Tag Archives: compassion

How Shall I Live?

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Thomas Merton in his hermitage (Courtesy Wikipedia)

The great study of the monk is to have an awakened heart

      Thomas Merton

      

There would be some – including me – who would say that all human beings, and not just monks, need to learn to awaken their hearts, to cultivate attitudes and a life of love, compassion, empathy, and kindness.

Who would disagree with such a suggestion?

Well, I’ve already said that I am one of the ‘some’ who would welcome such an evolution in human consciousness. But, at the same time, I don’t want to make pronouncements, form judgements, hold opinions, on what anybody should do, or be like. Only me. I am only responsible for my own behaviours, attitudes, ideas, thoughts, speech, and the rest of how to live my life. I just can’t – as in I’m not entitled – to tell anyone else what to do, what to think, what to say and so on.

Actually I’d even speculate that Merton is in fact talking about just the one monk: himself; he’s not preaching a prescription for the behaviour  of others.

I’ve read so much Merton that it’s impossible now for me to remember exactly where I read this statement of his, but I do know that when I first saw it and made a note, the concept resonated deeply for me as a great aspiration for my own life as a monk, and as a trying to be decent human being.

In other words, this monk – me, myself, and I – has a task to carry on with: to cultivate an awakened heart. And being a ‘great study’ it’s bound to be at least a lifetime’s project.

It’s an effort though, awakening one’s heart. It’s even a bit of a mystery at times what the phrase actually means in real terms.

Love, obviously, tops the list for any aspirant on the awakened heart path. And, yes, I do feel, express, and act out love – so deeply sometimes to the point of being overwhelmed or ‘flooded’; sometimes speechless (that’s the good bit), sometimes full of words.

But then there are times (oftentimes is the word) when that love is clouded or shrouded completely by angers and irritations, by regrets of what should be or shouldn’t be, could be or cant’t be, what isn’t.

The great study of the monk is to have an awakened heart
          Thomas Merton

All attachments to what is not as I think it should be. All barriers to love. All ways and means of keeping the heart asleep – or at best semi-awake, and still sleepy: slow to respond, slow to act, and with ongoing blockages to seeing how things actually are.

The quest to acquire an awakened heart and the outpourings of love, kindness, gentleness, generosity, that such a state would allow, is probably at the root, the foundation, of my life as a hermit monk, of my life as a pilgrim journeying through and to Self.

Living quietly and simply; developing a contemplative way of being in the world while definitely being not of the world; cultivating silence, peace and calm; all are activities and attitudes directed at cultivating an awakened heart.

All that generosity, patience, love, kindness, empathy, and all the rest are definitely all characteristics of an awakened heart. Here’s my dilemma  (only one among many that riddle my crazy monkey mind): they are also precisely the elements that need to be practised in order for one to acquire an awakened heart. What’s the expression? Catch 22?

Of course, it just occurs to me now, everything that is, is exactly as it’s meant to be, happening just as it ‘should’. So, in other words, all these words of reflection are simply a commentary on what has been and gone already, that which is in the past, and is no longer existing.

All that matters – all that exists – now is that at this moment, in its ongoingness, I am as loving, as kind, as patient, and as generous (not to forget compassionate, empathetic) as I’m able. To others obviously, as well as to myself.

All that wonderful list of characteristics of an awakened heart all exist right now within me. Perhaps I need to wake up my mind a bit more so I might see that reality. Then I might actually realise that I already have an awakened heart and that I simply got forgetful somewhere along the way.

with love
Paul the Hermit

Sendin’ Out Good Vibrations

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It always surprises me how quickly, how easily – how smoothly – a perfectly okay conversation or train of thought will, just like that, morph into a full-on gossipy rant.

You know the thing: pointing the finger at what someone else is doing wrong; or precisely and with great clarity of analysis detailing how another person (or sometimes myself) has erred, how they’ve slipped up, made mistakes they could have or in ‘my opinion’ should have avoided.

How easy it seems to happen that I will suddenly find myself very eagerly ranting about the sawdust in the eye of another, while breezily ignoring the huge plank in my own eye. The errors in someone else’s way are so often clear to me, while my own not so terrific ways are completely ignored.

And the weird thing is, how it sneaks up on you. I mean on me. As I said at the start, one minute I’m having a pleasant and reasonable conversation, the next minute I’m ranting about him, or her, or them, or who or whatever.

Such an error in my own ways, occured this morning as I fell into what felt like a perfectly rational pointing the finger session, full of criticisms and judgements about someone I actually quite admire.

That is until one of the hermits with just one comment, brought the whole thing to a sudden and definite stop:

‘We should be sitting here sending out good vibes. That’s our job.’

A perfectly timed cause for a pause for thought. And absolutely correct – as hermits, as monks committed to the welfare of all beings, it’s more than our job; our lives are dedicated supposedly to love, prayer, service, contemplation on the Divine in all things and how we can best serve that Divine.

Human nature is a tricky topic to think about though. So much of what we do in the world is driven by our desires for more things, for status, for happiness, or pleasure. Eating, sleeping, mating, and defending, I have heard it called by way of summary.

Hermits behind walls are still flawed human beings

I’ve supposedly withdrawn from all that, left it behind ‘in the world’. I live a secluded, quiet, and contemplative life precisely in order to counter those very attributes of human nature.

I suppose all this says is, I am still a human being with all the flaws, all the desires – and aversions – that come with being that kind of, well, being.

Yes, all true. Maybe. But, isn’t it possible that I might use just a bit more discipline? Could I be perhaps a little more clear in my focus?

Perhaps I could ‘sit here’ and send out good vibes. At the very least I could pay a bit more attention to those times when I’m about to slide – or have already slid – into my ‘putting out  bad vibes’ mode.

We can’t really ever know what’s going on in the lives of other people, or in their minds and hearts. In any case, it is rarely, if ever, our business to even want to know or make guesses or assumptions about others’ lives.

As a hermit monk, as a pilgrim on the spiritual path I aspire to walk, my only business is the making of ripples (I know it’s a cliché but it works for me, just as so many do), the distribution of waves, or vibrations of replenishment, of love, and kindness, of good things, out beyond myself.

Good vibes to all living beings who I am pledged to serve, to the Divine that is in, and in fact is, all beings, including me, you and all there is.

A Plea for Forgiveness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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