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.
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
Reading this great quote again recently, I was struck by something I don’t think I’ve noticed before. Suddenly I saw: ‘might not change the world’. Might not? Then I thought why not turn the whole think around: I could as easily say ‘Helping one person might change the world …’.
But, you know, my thinking went even further: I realized that might and might not have nothing to do with it. The reality is that every action we take, and that includes the action of helping other living beings (as well as harming them, which is a whole other story for another time), actually does change the world.
Obviously we can’t always (actually it’s more like very rarely) see those changes, nor are we able to dictate what the changes will be or predict all the possible outcomes. We may think we know what the results of our actions will be; we may even guess right. Whatever the case, all we can do is take action while realising that impacts always occur and just keep on happening in a kind of cascading effect that literally never stops.
Then I thought about it some more, wondering how we can actually come to fully realise that the might not in this marvelous saying, which speaks of a negative possibility, is more an always will, which points to something definite, as well as a whole lot more positive.
All is One on the physical and the non-physical levels
We all have had at some time a sense that we are all connected; we feel that we are part of nature, part of something bigger than just a lone disconnected individual. But, have you ever had the feeling that you might be more than just a ‘part of’ the world or nature’? Have you ever had a sense that you are nature? Maybe this sounds a bit esoteric: But we are one Self; we are all physical manifestations of the one consciousness, the one Divine.
And of course we can’t know for sure what goes on beyond the physical world. But, even at that most basic level of the material, especially as we get down to the microscopic and even atomic levels, it’s hard to tell individual beings apart. Atoms merge and cross over, interact, and change, between all living and non-living things.
So, who’s to say that one small action on my part, one small change, won’t have a cascading effect as the ripples (that’s a good way to put it isn’t it?) from that action spread through the world and beyond.
The ‘What can One Person Do?’ Dilemma
Our Sydney Smith quote in a sense tackles this agonising question for us. Still, you might think that one person can’t do a lot when the needs are so vast and so many and so intractable. There is always something we can do, even at the supposedly one person, one individual level, even if as Mr Smith says, it’s a small thing we do.
Just think how many people everywhere are asking this same question: ‘What can one person do?’
If even a tiny percentage of those questioning individuals answered that they could do something, then you would start to see changes taking place for sure. How could all those actions not add up to a changed world?
The Multiplier Effect
Just now I used the words ‘add up’. Well actually it’s more like a multiplication effect.
Remember we mentioned earlier the idea of a cascading effect always in action whenever any action of any kind is performed? Isn’t there a saying that goes something like: if a butterfly flaps its wings in a forest somewhere in the world, then a polar bear in the Arctic sneezes? Okay, that’s not quite it but you know what I mean.
Then there is that concept of ‘pay it forward’. It’s an easy concept to grasp, though I don’t especially like the language. For me it’s more to do with love, compassion, empathy, and a desire to make things better.
So, the truth is, helping one person does indeed change the world for that one person. And whatever we do for that one person, it also does definitely change the whole world. It may not appear to us personally that everything in the world has changed simply because of our one, apparently tiny action, but the world, (and that includes all of us who live here or anywhere else for that matter) is one living entity, one being, so those multiplying impacts just go on affecting everything and everyone in some way.
We may think of ourselves as just one separate little individual, but we are more than simply united with all life; we are that life, just as all life is us. And, as for believing we can be ‘agents of change’, we may think that it’s all too hard; too many problems; what can I do? The road to changing the world seems to be blocked, seems to be impassable.
Well, one teacher I admire is Ramdas. Among the many great things he said, this one stands out for me above them all. I may have the wording a bit wrong, but basically the message is:
If you set your feet upon the path, then you are already at your goal
Which is another way of saying that if you help one person, then you have changed the world.
Welcome again to my blog. It’s always a good feeling when I sit at the keyboard to begin a new post to you.
And for this post,I have some news: this hermit is back on the road again. But, I hear you asking: aren’t you as a pilgrim always on the road, on the move? Yes all true; a pilgrimage like mine (life) is never-ending, permanent. Just a state of being you could say.
So, after a few months in the desert hermitage, we felt lead to move to Sydney, to another cave; another safe haven by the side of road.
This move has felt right and gone smoothly from the first thought, the initial feeling, to the actual trip here, right down to the comfort and contentment we feel in this new hermitage (in reality a small apartment beneath a house with a lovely garden, in a quiet street).
My second piece of news is that I have made another blog, one just for my pictures. Of course my posts here are always illustrated with my photos, but after deleting all my social media accounts (another bit of news I suppose) I felt the need for an alternate place to share my art. It’s on a different platform and it would be terrific if you could follow me there.
The blog is called Pictures from the Heart of a Pilgrim, and you are invited to visit, to follow, to comment. to connect. Just click on the link here.
There are only a handful of pictures on that site so far, but I’m working on expanding it, so please make sure you visit more than once. Better still, subscribe so you can be notified whenever I post.
I think that’s it. Maybe I will post about deleting social media accounts. But, somehow I don’t think I will: they’ve gone and I’m happy about that. I’m not alone I know in making that decision.
I’m actually scheduling this one to publish sometime in the future. The reason is that, as I reread it now, I see I’ve used ideas, and even some sentences here that appear in a couple of recent posts. The thing is, I think this is a post worth reading, so I’m kind of sneaking it in via a touch of time travel. In any case, please enjoy, and by the way, thank you for sticking with me for this long (however long this is).
It was a revolutionary idea for its time, the early 19th Century. Come to think of it, it still is. A reform minded Christian minister, William Ellery Channing proposed that the proper goal for each of us human beings is perfection.
William Ellery Channing (Public Domain)
Or rather, the goal should be a realisation of the perfection that is already our true natural state, our true selves, which we’ve forgotten as we have got on with the rarely easy business of living in a material world. You see? I did say it was a revolutionary idea.
After all, he wasn’t talking about the obsessive perfectionism that often curses so many of us anxious types. Or the myths propogated by mass media of what it means to be ‘perfect’. No, he was proposing a complete and thorough shift in the prevailing thinking about the nature of humans, and in reality, of all life.
Anyway, he posed the question:
Do you ask in what this perfection consists?
He then proceeded to answer his own rhetorical question:
I answer: in knowledge, in love, and in activity
When I came across this little vignette in an unrelated book I’ve recently finished reading, I was a little bit mind-blown. Channing’s formula is more or less identical to that presented over millennia in a number of the world’s religious or spiritual traditions.
For example in the tradition I am studying these last years, Sanātana Dharma, this little formula constitutes pretty much the foundation for any kind of spiritual growth. It could be said that in a real sense it is the very basis of all Yoga:
Jnana Yoga (knowledge, study, includes meditation, contemplative practices and so on), Bhakti Yoga (Divine Love. In the sense that love is always divine) and Karma Yoga (often called the Yoga of action. It basically includes everything we do in the physical world. The Karma bit is about our actions becoming selfless).
In other words, just sitting there on their own these three Yogas offer a pretty succinct answer to the question many of us ask ourselves constantly: How can I live a good life?
We pursue knowledge for many reasons: it may be a reluctant pursuit as we sit through the interminable years of high school; or later as we head to university or college to train for a career that we hope will support us. The thirst for knowledge might arise when we come upon a topic or an area of interest and fascination that we just have to learn more about.
Just as with the infinity of knowledge, love comes in equally infinite guises. Unlike knowledge, however, I don’t think there are ‘reasons’ we can give for love. Love is love; it is its own reward (and it’s own torture), it just is what it is. Divine is as good a word as any. Any love, all love, is love for all and for everything.
And then there is the kind of knowledge we pursue as we try to answer what I like to call the Who am I? questions. Things such as: What’s the meaning of life? Where am I from? Where am I going? Is this all there is? Oh, and of course the real biggie: Who am I?
Now, at the risk of having to take the prize for the most obvious statement ever made, let me make the point that all living things have to take action all the time if they are to remain alive. So obvious that I’m even having to take several different actions in order to tell you this. So, you might well ask, what’s the big deal? What’s Channing and all the others through the ages getting at? What activity?
Well, I think Channing was getting at the notion that every action we take needs to be informed by knowledge and love. But, what knowledge? Well, clearly we are caught in a tsunami of information much of which goes to making ‘fake’ knowledge, propaganda, deceptive advertising, biased education, and the rest.
In other words how often do we see knowledge not used correctly? And, how often is humanity’s use of knowledge – our actions – informed by love? Now we can begin to realise how revolutionary this idea is, and always has been.
I think that’s why the Sanātana Dharma teachings and world view embody the concept Bhakti, or divine love. As I noted, all love is divine. These teachings tell us that all action is to be undertaken with love, without attachment to rewards or outcomes, and dedicated to the welfare of all life.
Channing had the same idea: for him all life is pure and perfect already. And of course it follows I think that all actions we take have the potential to be informed by a wisdom gained from proper use of knowledge, and to be informed by love, whether it’s for self, for other people, other animals, Earth herself.
So, pretty revolutionary stuff eh? I guess a lot of us have heard that famous quote from Gandhi:
Be the change you wish to see in the world.
Well, here’s the freaky bit. Just now as I looked up the quote to make sure I got it right, I discovered that he never actually said those words. Not in that form anyway. Here’s what he actually did say. It’s a long quote but I think it’s an interesting note to finish on. I think for me it clarifies many of the questions this little discussion has raised in my own mind, as it will for you I hope.
Gandhiji at his spinning wheel (thank you Wikimedia Commons)
Knowledge; Love; Activity
We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man [sic] changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.
Recently I came across some notes I’d made about a book I read ages ago, at least a year I think. Anyway, the name of the book: The Art of Mindful Walking. Sorry, but no prizes for guessing what it’s about.
Reading my notes I see that I had been particularly taken with what the author had to say about ‘our place in the Universe’. He reflects on our – humanity’s that is – perception of our size in the big scheme of things.
The author recounts how we once went for a walk with American astronaut Dave Scott, who’d been to the moon on one of the Apollo missions. Scott described to him what it felt like looking back at Earth from the surface of the moon:
It hangs in the black sky like a glass bauble, a blue and white Christmas decoration. It’s a small, fragile world.
Ford then goes on to reflect that this image, of a small, fragile ball floating in space, has ‘become a part of the modern psyche’. Then he says:
We begin to see how vulnerable we actually are. We are the first generation truly to see this. We are also the generation that is coming closest to polluting and destroying it.
I don’t think I’d quite looked at it in this way before. And I admit, it stunned me a bit.
Just think: Of all the humans who have ever lived, those alive in the last 50 or 60 years have been the first to see our home planet in its entirety. At least we’ve had the good fortune of seeing images of Earth just as those astronauts saw it. Thanks to those images made from space, we now have had a glimpse of where we actually live and the nature of our world.
Yet, at precisely this point in our history as a species, when we have that particular knowledge, this is the time we seem to be almost wilfully destroying the very ground we walk upon, the air that keeps us living, and the water without which there is no life.
I’m not a warrior. I am a hermit and a pilgrim and I try hard to not make judgements. As such, I can only look on in wonder.
And I can pray.
Thanks to Jimmy Buffett for the title. It’s a line from one of his greatest songs, called Defying Gravity. Thanks Jimmy for all the music man.
So, anyway, here I am. Just sitting. It’s what I do, when I can, when I’m able. Well, to be completely accurate, here I am sitting and typing. Writing yes.
But every day, I sit. I try to sit. On a comfortable chair or bed. Here is where I commune with the Divine. It’s where I say my prayers, empty my mind, try to be silent, sometimes read holy books.
Whatever I do when I am just sitting, the sitting bit isn’t always easy; it requires effort and patience. Just being still can be hard; everyone knows that. But it’s part of the practice, part of the sadhana, the way to liberation. All that.
Of course I’m not the only one you might find just sitting. Why, just today on my way home from buying fruit I saw some other people sitting. One had his eyes fixed, completely transfixed on his phone’s flickering screen; head bowed, the world around him shut out.
The other sat, head bent forward, arms crossed; I couldn’t see her eyes. Perhaps she was sleeping, perhaps feigning sleep, perhaps trying for sleep. Whatever, resting it looked like.
These two were a lot like me I thought: just sitting, being quiet, resting even. Mind you, they were younger than me. Though of course what’s age got to do with it? I carried shopping bags; they sat beside a very full shopping trolley.
But, wait, my bags held fresh fruits to top up our supply. Their trolley overflowed with, what shall we call them? All their worldly goods? Personal effects? All they own?
And another difference? I’m going home with my bags. They have no home to house those effects; no soft bed to rest upon or commune at leisure with the divine.
Whereas I sit under a roof, in a room, on a soft bed, they sit in a bus shelter. Sure, there’s a roof but it offers scant protection from the approaching storm, and none at all from the incessant wind that will soon be full of rain blowing.
It’s no use asking why am I in a comfortable house, and they are in a bus shelter, just as I was and they were, the last time I saw them. There’s nothing for me to say that will mean anything to them, to anyone else, or even to myself.
I suppose I or you or someone else might remind me (remind all of us) that the world can be hard, is hard: bad things happen to all of us. Of course that’s true. I actually truly believe that the world by its very being in existence is hard. What did The Buddha say? Life is suffering?
But, as they say, that just doesn’t cut it, does it? All just words don’t you think? It’s what I think today anyhow. Oh yes, I’ve been praying since I passed them by (and I did pass them by with no words, no smile or greeting, my face turned away. I am ashamed).
I thought of them as angels there to remind me of my own advantages and privilege. Even those very thoughts themselves prove my own failing to understand, to actually get it.
But, yes: all just words. Meaning very little. I suppose after all that perhaps all I can do is pray.
For all of us.
Peace
Not as if I don’t bloody live here is it? Yeah. I know, I know. Its a bloody bus stop. But, geez, a fella’s gotta live somewhere. Don’t he?
Welcome to another post. Just a little note before we get into it: This one picks up where the last one left off. Kind of. No need to read that one first, unless you want to.
And that’s the whole thing in one sentence, or at least in part of a sentence: unless you want to: none of it is any of my business. What do I mean when I say ‘none of it’? Just that. None of it. Or we can say it in another way: the only thing that is your business is you.
But, all of us are bound to ask, how can I simply mind my own business in a world torn by endless war? How can I ignore the environment I live in and that it’s dying before my eyes? How can I turn away from the evils of racism, injustice, greed, and cruelty?
Well, the simple answer is we can’t and we shouldn’t. Of course, in order to reconcile this apparent contradiction, it would be helpful to clarify exactly what we mean by minding our own business.
In essence my business (or yours or anyone’s) is anything that has to do with me: what I do; how I behave; what I think, feel, and believe; my behaviour and attitudes towards others; and—and this is the key—how I interact with and respond to the world as I experience it as I go about living my life.
So, it isn’t completely accurate to say that the wars, racism, injustice, and the killing of the environment (and everything else) is none of my business; my business is limited to my interaction with and response to all of it. And that has to be determined by a range of factors like my nature, my abilities, my circumstances, and so on.
Above all, and as Susan Sontag, American writer, philosopher, and political activist, said in a speech in 2004:
To be a moral human being is to pay, be obliged to pay, certain kinds of attention.
While the theme of that speech had to do with the writer’s responsibility to truth, I think her assertion applies here and may provide a solution to the seeming contradiction between minding our own business while at the same time stating that our business can, should, and does indeed include what goes on outside of ourselves (actually as we shall see, in reality there is no outside or inside)
How we utilise our own personal resources is in the end for each of us to decide. In the sense of our engagement with the world, the most precious of these resources are arguably time and attention.
Each of us possesses these things in our own unique quantities, just as we all have our own unique qualities, so each of us has the opportunity to decide how we use our time, and what we pay attention to.
It is so very easy to be overwhelmed by the constant torrent of information detailing the horrors threatening to consume and destroy our poor Earth and the life she supports. It is so very tempting to throw up our hands in defeat, and shrug our shoulders as we turn away exclaiming ‘It’s none of my business’.
While none of us would blame anyone for retreating in this way, a great many of us realise that for us this is not an option. Well, as the Buddha taught, there is a middle way. A way that allows us to avoid this kind of ‘none of my business’ denial, at the same time as protecting us from being overwhelmed and beaten down by the scale of it all.
The first step involves surrender. Surrender to the idea that there is no ‘me’; there is no ‘you’. There is no ‘them’, no ‘us’. There is only ‘I’. Surrender to the notion that not only is all life ‘connected’ or linked, but to the thought that all life—human, other animals, plant, mineral — everything — is one. There is no separation.
Easy eh? Hardly. But this is where the paying attention thing comes in. Rather than being swamped by the never-ending tsunami, choose where to put your attention. Ask yourself, where am I able to place my attention? How can I—how am I able to—use my time so that I avoid drowning yet still contribute to the well-being of the whole of which I am a part?
Obviously, as I hinted at above, the answers will be different for each and every one of us. For some, the kind of attention they pay will involve being on the literal front lines, working in the political field, or with activist groups working for social justice.
Then there will be those whose nature compels them to choose to put their attention on a life of prayer, meditation, and contemplation.
For these people this requires the quiet and solitude of monastery, ashram, or cave (whether it be in forest, mountain, or suburban home). And along the huge spectrum in between, there is a a unique spot for every one of us.
Each of us is a part of the whole. Everything we do affects the whole. Remember that saying that goes something like: A butterfly flutters it’s wings in the forest and the sun rises? Okay, maybe I’m pushing it a bit, but you know what I mean.
Never underestimate what (you perceive of as the little) you’re able to do; no one can say what impact it will have. All that is required of you is that you mind your own business.
Not so long ago I readThe Glass Bead Game by Herman Hesse. And I have to say it’s what I like to call a ‘real book’: written beautifully with an interesting and deeply engrossing story, full of detail, symbolism, thought-provoking ideas, and at the end of the day just plain and simply a delight to spend time with.
I won’t go into what the book is about here, but for the sake of this post, I will just tell you that it is about a mythical European province populated by an elite group of scholars of all sorts who have as their main cultural, social, and even political focus, the game of the book’s title.
Anyway, what I want to talk about here today is something said by the book’s main character, who in the course of the story becomes the master of the game and therefore a hugely influential figure.
This character is having a conversation with a friend. And he’s talking about the way this elite group conducts itself in the world. How it helps shape the country and history. He says to his friend:
We do not intend to flee from the vita activa (the active life) to the vita contemplativa (the contemplative life), nor vice versa, but to keep moving forward while alternating between the two, being at home in both, partaking of both.
Now, what struck me about this quote is that only a couple of days before I’d read a verse in the Bhagavad Gita that I felt said almost exactly the same thing. Krishna says to the warrior Arjuna:
Contemplative life and Karma Yoga are one and the same and takes one to the same destination. One who perceives this sees things as they are.
Bhagavad Gita Ch 5 Verse 5
Karma Yoga is usually defined as taking action without desiring reward for oneself or being attached to the fruits of the action. It is very much the taking of selfless action that is for the benefit or others. However, because as living beings in the world, we are always taking action and actually can’t not be acting, Karma Yoga is also described as being simply the yoga of action.
The Contemplative Life is most often ascribed to monks and nuns, and others living a life of deep thought, study, meditation and prayer. But any of us can lead a contemplative life because such a life is about being mindful, it’s about considering the consequences of our actions.
Such a life is lived slowly and thoughtfully and would be called ‘spiritual’ by some people. We could also call it an examined life. It is about cultivating an inner life, a life of mindfulness in all aspects of our lives.
And living in a contemplative manner helps create more peaceful communities; people living in this way project a calm that can have profound impacts on others. Such people help to set up what some us like to think of as good vibrations
Of course it’s one thing to talk about the Contemplative Life versus the active life in a novel and in an ancient book of scripture. It’s a whole other thing to be trying to figure out what sort of life we should be living in the world here and now, with the urgency of climate change, wars, despotic leaders, increasing poverty and the rest. Or is it?
Is it better for us to take action by protesting, joining activist groups, writing letters? Or is better that we live apart in some way, spending time contemplating, meditating, ‘praying’?
To me it seems there’s a real struggle going on right now between these two points of view. There are those who will tell us that it is too late for ‘thoughts and prayers’, and then there are those who say, we can’t achieve world peace (in its many facets), until we have attained inner peace on an individual level, and that the only way to reach that state is to meditate, live a contemplative life, and slow down.
Obviously, and you already knew I was going to say this, the two are not mutually exclusive; both approaches are required and serve their own purposes. There is no dilemma; there is no conflict. And above all, neither approach is superior to the other.
Many of us are suited to an active life; some of us less so. Some of us are suited to silence and to quiet reflection and study, some of us aren’t. And oftentimes if we try to act contrary to our true natures, then we have great difficulty in achieving anything. And we don’t help anyone when that happens.
Karma Yoga or the Contemplative life. An active life or a life of silence and contemplation. Only you are able to know which is for you. Of course there’s always a crossover to some degree or other. Being fully active and engaged in the world, doesn’t stop one from spending time in a contemplation, and perusing one’s life mindfully.
Equally, leading a totally or partially contemplative life doesn’t mean you aren’t taking action in the world. Obviously you are. For me, the contemplative life is a way to find some personal peace, to create those good vibrations I mentioned, and it allows me to connect with others of like mind, who are working for the highest good. Those living in the invisible community I think I’ve mentioned some other time.
Balance. The key is to find the balance that expresses you and your nature best. So, take some action right now and begin contemplating!
Notes from the Hermit's Cave 