It’s been just over a week now since the new page on the blog went live. I have to say that it’s been very satisfying setting it up, then uploading some of my devotional poems.
Actually, it was while uploading one yesterday that I thought, I’ll feature this one in its own post. I did mention that I would like to continue this occasional practice.
There’s not too much to say about this particular poem really – best to leave it to speak for itself. I’m only introducing it like this because I wanted to include a Wikipedia link that might help clarity a couple of the terms and some of the details mentioned in the poem.
The poem speaks about the concept of Viakuntha, which as you’ll see is the supreme heaven for some Indian traditions. The link leads to an interesting and short read, well worth the time I think.
The myth of Vaikuntha was a trigger for this poem, as was the meaning of the word itself. Is it a real place? Who knows. Fact and truth don’t always agree, and as for me, I don’t think about the question.
Myth has been the way we humans have always used to tell our story. To try to sort out the big questions: where are we from? Who are we? Where are we going? All the ‘big questions’ are addressed by mythologies from every culture – every family, country, you name it – on Earth.
In any case I think that my poem came about as a result of my own contemplation on the story, on those big questions, on Self really.
I hope you will visit my Poems of Devotion page. I’m still adding poems to the page, and of course, with grace, I will continue to write.
Now, please enjoy reading my poem, and I hope it’s a nice experience for you.
Love and Peace Paul the hermit
OUT BEYOND CAPRICORN & DEEP WITHIN EACH HEART
Vaikuntha: Without anxiety. Is there such a place? Free from worry? Out there, they say, beyond Capricorn. There’ll you’ll find the highest heaven, the abode of God.
No need to look to the stars: Vaikuntha is here. Vaikuntha is now. Within and without you.
Vaikuntha is indeed beyond; beyond the material world, beyond the realm of bodies and minds; beyond the illusions of places and spaces. Atma – Universal Consciousness – you and me, that’s Vaikuntha. You and me, all there is. No anxiety
The poem I want to share with you today has, I think, been shared on this blog before. I haven’t checked because I didn’t want to be tempted to censor myself and not post it again if it has been posted.
The poem, titled simply Peace Prayer, has a repeating refrain in each verse:
Our Lady Queen of Peace Pray for us.
A couple of days ago I came across a church dedicated to this particular manifestation of the Divine Feminine. I know it doesn’t seem to be such a far-out coincidence, but up till then, I had never encountered a church with this name.
So, obviously, it reminded me of my poem, written a couple of years ago now. As well as the story that prompted its writing:
When I was 12 my father went to war. As a professional soldier, he went as a part of this country’s commitment to its American allies in its war against Vietnam.
Our family was, at least nominally, Christian at that time, and anyway, desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures.
Which means we, my mother, my sisters, and I, formed a tiny prayer circle every night for over a year to pray for my father and for peace.
These days I no longer label my beliefs, not if I can help it anyway. What I seek now is the Divine wherever it is to be found. Which is everywhere of course!
In any case, here is my poem. It’s always the right time to pray for peace, though we should always remember our prayers are really directed at ourselves. It’s up to us to answer the prayer as we are able and see fit.
Peace and love to you all.
Peace Prayer
The father, the husband, the man of the house He’s away. At the war. Our Lady Queen of Peace pray for us.
Away at the war, yes, In a far off land. Not his own. Our Lady Queen of Peace pray for us.
Away at the war. “Incountry”. that’s what they call it. Our Lady Queen of Peace pray for us.
At home the children, the wife and mother wait. Wait and pray. Our Lady Queen of Peace pray for us.
At home they wait yes. Each night on their knees, in a circle. Prayer circle.
Away at the war, he is fighting. For what? At home, they are praying. For what? Our Lady Queen of Peace pray for us.
You know by now that I study the Bhagavad Gita. I’ve been at it a few years now, and it gives me a great deal of joy and comfort, not to mention the help it is to me as I struggle to understand Self and life, the Universe and everything (to borrow a well-worn phrase).
Yes, I love this book which is the story of a warrior king and his charioteer getting ready for battle. Arjuna, the warrior, is us. Or rather he is our ego, our lower self, the us that lives as a material entity in the material world.
The charioteer is actually Krishna, and he represents our Higher Self, the Self that is what some people call God, or the Divine, spirit, universal consciousness. In other words, my Higher self is having a conversation with my lower self as I battle or struggle with living in the material world.
Anyway, it’s enough to say that I am very fond of this book, the lessons it holds, the guidance I sometimes glean from it. And I try to spend time with it as often as I can. Daily mostly, but not always. I have to admit that sometimes I just want to give it a break, leave the words alone, just be with Self for a bit.
Actually, there is a verse that I wrote down long ago that does in fact sanction the student (that’s me) to take a break.
Forgoing all religious injunctions, take exclusive refuge in me. I shall deliver you from all sinful reactions. Do not fear
Bhagavad Gita Ch 18:66
This is Krishna speaking, giving instructions to Arjuna. Essentially it’s the higher Self telling our little selves to ignore outside rules, regulations and all that, and rely instead on what comes from within the Self; in other words, what our hearts tell us.
Now, he’s not saying ignore laws of the world, that’s not what this story is about. He’s telling Arjuna, look, don’t take notice so much of what the religious leaders tell you, or what instructions you read in holy books.
Then, after more or less consistent study over years, I came across yet another verse quite recently that confirms this one, but that hadn’t ever spoken to me before:
When your mind is fixed and unmoved and not confused by scriptural injunctions you shall attain yogic samadhi
Bhagavad Gita Ch 2:53
This verse actually says: don’t confuse yourself with stuff you read in the scriptures; instead keep your mind fixed and unmoved by the outside world. And if you do that, you will achieve that level of peace, self-realisation, and happiness, that you’re after.
So, do we have here a book of scripture that is in fact telling me not to take any notice of what it says in that book? That doesn’t sound very likely does it? No, I think what both these verses are getting at is this: The first and primary thing to do if you want to achieve happiness, peace, self-realisation, is focus inwards, on the Self.
Or God, or spirit, the Universe. We all call it by different names. But the point being made is that we aren’t going to find all the answers only in a book, or in the instructions from ‘religious’ leaders; overdoing the books or the slavish following of teachers only causes us (sorry I mean me) confusion.
Higher Self here (in the guise of Krishna, who is in the guise of a charioteer) is advising us to look to our Selves, not to the words of others to reach union with that Self. At least, that’s how I’ve chosen to interpret it.
What’s interesting here is that these are two of the very few verses for which I haven’t looked at commentaries or interpretations by other people. What I’ve done in other words, is take the advice given in these verses and looked inwards.
I don’t mean to suggest that I use these verses as ‘have a day off’ cards; most likely the contrary is true. On days when I don’t look at the Bhagavad Gita, I like to think I spend more time ‘just sitting’, perhaps chanting mantra, and contemplating.
Of course it doesn’t always work out like that naturally. But, at least on those occasions there is the heart and mind space available for a more direct communication or connection with Self. With that part of me that is one with all.
Welcome friend to another post. It’s good you are here.
Like so many other people I like documentaries on, well, all kinds of topics. I sort of go through phases and a while back I was on an historical/archaeological kick. And if it involved adventurous journeying, then so much the better.
Anyway, one I watched has stuck with me. In this show, an Indiana Jones type went in search of an ancient religious artifact. After a sombre pilgrimage across a stunning but arid landscape, a number of adventures and fascinating tours of interesting historic sites, he was forced to conclude that nobody could know for sure that this particular artifact actually existed.
This was especially the case given the fact that several hundred individual churches across a vast area claimed to possess said artifact, according to our intrepid guide. Then there was a doco I’d seen a few days prior that suggested this artifact was in fact hidden in Southern France.
Or perhaps it was destroyed in 800BC as some other ‘experts’ suggest. In any case, our fearless explorer came to the conclusion that, at the end of the day, whether the artifact still exists (or ever did exist) isn’t the point. He told us that what mattered was that people believed it existed, and that its power existed through that belief and was a force for good in people’s lives.
Actually I think even this misses the real point: I don’t think we are necessarily meant to have a belief one way or the other when it comes to the historical accuracy of myth. Myths tell us stories about truth, about our place in the Universe, and how to behave and live a good life. The facts or lack of them aren’t important.
Every culture throughout human history has had its myths: about creation, about their pasts, their gods, their futures, and how to conduct one’s life so that society can continue to function. Some will say that we in the so-called West are lacking our own myths and stories.
Well, I also believe that our myths are in many respects largely forgotten, or perhaps are only held by this group or that within our societies.
I think we all have our own myths, whether they are ones received from our society either consciously or unconsciously learned, or from our own personal life experience. Then of course there are the so called ‘modern mythmakers’: the media, politicians, and marketeers, all advertising their own ‘truths’. But that’s not what I’m talking about today.
So, moving right along. Hands up if you’ve ever owned or been given a St Christopher medal? Ah, just as I thought. Huge numbers of people out there have at one time or another had a St Christopher around their neck, or hanging from their car’s rear vision mirror, or perhaps tucked securely in their bags. And really one doesn’t have to be ‘religious’ to admit to ownership of such an artifact.
He’s an interesting character this Christopher. He is a saint of the Roman Catholic Church and here we start already to get into the myths and legends around our friend Chris. It’s widely known that he was stripped of sainthood and declared to have never existed after the reforms of the late 60s in the Catholic Church. Myth number one.
He is still a saint, and all that happened was the church found itself with an overly crowded calender of saints’ days and decided that some could be cut off because they weren’t necessarily of ‘universal importance’, and besides, he may not have actually ever existed.
Poor old Christopher was thus unceremoniously dumped. No saint’s day, but he did keep his sainthood. As for the minor question of his existence, the church said that wasn’t their decision to make.
Not much is known about the possibly historical figure of Christopher. First up (myth number two) his name wasn’t Christopher: he was a seven foot five inch (may or may not be a myth) called Reprobus. He was a Canaanite who while working for the king suddenly decided to go off on a spiritual quest to find an even greater king.
Like all good heroes, Reprobus has all kinds of adventures, until one day he meets a wise old hermit who tells him that if he wants to serve the greatest king of all then he has to help people cross a treacherous river where many drowned trying to get across.
So, Reprobus started to carry people safely across the raging river. One day he lifted a small child onto his broad shoulders and carried him safely to the other side. Reprobus told the child that he’d never carried such a heavy weight before, and so they had both been in grave danger.
The child then told Reprobus that he had not only carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but also the one who made the world. In other words our friend was informed that he was indeed serving the greatest King of all.
And that’s how good old Reprobus got the nameChristopher: the name means Christ bearer. Later, Christopher is martyred for his faith and the rest, as they say, is history. Because of his splendid lifesaving deeds serving people crossing the river, our hero over time became the patron saint of travellers. And his fame spread beyond the confines of the Catholic Church and all sorts of people have looked to him for protection for themselves or loved ones when travelling.
I have a confession to make: I love and always have loved (venerated isn’t too strong a word) St Christopher.
Mind you, I’d always had some issues around the lack of evidence for his having ever existed. Not to mention the small detail of a miraculous appearance of the Christ as a child who was as heavy as the whole planet.
Anyway, while I was never quite convinced that St Christopher was a real historical figure anyway, I agree with what our friend the Indiana Jones look-a-like says: it doesn’t matter.
And for me there is still a truth at the heart of all this: Our pal St Christopher is me. He is you; he is each of us. We all have the strength to carry the soul of Self, the heart of ourselves, across the raging rivers, through the wild storms, and across the sometimes very rocky ground that make up each of our lives here on Earth.
Do I wear a St Christopher medal? I most certainly do. Belief or non-belief in his historical existence is beside the point for me. It’s the myth I resonate with, the symbolism.
My medal shows a big, strong guy wading through knee high water carrying a small child on his shoulder. Both of them are me. Both of them are you.
Notes from the Hermit's Cave 