Tag Archives: contemplative writing

Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa

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Every blogger will tell you that, for every one idea that leads to an actual published post, there are very many others that have fallen away: an idea that won’t or can’t be developed much; ideas that just don’t resonate; some ideas simply do ‘not fit’ with the overall theme of the blog. All kinds of reasons for an idea to not make it into a post.

Such has been the case with me recently – twice it happened, in a row. I abandoned them both while still notes in this notebook, At the time(s) I felt that these two potential posts just weren’t working and weren’t going to.

Then, yesterday, it happened again, this one making it to the typed stage. This time I realised that it was something other than an unworkable idea – after all, this was the third time in a very short period. There was definitely more to it. So, I went back and reread those two previous rejected posts, to try to find the links, if I could.

Smug, fake – as in as phoney as – ego driven, arrogant and self opinionated (note the small s please). Not to forget they all shouted to me of a reach for a sense of self importance.

Rereading the three it felt as if one could sum it all up by stating: ‘This writer has an ego as big as a house and it’s out of control.’

To tell you the truth, it has shocked me, this run of ego boosting rubbish I’ve been writing lately. The weird thing is, in all three cases, I think the actual themes or ideas have potential; just the tone and style disturbs me.

I know enough about my own mind and how I respond to conditions and circumstances (not to mention moods, emotions and the rest) in my life to know – and I knew it right away from my rereading – that such ego driven, arrogant, self (don’t forget the small s here as well) important stuff comes as a symptom, a sign.

It’s a symptom – an expression – of a low opinion of myself, a problem with self-esteem, a sense that I’m not good enough.
Trying to boost myself up, that’s what it’s all about. In other words I was – have been – blinded by my ego/mind.

Admittedly my ego and my mind were only trying to make me feel better, and, especially with ego in the mix, I led myself astray. Their intentions were good (to cheer up the only ‘me’ they know), but the ego was is not my way.

However, this post isn’t about analysing me or whatever. It is an apology. An apology to my community, both the visible and the not so visible (that includes you dear reader).

I ask forgiveness of Self – this time with the big S

A thousand thank yous and much love

From Your servant

Paul the hermit.

We are Many, Yet We are One

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To ‘check the weather’ is to actively seek knowledge – news – of the world; it’s asking, what’s going on out there? Kind of an attachment, and in most cases, most of the time, I don’t seek out news of the world, but in certain circumstances it does sometimes seem necessary.

So, because it’s been raining heavily, and there have has been some minor flooding not too far from us, I checked the Bureau of Meteorology earlier this morning – I have an app on my phone.

Along with the air temperature, the measured and predicted rainfall, and other weather related details, there is list of ‘Current Severe Weather Warnings’.

There were three listed: big surf (we’re a couple of kilometres from the coast), big winds, and a third which leapt out and grabbed me, or putting it more accurately, it reached out and grabbed my heart.


Photo by Jeffrey Hemsworth on Unsplash

A ‘Sheep Graziers’ Warning’ it’s called. It’s purpose is to warn farmers, that due to cold temperatures, heavy rain, and high winds, there is a risk of ‘losses to lambs and sheep exposed to these conditions.’

In other words, lambs and sheep might die if left out in the weather.

That casual check of the weather has now exposed me to some of that information of the world, the news, that I usually avoid. And that news has impacted my heart, my soul.

The risk of ‘loss’ to those sheep – and lambs – is to me as devastating as it would be when any other being is at risk of suffering or death. And, obviously, I’m absolutely aware at the same level that many creatures of many and varied species – including my own – are at this moment exposed to the very same risks.

One of the thoughts that occur to me is this: The very reason for these warnings is so that farmers can take the appropriate action to protect and safeguard the creatures in their care.

Another thought: the sheep have no choice. Like the rest of us living beings they are subject to the conditions that play out in the material world. Of course we can add a little perspective to this: I am making these notes in a warm, dry and safe hermitage.

(Then, as I began to type up those notes just now, there was a very short but powerful thunder and lightning storm accompanied by very heavy hail. Once again I am warm, dry and safe.)

All beings are prisoners in a sense, to their material bodies, and, as I said, subject to suffering due to the material world. What we, as individual beings, or individual species, can do to reduce our suffering is going to always vary from individual to individual, from species to species.

I suppose what I’m getting at is that all of us – all beings – need help of one sort or another at some point, to release us or protect us from suffering.

I must admit that very often feel helpless when it comes to what I’m able to do to relieve the suffering of the world – my own, the suffering of those close to me, and that of all beings.

You know, I don’t not watch the news so I can avoid being upset or sad or angry which are often my reactions when seeing or reading news of the world. While I don’t enjoy those emotions when they come, it’s more the emotion they lead to that really bothers me: more and more feelings of helplessness.

And helplessness for me causes paralysis: whatever little I might otherwise be able to do, I cannot. For example, since checking that weather report I haven’t been able to settle to my prayers, my meditation, my chanting, and study; I am not, right now able to do any of the things I would normally do as my way of contributing to the welfare of other beings. Paralysis.

So, here I am making notes that will become a post to share with you. A story of checking the weather; of empathy with other beings; my feelings of inadequacy at not being able to relieve their suffering – as well as my own for that matter.

But, I will pray. I promise. Prayer is healing, prayer banishes helplessness.

Those sheep – as well as all other beings – and I are not separate; I am them and they are me. We are the One.

A Prayerful Poetics, A Poetic Prayer

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Just about to open my tablet to retrieve an email I’d sent myself a day or two ago with a prayer attached that I’d found in a book.

But I stopped: I felt, no, no need to transcribe that prayer; I sense some words of my own that are struggling to emerge (actually paraphrasing a very vague sense and direction here; I rarely think – or speak – in such a formal way). So, I left my tablet and reached for my notebook instead

So, what emerged? Well, it’s a prayer and it’s a poem. It’s a prayer or a poem, Either or, and both. In any case, here is the first draft – I only got these words down on paper a half hour ago.

Words from my heart to my heart. A prayer to my Self, a prayer to all that is. And it’s a poem too, remember!
So, now I share this prayer (or poem?) with you.

I am, you are, we are.

Thou art that

MY LORD, WHAT SHALL BE MY PRAYER?

My Lord, what shall be my prayer?
Oh, where even to begin.

There are painful fragments from the past,
fear-fuelled fantasies of the future.
None of them real. None of them mine.
The mind only controls.
Yet clinging to them haunts me.

I aspire to monkhood, to the hermit life.
Yet to desires of many kinds I am attached.

I long to be absorbed in Bhakti;
I long to worship, to praise, and to celebrate All
Ceaseless prayer I aspire to,
to be absorbed in communion.
Yet again the ego-mind
fills me with reason’s illusions
and endless words of the world.
I am barricaded, from You.

I strive to remember who I am;
to recall who You are.
Within the words of this prayer lies that memory:
I am. You are.
Thou Art That.

Breathing Free & Easy Through My Life: I Wish

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There’s this funny little thing I do; it’s an odd little habit. On the face of it, at first glance, it’s not really anything to bother about. Just another little quirk that could easily be dismissed to add to my long list of such quirks.

Don’t laugh. I’ve had this habit for I have no idea how long, and I’ve been wanting for ages now to stop and think about it: why I do it? Can I stop it? You know the thing. Well, I’ve taken steps to try to change it, but still, I think it’s time to look at it properly.

You see, I am prone to holding my breath. Just to illustrate: as I held my pen poised about to write that last sentence: I held my breath. What directly prompted this renewed resolve to finaly get down to facing the facts, is that just a little earlier I’d made a cup of tea, and when I went to put it down on the table? Yes, I held my breath.

I’m likely to hold my breath (for a short moment) at any old time: Bend down to pick up a dropped pen? Hold the breath. Raise a forkful of food to my mouth? Hold my breath. Do one or any of my regular physical exercises? I have to really watch myself, otherwise I’d not breathe at all doing them.

All the time, and at any time, as I said. Why? Well, that’s the question isn’t it? I can kind of understand it as a pause, a way to summon up focus and physical energy before doing a task requiring much physical (or mental?) effort.

But that’s just a guess really. As you probably could imagine, I’ve never discussed breath holding issues with anyone else. Well, present company excepted.

Anyway, my guess doesn’t really tally with the lightweight activities, like my pen poising before a new sentence, or my breath suspending before taking a bite of food. Something else is at play here.

So, what is air? What is it good for exactly? Well, umm, it’s a gaseous combination of a whole heap of ‘stuff’, the key one for us here is oxygen. And, more or less obviously we mammals and other beings too, need oxygen to breathe – to keep breathing. In other words it’s the ideal means of staying alive.

I guess that’s why some traditions call air, not only an element, but a sacred element. Life giving, life sustaining – some call it the Life Force, or Prana. Of course these two terms encompass other elements and concepts, but air is pretty much a fundamental component of the whole eqaution.

Next question: If I know it to be the life force, that which keeps me alive, why would I choose to suspend breathing? No, after pausing here (and holding my breath briefly), I’ve concluded that I very much doubt that I’m trying through this little habit to curtail the flow of the Life Force, or Prana through my body.

So, specifically, what does air do in the body? Well, it fills the lungs, which then somehow get the oxygen into the bloodstream (the heart’s job?), which in turn carries that oxygen to the brain, other organs, and to the muscles. I hope you will forgive my over-reliance on such complex technical jargon.

Once again, I can’t see how holding my breath as I poise my pen, is intended to deprive my arm muscles – and my brain – of the fuel needed to help the pen do its work of putting words on paper.

Anxiety? Well, finally we might be getting somewhere at last. When we get a fright, or fear something, or watch scary stuff in a movie, we will often ‘hold our breath in suspense’.

Maybe that’s where the breath holding habit began for me. Not watching movies, but perhaps when confronted with anxiety making situations. Of course picking up a pen is hardly a cause for anxiety, though eating might be?

Well, maybe those ‘little things’ are where the habit became a habit, but now I’m starting to think this breath holding might be a habit without a cause.

At least no consistent cause or causes. Anyway, there’s no point to  dredging the past to try to find out the why of the thing. What’s important  and the only thing we can impact on is now; best to pay attention to here and now;

So, I suppose the conclusion is simple: Sometimes a quirky little habit is just that, a quirky little habit.

PS A habit to be done away with mind you. Time for some little reconditioning of myself. I’d prefer not to hold my breath while writing notes, while eating, or while doing my exercises – or when doing anything else for that matter. The brain, the digestion, the muscles – this entire being – needs oxygen, and it’s my job to make sure that it flows freely and easily to everywhere it’s needed.

No Internet Reception? Is It a coincidence?

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My last post spoke of the need for spiritual seekers to have association with devotees, fellow travellers on a spiritual path. I extolled the virtues for hermits living more secluded lives with the little physical contact, such as me, of accessing the Internet to find stories of past and present spiritual seekers, as a means to satisfy that need for association.

Watching videos, reading books and articles online, exploring websites managed by individuals or groups, all present opportunities for association.

I pointed out how all these activities are blessing in that they help instill a sense of connection and belonging, how they confirm the reality that I am not alone. Encouraging and inspiring, I said it was – and it is.

However, I did neglect to point out that there are hazards, pitfalls, slippery slopes, triggers for depression, anger, sadness. For me, spending time ‘online’ should come with an ‘enter at your own risk’ warning.

This is especially the case when spending time on the video watching apps, where you can watch unlimited videos on an unlimited range of topics.

Call it temptation; call it the magnetism of old attachments and conditioning; call it what I like: the reality is that, after too much time watching videos online, I will often start to drift, just for a ‘quick look’, just a short spell of lookin but ‘just a bit’. Not forgetting the sad resolve to only look at ‘stuff that’s good for me’.

A sad resolve I said because so often what I ‘have a quick look’ at is news, movie clips; anything that tugs at my old ways and habits, anything that pushes old buttons and triggers my old depressive and decidedly non-peaceful, melancholic self.

It doesn’t happen that often, not anymore. But when it does, I have a sense of sinking back into the mire of worldliness as it’s called. I feel the falling into the aforementioned pit. Even stuff I have strong aversions to, such as certain political leaders, reach out to grab me when such moments arise.

Anyway, such a slide down the slippery slope has been threatening the last couple of days. So, tonight I decided: no videos or other web stuff. Time for a break; time to clear my mind and relax.

The only online thing I thought I’d do is post some photos on a photo sharing site I belong to. Watching videos and other web stuff, causes me to neglect important things, like sharing my photos, sitting quietly, reading; all the good things. Time to settle. Time to catch up.

So, all set up to begin sharing, all that was missing was an Internet connection. I tried rebooting devices; all the usual remedies. Still no connection. Twenty minutes later I finally got it: the Universe wasn’t going to allow me anywhere  near the Internet.

Interesting timing, I thought. I decide no Internet (sort of) but the Universe has other ideas: Absolutely no Internet.

Of course Internet dropping out is hardly a unique event. It’s not as if it’s even a rare or occasional occurance.
Still, the last few days, the connection has been excellent. Then, tonight, nothing. Could be a coincidence? But then I don’t believe in coincidences.

Whatever. Now I am happily writing a blog post to share with you, then I’m going to actually make some pictures – been neglecting that too. Then, after that I’m going to get back to a partly read but excellent book I’ve lost touch with. Time to reengage.

Meanwhile, I will choose to think that the Universe is unfolding exactly as it’s meant to.

No Internet? No problem.

Story of a Misadventure & An Apology

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Today I’d like to share with you a short cautionary tale. It’s a true story, relating events that took place very recently.

There was a blogger, a serious student on the spiritual path; a monk whose mission in publishing his blog was – is – to share that path with others, to share the lessons he’s learned/learning. He sees it as one important aspect of his ‘doing God’s work’, reaching out to others of like heart and like mind.

Anyway, this blogger, he suddenly felt an intuition: he thought, I’ll set up an account on (insert here very popular platform) social media. That’s how to promote my blog he thought, and attract more readers.

So, dutifully, he set up an account and began posting. One or two poems, a couple of photos with commentary, that sort of thing. The plan was, post whatever seemed might be enlightening, whenever the feeling was there.

The blogger felt that this was a sort of ‘next step’. He thought that bringing more readers to his blog would help him with his quest to love more, and to share love.

But. Something wasn’t quite right. Sure, he, the blogger was excited by this new venture, this expansion of his service to the Divine and to the world. But he felt – literally and physically – a bit sick. A kind of nervousness gnawed at his guts; he just felt yuck.

‘I can’t do this,’ he thought to himself. ‘It’s not right’

So, there and then he resolved to delete the account, to close that chapter forever, and bring his focus back more fully to his blog. That’s where, he realised, was where God’s work could be done, as well as where his own passions lay.

But, the resolve, didn’t last long. He just had to act immediately. So, again right there and then, he deleted the account.

Instantly, a wave of relief swept over our blogger friend. He felt free, back on track. He now felt less burdened by a burden he’s made for himself, a burden that there really was no need to be carrying.

Okay, I confess: the blogger of whom we speak is in fact me. I know, you guessed that already, but it’s a disturbing saga and I guess I had some need to distance myself a little, at least to start with.

So, why the big relief? Why did it feel so right at the outset, but – almost immediately – felt so wrong to the extent of putting me ‘out of sorts’ physically and mentally?

Funny. That ‘out of sorts’ expression. That’s exactly the root of the issue right there I think. Years ago I withdrew from all social media – though I am on a photo sharing platform that is simply for that purpose and only that purpose, sharing photos.

You see, I thought (and still think) that social media generally had become a ground for conflict, and the celebration of conflict; it was a ground for corruption, gossip and sensation, for all the worst of the news (I know, the best too). Anyway, you know wht I mean: I’m not alone in giving it all up.

And, yet, here I was, feeling led to reopen that particular social media account. An example, I think, of an ego-driven desire for gain disguising itself as a genuine heart or soul intuition or calling.

I choose not to criticise or comdemn any social media platform. They are what they are. All I can say is that it’s not for me, not my ‘sort of thing’, not my cup of tea as it were. No wonder I was feeling out of sorts!

In my selfish, ego-driven compulsion to ‘increase traffic’ (what a horrible expression), I forgot entirely – as we so often do when blinded by desire – that this blog is seen and read by exactly those who are meant to see and read it – you!

So, I apologise to you for that sudden blindness, and for ignoring the absolute reality that it’s all working out just as it’s supposed to.

Thank you for making that so.

Peace and love
Paul the hermit

The Hermits (and the Lion) Sleep Tonight

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The Lion Sleeps Tonight. That’s the song name I always think of. Sometimes you might hear it called Wimoweh. While it’s the song’s Zulu title, it’s actually not a real word: it references a mishearing (and subsequent recording by a group in the early ’50s) of Uyimube (the original chorus) which is Zulu for you are a lion.

In any case, I feel like I’ve known the song all my life. I suppose I have: it was a smash hit when I was seven or eight years old. It’s been one of those songs that have stuck, become a constant presence, to be hummed occasionally, to be sung even less frequently, heard rarely, but loved and familiar.

Anyway, recently (in March I think) my affection for the song surfaced. I was thinking about something my partner hermit had said about creativity and suddenly the melody to The Lion Sleeps Tonight came into mind.

That melody, and my memory of the lyrics then became integral to the poem I wrote to express some of my thoughts about my partner hermit’s statement. It helped me say what I had to say.

I hope you like it – the song – Listen to the Tokens doing their version from 1961; check out the lyrics too. It’s a happy song, a reassuring song of safety and love.

With that I humbly offer my poem. Enjoy

THE HERMITS SLEEP TONIGHT

A creative way to start the day.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

In Samsara’s jungle there is a village, a suburban village.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Near the village – no, in the village
the hermits sleep tonight.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

The walled enclosure,
their very own paradise,
like a castle keep,
keeps them safe.
A peaceful way, a peaceful way.

Hush my sisters; hush my brothers.
No need to fear the jungle.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Day breaks; Surya rises.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Sleeping hermits gather, to break the fast.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Fast broken, sacred tea imbibed.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way

The hermits begin, begin their day of prayer.

A creative way to start the day.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.