Recently I came across the story of Abba Arsenius – one of the early Christian desert fathers. I’d originally written about him a year ago in what became a short series of posts.
Coming across him and his story again prompted me to revisit those posts – the first of which you can read here – and I reread them again, though as if for the first time. Anyway, here’s a short recap before we move on.
Arsenius was a high ranking official for the Roman Empire, working for many years as a tutor to the sons of the Emperor.
Over time he grew tired of the glamour lifestyle, the politics, corruption and court intrigues, and looked for a way to free himself from the whole material trap he was in.
So he prayed, ceaselessly, the story goes. He prayed for salvation, for freedom.
And, in time the answer, according to the story came in just a few words:
Flee, be silent, and pray always.
And he did. Flee I mean. He headed for the Egyptian deserts which is where he found that silence, and the space, peace, and calm to fulfil his desire to be praying constantly. And, with some comings and goings, ups and downs, he stayed for the rest of his life.
Now, while Arsenius and his story are fascinating (in fact now I’ve rediscovered him, I’m going to look around for a biography or something so I can learn more), what I want to think about here is something I wrote in the first of those previous posts, and how it ties in with our decision (almost a year ago now) to stay in this one place for the present.
For these Hermit Pilgrims ‘fleeing from the world’ has meant a nomadic lifestyle, few possessions and material needs, a hermit life where our engagement or entanglement with the world is kept to a minimum, and in which we feel less of a pressure to conform, to ‘be shaped’ by the world around us.
The notion of staying in this one place – as fully now and in the present as we can be – is actually paradoxically a fleeing of its own kind. The world of Samsara, the material world ‘out there’ continues to become less and less appealing to these Hermit Pilgrims.
Alongside this growing detachment to the world (as well as the loss of desire to move about in the world geographically speaking), is the deepening realisation that the real and true pilgrimage is within, through and to our own mind and heart.
Complimenting all this, is the growing contentment we are experiencing in this actual place, this hermitage of ours that we are creating on a daily basis. More and more it feels to be the exact place in which that inner pilgrimage is to continue.
Does this mean we have given up on that ‘nomadic lifestyle’? No, not at all. Or, more accurately, we are not niether giving up or not giving up. The present is all there is and we don’t – can’t – know anything beyond that. As the saying goes, What can we say about tomorrow?
Lately I’ve been dwelling on thoughts and other mind stuff. A lot, and in both senses: mind stuff won’t leave me alone; and the nature of that mind stuff has had me thinking about it all, as well.
Of course, it’s the way mind works – especially as one makes the effort to calm the mind, still the thoughts and move beyond them to that little place of stillness and silence. It seems the more one practises, the more mind works hard on keeping one thinking, distracted, absorbed in memories and fantasies; anything but still and quiet.
And, in recent times, I’ve come to understand how and why the Desert Fathers and the Desert Mothers spoke of these mind activities as ‘demons’ who came to tempt, torment, distract and disturb.
The memories, thoughts, fantasies, fears plaguing me lately have been like that – extreme, upsetting, disturbing. All making me long for the good old days of simple day to day ‘distractions’.
So, here’s a weird thing: Yesterday, when once again sitting for meditation, I realised that yes indeed, those good old days had returned. Thoughts and memories had taken on a lighter tone – even running a Star Trek episode in my mind. Mind you, there are some that might say that this is very deep meditation material.
Still all the ‘what ifs’, the ‘should haves’, and the rest, but not so heavy, not so frightening or depressing. I was more or less welcoming the light relief.
Then it occured to me with a shock: I had fallen for a sneaky mind trick. Welcoming the relief as I just said, I wasn’t being so firm in my efforts to still these kindler and gentler, not so threatening thoughts as I had when the ‘demons’ had come calling.
So, mind with its wiley ways figured I was an easier target for distraction. No need now for extreme measures.
Well, dear mind of mine, I have woken up to your sneaky little strategy. I’d like to have you as my friend – as you most certainly are a great deal of the time – but if you want to play the old demon game, then I am going to have to try just that much harder to ignore you.
Actually, no. No trying. Despite your determined efforts dear mind, and your ever-changing strategies to keep me off balance, I will simply be here. Being still. Not disturbed.
It wouldn’t be quite correct to say that I never get calls or texts on my phone. What would be correct is to say is that the vast majority are to do with what I might call The Bureaucracy: Reminders of Doctor and dentist appointments, notices from various government bodies, library notices; all that kind of thing.
And there is another emerging category that’s actually a lot more welcome: while my partner hermit and I have always phoned each other, lately we’ve been texting more and more as an extra way to communicate with each other.
Sometimes these texts are about the mundane things we all have to do in the world, but then there’s another dimension in which texting allows us to keep in touch with each other’s feelings, thoughts, doings, and simply as a means of keeping the connection open and strong.
The other day, for example, such a text arrived unannounced in my phone. Like some I get from The Bureaucracy, this one was essentially a little series of reminders. But rather than being about the things of the outside world, these ones, in this text, spoke directly and deeply to the enrichment of the inner life – my inner life.
Powerful messages, all of them, that really go to the heart of one’s (my) efforts to live a life more centred on my spiritual quest and my commitment to living more in sync with Absolute Reality.
On first reading of this text (and on each rereading, of which there have been many), I really felt strongly that I needed to contemplate deeply and prayerfully on the pieces of this whole. And, as well, to share my reflections with you.
Sit in your cell as in Paradise
This little – yet tremendous – injunction references an answer to a question posed to Abba Moses, one of the early Desert Fathers:
Go sit in your cell and your cell will teach you everything.
Essentially Moses’ advice is, remain within the confines of your dwelling place – whatever and wherever form that place takes. This can be a literal geographical location, or even your own body as it moves in the world. We all have a body, we all dwell there.
Sitting in one’s cell is not a simple or passive activity. It is in fact hard work as we wrestle with the mad monkey mind, and attempt to grow spiritually.
So, what about the ‘as in Paradise’ bit? Well, to me this feels very much like thinking of one’s cell as the place to be. What I mean to say is that it’s the only you can possibly be in right now, in the present of the here and now.
It’s not about judgements of is it good or bad, pleasant or unpleasant, painful or not. Just acceptance of where youu’re at right now. Doesn’t mean you’re stuck there and by no means suggests you resign yourself to your circumstances. It simply means you see it like it is, at this moment.
And it’s about understanding that, while you are in that place, it’s where you know you need to be. Your cell – your dwelling place – has within it everything you need to live, grow, learn, and prosper in the spiritual life.
Whatever the ‘place’ you are in is like, we can try to cocoon ourselves, make a space within the space, even if it is just being aware of our bodies sitting in the space. Cocoon myself is an expression I’ve been using lately to describe the act of isolating myself in any way I can from my surroundings. This can apply on the macro scale or the micro as we seek to centre ourselves and find quiet and a peaceful place.
It’s not as if in this cocoon (or whatever it might be) that all will be bliss and light all of a sudden. No, I think the suggestion here is we try to develop an attitude of non-attachment towards the things of the world that trouble us, those things that cause us suffering, precisely because we are attached to them.
That is the purpose of sitting in your cell. That is the everything that your cell will teach you.
You know my friends, I’m a bit weary tonight, and with your permission I will continue with this sharing of my contemplation, my reflections, in my next post.
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.
A few days ago I began a new work to study and contemplate in my not quite daily Lectio Divina practice. It’s actually a spiritual classic that, although I’ve read it before, I felt the need to explore a little more, dig a little deeper, rather than simply reading through it as I did the first time.
I haven’t gotten very far in the book; like I say it’s going to be a slower, more reflective process this time (I’m amazed how little I remember as I reread now). A small story the author tells us by way of describing how he’s structured the book, is actually where I’ve left off, so that I can share it with you before I go on with the text and forget!
Abba Arsenius (courtesy Wikipedia)
It concerns Abba Arsenius who was a high ranking Roman official working in the household of the Emperor. Clearly he was looking for a more meaningful, more spiritually oriented lifestyle away from the dogma running people’s lives, politics, the decadence and the rest, because he constantly prayed to God, seeking a way out that would lead him ‘to salvation’. He was wanting badly to be free.
Well, he heard an answer, from deep within his soul:
Flee, be silent and pray always.
So, that’s what he did, fleeing first obviously. I don’t know the rest of his story. I mean I could look him up, but for our purposes here today, all we need to know is that he took off secretly to Egypt and went to live alone in the desert.
Nouwen believes:
“The words flee, be silent and pray summarize the spirituality of the desert. They indicate the three ways of preventing the world from shaping us in its image and are thus the three ways to life in the Spirit.”
Flee. It’s quite a strong word isn’t it? On the face of it, it simply means run away or escape. But it seems to suggest something more urgent, as if the one doing the fleeing needs to get away as quickly as possible; sticking around could be (or actually is) dangerous.
And that, as I said, is where I stopped to think. Sorry, I mean contemplate. I was so struck by the concept: in its essence, it is exactly the life I am attempting to live. Anyway, since reading it I’ve been thinking a lot about the three imperatives given to Arsenius in that very succinct answer he received to his question.
In fact, looking the word up just now I see that some slang terms for flee are: bolt, scram, schedaddle, or get the heck of out Dodge (or in the case of Arsenius, Rome). Let’s just say, to flee means to run away as quickly as you can, to escape imminent danger of some kind, real or metaphorical.
I read once of a woman who had the debilitating Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. In an attempt to recover and heal, she moved to a remote cottage in a tiny town ‘in the middle of nowhere’. Why such a drastic move? Surely if she is ill she should stay near to doctors and other resources?
Well, for her being in a city was the problem. Noise, crowds, pollution, pressure to conform and consume, interaction on so many levels all the time with other people, trying to meet daily needs in a complex, crowded and hectic environment was precisely what was making her ill.
Not to mention the effects on mental health that living in such conditions has on a lot of people, and I think we can all relate to some degree to this idea. We’ve all felt sometimes (or even very often) how we would like to just get away from it all.
For me it was about the gross materialism, the lack of ethical and moral thinking in the running of businesses, governments, and the rest; I longed also for a deeper connection with what one might call the sacred; more time and space for contemplation and just a simpler, slower, less rushed, less complex life.
Now, I hear you saying: ‘not everyone can or should just give up everything and take off to live in a cave’. (or desert, wherever). And you are right, of course. In fact, we can say the cave is a metaphor for all sorts of spaces one might feel drawn to when fleeing and seeking separation from the world. Actually, we’ll be talking more about this later when we get to the be silent bit.
For these Hermit Pilgrims ‘fleeing from the world’ has meant a nomadic lifestyle, few possessions and material needs, a hermit life where our engagement or entanglement with the world is kept to a minimum, and in which we feel less of a pressure to conform, to ‘be shaped’ by the world around us’).
The reality is of course, at the end of the day for most of us and for most of our lives we have to make money to feed and clothe ourselves and our families. And for that we need to work. And in order to work we need a house to live in, and to have a house to live in we (perhaps) have to get a mortgage, and to get a mortgage … . Well I guess you get the point.
But, for a moment ask yourself: What would it look like for me to ‘flee’? For each person it’s going to take on its own unique meaning. I suppose the easiest way to put it is to say that fleeing for all of us essentially means laying aside those things (or people, places, behaviours) that we look at as ‘dangerous’ , ‘bad for us’, or from which we constantly feel the need to escape. Sometimes they’re little things, sometimes more serious.
It might be that we’ve taken on too many social media ‘obligations’ that are swallowing up any precious spare moments we have, that we’d like to be free of. Or it could be our compulsion for bringing our work home that we are desperate to give up (the bringing work home, though of course it might be the job too), so we can actually make some more free moments.
Perhaps it’s our drive to ‘know what’s going on’ by watching the news every night that’s doing our head in. These are some of the so-called minor things that we know are shaping who we are, and often against our own wishes too. Now I think about it, maybe none of it’s ‘minor’ after all.
Oh dear, I’ve done it again: word count is very nearly 1000. Too many words is another thing people try to flee from: we’re flooded, overwhelmed by words. And as much as I personally love words, I get the point and I will leave our contemplation on what was actually a message of very few words, till the next post.
Notes from the Hermit's Cave 