CRIES OF THE WINGED ONES
Just let go
cries the winged messenger
perched in the fence-corner tree.
Let go. Just surrender.
Surrender to what?
The river of life,
its flow, its vibe
Lord here I am,
I cry in reply.
Two beings, one Self.
The winged messenger cries
because she longs for us to listen
Recently I came across the story of Abba Arsenius – one of the early Christian desert fathers. I’d originally written about him a year ago in what became a short series of posts.
Coming across him and his story again prompted me to revisit those posts – the first of which you can read here – and I reread them again, though as if for the first time. Anyway, here’s a short recap before we move on.
Arsenius was a high ranking official for the Roman Empire, working for many years as a tutor to the sons of the Emperor.
Over time he grew tired of the glamour lifestyle, the politics, corruption and court intrigues, and looked for a way to free himself from the whole material trap he was in.
So he prayed, ceaselessly, the story goes. He prayed for salvation, for freedom.
And, in time the answer, according to the story came in just a few words:
Flee, be silent, and pray always.
And he did. Flee I mean. He headed for the Egyptian deserts which is where he found that silence, and the space, peace, and calm to fulfil his desire to be praying constantly. And, with some comings and goings, ups and downs, he stayed for the rest of his life.
Now, while Arsenius and his story are fascinating (in fact now I’ve rediscovered him, I’m going to look around for a biography or something so I can learn more), what I want to think about here is something I wrote in the first of those previous posts, and how it ties in with our decision (almost a year ago now) to stay in this one place for the present.
For these Hermit Pilgrims ‘fleeing from the world’ has meant a nomadic lifestyle, few possessions and material needs, a hermit life where our engagement or entanglement with the world is kept to a minimum, and in which we feel less of a pressure to conform, to ‘be shaped’ by the world around us.
The notion of staying in this one place – as fully now and in the present as we can be – is actually paradoxically a fleeing of its own kind. The world of Samsara, the material world ‘out there’ continues to become less and less appealing to these Hermit Pilgrims.
Alongside this growing detachment to the world (as well as the loss of desire to move about in the world geographically speaking), is the deepening realisation that the real and true pilgrimage is within, through and to our own mind and heart.
Complimenting all this, is the growing contentment we are experiencing in this actual place, this hermitage of ours that we are creating on a daily basis. More and more it feels to be the exact place in which that inner pilgrimage is to continue.
Does this mean we have given up on that ‘nomadic lifestyle’? No, not at all. Or, more accurately, we are not niether giving up or not giving up. The present is all there is and we don’t – can’t – know anything beyond that. As the saying goes, What can we say about tomorrow?
We are here, and it is now.
with love
Paul the Hermit
One morning recently I was reciting my prayers when I began to notice the welling of tears in the corners of my eyes. Soon the wellings became a slow stream down each cheek. And, before long, I was more or less sobbing. For a little while.
Where did the tears come from? Why was I crying? Well, to be honest, it’s a mystery.
No mystery, you might be thinking: Sounds like your tears were brought on for some reason by reading the prayers.
I’m not so sure. I used the words ‘reciting my prayers’ deliberately: Not only was I not paying attention to, or even seeing the words on the paper, I was not engaged in the least in the words themselves and their meaning.
Rather than ‘praying’ I was reciting from memory, rote fashion, as if chanting my times tables in primary school. Merely mouthing the words; my mind was blank, as in not there, distant, off doing what my mind does, without awareness from me, when I’m trying to pay attention.
So, was this some sort of moment of catharsis? Possibly, or so it seems to me.
Sometimes – often spontaneously, other times with some forewarning – there is a release: a shedding of tears, as in my story above; a heavy inner or outer sigh of relief; sometimes simply a sense of something let go, something gone, or at least on the way to being gone.
When such moments of catharsis take place, often what causes them, the catalyst, appears obvious. On the other hand – as in my recent sobbing session – that catalyst is a mystery, unrelated in any obvious way to anything happening at that moment, or at least to anything taking place on the surface of that moment.
Equally the cause for the tears, sighs, relief, and so on – the object of any potential catharsis – may also be a mystery. I had no idea at the time, nor do I know now, what caused my tears.
The prayer being recited at the time was about silence. But, as I’ve already mentioned, no way was I actually praying, what with my total lack of attention, obliviousness to the words, my mental blankness. My unconsciousness come to think of it. Nothing to suggest a catalyst or catharsis.
In any case, when such miraculous happenings occur, one thing I try (I hope) to remind myself to not do: Do not ask why. Let catharsis – or whatever process is underway – be as it is.
And to put aside my habitual tendency to analyse and categorise; resist the temptation to want to know and label everything that happens to me. Let the catharsis – if that’s what it is – carry on as it does and not dismiss it as: ‘Oh that’s just me getting emotional.’ Or ‘I must be a bit overtired today.’
To – wildly and freely – paraphrase a few words from an iconic movie character:
Catharsis is as catharsis does.
Namaste and Welcome
Today I would like to share with you a prayer (it’s a poem too, but …) I’ve written in praise of the Divine Mother. It’s actually the second prayer I’ve written to and for her. I shared that first one, called simply, A Prayer to the Divine Mother on the blog previously and you can find it here.
That post will also give you some background to my reverence for the Divine Mother – what she means to me; where my initial devotion comes from; my heart sense that this universal creative energy drives and sustains all creation; and finally how Divine Mother may be worshipped in many and varied (and even no) forms.
The prayer I share with you today – Jai Shree Maa – emerged as I knelt chanting those exact word at the alter of a holy place dedicated to the Divine Mother as revered by many in her form as Our Lady of the Rosary.
It is a temple in that name I sometimes go pilgrimming to for quietness, meditation, and devotion.
Please accept my prayer. Thank you
JAI SHREE MAA
In this temple to the Divine Mother
upon my knees and praying.
Jai Shree Maa
I chant with sacred love in my heart,
sacred words upon my lips.
Jai Shree Maa
Divine Mother, with these words,
Jai Shree Maa
I invoke your holy presence;
I speak from my heart to yours.
With love and wishes for peace
Paul the Hermit
O Lord, I take refuge in You.
You are my sole guide, my master.
Show me the right path and
I shall follow it.
This is a prayer I like very much. It appeared one day in a previous incarnation of this notebook, then migrated to my prayer book. Its origins are lost in the mists of forgetfullness.
In any case, I like it – a lot. In a big picture kind of way it encapsulates much about the way I aspire to live my life; what I aspire to devote my life and energies to.
The prayer is addressed to the ‘Lord’ – to the Divine; to the Absolute Reality of (to borrow a favourite phrase) Life, the Universe, and Everything. Some will call this God, some think of it as the creator. For me it is simply Lord: all that is existence.
And it is there that I aspire to take refuge. I seek shelter in the knowledge of the rightness and order of the universe. Not an easy task when I think about the state of life ‘on the ground’ on our home planet; how the horrors can be almost impossible to grasp, to understand, and to keep from despairing over.
But a contented state of refuge, of safety, security, and even happiness, may be found, I sense, by a cooperation with what we might call the flow of the river of life.
And if I am to discover for myself that refuge, then there really is only one choice: to accept that flow of the river of life as my only guide to how to live, what to do, how to be.
Not surprisingly I struggle with the idea of cooperating with and accepting the often crazy and random nature of that flow of my life as my ‘sole guide’; how much harder is it to accept that very river as my master?
Again, if I ever want to be happy, if I ever hope to be free from suffering and attachments to those things that cause me to suffer, then I must accept and cooperate with the reality: the river of life is the master whether I like it or not. I may as well accept it.
Which absolutely and I hope obviously, does not mean I’m a fatalist, or that I am resigned to just let the currents toss me about willy nilly. No, not at all.
My deep sense (yet another site for other struggles) that the solution to suffering does indeed lie in an acceptance of the reality of the flow of life as it’s happening moment to moment.
By not resisting life and what it presents to me, I aspire to arrive at a state of acceptance where I might contentedly and freely ask what is my role here? What is the universe asking me to do?
If I can listen, and actually hear with the ear of my heart, then I might be able to discern the path, which if followed, will free me from suffering .
Then I shall be going with the flow, following the path of least resistence, and I’ll be contributing to my own smooth (well, smoother at least) ride through life.
To ‘check the weather’ is to actively seek knowledge – news – of the world; it’s asking, what’s going on out there? Kind of an attachment, and in most cases, most of the time, I don’t seek out news of the world, but in certain circumstances it does sometimes seem necessary.
So, because it’s been raining heavily, and there have has been some minor flooding not too far from us, I checked the Bureau of Meteorology earlier this morning – I have an app on my phone.
Along with the air temperature, the measured and predicted rainfall, and other weather related details, there is list of ‘Current Severe Weather Warnings’.
There were three listed: big surf (we’re a couple of kilometres from the coast), big winds, and a third which leapt out and grabbed me, or putting it more accurately, it reached out and grabbed my heart.
A ‘Sheep Graziers’ Warning’ it’s called. It’s purpose is to warn farmers, that due to cold temperatures, heavy rain, and high winds, there is a risk of ‘losses to lambs and sheep exposed to these conditions.’
In other words, lambs and sheep might die if left out in the weather.
That casual check of the weather has now exposed me to some of that information of the world, the news, that I usually avoid. And that news has impacted my heart, my soul.
The risk of ‘loss’ to those sheep – and lambs – is to me as devastating as it would be when any other being is at risk of suffering or death. And, obviously, I’m absolutely aware at the same level that many creatures of many and varied species – including my own – are at this moment exposed to the very same risks.
One of the thoughts that occur to me is this: The very reason for these warnings is so that farmers can take the appropriate action to protect and safeguard the creatures in their care.
Another thought: the sheep have no choice. Like the rest of us living beings they are subject to the conditions that play out in the material world. Of course we can add a little perspective to this: I am making these notes in a warm, dry and safe hermitage.
(Then, as I began to type up those notes just now, there was a very short but powerful thunder and lightning storm accompanied by very heavy hail. Once again I am warm, dry and safe.)
All beings are prisoners in a sense, to their material bodies, and, as I said, subject to suffering due to the material world. What we, as individual beings, or individual species, can do to reduce our suffering is going to always vary from individual to individual, from species to species.
I suppose what I’m getting at is that all of us – all beings – need help of one sort or another at some point, to release us or protect us from suffering.
I must admit that very often feel helpless when it comes to what I’m able to do to relieve the suffering of the world – my own, the suffering of those close to me, and that of all beings.
You know, I don’t not watch the news so I can avoid being upset or sad or angry which are often my reactions when seeing or reading news of the world. While I don’t enjoy those emotions when they come, it’s more the emotion they lead to that really bothers me: more and more feelings of helplessness.
And helplessness for me causes paralysis: whatever little I might otherwise be able to do, I cannot. For example, since checking that weather report I haven’t been able to settle to my prayers, my meditation, my chanting, and study; I am not, right now able to do any of the things I would normally do as my way of contributing to the welfare of other beings. Paralysis.
So, here I am making notes that will become a post to share with you. A story of checking the weather; of empathy with other beings; my feelings of inadequacy at not being able to relieve their suffering – as well as my own for that matter.
But, I will pray. I promise. Prayer is healing, prayer banishes helplessness.
Those sheep – as well as all other beings – and I are not separate; I am them and they are me. We are the One.
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.
Just about to open my tablet to retrieve an email I’d sent myself a day or two ago with a prayer attached that I’d found in a book.
But I stopped: I felt, no, no need to transcribe that prayer; I sense some words of my own that are struggling to emerge (actually paraphrasing a very vague sense and direction here; I rarely think – or speak – in such a formal way). So, I left my tablet and reached for my notebook instead
So, what emerged? Well, it’s a prayer and it’s a poem. It’s a prayer or a poem, Either or, and both. In any case, here is the first draft – I only got these words down on paper a half hour ago.
Words from my heart to my heart. A prayer to my Self, a prayer to all that is. And it’s a poem too, remember!
So, now I share this prayer (or poem?) with you.
I am, you are, we are.
Thou art that
MY LORD, WHAT SHALL BE MY PRAYER?
My Lord, what shall be my prayer?
Oh, where even to begin.
There are painful fragments from the past,
fear-fuelled fantasies of the future.
None of them real. None of them mine.
The mind only controls.
Yet clinging to them haunts me.
I aspire to monkhood, to the hermit life.
Yet to desires of many kinds I am attached.
I long to be absorbed in Bhakti;
I long to worship, to praise, and to celebrate All
Ceaseless prayer I aspire to,
to be absorbed in communion.
Yet again the ego-mind
fills me with reason’s illusions
and endless words of the world.
I am barricaded, from You.
I strive to remember who I am;
to recall who You are.
Within the words of this prayer lies that memory:
I am. You are.
Thou Art That.
It’s often advised by spiritual teachers and leaders, by Gurus, and other religious people, that a vital factor in the success of any spiritual endeavour or quest, is that the seeker or devotee is able to share the association of other, fellow devotees.
It is important, they say, that the seeker keep company with fellow travellers on the same or similar paths.
So, how does that work for a hermit? How does the seeker committed to living a secluded life, separated physically from others, find this association with those like himself pursuing a spirituality oriented life, a life of devotion, prayer, contemplation, and service?
Well, this hermit can’t speak for hermits generally; he can only tell you how it is from his personal perspective. So, how do I manage to obtain association with fellow travellers on my path to the Divine?
Firstly, I am blessed to share my hermitage and my life with my partner hermit, as I have done for virtually the whole of my adult life.
And my partner is very much a fellow traveller on the path of commitment to the hermit life, to a life of prayer, devotion, service, and contemplation.
This makes me think of something purportedly said by the Lord Jesus:
For where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them
Matt 18:20
In other words, when the two hermits are gathered in the name of the Divine, which is really all the time, then there is the Divine.
Of course, everything, all beings, all things, are the Divine. And, as if in confirmation of just that idea, something interesting happened. Out of curiosity, without any deeper thinking than that, I looked up Chapter 18 Verse 20 in my Bhagavad Gita. It was just for fun, but I ended up getting a nice surprise:
The knowledge by which the undivided supreme being is seen in all entities, though it is divided into numerous forms, is situated in the mode of goodness.
Bhagavad Gita 18:20
Supreme being, universal consciousness, the Christ, God, the Divine. Many names, one essence.
Even so, at times we feel alone, sometimes lonely.And isolated from others on the path of the Divine. So, what do I do to have this association with other devotees, with fellow travellers?
I make enquiries into the lives – both historical and contemporary – of others who have followed or are following a genuinely spiritual path and life. I watch online videos, I read books, as well as I subscribe to a few online newsletters which I discover by investigating websites I’m led to in some way. All these provide so much opportunity for association, for connection, and for learning.
Such explorations, are at the very least, informative: I can see – or read – for myself the evidence that I am not alone and never have been, in my commitment to the Divine and a spiritual life.
They are inspiring and encouraging: I’m not alone! I can do it! And often I get ideas, clues, on how I might deepen my practice, improve my service, love more.
In a sense such stories – in visual or in word form – ‘keep me company’. As I said a couple of times already (sorry!) I’m not alone. And I can smile, perhaps nod my head in agreement (or shake it in disagreement) with a comment or observation from one of my fellow devotees on the screen, or on the page. I guess in a way, it gives me a sense of belonging or connection.
Some might say that encountering people or experience via a video or book, is vicarious at best. But I wonder about that actually: Remember my fondness for the Ripple Effect? For my strong feeling for sending out good vibrations?
And, what did Jesus say about when two or three gather? He never mentioned that it was necessary for those two or three to be sharing the same physical space.
Life’s lonely; we all know that, and to encounter like-minded, or like-hearted people sharing a similar path to mine, is more than a prayer answered. It’s a life affirming, love affirming, blessing.
It always surprises me how quickly, how easily – how smoothly – a perfectly okay conversation or train of thought will, just like that, morph into a full-on gossipy rant.
You know the thing: pointing the finger at what someone else is doing wrong; or precisely and with great clarity of analysis detailing how another person (or sometimes myself) has erred, how they’ve slipped up, made mistakes they could have or in ‘my opinion’ should have avoided.
How easy it seems to happen that I will suddenly find myself very eagerly ranting about the sawdust in the eye of another, while breezily ignoring the huge plank in my own eye. The errors in someone else’s way are so often clear to me, while my own not so terrific ways are completely ignored.
And the weird thing is, how it sneaks up on you. I mean on me. As I said at the start, one minute I’m having a pleasant and reasonable conversation, the next minute I’m ranting about him, or her, or them, or who or whatever.
Such an error in my own ways, occured this morning as I fell into what felt like a perfectly rational pointing the finger session, full of criticisms and judgements about someone I actually quite admire.
That is until one of the hermits with just one comment, brought the whole thing to a sudden and definite stop:
‘We should be sitting here sending out good vibes. That’s our job.’
A perfectly timed cause for a pause for thought. And absolutely correct – as hermits, as monks committed to the welfare of all beings, it’s more than our job; our lives are dedicated supposedly to love, prayer, service, contemplation on the Divine in all things and how we can best serve that Divine.
Human nature is a tricky topic to think about though. So much of what we do in the world is driven by our desires for more things, for status, for happiness, or pleasure. Eating, sleeping, mating, and defending, I have heard it called by way of summary.
I’ve supposedly withdrawn from all that, left it behind ‘in the world’. I live a secluded, quiet, and contemplative life precisely in order to counter those very attributes of human nature.
I suppose all this says is, I am still a human being with all the flaws, all the desires – and aversions – that come with being that kind of, well, being.
Yes, all true. Maybe. But, isn’t it possible that I might use just a bit more discipline? Could I be perhaps a little more clear in my focus?
Perhaps I could ‘sit here’ and send out good vibes. At the very least I could pay a bit more attention to those times when I’m about to slide – or have already slid – into my ‘putting out bad vibes’ mode.
We can’t really ever know what’s going on in the lives of other people, or in their minds and hearts. In any case, it is rarely, if ever, our business to even want to know or make guesses or assumptions about others’ lives.
As a hermit monk, as a pilgrim on the spiritual path I aspire to walk, my only business is the making of ripples (I know it’s a cliché but it works for me, just as so many do), the distribution of waves, or vibrations of replenishment, of love, and kindness, of good things, out beyond myself.
Good vibes to all living beings who I am pledged to serve, to the Divine that is in, and in fact is, all beings, including me, you and all there is.
Notes from the Hermit's Cave 