OM IS THE WORD
Om
In the beginning was the Word
Om
And the Word was with God
Om
And the Word was God
Om
And the Word is God
Om Om Om
Om
The object is the Word
Om
The subject is the Word
Om
Om
The observed is the Word
Om
The observer is th Word
Om
Om
The Word is the Word
Om
There is only the Word
Om
It is as it is – the Word
Om Om Om
Yesterday I went a little further afield than usual on my (theoretically) regular walk. We have two lakes within walking distance to the hermitage, and it was to one of these I ventured yesterday. I say further afield because I did in fact end up walking further than I’d planned..
The lake is called Budgewoi, and is really more a huge lagoon and part of a system called Tuggerah Lakes. I walked along part of the lakeside path and it was a lovely, quiet, and peaceful outing.
The foreshore has been covered in grass and other landscaping, but there are clumps (I call them groves, but not sure if that’s the right name or not. Groves does sound a lot better than ‘clumps’ though) of trees dotted along the way. Some of these standing ones appear to be old indeed.
Many of these groves line the shore and many attracted my attention and my camera’s eye. The poem I share today speaks of an encounter with a small grove of three. Small grove, but large and ancient trees.
Initially, I paused at these trees because the composition of the scene caught my eye, and my heart soon followed as I reflected, and listened to these old neighbours.
Please accept my small sharing of this effort to put down in words my experience there.
Namaste
OLD NEIGHBOURS
Were the words spoken?
Certainly they were heard
by one with, sometimes, the ears to hear.
Roots running deep, nourished by ancient Life;
branches reaching to the gods of the sky.
‘We been neighbours long time’.
As of one voice, or so I heard, these three standing ones,
sharing a lakeside home place
besides which I paused, in golden light.
Old neighbours – together lived and together shared
the times of plenty,
and the times of trial;
endured the inundation of the waters,
and the years when the waters withdrew,
and all that came between.
Witness to the comings and goings
of the winged ones;
of the four legged;
of the two legged,
these standing ones
– these tree people –
have stood resolute. Prevailing always.
My pausing is but a fleeting thing
spent reflecting in their shade and space.
Yet a moment of pause
can have no measure.
Not for neighbours
and their two legged friends.
Today I have a story to share. It’s one of those stories in which one little random (as if!) event or occurence leads to another, then another. Like life really – one thing leading to another.
When I think about it, this small sharing is very much like many of the other stories I’ve shared: about my prayer life; about realisations and revelations I encounter along the way.
(note from inner editor: Please try to ignore him going on and on like this. You know what he’s like don’t you? You’d think he might find some shorter way to say something so simple wouldn’t you? Something like, that’s why the blog’s called Notes from the Hermit’s Cave and leave it at that. He really should just get out of the way and let me get on with the writing)
Ignoring that little interruption, I will begin our story. Yesterday morning. I was in the very act of opening my Bhagavad Gita to get to some of my inserted prayers, when without thought I turned towards the back of the little book, landing on the second to last page.
On these facing pages I have a treasured image of Lakshmi and on the facing page I have copied a mantra to her that I particularly like and sometimes chant.
Smiling to myself, I thought that, today (as in yesterday) I would spend a little time with Lakshmi.
For me personally, Lakshmi represents the eventual realisation of my aspiration to complete Self Knowledge, the final realisation of the oneness of all things in one absolute reality. For me that says freedom, liberation, Moksha some call it.
So she – who is one more manifestation of the Divine Feminine and the Divine Mother – represents for me that state of peace, bliss, harmony, as well as a perfect balance in both my internal and external lives.
Sometimes when I feel in need of a little extra courage, some piece of missing knowledge, or perhaps I’m feeling the need to persevere with something or other just a bit longer, I’ll think of Maa Lakshmi, and often recite her mantra.
Really, for me, it’s simply a kind of way to remind myself that the courage, knowledge, perseverance, already exist within me. No need to go looking elsewhere.
I’ve read somewhere that many people appreciate Lakshmi’s fickleness. You never know what she’ll do, what’s actually going to happen.
Which obviously is a way of saying that thinking of Lakshmi can remind you (or me in this instance) that life is like that: it’s all ups and downs, it’s unpredictable in that it gives us things or situations we don’t want, while also frustratingly not always giving us what we do want.
In other words, Lakshmi reminds me that, whatever happens in my life, regardless of my opinions or wishes on the matter, is happening exactly as things are supposed to be. Of course it’s not really ‘fickleness’ is it? That’s just how we see it sometimes as we seem to impose our own human changeability on the Absolute Reality which is just the way it is, no duality!
Anyway, before that pesky inner editor makes another pop-up appearance, let’s move on wth the story.
So, a ‘little time with Lakshmi’ has turned into a perfect illustration of life working out as it does, and not necessarily according to our little momentary expectations or desires. That planned ‘little time’ has morphed into, so far, a full day and a half.
Back to yesterday morning then: I chanted the Lakshmi mantra, then decided to listen to a recording of the mantra I have so I could contemplate what She means to me.
Right away I discovered that the music file was corrupted, and that sent me on a several hour long quest to find a replacement. Suffice it to say that there are what seemed like an infinite choice of candidates to choose from.
But, even after those few hours, I’d failed to find a version that satisfied all my requirements: it had to be a relaxing, clear chant I could ‘sing along to’; it had to be free of bells, whistles, and other superfluous adornments. Above all, it had to feel right.
As I went forward with this quest, I did in fact come across and listen to several lovely versions of the mantra, that while not quite right for my purposes, I did think might make for good and happy general listening.
These – or the links thereto – I emailed to myself and to my hermit partner. I then put the search aside, thinking that the right mantra will eventually turn up.
Not too long after this, I heard coming from the direction of my hermit partner, a truly magnetic and beautiful version of the Lakshmi mantra. You can find the mantra here
‘Where did you find that?’ I asked wonderingly.
‘You sent it to me,’ was the incredulous and puzzled reply.
Really? I honestly had no memory of hearing that particular version, and I still have no idea about it. In any case, once it was forwarded back to me, I set about listening to the mantra through my earbuds.
Blown away, would be one way to describe my reaction. Probably more accurate to say that listening to that twenty something minutes of beautiful music blew me not away, but inwards; completely and utterly to inner depths rarely experienced. Another full story all its own if truth be told. Perhaps another time.
The serendipitous turning to Lakshmi in my little Bhagavad Gita was yesterday morning. And the poem was written this morning as we listened to the mantra itself. A listening, I might add, that has only just now ended as other things required attention. Several hours, in other words, of exposure to beauty itself.
Anyway, my dear friends, what I share now is my response to that listening experience. Or to put it more accurately, the poem that follows is my response to my response.
Hearing the Song of the Universe, is the name of the poem. And it is an absolutely suitable and appropriate title I think.
May you also hear that song.
HEARING THE SONG OF THE UNIVERSE
Om Shree Maha Laxmi Namah.
The beauty of the words, the blessings of the melody,
infuse me with a mood prayerful.
Inner resonance has my Self reverberating
with the rhythm.
With the drumbeats accompanying the voices of angels.
Like raindrops dripping from eaves
after the storm has passed.
Words of praise for Maa Laxmi
meld with the hypnotic wind
emerging from the flute.
Wood and wind,
and angelic voices.
Together they sing.
They sing the song of the Universe.
Tears well at the corners
of the eyes of the worshipping monk.
‘Let it all go.’
The encouraging words
of the Beloved enter the heart of the monk.
Yet, the tears do not fall.
No, not yet.
In the meantime, the monk breathes.
Greetings friends.
In my last post, I spent some time contemplating a question:
If I’m actually praying a prayer, how could it even occur to me that I might in fact not be praying, but instead simply be reading the words of the prayer? (substitute here ‘reciting the words of the prayer in rote fashion’)
Well, for today’s post I have a poetic offering which I composed several days ago. It’s actually words of my own built around – embracing even – an already existing prayer: the Mahā-mantra, which is better known as the Hare Krishna mantra.
While making notes for that post, my mind at one point drifted to that poem. So, after finally publishing the post, I reread the poem a few times.
It struck me that, rather than creating a simple poem, I had instead composed another and distinct prayer of my own, which incorporates the Mantra. That was a revelation to me.
It’s a poem, no a prayer, of gratitude. And of praise also. It has a structure and a cadence that has me sensing that it is a prayer to be prayed, and not simply a poem to be read as words on a page – or screen.
It is with that gratitude and with love that I humbly offer these words – this prayer – to you.
TAKE THE LORD’S NAMES
‘Going to chant for a while’.
Hare Krishna
A refrain often heard
Hare Krishna
Here in this place
Krishna Krishna
In this hermitage
Hare Hare
In this place of abode of hermits
Hare Rama
In this paradise for hermits
Hare Rama
In this place of refuge
Rama Rama
In this safe haven
Hare Hare
Where we servants serve
Hare Krishna
Thinking about the idea of making all I do, all actions I take, everything I say, write, even think, a prayer, I’ve been wondering if I’ve written about it before on this blog. Of course I have (I think!) but I thought rather than actually check, I’d simply write about it again
Well, not write in a post about it exactly; more like share with you a poem on that theme I wrote yesterday. It’s kind of whimsical, kind of not. It’s like a ‘list poem’ actually. You’ll see!
I know I’ve shared the following quote from Oglala holy man Black Elk, in the past. But please allow me to reshare it here because it’s very much related to the peom I am sharing with you here and it is something I myself use as a prayer:
Let every step you take upon Mother Earth be as a prayer.
Now, the poem, which I hope adds weight to that prayer:
IT’S ALL PRAYER
This morning, I thought,
I’d like to write a prayer.
But, I haven’t yet – and it soon be sunset.
Been too busy.
I cooked breakfast – made tea too;
I read Bhagavad Gita – and discussed what was read;
I chanted the Lord’s names;
then visited the temple;
And chanted some more – sat in silence too.
I made lunch – and made more tea too.
And then?
I went shopping.
Oh, almost forgot: I went for a walk.
And now?
My dear Lord …
Namaste and Greetings
Welcome to another poetic sharing post. There have been a few lately haven’t there? I had thought that once I had the new page Poems of Devotion up and running that I would only feature one every now and again in its own post.
However the one I feel inclined to share with you today is slightly different. Well, not really: it’s still a devotional piece, but for some reason feels a little other than that.
For a start, it’s set in a café and features the thoughts of a hermit monk (me), and is about what’s going on in that space at that moment. As well as what’s in his mind and heart. Oh yes, almost forgot: the action takes place on Election Day.
So, what is it that makes me feel this poem is ‘still devotional but slightly other’? Well, aside from the setting, timing, and so on I just described, I sense that, in its words, in its composition, the hermit has sought to record (through the poem) that moment in the café as the reaching out to all those fellow beings sharing the space, to recognise, and to celebrate the divine in them all.
May that intention shine through to you too, dear reader
THE HERMITS HAVE COFFEE ON ELECTION DAY
I feel like I’m sitting
in a Hopper painting.
Just off the village green
at a coffee shop, in the Toukley Mall.
There are people; aren’t there always?
Coming and going.
This one catching gossip; that one seeking connection;
One or two heads down, backs bent
over newspapers assimilating myriad tales of woe.
It’s election day.
Of little interest to the hermits,
out of the hermitage for coffee.
A treat that comes at a cost.
Voices – of people and of headlines –
speak, some even shout,
of worldly things. To us not real.
Leaves me hollow.
That’s the vibe,
the feeling inside
– And that’s not real either.
Have you seen the new page on the blog? It’s called Poems of Devotion (no prizes for guessing what’s on that page).
You are warmly invited to head over there to read and enjoy a poem. Or perhaps two, or seven! The choice is yours.
The page, as you already guessed, seeing right through the extremely obscure title, is dedicated solely to devotional poems I have composed. Many have been written in recent times, though there are some which are, well, no longer the new kids on the block (get it? New kids on the block? New page on the blog? Oh, okay, never mind).
I hope to continue my occasional practice of featuring a poem in a post (perhaps with its story or some other commentary). But, in time, all my devotional poetic pieces will be on the new page.
You are very welcome to visit the page, Poems of Devotion, to read, to contemplate, and if you so wish, copy anything you find there for your own reflections or to share with others.
I’m grateful that I have come somehow to compose these poems of praise and love. I call it a gift of grace that has been granted me. It is a gift I now ask that I may share with you.
Thank you
Paul the hermit
Greetings my friends, and welcome
Another poetic sharing today. My resolve, my prayer, to write more devotional poetry does indeed seem to be bearing fruit, and I am deeply thankful.
With gratitude and with humility I make this offering to You.
Love and Peace
Every moment is a cause in which lies a potential effect
Spiritual growth. This is the effect.
Yet, as we grow, our very growth becomes a cause –
potentially –
as does a winged seed traveling on the wind –
the breath of God – carry with it the potential tree
On your soul, on the souls of other beings, on the soul of the
world,
the cause, your one moment of growth, may have its effect.
Cause and effect; one and the same.
Occasionally, on this blog, I have had the good fortune to be able to share with you a poem I have written.
I say occasionally because, at best, I am an occasional poet – or rather than take on that label, it’s better to say that sometimes words in some kind of poetic form emerge.
From time to time said poetic emergences could be called devotional. Devotional in the sense that my words seek to express praise, recognition, gratitude or similar sentiments, ideas, thoughts, and so on, directed towards those things I regard as sacred.
That might be ‘God’ in the direct sense that we all would understand right away, or it might be the divine as manifested through objects, people, or other beings in the material or non-material world.
Actually, come to think of it now as I make these notes, I realise that according to that not so short definition, most if not all my poetry has been devotional for quite some time now. Yes. I think that’s right.
Anyway, to get this post moving along a bit. A few days ago, I mentioned to my community, ‘I’ like to write devotional poetry.’
‘You do already,’ was the unanimous response. To which I replied, ‘I suppose so, but I want to sing praises.’
And that, my friends, became the title of a poetic effort from me expressing just that exact prayer.
Now I share with you those words that were given me as I ‘just sat’ in our temple.
Devotional poetry.
That’s what I want to compose.
Actually, is there a calling to such composition?
Yes, for I do hear the call; it resonates deeply.
But, my ego-mind, it’s not listening.
Anyway, composing poetry devotional
is of the heart;
It leaves the mind behind.
Looks like one more ‘make the mind your friend’
moment.
Praise be all that is.
Notes from the Hermit's Cave 