? I know that All is well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well (paraphrasing and with thanks to Julian of Norwich.)
There is too, the power and light of the sun illumining life, which here is represented in the form of the towering Pine Tree.
Yes, I sense that balance again. A kind of harmony also. This time between life itself and that which enables and supports life. It is good to contemplate balance and harmony.
A few weeks ago I was wandering around in the CBD of Sydney, in Martin Place to be precise. It’s a popular square with loads of tourists, shoppers, coffee drinkers, and lunching folks.
It’s also a drawcard for both buskers and for street photographers. For me, it’s mainly a short cut from one street to anoher, though I must say, I’ve very often stopped to make a photo or two of the grand architecture, fountain, and the great light that seems to permeate the place.
Anyway, on this occasion as I walked about slowly, I heard a busker. Not a singer, more a spoken word poet type performer. I guess if I were to categorise him, I’d have to say he was a Rapper.
And to put it mildly, his poetry was a amazing; I had to stop and watch and listen for a while. I realised quickly that what he was doing was focusing on a particular passerby and would then make some (mostly humourous) ryhmes about that person. Things like:
Here comes a dude with groovy green shoes. Not having a pair like them is givin’ me the blues.
or:
Now I see a fella with a phone stuck on his ear. Come on buddy, why not let us all hear?
Now, I confess that these are my own made-up examples. I wish I’d noted some of the real ones, but I was too busy listening!
It’s easy to tell right away that I’m not what you would call a “natural rhymer”, if there is even such a thing.
But what turns this into a true synchronicity for me is that for a few years now I’ve had a recurring dream in which I’m simply walking along making up superb rhymes as I go. It’s one of those dreams you’re never sure are ‘real’ or simply a dream.
In any case, when I saw and heard this guy that day, it got me remembering the dream and how I’d often thought I would really love to actually be able to do that exact same thing.
Not about people though. I used to photograph people in the street; all kinds of people. I still consider photography among the most important of my contemplative and creative practices, just these days I don’t photograph people.
So, in a round about way, I’ve made a little “poem” that refers to what I do photograph, inspired by this encounter as well as particular photo I came across just yesterday but made months ago now.
Please enjoy
Strollin’ down the street I lift my camera to my eye, no longer interested in the people walking by. Nowadays I tend to notice their many and varied traces left behind, or perhaps (and even better) a golden leaf in the gutter I might find.
Thank you for reading this small attempt. Now here’s the photo I mentioned that inspired this attempt at a kind of spontaneous rhyme.
The Paradox of the Hermit Life (Courtesy of @travellinghermit3)
THE BEGINNING OF DEVOTION
Attention, paying attention. It’s the beginning of devotion. And when you see? When there is seeing? Well, seeing is praise.
When we see, what we see, is God. Not the god, or this or that god. There aren’t lots of gods, or so it seems. And in the end, there isn’t even one god: there is only God. So it was said by the sages.
Notes from the Hermit's Cave 