Maybe fifteen or so years ago, I reconnected with a good friend, after losing touch for a while (we’ve lost touch again). This friend used to send his poetry to friends on his email list, and after reconnecting, I was reading through some of those old emails.
I began to notice, as I read, that along with his name, he signed each email with a really lovely sentence which at that time I’d not heard before:
Vishwa dharma ki jai
This is Sanskrit and obviously I had to look it up. Not only did it read so nicely in Sanskrit, the English translation, was just as striking: it translates to: ‘victory to universal truth and honour’. When I read this translation, I was moved. What a beautiful way to sign off an email, or (age warning here) or a letter on paper.
(And, just rechecking online now, I see that there are songs, magazines, and organizations, that carry this expression as their name or slogan. Do a search for Vishwa dharma ki jai)
what about this as a signature?
Now, I don’t have a problem with ‘yours sincerely’ or ‘kind regards’ and so on, as ways of signing off a written communication. Indeed, I think those salutations (is that the right word?) can be meaningful and can carry heartfelt and sincere wishes from one person to another.
However, as with a lot of things we do ‘automatically’ and as a matter of course, these expressions seem to have lost much, if not all their true meanings. In fact, how often do we get emails with no such signing off, and with merely the sender’s name at the bottom?
Actually, now I think about it, I remember some emails that don’t even carry the sender’s name as a way of signing off. Now, that seems on the surface to be a rude omission, but in reality it’s not rude nor is it really an omission: people and the way they communicate are changing; I guess some of these so-called ‘niceties’ are just naturally going to be lost.
So, I thought after reading the Sanskrit salutation, hey, I would really like to use this beautiful expression as my ‘signature’ for emails. What better salutation for a truth seeker (that’s me) to sign off with? And I’ve been using it ever since.
It might be that a wish for the victory of universal truth and honour sounds a bit old fashioned, a bit formal even. Not at all: how up to date, how necessary even, in our fast-paced, materialistic, and sometimes lonely and corrupt world, is it to seek truth and to act with honour? Honour isn’t the fuddy-duddy, formal term you might think. Look it up: it’s about honesty, truth, right behaviour, integrity, all that good and right stuff.
So, I’m going to continue using this great salutation whenever I can. And my message to you, dear reader?
It would be true to say that I’ve been on a spiritual journey all my life. Perhaps there have been other lives too, who can know? Who can work it out? And, anyway, I don’t think it matters at all. This life will do.
That’s an easy generalised statement to make I know. So, being more specific, let’s just say that for as long as I can remember I’ve been interested in and studied ‘spiritual stuff’; and in more recent years I’ve narrowed my focus, so to speak, and now I am on a deliberate and committed journey towards that time when I actually recognise, when I fully realise for myself that I am already one with God. Or the Divine, Dharma, Love, Absolute reality, Truth, Spirit. Many names and no names.
During this long journey, I’ve been blessed to have been exposed to so many sacred texts, scriptures, books, teachers, and so on, from so many different spiritual and religious traditions. And of course, the Christian New Testament ranks high among these treasure troves.
Like many of us, however, long before I actually read the text itself I had heard and was familiar with many of the stories and characters in the Gospels and so on. As well, over the years of childhood (and later too) I came to know several different Gospel verses. One of these in particular has long been a favourite (actually there are a lot of ‘favourites’ but …) and I couldn’t possible tally up all the times I’ve either thought about this verse or quoted it out loud.
For where two or three are gathered together in My name, I am there in the midst of them.”
Gospel of Matthew 18:20
Now, this verse comes in the context of a chapter with some really powerful teachings from Jesus to his disciples, in which he is telling them how things should work when people gather to pray, to praise, celebrate the Divine. Essentially in this and other verses Jesus talks about the characteristics that should be present in a community of disciples.
And everyone else too
Things like harmonious relations between people. He stresses the importance of forgiveness when people think someone has wronged them. There is a great stress placed on the value of consensus when it comes to decision making or disputes between people.
Another biggie is the emphasis on how people should not behave in any way that would cause their fellow disciples to ‘stumble’ or fall. Meaning I think, be a good influence, not a negative one on others.
I have a confession to make: I knew none of this before I read the full chapter along with a few commentaries quite recently. Let me tell you what I thought for many many years the verse meant.
For me, it was simple. It just meant what it says: If I gather with one or more other people in the name of Truth, Dharma, God, the Divine, or whatever else we might choose to call the Absolute Reality that is everything, then we are reminded to recognise that Absolute Reality is present with us and in us.
Which means we have to act accordingly, just as Lord Jesus advises. That is, with love, with an intention to foster consensus and harmony; in ways that build us all up and bring nobody down.
While Jesus was addressing the needs of the newly formed Christian communities, I believe that this verse can refer to any gathering of people of goodwill. And communication between people that has as its intent love, devotion, positive living, peacemaking of any kind. Basically any meeting of people that is infused with good intentions and the desire to pursue right action in the world, or internally within each individual. And when you think of it like this, then it pretty much covers any coming together of people doesn’t it?
I especially like the use of the phrase I am in the verse. Of course, the ‘I AM‘ is a name for God.Essentially there is no need for any other name because ‘God’ encompasses everything and there is no need to ‘label’ that I AM because that would limit what is actually Absolute Reality to some ‘created thing’, which is less real or perhaps absolutely unreal!
Notice I seem to be labelling the I AM as Absolute Reality. That’s the trouble with us limited beings: we have to use words to help us define or describe everything. So be it. Some people will call that Absolute Reality as God. Others will call it the Divine, Truth, Love, Dharma, and a million other names (or by no name as I said earlier).
This verse promising the presence of I AM may have been uttered by the human incarnation we know as Jesus, but for me, those words in truth came from Universal Consciousness, the I AM. Meaning, again for me, Universal Consciousness or Absolute Reality, which really is all there is.
One of the key elements of the current temporary hermitage, the current safe-haven by the side of the road, is that it is literally two minutes walk from a very uncrowded and quiet coastal beach.
It is a place of golden sands (I know that’s a cliche but in this case I have the evidence!), gentle wave action, and the promise of a possible serenity of a kind I’ve not been close to for a long while.
While I don’t visit this little slice of Pacific coast every day, I get to walk and or sit there several days a week. And when I do, I find that it’s always uplifting and relaxing. A reminder too, of my oneness with all nature. All of us are actually nature, along with every other living thing on our planet (and of course elsewhere too).
Today, for the second time I built a little ‘shrine’ on the sand. Walking away from my little temporary temple, a poetic voice entered my mind and wrote itself a few lines. Too engrossed in the moment, I neglected to record it on my phone, so when I got back to the hermitage I wrote it as remembered.
And now, I would like to share it with you. I am grateful that I am actually able to share it, so thank you.
WE STAND ON SACRED GROUND
I planted the branch, the branch of a fallen tree person. On the beach, in the sand of the beach.
And I built a shrine around that branch. A pop-up shrine. Shells, stones, and a piece of coal.
A shrine to Varuna. A shrine to Surya, to Saraswati. A shrine to all the gods of Earth, Sky, Water. A shrine to the gods of all beings.
A shrine on the beach is subject to tidal flow. And soon, this simple shrine, pop-up and temporary in nature, will be engulfed.
Lord Varuna will make his claim. What has emerged, must always return.
You know it’s funny how sometimes it takes a lot of time, many years in some cases, for a life event or some happening or other to finally emerge to express itself in some kind of creative form or other.
Just this minute (literally) I was reading through some poems of mine and I came across one I wrote only two months ago. I won’t say I’d completely forgotten about it, but at the same time, I can’t recall thinking of it again since writing. Until that moment five minutes ago that is.
The poem was prompted by an event that took place thirty- seven years ago. Not a major event on the face of it, just a small interaction between a mother and son. Here’s the backstory.
My mother loved Bingo, and played it at various venues several times a week. I’d just returned from several years overseas and she asked me if I’d like to be the security guard at that night’s particular venue. The regular guy couldh’t make it and they needed someone to just hang out in the car park so everyone would feel safe.
The River of Life rarely flows in a straight line
Well they were very different days, and I wasn’t who I am now, so I jumped at this very easy, relaxed, sounding gig. And off we went at the appropriate time.
It’s not part of the poem’s story but thinking about it now, I remember my mother’s joy and relaxed vibe as she interacted with her ‘Bingo family’. That’s a treasured memory.
Anyway, later in the evening I was wandering around, zigzagging through the parking lot, when I saw Mam waving at me to come to her.
And the poem takes it from there as they say.
I said the piece is about a simple mother son interaction and it is. But there is more to it really. The poem is about, at another level, Love and Truth.
It’s also about a fundamental concept I try hard to govern my life by: Ahimsa. This is an approach to life based on doing the least harm one can do in all areas of living in the world. It’s not strictly speaking a prohibition on telling untruths, nor does it mandate an absolute ban on violence. It’s complicated, as they say.
Gandhiji adhered to Ahimsa as his life’s guiding principle. While his style of living was to trust in Truth, he knew that at times, the way of least harm requires loving, compassionate discernment as we are faced with dilemmas of what’s right and what’s wrong in the infinite number of situations we are confronted with on a daily basis.
So, my friends, here is my poem. Read in peace.
WITH THE EYES OF THE HEART
I ate a hotdog once upon a time, even though a vegan I am. On the spot, split second decison; I considered it fine. You see, as a fait accompli it was presented to me – by my Mam.
‘It’s a special vege kind I got for you.’ So the offered food I did receive, though I clearly saw it wasn’t true. Sometimes you need more than eyes to see what you believe.
My acceptance acknowledged her thoughtfulness and validated her gesture of mother-to-son love. So, to any karmic consequences, I will submit with grace.
Thank you for allowing me to share this story and poem with you. And even more of a thank you for reading how I learned a lesson about love and truth and how sometimes truth may actually sometimes need to be followed even if the so-called facts say different.
Well, here we are with the third and final part of our contemplations on Flee, Be silent, Pray Always, the answer discovered by our friend Arsenius who was looking for a way to be saved from the the things of the world.
In a very real sense, this third injunction might be seen as the most important of the three. Indeed, again in a very real sense, those first two seem to me to be prerequisites for the third. Certainly, many of us would like to flee to a place and state of silence in order to escape the world and its many and varied causes of our suffering. Such people are simply and completely over the noise, the chaos, war, greed, the complexity of relationships, and all the rest.
Then there are many many others who, rather than looking to escape the world, are wanting to ‘flee’ towards a place and state of silence in order to engage more fully with the world by contemplation, meditation, and most of all, prayer. Such people are working towards making their entire lives a prayer.
And then there are the third group which is made up of those who have some sense of running away from the world while at the same time they feel compelled to move towards a contemplative life that they sense will be the best way they can actually serve the world.
I think I can include myself in this last group. I’ve never coped well with masses of people, being in the workforce, or dealing with the horrors that the world seemed to be overwhelmed with.
At the same time, I’ve always wanted to (and have tried to) combat injustice, racism, violence and the rest. I guess you could sum it up by putting it this way: I was (still am) an oversensitive person who one day had had enough of trying to ‘fight the system’ when it was the system making and changing the rules of the game as it went along.
Better I thought, to turn inwards in order to reach or realise my oneness with all living things. I’ve always been predisposed to praying as well, so it was a natural evolution in many ways. My intention and commitment these last few years has been (and still is of course) to pray continuously and with all my being.
My prayer is for the release from suffering for all living beings and that’s my central focus for prayer. For me, it feels very much that I am a lot more use to others living what I think of as a prayerful contemplative life than being actively engaged with the world out there in the midst of it all so to speak.
Pray Always
Prayer for me is not so much about petitioning some all-powerful being who is seemingly on a whim able to grant or refuse my wishes. For me it is more an affirmation of the reality of my already existent oneness with the entirety of the universe. It’s a way of seeking to actually realise that this oneness is my very Self.
Prayer is about being present, not wishing blindly that things be different than they are. In praying I seek to affirm that the ‘universe is unfolding as it should’, as it says in a famous poem I’ve always loved. (Actually if you don’t know about Desiderata [Things Desired] then please do check it out; you’ll love it).
I think that in this sense, prayer is in fact an act of mindfulness, or rather an act which will help develop a mindfulness practice. It is a way to practise being fully focused and present to whatever is going on, whatever circumstances we find ourselves in.
And if we’re able to be present – even on a temporary or momentary basis – then we will be more calm, more at peace, and more able to achieve some clarity in our lives and with whatever is the intention with our prayer.
I know it might sound like a clumsy attempt at a clever play on words, but we’ve described mindfulness as the practice of being fully present. But we can put it another way. We can define that state of being fully present as being in presence. Like what we might say to a friend who is daydreaming while we are trying to talk to them. We might say something like ‘so and so, your presence would be appreciated’.
In presence of what? I would say everything. When we are absolutely in the present moment (again even momentarily), when we are able to realise our oneness with all things. Essentially the universe is there – or is it here? – with you in that present moment. It’s a moment when we may indeed feel we are in the presence of all that is.
Some may call that presence God, or the Divine, or Universal Consciousness. Others may see it as being in the presence of their own true and authentic Self.
That leads quite nicely to the next aspect of prayer that I want us to look at. Praying to God. I’ve spent so long on mindfulness because I wanted to stress that I don’t think it’s necessary to have a personal name or form for God, or even a notion of an unmanifested, invisible ‘force’ called God, in order to pray.
On the other hand for me, and I know for a lot of people, there are names and forms of the universal consciousness that pervades and permeates the universe, that I personally resonate with and I can reach out to them whenever the feeling or inclination arises. It sounds a bit odd to say, but for me to think that all that is, is all that is, sort of sums it up.
And as a result of that, any prayer I pray is addressed to my own Self which is simply part and parcel of all there is. In other words, it’s a personal choice for any one of us what form or name we choose to pray to. Or if we don’t pray to a name and form at all. All is one.
One thing I’ve mentioned I think a couple of times is the idea of making all our activities into a prayer, but other than the discussion on mindfulness and presence, I’ve not really addressed the how and why.
Why is pretty obvious. Because living and acting mindfully helps us in so many way such as being more peaceful, more relaxed, happier, and so on. The how, now I’m thinking about it is the purpose of this post. And it’s also true to say we’ve been talking about it since this series began.
That is to say, we flee from the aspects of our lives that don’t serve us and which can be changed. This might be a decision to spend 30 minutes every day sitting quietly and undisturbed. And as we’ve mentioned a few times already it could be going all out and moving to a desert cave somewhere.
In both those scenarios we give ourselves the opportunity to be silent and, hopefully also surrounded by silence. How to pray always? There’s an expression I love and try to live by: Follow your Dharma. Here Dharma means your own truth, being authentic to who you are, having the intention to do what’s right in all situations. And of course actually following through with that intention if at all possible. In this way you transform every action into prayer.
Living a life of prayer does seem on the face of it to not involve much use of spoken prayers, as in saying prayers with words. Well, I don’t intend to be humourous here, but a great deal of prayer does it fact involve talking to one’s Self. To the real self, that part of us that’s part of everything else. It can do us good to have these deep conversations.
Then of course there are the many many prayers that already exist to serve people from so many traditions, cultures, to suit all kinds of purposes and intentions.
Many of us will be familiar with a number of prayers learnt when we were children. If you’re anything like me, they still pop up by themselves from time to time.
Actually as I deepen my prayer practice, I’m discovering that I’m remembering all sorts of prayers from many and varied sources. I think as I dig deeper, more and more are coming up to the surface.
This prayer (by Thomas Merton I think) resonates deeply with me
If these ‘pre-prepared’ prayers say what you want to say and in a way that resonates with you, then you are free to choose those that feel right for you. I guess I mix and match the prayers I use; it’s always dependent on my feelings, thoughts, and intentions at the time.
Like Arsenius, I try to be open and responsive to whatever the ‘answers’ are, even though my ego does sometimes when it doesn’t like the answer, try and control outcomes.
One point about such prayers: I find it tempting oftentimes to simply recite them at what I’ve heard described as lip level. By rote and without emotion, in other words. At those times I try to slow down or pause to reflect on what I’m doing and why to get back in touch with Self.
A major part of my prayer life is chanting mantra. I try to spend more time chanting as time passes. There are a number that I use depending on inclination and need.
I chant anywhere and sometimes a mantra will start chanting itself, surprising me by its arrival
(This photo isn’t me by the way)
Now, probably one of the most important aspects of my own prayer life: I know I’ve mentioned my intentions in praying at all, but one aspect I haven’t mentioned is praying as devotion.
Devotion as in worship, praise, as in gratitude for the beauty in my life, as an expression of love. Knowing with the mind that all is one is fine, but these kinds of prayers help us to cement our awareness of that oneness of all living beings. As I said earlier, I, like you or anyone else, may use particular names and forms to represent this oneness, but, well, it’s all one, so we are non-different from all those names and forms.
Lord Sri Krishna is among my favourite forms of Universal Consciousness (also known as Brahman)
There are many representations of the Divine, but Krishna and this picture of Him are special to me.
Focusing your devotion on a particular form seems to help make it easier or more real. It’s tricky to pray to and with a thing that has no form and is invisible.
So, my friends I hope what I’ve said here is of some little interest to you and that you have found at least something you can use for your own life.
Thank you for bearing with me as I chose to post a short story before I got onto this post, the next part in our small series. Actually, I hope you enjoyed the story, and if you missed it, then please feel free to have a look. You will find it here.
Anyway, welcome to Part 2 in our little series of contemplations on the answer that Abba Arsenius received to his question: How can I be saved? (from the world with its sorrows and noise and traps of all kinds)
The answer he heard from deep within his own Self – what he called God -was the succinct, to the point, no nonsense:
Flee, Be Silent, and Pray Always.
In Part 1 we realised that fleeing (from the world) doesn’t necessarily mean we have to leave everything and everyone behind and go live in a cave in the desert as he did. For some of course it might mean exactly that or some 21st Century equivalent, but I think for the vast majority of us, fleeing simply involves some modification of our current lifestyle, changes to our habitual ways of thinking and behaviours in order to rid ourselves of attachment to and entanglement in the things, situations, and people in the world that aren’t working for us.
And, now, in this post we will spend some time in contemplating the second injunction given to Arsenius: Be Silent.
Be Silent
I haven’t actually given a lot of thought to this topic since our last post. Nor have I done any online research, or watched YouTubes (I checked for fun and there seems to be hundreds, maybe thousands) about silence.
No, at least in this I have tried to remain silent and simply wait for the post to come together of its own accord in its own time. Perhaps this decision came from that same place Mr A heard from when he had his question.
So, what does it mean to be silent? Well, as I just mentioned, there are seemingly unlimited answers out there just waiting for us to grab on to. The better question would probably be, what does it mean for me to be silent?
First thing to say is that I’ve come to realise (okay, it’s an ongoing process of coming to realise, not there quite yet) that there is absolutely no person, no circumstance, and no place that I can rely on to provide me with silence. So, I’m coming to accept, there is no point in looking anywhere, or to anyone, as the source of silence, at least not in the physical world.
Of course, one key element of achieving silence may be the absence of noise. Maybe. so living where there is less traffic, less focus on materialism and commerce, fewer people, less media imput (news, TV, Internet, and all the rest) might be a place for some to start.
Even if it isn’t possible to to avoid all these things completely, I try to drop or change the things I can which for me sometimes at least, gives me a chance at a little silence.
Having said that, I’m reminded of an aphorism I once read: A hermit living alone, in a cave on a remote mountain, away from any kind of road, no radio, TV, etc, is never going to manage to be in silence if his mind and emotions are always busy with thoughts, memories, desires, fears and other emotions.
On the other hand a person living on a busy city street in the midst of all kinds of chaos and noise, may be living in perfect silence. If they have a still mind, steady emotions, that give them the ability to ‘sail through life’ as the saying goes.
But what about me? Well, this prayer says it all In order to achieve a state in which I can actually be silent, I am attempting to amend my life – utterly and completely. I can be quite self-critical on this, badgering myself with desperate questions how come I can’t just be silent (and quiet in the accepted sense of the word as well). It’s a dilemma which frustrates and disappoints me. But, to be a little fair to myself, I suspect I’m not very different to most other people when it comes to silence. After all, if it was so easy, how come we need thousands of books, articles, YouTubes on how it’s done?
As mentioned, the absence of noise isn’t necessarily a prerequisite to achieving silence. But, I have to say, that for me, it’s pretty important. Being surrounded by the noise of the world, as well as my own hyperactive mind and seesawing emotions, are for me blocks to silence. Though, when I think about it, there are glimpses, even when one of our temporary hermitages is on a busy street, or under an airport flightpath.
As a bottom-line starting point, I don’t watch or read news; I don’t (anymore) randomly scroll the Internet even when ‘looking for something to watch’ on YouTube. And of course I don’t use television. Ever.
I’m not saying that when I do watch a video online that it’s always only spiritual or holy stuff. Nor do I only read books about saints and spiritual matters. Mind you, I would say more and more lately I’ve been tending in that direction. It’s just happening naturally I think.
A reason for that progression is effects of the amount of time I spend meditating, chanting mantra, and ‘just sitting’. Never enough time spent, but I’m getting there.
In all these three activities there is of course always lot of mental noise trying to mess things up. Not to mention the dreaded external noises. But, even then, there are gaps, spaces between breaths, pauses between repetitions of the mantra, and even when just sitting there are (if my mind has mercy on me) little moments free of thoughts, fleeting gifts of silence.
I think most of us have a tendency to focus on the problem of noise and disturbance, both external and internal, and ignore those fleeting little moments of silence.
With the momentary absence of thoughts it’s like when we ‘get lost in a beautiful piece of music’ as my teacher says. We’re still there, we can still hear, it’s just that we – as in our ego in one of its many and varied forms, our mind – is absent. And that means there is silence. Then we are in that legendary blissful state of being one with the music (or whatever the activity we are ‘lost in’).
Because our thinking mind seems to be absent (no thought equals no mind), there is nothing to judge whether there is silence or not. Just as when we are in deep sleep, as opposed to the dreaming state, there is silence, the absence of thought; no ego dialogues; all is silence. That’s why often don’t realise we have achieved that silent state: no mind to record the experience, so when we do resume thinking, we assume we’ve not stopped thinking at all.
Despite these many years of meditating, chanting, and sitting, I seem to still expect something spectacular to occur. Some blissful state, some revelation of enlightenment, or some other magical happening, maybe visions or some genius idea or something. It’s not a rational expectation of course, but …
Yes. It’s still hard to let go of the search for some kind of ‘signal’ buried under all the ‘noise’. Lately, however, I’m slowly coming to realise that looking for signal is really my ego/mind looking outside in the world for some kind of experience of silence. But to belabour the obvious, silence is silence; what’s to experience?
That doesn’t mean that there’s nothing. Nor that it’s some kind of void, just emptiness and ‘nothingness’. Silence is the space in which the seeds or knowledge are able to take root before they can become manifest in our material world.
It’s just that we might not notice untill sometime later when we see or sense a change in our thinking, our behaviour, or how we feel about the people, places, things, and circumstances of our lives.
See you next post when we look at the final of the three injunctions given to our friend Arsenius, Pray Always.
Thank you and may you realise the silence that already is present within you.
Something quite different today. I had planned to write the second part of our contemplations on Armenius’s answer to his prayer. But then I came across a short story from quite a few years ago now, that seems to speak directly to our series title, Flee, Be Silent, Pray Always.
Grab a cup of tea, relax and enjoy the story
I offer it, I share it with you now in the hope that you will find it interesting and (or) entertaining. It’s going to make this post way way longer than usual, but I hope you find it worthwhile to spend some little time reading it.
So, with love, here is the story I once called:
LEAD ME NOT INTO TEMPTATION
The old carpetbag perched as if it ” a living thing, an alien visitor from the other world, in the middle of Brian’s old table. Its bulging bulk and musty smell, a constant reminder of its threatening presence.
It had been three days now and he knew he’d have to make up his mind soon, make some sort of decision. He had to find a way to deal with this.
Brian, or Brother Brian as he would prefer to be known, had made the long climb to this crumbling stone house a long time ago. He could no longer tell how many years it had been. All his life he had known what his destiny was to be. Even as a child, he had felt the call of the mountains and the monastic life. But, like most people, he had ignored the call, ignored his destiny, and settled for an ordinary life: school, university and a job shuffling papers for some obscure government department.
Then, one day without warning, he walked out of the office, sold his belongings, packed a small bag and caught a one-way flight to India. He didn’t know quite what he was looking for, but he did know it was something vaguely spiritual. He thought that if he couldn’t find a spiritual life in India, then he wouldn’t find it anywhere.
It didn’t take him long to find his way to the remote mountain monastery of a reclusive order of contemplative monks. For Brian, it didn’t matter what they taught, what lineage, gurus, or teachings they followed; for him it was the simple and quiet life of meditation that was the main attraction.
Now, all these years later as he sat staring at the carpetbag, he reflected on how fast time can pass when you spend your days meditating and working in the gardens that supplied the monastery. Sighing, he thought that they had been good years. Was it ten? Twelve? No, it was ten years he spent in that place. But, for some reason he could no longer fathom, he had decided that the so-called isolation of the monastery wasn’t isolated enough for him.
Then, smiling, he remembered: after a while the other monks’ constant chatter had begun to irritate him; he had begun to long for total silence.
Not our monk’s actual hermitage!
The Abbot understood Brian’s need for quiet and deeper contemplation. After all, he had been his mentor and advisor for many years and knew his student well. He told Brian of the old house, long abandoned, that lay just over a week’s walk in the hills above the monastery.
So, along with a brother monk to accompany him on his trek and help him carry cooking utensils, food and seeds for the garden he planned, Brother Brian left his home.
There weren’t many comings or goings at the monastery, so Brian’s leaving was a momentous event in the life of the community. Not sad, not happy; these monks had long since learned that what happens is simply what happens. But, for Brian, there was a sneaking sense of excitement as he began the long, but welcome, trek to what he hoped would be his home for the rest of his life.
He embraced his brother with a farewell. Brian smiled as it occurred to him that this was likely to be his last ever contact with a fellow human being. Soon the brother was gone, and Brian was alone. He surveyed the house and saw it wasn’t as bad as he’d been led to believe. Why, there was even a table and chairs to sit at.
It was the work of an hour to place his meagre belongings in their place in the house. And so his life of true isolation began. The years passed and Brian’s prediction proved accurate: he saw nobody, heard no human sounds. His only contact with that other world was the monthly cache of rice and other staples the Abbot arranged to have dropped off for him to collect a couple of hours walk downhill from the house.
Brian always ensured that he would not encounter the brother who made that long trek for him. Lately though, he had seen the tracks of a horse and cart. The monastery must have modernized, he’d laughed to himself at the time. Samsara, he thought, it’ll get you every time.
His plan for total seclusion and quiet had worked for a long time. But now as he stared at the carpetbag, he remembered the day that other visitor from the other world had come calling. It was six months ago now and he’d been at his cooking fire, about to ladle his daily rice into his bowl, when he heard the knock.
At first, it was just another sound from the old house that had over the years developed its own voice, or so Brian liked to think. But the knocking persisted, grew louder, and that did strike him as odd.
Putting down his bowl he went to the door of the house, opened it and came face to face with the first human he had seen since his brother had left him here all those years before.
‘Are you Brian?’ the apparition questioned.
Brian, for some moments, had no answer. It’d been a very long time since he had heard another human voice, and just as long since he’d had to use his own to give an answer to anyone.
‘Are you the man known as Brother Brian?’ The voice was more insistent now and Brian saw its owner seemed to be dressed in some kind of uniform. Was he a policeman? A soldier?
‘I am Brian. His voice shocked him.
‘Well, this letter is for you. It is from the government and it is necessary to deliver it to you in person. That bloody Abbot fellow tried to stop me, but it is my duty you know.’
So, this stranger was a postman. He shoved the letter into Brian’s hand, turned and marched away, leaving Brian standing dumbly in his doorway.
After some time Brian came out of his stunned reverie. He stared at the letter, which did indeed bear his name, or rather the name he once owned and was of use only in that other world he’d turned his back on. And it bore the crest of the government. Brian could not begin to work out what it was about.
But, realizing that there was only one way to find out, he opened the tattered and crumpled envelope.
Before he even read the letter’s contents, Brian’s world fell apart. The date at the top of the typewritten page transported him back into that other world. As if the long intervening years had counted for nothing, he became who he had been then.
That date told him how long he had been away from the place of his birth; it said to him that he was not alone. His years of practice, of attempting to exist in a timeless state with only nature’s seasons to guide his daily activities, suddenly seemed to have no meaning. But what he read next was almost beyond his comprehension:
Dear Sir
You have lived in our country for many years. We believe you are a member of a religious community. However, such a status does not exempt you from the very strict immigration rules that we have put in place to ensure the security and well-being of our nation and her people.
It has recently come to our attention that your original visa was for a period of six months only. Therefore, you are in this country illegally.
We have decided to be lenient in your case and have not insisted on your immediate arrest and detention pending trial for the extremely serious crime of visa violation. We hereby inform you are to leave this country by no later than three weeks from the date on this letter.
Please be warned that should you not present yourself Immigration officials at your chosen point of departure by that date, action will be taken to place you under arrest and your case will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
Yours truly
Ministerfor Immigration
Brian was calm. He folded the letter, returned it to its envelope and placed it on the little shelf he reserved for his few books and papers. It would not be correct to say that Brian’s life and routine returned normal; he was really only going through the motions, tending his garden, even meditating a little more than usual.
But he was disturbed. Not only had his isolation been broken by the visit of the postman all those months ago, he was as the letter demanded, being forced to leave his safe haven, his home of all these years.
But it was neither of these two issues that seemed to occupy him most on this day. As time passed from what he now called the Day of the Letter, Brian had grown increasingly restless. He found himself spending long hours daydreaming and remembering his old life, his life before that day he walked out of the office and bought a one-way ticket. He even sometimes caught himself wondering what life would be like if he walked back down the mountain.
And now, six months later, he sat staring at the carpetbag. He smiled now, remembering the threat in the letter: he’d had three weeks to leave. Still, he remembered from his old life how slow bureaucracy could move sometimes. He reached down to rub the soreness on the side of his lower leg. As he felt the scratches, he recalled how he’d come by them. Actually, he thought, if it hadn’t been for the carpetbag and its soft bulk, he might have been more badly injured …
Along with that general restlessness engendered by The Day of the Letter, he sensed a growing dissatisfaction, a dissatisfaction that had not passed, even after so many months.
And these feelings seemed to extend to the house itself, still as tumbledown as it was when he’d first laid eyes on it all those years ago. Suddenly it didn’t seem good enough and he had an irresistible urge to improve it, to fix it up a little, as he liked to put it.
So, it was three days ago, and he was rummaging around in one of the small outbuildings at the back of the house. He trod with care: the rough floorboards were all loose and in varying stages of decay. And, sure enough, all his care didn’t prevent the inevitable. As he reached for a bundle of metal garden stakes that he thought might make a fine tripod for his cooking pot, his foot sunk into the floor as one of the rotten boards gave way.
He didn’t sink far; something solid but soft got in the way. Pulling his leg out he saw it had been cut. A small amount of blood oozed from some long scratches. Even so, he realized hed been lucky not to have gone in further and he wondered what had broken his fall.
He peered into the hole and saw what looked like a fabric bag. He reached in and pulled it out. Nice bag, he thought, with his newly reacquired eye for things of the outside world. He seemed to remember that such a bag was called a carpetbag.
Standing up and heaving the bag from the floor, Brian was surprised by its weight. He decided to take the bag, reeking of dust and the musty smell of damp and age, into the house before opening it to see what was inside.
How different he was since the Day of the Letter, he thought as he sat three days since finding the carpetbag, staring at the thing. How many years had he been here without even setting foot in that shed? Anyway, it’d been a very long time since he had been even remotely interested in anything of a material nature.
But, at the time he found the bag, he had acted without a second thought; it was just natural to take the bag from its hiding place and into the house. And it seemed perfectly normal for him to want to open it and look inside.
He had lugged the carpetbag through the door and into his house, heaving the heavy load onto his table. The dust made him cough, but he didn’t hesitate. The bag’s zip was rusty, but came apart easily. However, the sight of the bags contents did make him hesitate.
Bundles of paper that he could see were old English banknotes. Pulling himself together, he started taking out the bundles, twenty in all. He guessed that each bundle had to contain several hundred pounds. Of course, he knew that they were no longer legal currency, but on the antique market, he was sure they would fetch a fortune.
At the very bottom of the bag, he found a large pouch, heavy and solid. Opening the drawstring, he found it full of stones. Pulling out a handful, he realized they were small diamonds, dozens of them. Mixed with the diamonds were stones of many colours: red rubies, green emeralds, purple amethysts.
Even his newfound interest in material things was defeated by this discovery. He returned the pouch and the wads of banknotes to the carpetbag and set the thing in the middle of his table. Suddenly he felt the pain from the scratches on his leg, so he left the house and went to the little stream he used for water and washed the wounds.
For those three days he went about his daily routines as best he could. But he had to pass his table and the carpetbag many times a day, and it came to preoccupy his thoughts. Its contents could ease his re-entry to the outside world in a very nice way. In fact, he doubted he would ever have to think about getting a job or earning a living. But this was his home. No matter how much the postman with his letter had pulled him back to that other world, no matter how much stuff, how many things, this carpetbag and its cargo could buy, he’d have to leave his home.
So he sat and stared. He didn’t think; he’d gone over and over his choices. He couldn’t do it anymore. He just stared, and time passed. With a start, Brian realized it was dark and that the house was cold. Still not thinking, only acting, he went to the little shelf and retrieved the letter and a pencil. He returned to the table where he sat and began to write on the back of the envelope in the tiny script he’d mastered all those years ago when he still thought keeping a journal was a useful practice.
My Dear Brother Abbot
How many years you and my other dear brothers have made the arduous trek to bring to me the staples that keep this body alive. No words of gratitude would ever be enough to tell you how I feel. Of course, I know if I were there with you now you would tell me that you and they are only doing what needs to be done for a brother. Still.
When this letter arrived, I was deeply disturbed. I found myself thinking of and longing for the old world of my youth. I found myself falling into Samsara again. I did not like this, but I found it drove me to change my world here. I began to be obsessed by the need to improve the house in a physical way.
While I went about this crazy business, I injured myself by stepping through a rotten floorboard. My fall was stopped, and my injuries lessened by this carpetbag that I now send to you.
However, in the three days since, I have not been able to engage correctly in my daily routines and practice. When you see what is in the bag you will understand my distress and confusion. On the other hand, you might not: you are so much more advanced along the path to enlightenment than I.
I have just sat through a long dark night of the soul, completely lost and not aware of this body or this material world that surrounds me. When I rose from this state, I knew what I had to do. The letter in this envelope and this carpetbag and its contents do not belong to me, nor do they belong in my world. I send them to you because I do not know what else to do with them.
As always, I rely on your help. You have always been there for me when I stumble and as I enter the bliss.
Your brother salutes you dear Abbot.
Brian
Scooping up the letter and dragging the carpetbag off the table, Brian strode out of the house, and in the darkness, trod the well-worn path to the spot his brothers brought his supplies to.
Long ago, he had built a small shelter for the brothers to rest in, and in which perishable items could be left. He placed the bag there and, with a large stone, weighted down the letter so it would not be missed when the brother next came.
As he rose from this task, Brian saw that it would soon be dawn. He would have to hurry if he was to make it back to the house for his morning meditation.
THE END
If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I hope you had an enjoyable and interesting read. Next post will truly be part 2 of the series, and we will be contemplating the second part of Armenius’s message: Be Silent.
Not too long ago, I completed what I’m now calling my first formal (structured) study of the entire Bhagavad Gita. Of course this wasn’t my first exposure to that text: I’d been reading it on my own for a few years before I came upon a teacher to act as guide.
Anyway, since that bitter-sweet day of completion, I’ve been looking at ‘random’ verses on a more or less daily basis as a way to keep in touch and to act as a reminder of what I’ve learned.
Just opening my Bhagavad Gita at random, just to see what the universe wants me to think about.
Today, I happened to open it up at what are a series of my favourite verses. (I know I’ve got a lot of favourites; it’s that kind of book). In these particular verses, Krishna describes the meaning and significance of the mantras Om Tat Sat.
In a nutshell, these three syllables, these mantras, are a way of describing the Absolute Reality of the Universe, or God, Consciousness, the Truth, the laws of nature and the universe. Whatever names we might use to encompass all existence.
Krishna details when and why to use the mantras (it’s one mantra made of three, for the technically minded). Again in a nutshell, it’s a mantra to use whenever we perform our duties, basically any actions, with a devotional mood.
By the way, that, and the inclusion of my favourite image of Krishna, doesn’t necessarily imply that our actions have to have a ‘religious’ intent or flavour: Any action we undertake, for whatever purpose as long as it is motivated by Truth, Love and right thinking, qualifies as being devotional.
While you can see the actual verses yourself via the Om Tat Sat link above, I would like to share with you my very liberal paraphrasing of Krishna’s teaching on the mantra. Also, I am adding a few observations of my own that I hope serve to clarify this great teaching. Oh, please forgive any repetitions, if they occur.
The syllables Om Tat Sat are the symbolic representation of the Supreme Absolute Truth; what I choose to describe simply as all that is. It is called by any number of names or none. It’s existence itself.
It’s an ancient practice, this chanting of these three syllables as a mantra. It is recited when one is engaged in any action in a mood of devotional service. Meaning any act that is imbued with a prayerful attitude and feeling, and with a mood or attitude of devotion to and recognition of, Truth in all things.
And it includes any and every action we undertake, from washing the dishes, to sitting in meditation or silent contemplation. And everything in between.
Om
Om is sometimes called the primordial sound, the creative principle, the word from which all creation sprung. I’ve also heard it defined as being the Big Bang, from which the universe emerged.
Om is considered the sacred sound and word by many cultures around our world. Consider the opening of John’s Gospel in the Christian New Testament :
Om is to be chanted when beginning and performing any and all actions motivated and driven by Truth. Chanting Om assists us to actually realise or understand with our heart and not just our mind, the presence of the divine or the universal consciousness in all that we do.
Tat
Tat is chanted by those wishing to be freed from attachment to material things, which includes the desire or compulsion to enjoy the fruits or rewards of our actions.
In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God
John 1:1 New Testament
Attachment is when we depend for our well-being or happiness (physical, mental, or spiritual) upon another thing (money, job, status, etc), person, or desired outcome. Attachment (and clinging, extreme longing, compulsivity), Buddha told us, is the cause of suffering: when things are going well with the things or people we are attached to we are elated; when things aren’t going so well, we are miserable and we suffer.
Sat
The syllable Sat indicates both reality and goodness. In other words, Sat is used to represent that Absolute Truth or Universal Consciousness that we’ve been discussing.
Sat follows very nicely on from Tat as it helps to strengthen our Dharmic (motivated by what’s right and true) actions, so that they actually become Sat – Truth.
So, chanting Om Tat Sat when performing any or all our activities in the world (as well as within) will help us to come to realise or understand that there is only the one Absolute Reality, the one consciousness that is not only universal in nature, but is actually the universe itself.
Oh one more quick note: Often you hear the chant with an extra word up front: Hari Om Tat Sat. Hari is a way to address that which removes darkness, that aids in the shining of the light of knowledge.
It’s a word that represents that Absolute Reality that we’ve talked about here. It can also refer to King or Lord, or otherwise influential entity. I find it rounds out the chant, and I like it!
Please feel free to explore Om Tat Sat for yourself. You will find a lot of great recordings of the chant on YouTube, and the wikipedia link at the beginning of this post is very Illuminating as well.
The previous post on this blog was about the notion of Kora, or the circumambulation of a sacred site or object on foot as a kind of pilgrimage. If you missed it, you can find that post here.
While researching for that blog, I came across an old file in a forgotten folder which also touched on Kora as a topic. I’d forgotten all about it as it was really only a first draft of a proposed post that, at the time didn’t go any further.
Reading it again, I right away realized it was a great theme for its own post and would follow on quite nicely. So, before I share that with you, allow me a minute to set the context.
In early 2020 we had just arrived in a small outback town in central NSW. We’d planned our arrival to coincide with the onset of the very first lockdown put in effect as a response to the outbreak of Covid 19. Our hermitage remained there for about six months before that first (of several as it turned out, though we didn’t know it at the time) lockdown eased and we moved on.
As with that last post, this one features a sports ground, and my adoption of it for the purposes of my own circular pilgrimage practice.
Thank you for your patience
Across the road from the little apartment in which we took refuge a few months ago as fear of the Corona virus spread and travel was restricted, is a sports ground. In freer, safer times, they play cricket, and – in the winter – football there.
That ground, or rather the oval shaped fenceline surrounding it, has become a Kora for us. A Kora is a kind of pilgrimage in the form of a mindful and meditative Circumambulation.
Kora is a Tibetan word, but the concept of pilgrimages circling sacred sites is common to most religious traditions. I guess you might say, we’ve kind of adapted the practice to suit our purposes.
Anyway, a few days ago I noticed that markings had been painted on the grass: a set of giant squares and other lines. I realized that football must soon be returning, along with the reopening of cafes, restaurants, and so on in the town.
As I continued on my Kora that day, I began to notice that many leaves had been painted along with the grass. It occurred to me that these blue-hued leaves could be seen as a kind of symbol for at least one aspect of the current ‘crisis’ that I’d been thinking about already.
Since first adopting this ground as my own Kora, I’d often seen – and sometimes collected – leaves blown from neighbouring trees by winter winds. I’m always doing stuff like that. Sort of my way of connecting with nature.
Then, on the day in question, I saw the return of human activity to that grassy leaf-strewn space.
I make no comment here, no judgements about rights and wrongs. Life must go on. And with life, the cultural activities of all human communities must resume.
I simply point out that it seemed to me that blue paint on winter-blown leaves is an apt metaphor for the impacts that we, the human species, have on the world we live in.
Also, as you can see from my photo, that impact isn’t always ugly, or bad. In this case, I think it’s actually quite beautiful.
The other thing to say is (as I read on a sign taped to the fence on the same sports ground) please remember to social distance. (note: the pandemic is officially no longer with us, but when you think about it, it might be seen as a wise precaution at any time. There are always germs around waiting to spread!)
Oh okay, one more thing. In a time – in a world – where social distance has become a verb, remember that the only distance between any of us is purely physical and an invented mental construct. All life, despite seemingly unlimited names and forms, is one. There is no separation.
As a self-described Hermit Pilgrim, I aspire always to live a contemplative and secluded life, as far apart from wordly concerns as I can manage. At the same time, I am a pilgrim, in both the sense of the internal journey of the Self as I study and meditate, as well as in the world itself: I move from one living space to another – one temporary hermitage to another- as I feel directed or led.
In the last several years I’ve noticed how often I seem to find myself in one more temporary hermitage that ‘just happens’ to be located right next door or across the road from a sports-ground, or what’s often called ‘a local oval’.
At least three times in recent years, that I can recall. And it is so at the moment. This time the hermitage is in a suburb of a mid-size city (by Australian standards) that in reality is more a low-key and small seaside town on a peninsular.
Anyway, just as with those other occasions, I have been grateful for the oval across the road: It makes for an ideal Kora.
Kora is a Tibetan words that means the act of walking around or circumamabulating a sacred place or object.
A monk on the Kora around the home and temple of the Dalai Lama in the Indian Himalayas
Tibetan Buddhists do Kora as a form of pilgrimage and walking meditation. It is a devotional practice and it is said to have transformative powers.
Of course Buddhists are not alone in practising this kind of circumamabulation (from the Latin circum (around) and ambulare (to walk).): Muslims circle seven times around the Kaaba in Mecca as the final stage of Hajj .
Many religious traditions consider Mount Kailish in Tibet a sacred place and circling it on foot, even once, is considered by some to be the equivalant of one complete lifetime.
In south India there is another sacred hill called Mount Arunachala. Each year millions of pilgrims walk around its base, which takes a couple of days. In India, the word pradakshina is used to describe such circular acts of devotion and pilgrimage.
And the list goes on: as I said many if not most religious traditions have a practice of walking around sacred sites or places as acts of pilgrimage or devotion.
So, what has any of this have to do with me walking around local ovals or sports grounds and calling what I do a Kora? Well, my intentions are similar to those other pilgrims but perhaps more humble. Let me explain.
Not being a sports-oriented person (not into competition and team sports at all really) I can’t comment too much on the idea that a sportsground is sacred ground because of the sports played there.
I do acknowledge and understand how it is that so many people do in fact consider the games played there as sacred activity with winnings and losings and full of heroic deeds. This indeed makes these places sacred sites.
Then there is the fact that many such grounds are named in memory of local people who have been prominent in the community. And, as is the case with the oval over the road from the current hermitage, ovals do actually become sites of memory.
This one, called Lynn Oval hosts several memorials at its periphery: there are tributes to miners who have died in accidents in local mines.
And there is a lovely statue of a guide (service dog for people who have vision impairments) dog called Tessa who is famous in the area for helping to raise a lot of money for more guide dogs.
Lastly but, for me, probably the most significant ‘evidence’ for a local oval being sacred ground is that it, well it just is. Just as all ground is sacred. An affirmation borrowed from First Nations’ Peoples says it all very nicely:
We stand always on sacred ground and beneath sacred skies.
In other words, everthing, everytwhere is sacred. All the rest, the memorials, the games played, they are not what makes the ground sacred, they are the things that people layer onto the space as a way of acknowledging the inherent sacredness.
And that is how it is for me. It’s not me walking around the oval chanting mantra (or at other times ‘just thinking’) that makes it sacred ground, despite being sacred acts in their own right.
I mentioned earlier an alternative word for Kora, pradakshina. This comes from the Sanskrit for ‘to the right’, because traditionally the idea was to always circle the sacred site or object clockwise, so the sacred object remains on one’s right.
Obvioiusly there isn’t much to see on the middle of the oval as I walk around the boundary fence (it’s about 400 to 500 meters by the way). Mind you, the other day a flock of pigeons were feeding in the centre while I walked. Then, at another oval, in another town, there would often be a lone Ibis sitting almost in the centre. It’s all sacred.
This idea of centre has me realising that the whole point for me of walking around ovals chanting my mantra, is the reach mycentre. The temple I’m circumamabulating is me; I’m the container so to speak, for the Consciousness which pervades and actually is all there is.
Peace and Love
Holy Wanderer: A Saddhu performs pradakshina around a shrine to Shiva in Rishikesh India
PS: I’ve written another post, also related to Kora. Please feel free to visit that post here
Notes from the Hermit's Cave 