Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Musings on one Hermit's life & world

Allow Me to Introduce My Mask

Posted on April 16, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Greetings friends

At the moment I’m reading a book (Myths of Light: Eastern Metaphors of the Eternal) by Joseph Campbell, the brilliant, more than brilliant scholar, writer, teacher, and philosopher of all things having to do with myth.

Actually, to be honest, it’s truly riveting reading, but still, it’s a hard book to get my head around, but I’m taking it in little chunks, and the effort is, you can believe me, well worth it.

Campbell makes so many fascinating observations and his insights are genius. One section that gave me much to think about was where he talked about Carl Jung‘s idea of masks:

… he [Jung] points out that each one of us is invited by his [sic] society to play a certain role, a certain social function …
… We all have to put on a mask of some sort in order to function in the society. And even those who choose not to function in the society, to revolt from the society, put on masks too. They wear certain insignia that indicate, “I am in revolt.”

Yes, I know, it’s an idea we’re all pretty much familiar with: we all put on masks: work masks, school masks, relationship masks, masks to impress, masks to hide behind, all kinds of masks. But here’s what got me thinking: If you saw my last post, you’ll remember just near the end I said something like, ‘I am a hermit and a pilgrim’.

Now, normally, I tend to think I don’t wear masks. But, surely such a statement declares that I have simply put on one more mask? And, given the usual perceptions of hermits and even pilgrims, am I telling anyone who will listen (especially myself) that ‘I am in revolt’?

And that got me thinking more, about that ‘especially myself’ thing. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wearing masks; after all as our quote says we wear them in order to function, to have a role or roles in our society.

But we also wear masks for ourselves, so we can give ourselves an identity, a role, a function. So a mask, you might say, is just how we get on in the world, and in our own minds; we take them off, and put them on according to the situation and needs of the moment.

Which says of course that we all are, I am, many things at different times and stages of our lives, our days, our careers, and so on. At this stage of my life I have put on the hermit/pilgrim mask I’ve carried around on the inside all my life. I am asking myself again, does this make me a rebel?

Well, before I donned the hermit/pilgrim mask properly, yes I wore the mask of the rebel, of the angry and outraged advocate of complete and total social change. And perhaps from some people’s point of view, I might still be a rebel: rebelling against the expectations, demands, and easy temptations of my society.

Anyway, I seem to have taken the very long route to the main point of my thoughts on all this rebel insignia stuff. The reality is, I’m not rebelling against anything. Except for those times (all too frequent) when I let anger and outrage slip through. After all, I am still human and have my weaknesses. ‘Tipping points’ as a wise person has called those moments when ‘it all gets too much’.

I see my role, the role of the mask I wear, as a creative one, one of building up, not tearing down. This particular mask is still in the development stages, but isn’t that how everything works

There’s an aphorism I like very much:

It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

(back in March I wrote a post describing a real-life event that illustrates this wonderful expression, both literally and metaphorically. If you missed it, do check it out).

Now, as of this moment in my life and in my progress on whatever path I’m on, I can truly say that I spend time – a lot of time – cursing the darkness. I mean, how could I not? That probably makes me still a bit of a rebel.

Yet, at the same time, I think I’m learning to understand the pointlessness of only cursing the darkness. Maybe it’s not a case of all one way or the other. Okay, I’m human, so I curse the darkness? There is a great deal of darkness to curse isn’t there?

Perhaps I can allow that cursing to lead me to action? And, well it has. At least that’s what I’m working on, aspiring to. Living as simply, quietly, and in as much solitude, as I am able; buying fewer things; letting compassion inform my eating, clothing, and travel choices (actually all my choices); having as little to do with what I call ‘the mainstream’ as possible; acting as far as I’m able in accordance with my true nature. All these measures are aspects of the hermit/pilgrim role.

But I’ve missed the greatest, most important and vital aspect that goes with the responsibility of wearing the hermit/pilgrim mask: Prayer. Quiet prayer and contemplation. Sometimes just sitting (I know, it’s a favourite thing to do for me), letting the quiet come. Letting the light come.

You know, in some post, somewhere on this blog I’ve mentioned that often repeated statement:

It’s too late for thoughts and prayers

Well, more and more I am getting to grips with the notion that, far from being too late, this is precisely the exact moment when thoughts and prayers are needed most.

I hope that my little efforts can at least contribute in some small measure to the efforts of all the other people out there in the world who, while they may not be hermits or pilgrims, and while their natures might lead them to any number of differing activities in the world, nonetheless share with me the aspiration to light a few candles.

Is Life Too Short for Perfect Writing?

Posted on April 15, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Greetings and welcome friends

Let me share a little secret with you: I have and always have had, atrocious handwriting. And it’s always been a major frustration (but a huge incentive to learn to type, which is one of the best things I’ve ever done).

Perhaps it’s because I had some sort of learning difficulty, maybe it happened because every state in Australia has a different way of teaching kids handwriting, or maybe its just that I was and am lazy. Actually, scratch this last one: I am not nor have I ever been lazy.

Anyway, it appears to be a fact of life, yet I do still get frustrated from time to time. But then there are times when I decide not to care, that it isn’t important, doesn’t matter. Being in one of those indifferent phases right now, has reminded me of an incident that should have taught me this lesson once and for all.

A while back I was gifted a small painting. The artist wasn’t satisfied with it as a background of a planned piece, and gave it to me thinking I might like to ‘do something with it’. I happened to think it quite a lovely painting in its own right actually, and as I was looking at it, I thought of a leaf I had collected a couple of weeks previously. A beautiful very soft and pliable purple leaf from a lovely shrub.

So, right away I just got to sticking that leaf onto the painting. As I pressed it down, a little tear appeared in the leaf. Immediately a lyric from Leonard Cohen‘s Anthem came into mind:

There is a crack, a crack in everything. Thats how the light gets in.

So, I began writing bits of the lyric onto the painting. Untidy, irregular and typically atrocious the hand writing, or printing, is. But then it struck me: that’s the point! I mean the point of Mr C’s sublime words:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack, a crack in everything
Thats how the light gets in.

Here’s how I thought about what I’d written on the painting and how I’d written it: I rang a bell that I can still ring: I thought of and wrote down those beautiful lyrics to compliment the accident (is there any such thing as accident?) of tearing a leaf on a painting that ‘didn’t work’ for the artist, but that was working for me.

Therefore, the painting, the torn leaf and my handwriting was not a perfect offering in any kind of conventional sense as the world would view it. In other words there is a crack, both literal as in the tear in the leaf, and metaphorical as in the imperfections of the whole piece.

But—and here is the vital thing—this little painting, despite its initial rejection by the artist, and with its imperfections, its sloppiness, and its flaws, has provided a channel for light to get in. Into my life, into the piece itself, and now, through this sharing, into your life.

So, who cares if my handwriting is not conventionally perfect or is untidy, uneven, and even a bit tricky to read? I love the message in those lyrics; I felt that this lovely painting with its torn leaf to be the way to put that message in a concrete form. I mean, really, isn’t life too short for perfect (hand)writing?

PS I no longer collect leaves and trap them in this way. I may collect them, but after a time, I return them to their natural environment. Fallen leaves have their function in the cycles of nature too.

Just For Today

Posted on April 13, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

There is a song by George Harrison that I like very much. Actually there are many songs of his that mean a great deal to me. He’s been a kind of mentor or teacher for me since the early 70s. But, having said that, there is something about Just for Today that really does resonate deeply within me. It’s not even one of his ‘biggies’, and was released in 1987 on the album Cloud Nine

In fact, if you read the lyrics of the song. Or even better, listen to George actually doing the song himself, you’ll most likely agree that this is more than a song. This is a refrain, a plea, even a prayer. No ordinary pop song anyway.

If just (for) today
I could try to live through this day only
Not deal with all life’s problems
Just for today

Then, the other verse (there are only two):

If just for tonight
I could feel not sad and lonely
Not be my own life’s problems
Just for one night

How many times have I made these same pleas? I don’t think I’d be able to count them. Of course I’d guess we all have at some time or other (or even quite often, all the time, every day, ahhhhh!!!!!!) wished or prayed for the problems (whatever they may be) to just go away, even for just a day. No, not even a whole day. How about just for a few minutes?

So, I’m not alone then. Still, it’s no consolation is it, to know that we all go through the same wishful thinking to be rid of the same or similar problems? I think, though, in this song George has given us a clue to what we can do to bring ourselves a little more into the present when it comes to the angst we weigh ourselves down with over ‘all life’s problems’.

And actually, he’s suggesting not that we focus fully on the present moment, the micro if you like, which can be tricky at the best of times. He’s given us a bit of a an easier task: Just look at this day only. Perhaps we can better look at a whole day than this ‘moment’ or ‘second’. A day is sort of a macro moment, a bit easier to get hold of.

But, that last little question, about always me being my own life’s problem, that’s what I really try to get to grips with. I am my own life’s problem. The problem is not the family I was born into. It’s not the less than idyllic childhood I endured. It’s not even the bullies I seem to have attracted to myself over many years in far-off school days.

The problem is not even the anxiety that I seem to have been born with, or that’s evolved over time. Nature vs nurture?

And I can’t even say that the problem is the kinds of choices I’ve made about life, work, thinking, and all the rest, over the years.

No. None of this. The problem is me. And, let’s get really trippy here: the problem isn’t even me. It’s the physical manifestation that thinks it’s me and which exists in relationship to the physical world.

So, who is the real me? Who am I? Ah, well, these are the really big questions. Asking these questions is called Self Enquiry. And I think it’s helping me.

Whenever one of those life’s problems, or anxieties pops up I try to remember to ask: ‘To whom is this feeling/thought/memory occuring?’ That answer is (obviously) to me. And then I ask, ‘Who is this me? Who am I?’ Then, for the minutest of tiny moments, it all stops. Sometimes.

You see, I’m not really able to answer that Who am I question. The best I can come up with is a never-ending list of who I’m not, or what I’m not. It’s called Neti Neti: not this, not that. So, if I keep returning to who am I every time one of those ‘I’m not …’ comes up, what happens?

Well, in theory, nothing. The idea is that asking Who am I stops the mind. It can’t answer. If a mind can’t answer, there can be no thought. And if there is no thought, then mind ceases to exist. (I’m not talking of brain here, but mind. It seems to me that the mind has no existence as a distinct entity of its own. It is more what we could say a ‘place’ that comes into being when thought happens. No thought, no mind.)

This cessation of thought is only a momentary thing. Thoughts soon come barging back (it also seems to me that while mind might not actually exist, it has a way of making its presence known in no uncertain terms). One thing I try to remember that causes me no end of extra thinking, is the fact that if we are not having a thought, then we can’t ever know it. You can’t have a conscious thought that says ‘hey, I’m not thinking now’

I see this Self Enquiry as a way (in a long term, lifetime kind of way) to rid myself of my incessant thinking and the confused (confusing too) and useless thoughts that arise all the time. For me it is, in a sense, a way to become mindless.

In that moment, when thought ceases, there is no pain. There are no questions, and there is no anxiety. There is no dread; no hope even. Basically you can say there is nothing for that tiny moment.

And that’s me, the real me. In that little moment (who can measure the length of a moment?), there is presence, as in I (the real I) am present, right here, right now.

Actually there is no time, as we measure it in the world, in that little moment (or whatever we choose to call it). Perhaps it’s more accurate to call it a state of being.

And it’s a state I’d like to be in more often. Not, as I say, that I’d know I was in it. Only by what you might call the spin-off effects of more calm, more clarity, less anxiety, all that sort of thing. In a way I would call that a state of grace.

All I can say is that it is exactly where and when and how I want to be.

Just for today.

Mind Your Own Business and Save the World

Posted on April 11, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Namaste friends

Welcome to another post. Just a little note before we get into it: This one picks up where the last one left off. Kind of. No need to read that one first, unless you want to.

And that’s the whole thing in one sentence, or at least in part of a sentence: unless you want to: none of it is any of my business. What do I mean when I say ‘none of it’? Just that. None of it. Or we can say it in another way: the only thing that is your business is you.

But, all of us are bound to ask, how can I simply mind my own business in a world torn by endless war? How can I ignore the environment I live in and that it’s dying before my eyes? How can I turn away from the evils of racism, injustice, greed, and cruelty?

Well, the simple answer is we can’t and we shouldn’t. Of course, in order to reconcile this apparent contradiction, it would be helpful to clarify exactly what we mean by minding our own business.

In essence my business (or yours or anyone’s) is anything that has to do with me: what I do; how I behave; what I think, feel, and believe; my behaviour and attitudes towards others; and—and this is the key—how I interact with and respond to the world as I experience it as I go about living my life.

So, it isn’t completely accurate to say that the wars, racism, injustice, and the killing of the environment (and everything else) is none of my business; my business is limited to my interaction with and response to all of it. And that has to be determined by a range of factors like my nature, my abilities, my circumstances, and so on.

Above all, and as Susan Sontag, American writer, philosopher, and political activist, said in a speech in 2004:

To be a moral human being is to pay, be obliged to pay, certain kinds of attention.

While the theme of that speech had to do with the writer’s responsibility to truth, I think her assertion applies here and may provide a solution to the seeming contradiction between minding our own business while at the same time stating that our business can, should, and does indeed include what goes on outside of ourselves (actually as we shall see, in reality there is no outside or inside)

How we utilise our own personal resources is in the end for each of us to decide. In the sense of our engagement with the world, the most precious of these resources are arguably time and attention.

Each of us possesses these things in our own unique quantities, just as we all have our own unique qualities, so each of us has the opportunity to decide how we use our time, and what we pay attention to.

It is so very easy to be overwhelmed by the constant torrent of information detailing the horrors threatening to consume and destroy our poor Earth and the life she supports. It is so very tempting to throw up our hands in defeat, and shrug our shoulders as we turn away exclaiming ‘It’s none of my business’.

While none of us would blame anyone for retreating in this way, a great many of us realise that for us this is not an option. Well, as the Buddha taught, there is a middle way. A way that allows us to avoid this kind of ‘none of my business’ denial, at the same time as protecting us from being overwhelmed and beaten down by the scale of it all.

The first step involves surrender. Surrender to the idea that there is no ‘me’; there is no ‘you’. There is no ‘them’, no ‘us’. There is only ‘I’. Surrender to the notion that not only is all life ‘connected’ or linked, but to the thought that all life—human, other animals, plant, mineral — everything — is one. There is no separation.

Easy eh? Hardly. But this is where the paying attention thing comes in. Rather than being swamped by the never-ending tsunami, choose where to put your attention. Ask yourself, where am I able to place my attention? How can I—how am I able to—use my time so that I avoid drowning yet still contribute to the well-being of the whole of which I am a part?

Obviously, as I hinted at above, the answers will be different for each and every one of us. For some, the kind of attention they pay will involve being on the literal front lines, working in the political field, or with activist groups working for social justice.

Then there will be those whose nature compels them to choose to put their attention on a life of prayer, meditation, and contemplation.

For these people this requires the quiet and solitude of monastery, ashram, or cave (whether it be in forest, mountain, or suburban home). And along the huge spectrum in between, there is a a unique spot for every one of us.

Each of us is a part of the whole. Everything we do affects the whole. Remember that saying that goes something like: A butterfly flutters it’s wings in the forest and the sun rises? Okay, maybe I’m pushing it a bit, but you know what I mean.

Never underestimate what (you perceive of as the little) you’re able to do; no one can say what impact it will have. All that is required of you is that you mind your own business.

Methinks There’s a Whole Lot of Overthinking Going On

Posted on April 10, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

So much anxiety taking me over. Overwhelming all possibility of rational thought. I guess that doesn’t have to be such a bad thing in itself, but along with that often redundant supposedly rational thought, has gone equilibrium, peace of mind, calmness, and silence.

No silence. But a little breakthrough: I’ve told myself (my Self?) I won’t wallow. In this way I am opposing, resisting, the anxiety with discipline, with bravery, and, well, more discipline. So I turned in another direction: I worked on a couple of photographs.

Fantasies both for sure. But that’s Art responding as Art ought isn’t it? Fantasy. Anyway, it works better than anxiety, which of course is also fantasy isn’t it?

So, anyway, I’m resisting. I refuse to give in and allow the anxiety to take over and dictate my behaviour, tell me how to and what to speak, and exhaust me.

Yes, it is exhausting. I always say that resistance is never ever futile, but it sure is tiring. And there are other ways: Just chant. That’s the thing I tell myself a lot, just keep focus on the mantra, and all will be well.

Mind you at the moment I am having an atrocious period of trouble with my devotional practice. Forgetting the Divine seems to be the norm these last days – even as I sit preparing for daily practice.

It’s kind of a catch 22 thing I think sometimes: If I can chant more then I can help myself achieve a little more equilibrium, relieve the anxieties a little. But because I overthink those anxieties and all the intricacies of every thought, I forget to chant.

So, it does indeed look like discipline and self-control are the keys here. There’s a phrase, a kind of motto I like: One thing, God alone. Call it right living, or peace, or calm, or mindfulness, the Divine; it’s all the same thing. That’s where my focus has to be above all else.

Actually, not wanting to risk overthinking here, but when you do think about it, focusing my life on what is good and right; what is calm and peaceful; what it true, well, that’s the whole of it isn’t it? I mean that takes care of all the mundane stuff almost in an automatic way.

It seems that in just about every one of my posts I end up talking about presence. In this case, I think presence might have to at least sometimes be worked on. I mean to say that the discipline and self-control I was talking about, needs to centre around being present.

In other words, as my anxious mind wanders off on its fiendish ways, I am to just pay attention, turn away a little, put the focus back on the good, on God, and remember.

I really do feel (actually let’s be honest, let’s say it how it is), I think that I am always simply overthinking. Or thinking way too much, too often, anyway.

And along with my mind, my typing fingers can run away with themselves if I let them. So, I’ll just say see you next time!

Put Me in My Place. Please

Posted on April 9, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Reverence the place and learn from what you see

Coming across this note last night, I was stumped. I coudln’t think where it had come from, where I’d seen it; nothing at all came to mind. And an online search just now failed to turn up anything either. I mean I must have read it somewhere. Or is it possible it came from me?

Of course it’s all the same: there is only one source. At any rate, it’s an injunction one can relate to anywhere, any place. It’s surely about presence?

And about learning from all that is to be seen (heard, felt, intuited, known) in whatever place one is in now. I mean, the place I’m in now. I am here and it is now.

I’m reminded of the faith affirmation (is it a prayer?) that seems to have been written for this particular hermit pilgrim:

As a a hermit, I am a pilgrim dependent on a pure faith that I am exactly where God wold have me be now.

Sometimes I think that too much thinking about and angst over places other than the one I’m actually in right now, is a sure and certain way to resist and reject any reverencing of the place I’m in, not to mention what’s to be learned or gifted from the experience of being here.

And of course that angst, worry, wishful thinking, or whatever, comes with its own issues of distraction, and of a taking away of one’s Self from the present, the notion that here and now is the only time and place that exists.

A poem of mine I came across the other day while looking for something else says it all quite nicely. This poem is called Transcendental Injunctions, and it’s a rap on presence, about being here, and being now.

The central action describes how my senses can take me away from that here and now: I describe my habit of smelling my Bhagavad Gita (yes, as in putting my nose into the pages of the little book and inhaling the aroma of those pages) and how that takes me back to the shores of the River Ganges; another place, another time.

Anyway, allow me to share the final verse, which speaks of one such occasion:

Then, there is a voice:
I hear it with the ear of my heart:
There is no place to go.
What you seek is within.
There’s nothing to find:
God’s kingdom is within.

I suppose there is nothing left to say. I am here, and it is now

Peace to you from me

A Little Blogging Balance is Called For

Posted on April 3, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Hello and welcome

In yesterday’s post I made mention of how Notes from the Hermit’s Cave is a month and ‘a bit’ old now. I thought when I typed that, ah yes, so it is; I don’t think I’d given a lot of thought to details like that.

So, first things first: Thank you for being there at the other end of all this, and for joining me on this new venture. Adventure really.

Anyway, as you could tell if you read that post, I just kept on typing with hopefully something reasonable coming out at the end!

Later when I told a wise one I know about that realisation, this person said to me:

‘Are you sure you’re getting enough new imput to keep coming up with new ideas for more writing?’

Good question. Wasn’t yesterday’s post about precisely the issue of an idea that wouldn’t (or maybe couldn’t) evolve into a post? But, wait, not having any ideas isn’t a problem is it? Or is it? So, what’s ‘enough new imput’?

So now I had two pieces of information that had me thinking: the running out of ideas is a possibility; having ideas that won’t or don’t work is a certainty. Together these bits of information came together to form a little bit of knowledge.

That’s how it’s supposed to work: we gather information, then we turn that information into knowledge. The trouble happens when we are overloaded with too much information and can’t sort out any of it to form anything like coherent knowledge.

Anyway, here am I getting distracted! What I was about to say was that the knowledge which came from those three pieces of information, was:

There’s a potential for ideas to run dry, but the other problem is that just because there are ideas apparently available now, doesn’t mean they are any good, or can be used, want to be used, or for a myriad of other reasons, I can’t connect with them. Either way, I am definitely going to need some new, perhaps different imput

What to do? Now, this is where the formation of wisdom comes into the picture: first there were seemingly random bits of information, which then came together to form a little parcel, nugget, insight (what do you call a piece of knowledge?). Some knowledge.

As we all know, simply gathering information, even if we somehow are able to turn that information into knowledge, is no guarantee that wisdom will follow.

However in this particular instance, wisdom did emerge. After some thinking, and some not thinking, I thought, I know: I’ll have a couple of days off. No posts. No blog (except to answer people who reach out to me obviously) stuff at all.

Ah wisdom. So simple really when you look at it isn’t it? I’ll just have a couple of days without thinking about, or looking at Notes from the Hermit’s Cave. So, what will I do instead? Well it’s not as if my time isn’t rather (very rewardingly) full with the other practices incumbent upon me as a hermit and a pilgrim. And a monk.

Still, I thought, I could use a bit more time just sitting still. You know: being quiet, eyes closed, not doing anything. Then, I’ve been a bit light on listening to music this last little while. And not listening to enough music is enough to cause trouble with anybody’s creative self isn’t it?

So, decision made. More time sitting and being. In silence so the inner mind is open to receive new ideas, to process existing ones, and to well, just be quiet. And some more music. Doesn’t matter what it is {well to a point it doesn’t): ideas come from and because of music.

Perhaps by this point, it has occured to you as it has to me, that there is an irony at work here. Here I am writing a blog post on the very first day of a couple of days off from writing blog posts. Okay, I get it. Time off starts … now!
No-post weekend starts … now!

Alright, I can’t make any promises; The creative spirit arises when it does; my heart opens when it does. Besides, as that same wise one said to me by way of an injunction on how to approach everything and anything:

No overthinking

PS I was just thinking, there’s a book I’ve been meaning to get to for weeks now, so … Never mind