These last few days I’ve been researching and thinking about an idea for a blog post. But I’ve come to realise that I am grossly underqualified to write about the topic I had in mind. Let me put it another way: I am completely and utterly unqualified in any way whatsoever to go there. In fact, after all the research, I think I’m going to disqualify myself from ever going there in writing.
However, I’m a great believer in the idea that no quest for knowledge is ever a waste of time or effort; there is always something to be learned. During my research I came across a topic I believe I am qualified to discuss, as it forms an integral and vital part of my own personal spiritual practice.
Why I’ve decided to write this post, though, is because I made a discovery that lead to an insight that I know will lead to a great progress in that practice. It’s nothing new, not really, but it was one of those occasions we’ve all experienced of ‘I knew that, but now I really know it.’ For me, it was a realisation of something that till then had been a nice cosy theory and belief.
Bhakti Yoga is that practice. It is really a key foundation, a valuable component of my spiritual life.
Wikipedia opens its entry on Bhakti Yoga (see the link just above) with a description of the practice that mirrors what I think is the traditional understanding of Bhakti Yoga:
Bhakti Yoga (also called Bhakti Marga, literally the path of Bhakti) is a spiritual path or practice within Hinduism focused on loving devotion towards any personal deity.
In the same entry there is a description of the origins and meanings of the two words, Bhakti and Yoga:
The Sanskrit word Bhakti is derived from the root bhaj, which means “divide, share, partake, participate, to belong to”. The word also means ‘attachment, devotion to, fondness for, homage, faith or love, worship, piety to something as a spiritual, religious principle or means of salvation’.
The term Yoga literally means “union, yoke”, and in this context connotes a path or practice for ‘salvation, liberation’. yoga referred to here is the ‘joining together, union’ of one’s Atman (true self) with the concept of Supreme Brahman (true reality).
For some, dancing while chanting the names of their God, demonstrates their devotion and celebrates their union with each other and with God
In other words, those called to a religious or spiritual life, practise Bhakti Yoga whenever they pray or otherwise express devotion towards their personal conception of God, or the Divine. This particular definition seems to be saying that such a conception of the Divine, or God, is in the form of a personal deity who is a kind of representative of true reality, which the devotee is aspiring to join with.
Some Bhakta Yogis are full-time, full-on practitioners. People like contemplative nuns or monks, hermits who retire from the world into seclusion. Anyone basically whose entire life and activities are spent in devotion.
So, when I discovered all this, I became intrigued; I decided to go off on a tangent and explore the word Bhakti itself. Wikipedia has a separate entry for the word on its own:
Bhakti is a term common in Indian religions which means attachment, fondness for, devotion to, trust, homage, worship, piety, faith, or love. In Indian religions, it may refer to loving devotion for a personal God
…
is often a deeply emotional devotion based on a relationship between a devotee and the object of devotion.
…
In ancient texts the term simply means participation, devotion and love for any endeavor.
May refer to devotion to a personal god? While I thought this entry doesn’t contradict our first quote above, it does seem to broaden, and deepen, the meaning of Bhakti. Expand might be the better word.
In some traditions a simple life on the road is a way to commit full time to Bhakti or devotion.
It struck me that that object of devotion might be anything. Or even everything. You see? I told you it wasn’t a new idea. It’s just that it’s resonated deeply within me now. It appears that the object of Bhakti Yoga practice doesn’t necessarily have to be a ‘personal god’.
Many many people would say ‘I like animals’ or ‘I think we should save the world’. But, while that may imply a kind of love for or at least a fondness for, I think Bhakti is something more – actually several somethings more!
For example, some people have a particular attraction to and love for, the ocean, or it might be a river they view as, if not sacred in a religious sense, then as special to them in some deep, comforting, even therapeutic way. Others have similar relationships with and feelings for trees, or even a particular tree.
Animals as either individuals or as a species or group, can have the same appeal and call to other people. Then there are those who feel strongly in their hearts you could say, that Earth itself is a sacred object, or others have a knowing that the planet is a living entity and worthy of our devotion.
Bhakti begins with love and devotion, which is about caring for, affection towards, loyalty to, emotional engagement with the object of devotion. But even more than that, there is faith in that object of devotion; faith as in trust, confidence that the love is real, that the ‘relationship’ is sound and real.
Homage and worship too are key aspects of Bhakti. The deep inner feeling we have towards a thing, person, or other being, that is beyond what we normally call ‘love’. It’s about seeing and actually realizing ‘in our hearts’ our desire to be merged or united with that thing, person, or other being.
Actually, seeing that word other just now got me thinking. I had to go back and reread our definition of Yoga up there near the beginning. It says Yoga means ‘union, yoke’. It goes on to add: yoga refers to a ‘joining together, union’.
This passage seems to be suggesting that Yoga (in our case Bhakti Yoga) is both an already existing union, and a process of joining together to achieve union. One thing I would say here is that in my practice of Bhakti (and love as a general thing to strive for and be) it’s both.
Trees are special beings for many people from a whole variiety of cultures all over the world
But, in the end, it seems to me that the process or practice, the path of Bhakti, serves to awaken us, to assist us to acknowledge, recognise, and realise in that really knowing way, our pre-existent true nature.
That true essential nature can be said to be the reality of our oneness with all things, living and non-living. And their oneness with us too of course. In fact, by putting it that way, I’m saying there is only one, or oneness. What’s that expression? One without a second.
May you be a Bhakta Yogi. Or, perhaps you already are one?
Love and peace from Paul the Hermit
Life has manifested itself as the multitudinous forms that comprise the universe. It is the one Universal Life, Power or Shakti (the laws of the universe or natural laws) that controls, guides and actuates all movements and activities in all beings, creatures and things.
The first line of this post was going to read something like: I listen to a lot of music. Then just as I put fingers to keys, I thought, no I don’t. More true to say I don’t listen to anywhere as much music as I’d like.
But I do try, and I am blessed that I have quite a large and extremely diverse music collection. All digital these days (which in itself is a great blessing), but once, I had CDs, DVDs, cassettes, as well as quite a nice range of vinyl singles and LPs.
Thank you Wikipedia No glasses?
Anyway. Moving right along. Tonight, as I cooked dinner for the hermit pilgrims, I was listening to a self-titled album called Buddy Holly. I just discovered that it was his debut studio album recorded in 1958. My copy is most likely a rerelease,though unlike most of the rereleases, this one features the original track line up.
I found myself thinking about, fantasizing I could say, about what might have happened had tragedy not called a halt to Buddy’s songs and life. Who can say? Then I mentally shook myself: this kind of daydreaming and speculation is not what one might call being present in the here and now; such thinking is an outright denial of the truth of things as they are. But, remember, I’m still learning: not yet enlightened; just another sentimental human who can’t help himself or control his wayward mind.
A Studied Pose
Some would say that the album contains songs that are typical rock and roll pop songs. And yes, they would be absolutely correct. Why? Because, as you’ve probably worked out in your own life, living on this planet as a human being is a drama in itself ready made for song lyrics, movie scripts, and novel plots. It’s not a new idea!
As such the songs’ lyrics are about love and loss, hope and despair, longing, joy, sadness; you know, the normal everyday ups and downs, ins and outs of life. Not a lot you might think to interest the likes of me. But there is something, that I’m not sure I can name in Holly’s music and lyrics that strikes a chord (sorry pun not intended) for this hermit-pilgrim, aspiring to be a monk, rock and roll fan, who just loves music from wherever and whoever.
Sure, the songs being products of their times can be a little sexist (nothing compared to the twisted misogyny we sometimes hear today though): sometimes naive and simplistic. But, for me there seems to be an innocence, even a kind of purity to the lyrics. Have a look at the lyrics of Mailman Bring Me No More Blues:
Mailman, bring me no more blues Mailman, bring me no more blues One little letter is all I can use
She wrote me only one sad line Told me she’s no longer mine Mr. Mailman, that’ll do for some time
Cried like never before So hard, couldn’t cry no more Shoo, shoo, Mailman, stay away from my door
Mailman, bring me no more blues Mailman, bring me no more blues One blue letter is all I can use
By the way, those two lines in the second verse are about as sexist as any of the album’s lyrics get, not that I am suggesting we minimise in any way whatsover such a sentiment. It’s abhorrent to me.
Anyway, it is pretty clear what this song is all about: it is the pleas of our rejected hero to be left alone; he can’t handle any more bad news or heartbreak.
Actually as I’ve listened to this particular song a few times tonight, I’ve realised that it’s about attachment, about compulsions and aversions. It’s about how this guy believes his wellbeing depends on someone else, that without her he is doomed to suffer.
When we think like that, we are compelled to chase after those things in the world that we think will make us happy, and run away from the things that we think make us suffer. In this song it’s all the mailman’s fault.
Obviously we are all like that; it’s part of human nature isn’t it? You might ask, am I now preaching a dualistic , clinging to your desires type of approach to living. No, but at the same time, it’s a true story isn’t it? This song. None of us want suffering, pain, rejection, and all the rest of it. I guess instead I should be saying now: let go of worldly attachments, give up your notion that things of the world can make you happy.
Now, how about these partial lyrics from Everyday. One of Buddy’s biggest hits:
Everyday, it’s a gettin’ closer, Goin’ faster than a roller coaster, Love like yours will surely come my way, (hey, hey, hey) Everyday, it’s a gettin’ faster, Everyone says go ahead and ask her, Love like yours will surely come my way, (hey, hey, hey)
Everyday seems a little longer, Every way, love’s a little stronger, Come what may, do you ever long for True love from me?
…
…
And the music. Holly has been credited with being the originator of what became the standard set up for rock and roll bands: two guitars, bass, and drums. Mind you, according the album notes I read online, many of the songs on this album also feature many other instruments, classical and contemporary. I think it’s brilliant; something about it makes me think of alchemy
Wake me up for the drum solo
For me it’s that instrumentation, the tunes, the melodies, and sometimes great harmonies (not to mention the occasional lack of harmony) that promote or provoke a kind of mellow, reflective mood. Sometimes though it feels like the music itself goes further and actually creates or induces that mood.
I just love these songs. That’s the essence of what I’m saying. In a strange way, they serve to uplift, despite the sometimes apparant gloom and doom of many of them.
Anyway, let me leave you with a couple of verses from one more song, Valley of Tears, which was actually written and first recorded by Fats Domino.
While most of us have been at some time or another a frequent visitor to or even long term resident in that valley, in this song our hero wants to actually go there forever!
Of course, I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he wants so badly to be relieved of his suffering that the only place he can think of where he can truly belong is where everybody else is suffering like him.
I want you to take me Where I belong Where hearts have been broken With a kiss and a song
The Closed Cafe at the End of Lonely Street
Spend the rest of my days, dear Without any cares Everyone understands me In the Valley of Tears
I guess that’s why I love and respect Buddy Holly along with so many others: he’s telling us, reminding us, that happiness doesn’t come from outside, from out there in the world. And if it does, it’s fleeting, only temporary. He reminds us, or at least he speaks this truth to me, that the only place I can find permanent peace, love, happiness is within.
Peace and love from me to you
PS: A note of thanks
Most of the photos are mine, except for the ones depicting the record single and the LP cover. I am very grateful to Wikipedia for allowing such access to these things.
Also thank you to Wikipedia for the song lyrics. If you ask my personal opinion, I will tell you that Wikipedia is one of the greatest resources for knowledge (or rather informatioun with the potential to become knowledge), that has ever existed in the historyof our species.
Earlier today I thought I might write a post to let you know what’s going on at the Hermitage at the moment. That’s it. One thought, no follow up. One more idea that might or might not work out.
And then just now my partner hermit and I were talking about how we’re not feeling present where we are and how frustrating that is.
Then I made a joke about how I’d had the thought about updating you on where we’re at right now and how useless that idea is because we aren’t actually here and it’s not actuallynow. We have already moved in our minds to our next temporary hermitage.
Let me explain.
You see, we move around a lot. Every few months, sometimes even more often. It’s just the way we are, pilgrims and nomads. Still hermits mind you, but the pilgrimage takes us wherever and whenever it wants.
Anyway, we are scheduled to move in about a month. It happens that our next safe haven is in a familiar town that we actually like quite a lot. So, naturally, we’ve been thinking and talking about all the great things about that place. But worse, all that forward thinking, fantasizing, speculating, has lessened our hold on the present, on the here and now.
Like I said, it’s as if we aren’t here anymore and that’s a pity. You’d think that someone who writes and thinks so much about presence would be a little more skilled at actually being present. At least sometimes. But, no. It often feels like the more I think about it, the less it happens. Being in the present, in the here and now I mean.
I know that my last post was about story and its central place in pretty much all our communication with each other and the world. With that in mind, there is a story I’d like to tell you now that I’ve heard a couple of times from a favourite teacher of mine.
It’s a story about presence, yes, but it’s also about having an attachment to some kind of anticipated and (in one’s own mind) fixed outcome. It’s really about how we can never really know anything at all about the future for absolute certain, and how that attachment to the outcome can easily obscure from us other possibilities, other outcomes that are available here and now.
Imagine you work in a city office and have just finished work for the day. You head out onto the street in a casual way because you know for sure the bus isn’t due for another 15 minutes and the stop is just across the road.
So, there you are, just about to cross the road, eyes on the ticket home (aka the busstop), and a car pulls up right in front of you. It’s a friend of yours you haven’t seen for a while (this part of the story is my little embellishment, added for extra clarity and detail you might say).
‘Hop in,’ your friend smiles and opens the passenger door to let you in. ‘I’ll drive you home. It’ll give us a chance to catch up.’
You are in a little world of your own after a long tiring day. You’re, already planning what to watch on TV, and thinking about dinner. So, after the hellos and the how are yous, you politely tell your friend that you’re okay, the bus is due in five minutes (time flies!) and you checked and you know it’s coming on time.
Your friend drives off with a shrug and a wave, and you get ready to cross the road .Just as you are about to step out onto the road the light changes leaving you stuck on the spot. Then you see the bus – your bus – pull into the stop. No worries, the light will change again in a few seconds. But it doesn’t. It’s a busy time of day and the traffic keeps on flowing.
Then, as you stand watching, the bus pulls away and your eyes follow it down the road, round the corner, and out of sight. Now, you also know that the next bus isn’t due for an hour and a half. And that is for sure going to ruin dinner and you won’t be watching much TV tonight either. An exhausting end to an exhausting day.
In your attachment to the idea of the bus arriving on time, and on your thinking about the evening ahead, you refused the other option that just by way of serendipity had presented itself.
Now, like all of us who miss opportunities because we’re busy thinking about the future (and of course it could just as easily be the past), you are asking yourself why was I so sure the bus was coming on time? How could I possibly know? Timetables can be wrong can’t they? You’re already regretting saying no to your friend. You were only being polite anyway.
While you sit annoyed and frustrated at the bus stop, you start to think a little differently. It might have been nice to catch up, after so long. Not only that [my friend’s] car would have been way more comfortable than a crowded bus. Not only that I would be almost home by now.
So, what about me? What will I miss because I’m not here while I’m still here? What won’t I see or experience because I’m attached to the next place? Well, unlike our bus timetable know-it-all, I don’t want to find out.
Time now to recentre. Time to practise what I preach. Time to return to where I already am, here and now. Mindfulness in even the smallest activity. When I remember that is; after all, it isn’t called practise for nothing: it’s a practice that never ends.
Time to remind myself that I can’t ever know for certain what’s going to happen from one moment to the next, much less at any moment between now and a planned event in a month. Nothing wrong with planning, with preparing. The trick is to not be so attached to that plan that you are compelled to either ignore the present or fixate on that possible future.
So then, it’s time to open my eyes, ears, mind and heart to what’s around me, where I am and what is happening. Same disclaimer as above mind you! It’s the effort we make that really matters after all.
The real bonus, though, of being as fully in the moment as you can be, is that being there (sorry I mean here) is the only place you can actually be, which means you are fully in the presence of all there is. There’s nothing else. Not in that (this?) moment anyway.
Has anyone seen Walk the Line? It’s a great movie that tells the story (or a version thereof) of the life of Johnny Cash. Yes, I know: not everyone is into country music. This movie, however, is an intriguing insight into the life and work of a gifted but troubled artist. He was a prolific and inspired singer and songwriter.
There is a scene in the movie in which Johnny is about ten or so. He’s talking to his brother who is maybe 14. The brother is studying the Christian scriptures (he wants to be a preacher when he grows up, but dies soon after in an horrific accident) and Johnny says, ‘Why you studying so hard?’ His brother looks up from his reading and says,
‘You can’t help nobody if you don’t tell ´em the right stories.’
Yes, I thought when I heard that, you have to tell them the right stories. But, what are the right stories? It’s a good question but, fortunately, there is a simple answer: they are all the right stories. That is if they are told from and with the heart, and if they are created and shared with the intention of conveying Truth, promoting harmony, and doing or causing to be done, what’s right.
The ‘them’ of poor brother Cash’s reply are those who get to hear/see/feel the stories we tell. And we all tell stories don’t we? I mean I’m telling you a story right now. As a (cringe) blogger, that’s what I do.
But we all share stories of all kinds. Sometimes they are stories of our lives, sometimes they are from memories passed down the generations. Other times they might be something we ‘make up’ to help someone to understand a point or idea. Pretty much all of us, most of the time communicate in one kind of story or another.
Of course there’s the other kind of stories; the ones meant to spread rumour or gossip, to hurt someone, to mislead. We all know how that works, and it’s not today’s topic anyway, so let’s just leave it there.
Those we share stories with may be those we intend to share with, and they might be others who at the time are distant from us both in time and space. Just as the stories we tell each other might be decades or even centuries old, so might our stories keep on reverberating through time and space.
A true story written on a wall somewhere
It’s also true that the stories that ‘help’ people come in all shapes and forms and are about an unlimited variety of subjects and topics. Then there’s the matter of timing. How often have you ‘just by chance’ read something inspirational when you were needing some guidance or advice?
Or what about those times when you are feeling a bit low or under the weather and you come across a story that makes you smile or otherwise lifts your spirits? I’ve often been in need of a good cry only to come across a sad movie or story or a moving tale of one kind or another. (Just last night I read a wonderful phrase I’d never seen before: Transformational Weeping. Probably a story or two there do you think?)
A story I tell myself literally every day. One that’s a prayer and an affirmation
So, let’s keep telling stories. They are all the right ones for us to tell – if they come from the heart and told with the intention of serving Truth. Someone once wrote:
If there is a way to improve the world, it is by telling a good story.
Okay then.
Once upon a time on a dark but not so stormy night …
PS I saw the movie in Dharamsala India. On a postcard home I wrote a little rhyme about some writing work I was doing on some of the town’s environmental issues for a local magazine:
He walked the line did Johnny Cash. But here in Dalai Lama Land my words will help reduce trash.
I did say stories come in all shapes and forms didn’t I?
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.
Remember that old Bee Gees‘ song Words? It’s about one person offering all they have to another. Well, the one doing the offering must have been a writer because, while the song’s a love story, it’s words that are the big thing on offer here:
It’s only words, and words are all I have To take your heart away
Well, as this is a blog, words are the way it hopes to reach your heart. Actually, the posts also include photos and sometimes other art, but the main vehicle used here is words.
So, with that in mind I have a couple of words to offer you today. Well, one word and its opposite. Have a look at this sentence from Thomas Merton:
If Irish monks affirmed his Celtic spirit in their mastery of cataphatic contemplation of the wonders of divinity in nature, Buddhist monks evoked his Zen mind and drew him into the apophatic path of formless ’emptiness’…
As sentences go (though this is obviously only part of a sentence) this has to rank pretty close to the top for length and denseness.
Kataphatic. What a word! Of course I had to look it up; I’d never heard the word before (this post is a rewrite from notes written a while ago that I never got around to posting.), and even though the sentence seems to suggest the meaning, I was still curious.
Looking at Wikipedia – where they spell it with a ‘C’ like Merton, as well as with a ‘K’- I learned that cataphatic is an adjective that describes an approach to theology that uses ‘positive terminology to describe or refer to the divine (God, Truth, Dharma, Spirit. You know what I mean: the divine).
Apophatic, as you probably figured out already, is when one uses ‘negative terminology to indicate what it is believed the divine is not’. A process of negation or we could say you get to what the divine is by a process of elimination.
Pretty simple concept really, but with a couple of big words to label it, and a lot of words to define it. No, don’t worry, I won’t bore you with the meaning and origin of the words and all the rest. Mainly because I don’t know and I’m not especially interested anyway in all that technical stuff.
I simply resonated with the word, and the concept. Cataphatic made me think of Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious in Mary Poppins. But let’s not go there: this is a serious blog after all. Except to say there’s more to that word than you might imagine.
Putting aside the aesthetic appeal of the word for a minute, let’s contemplate a while on cataphatic, and it’s opposite, apothatic.
To begin thinking about these two words, it’s necessary to acknowledge the existence of the divine. We can call it God, if we like. Or Dharma, Truth, Spirit, Love, Beauty.
As the quote suggests, a cataphatic approach, ideology, theology, or whatever we call it, ascribes names and forms to the divine, as well as describing where and in what the divine may reside.
Whereas apothatic, again as the quote suggests, does not ascribe names and forms to the divine. Instead it seeks to discover what or who god is or isn’t by a process of negation as described already.
For a long time I labelled myself as a Humanist. I had decided that this physical body is all there is; the physical or material universe is all there is, and that there is no ‘god’ separate from us or who has special powers to affect our lives. No God at all in fact.
In the Grove of the Sentinals
But, all that while, I just knew that there was something else, something more than just the physical. And over time, I came to the knowledge that there is indeed more than the simply phsical universe (including we humans).
I’ve thought about it a lot over the years and I came to the conclusion not that many years ago, that I had simply been afraid to name or define that something more. It would have meant admitting to myself that something more really did exist.
That is to say, I was scared of taking the cataphatic approach – and I’d never even heard the word.
Well brothers and sisters, I saw the light. The truth was revealed to me. And what is that truth? Well, to put it simply, I wasn’t scared anymore. Not of names and forms, and not of what I couldn’t see.
Now I could take both the Catophatic and the Apothatic approach: that the something else I had actually always known just was, really is, and can have a name and form, or not. The divine is not an omniscient being or any kind of being at all; As I’m very fond of saying, the divine (or truth, God, Dharma) simply is. And it’s all there is.
Some of you might know that I am really quite fond of the Indian deity, Ganesha . Do I believe that a man with the head of an elephant actually exists or ever existed?. Of course not. Do I actually think that he resides in the lovely painted icon that sits by my bed? Well, obviously not.
But do I believe that there is a spark or aspect or attribute in all life, in you and me, in nature, in (scary word time) creation, that we can tap into to help us overcome obstacles? Or that we can access when we begin new ventures of whatever kind, or when we need strength to face challenges? Yes, I do. Very definitely.
And do I believe in a blue boy called Krishna who lived in India 5000 years ago and spent his time playing in the fields with the village cows and his friends, entertaining them with his flute? Again, of course not. Does he live in the other beautiful icon by my bed? The answer is obvious: no.
But do I chant the Hare Krishna mantra in an effort to come closer to the divine that is… well, that just is? Yes, again, very definitely.
Words. It’s all only words. Only words? Only??
In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the word was God. (from the opening of the Gospel of John)
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.
Notes from the Hermit's Cave 