Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Musings on one Hermit's life & world

The Road Rises Up: A poem about journeying (Reshared with a note added)

Posted on April 5, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

It’s a funny thing, but as soon as I start thinking about resharing older (let’s call them prior posts instead) all sorts of posts come up begging to be the next in line to be shared again.

Anyway, I’d sat down to write something on a quote I really like:

Forget all that and hit the road into exile.
FROM A LONG LOST DEEPLY BURIED NOTE-TAKING APP ON MY TABLET

But nothing was coming. Then suddenly I remembered: I’d already written (sort of, kind of, in a manner of speaking) about this topic, if not this particular quote.

Looking up the post, well it did its thing and said very clearly and in no uncertain terms, Post me!

So, here it is dear friends. I will let it speak for itself

Today I’d like to share a poem with you. I wrote it exactly a year ago, but it’s about a day many many years ago. At other places on this site I’ve mentioned that cliched but for me ever so real question: Am I running away from something or am I running towards something?

In one of those other places I joke about my answer: ‘Neither. I’m just a journey person’. Well, this poem began life as a story of the day I first met Jesus freaks as I hitchhiked on just one more random excursion.

Then it becomes at the same time a piece about running, or journeying towards. And, there’s more: it then speaks about the journey as the point of the journey; the movement is the thing

But the thing morphed into a rap about journey beginnings, or at least in the sense of my ongoing attempted, and until a lot of years later, futile escapes from the madness of family and circumstance. That’s the running away bit.

You see, there was something holy felt then, as now, about those seemingly random hitching trips (not that I would dream of hitching in these times). Somehow I knew the Road was the escape route from the growing madness and horror.

Of course I was only able to partially articulate this at that time, but I remember even at 17 (no, it was a year earlier when I’d made my first attempt. I’d forgotten about that) feeling a sort of specialness about the covering of new (for me) ground, the movement, then the arrival at new (for me) places, new towns and cities.

Much of this pilgrimming (for that is what it was) was done in solitude – except for interactions with drivers of course (one of whom was on the day in question one of the said Jesus Freaks) and other necessary people along the way.

I felt a sense of belonging when on the Road; a kind of being in place and in sync. A sense of belonging that I kept fucking up as I let the trickster ego with its taunting messages of fear, loneliness, greed for things and status, and the rest, take control of me and lead me on twisting and tricky roads back to madness.

And now, these 50 years later, I survey the damage done, the cost to self and others. Especially others. No use of course, to look back with wishful thoughts of what if things had been done differently, what if other choices had been made. Such is not truth, not real. Well, none of it’s real anyway is it? Samsara is all it is – it’s all a sea of madness and illusion isn’t it?

Anyway, here is the poem. May it speak to you.
Peace

The Road Rises Up

I woke up that morning marooned in Albion
in a village of warriors, on a street, in a house,
going mad in a nest of madness
on an island of madness, in a sea of madness.
Escape, refuge, safety – waking thoughts.
Waking dreams. Looking for a way out.

The Road. The Road rose up in my mind.
The Road will save me. Not the shrink
the patriarch screamed I needed to see.
The Road was waiting; I found it waiting for me.
And my thumb in silent salutation and prayer
held aloft in supplication as I trudged on that seemingly straight but trickster road.

Welcome to the pilgrims’ way, the Road greeted me
as I trod ever more lightly
and Babylon’s chariots hurtled past me bound for far nowheres.
Or maybe somewheres.
All in the fast lanes and howling deceptively
of invitations and rejections, attractions and aversions.
Then – in time – an invitation proffered and accepted.
This pilgrim was on his way.

‘Sometime Soon’: When is it?

Posted on October 2, 2023 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

There used to be a thing – maybe it’s still a thing – that would happen sometimes. You’d be talking to someone and suddenly they’d burst out:

‘Hey that rhymes! You’re a poet and don’t know it!’

This exclamation, this sudden and surprising interruption, was always prompted by some sort of accidental rhyming happening in something you’d said.

Or, sometimes, it even happened when you had written something and had through no fault or thought on your part, created a rhyme, even a little impromptu and accidental poem.

Well, that’s what happened to be. It was a while ago now and I was writing in my journal. It must have been ages ago because I don’t keep a journal anymore.

In any case, with nobody reading over my shoulder, it was left to me to express surprise at a sudden outburst of poetics on the page. And along with the surprise, I was able to make a quick note of what I’d written:

Anyway, this post isn’t about this little demonstration of spontaneous poetic genius; it’s actually about the ‘sometime soon’ tagging along on the end.

I have no idea where or what the walk to take, the pilgrimage to make, was – or is. Which suggests a rather obvious conclusion: ‘sometime soon’ never came. The walk was not taken; the pilgrimage was not made.

Now, I’m thinking to myself, if the walk under discussion was so appealing – as well as so significant that it transformed into a pilgrimage – then how come ‘sometime soon’ wasn’t right now, or rather right then. If you follow me.

Of course there’s no telling the reasons for the sometime soon. Maybe plans would have been required; travel to arrange; equipment to gather; fitness to acquire. Who knows?

Clearly I was inspired to at least put down in writing that I thought this walk, this pilgrimage, was (or would be) a good thing to do.

Meaning, in that moment, in the present that is (or was) of that moment, that walk/pilgrimage was a thing I wanted to undertake.

Now, while I might have longed to take that walk, to make that pilgrimage, in the present of that moment of writing, and even though planning may have been required, thereby putting off the actuality of the taking and making till some future time, I at the very least could have taken some action – again in the present of that moment – to get the ball rolling so to speak.

So, what’s the lesson here?

Well it’s simple really, very simple. Maybe simpler to say than to actually put into practice, but I think my lesson here is just this. Tell myself the truth as often and as much as I possibly can. In other words:

Be honest with myself

Let’s look at the options

If I’d really wanted to take this walk, to make this pilgrimage, no matter how remote, how complicated the logistics or planning, why didn’t I take action in that present? Or at least in some present before I actually forgot completely what the walk/pilgrimage was.

And why add ‘sometime soon’ if I didn’t actually desire or intend for this thing to happen? Well, possibly to put of any decision about doing or not doing. Or perhaps it was a way of saying (in completely other words), ‘Well, it sounds very nice, but I doubt I will ever end up doing it.’

So, honesty, and clear thinking about what I want and what I don’t want. That way I won’t be so attached, so keen on clinging to outcomes that I can’t see clearly, can’t easily know what I am to do or not do. Presence. Being present is what this is really about isn’t it?

To be completely present, to be fully here and now, requires me (all of us I suppose) let go of the maybes, and the ifs and buts as well as the endless ruminations about do this or don’t do that.

If I want to take a walk, or make a pilgrimage, then I say to me: just get on with it! If I don’t, then just say so, and move on.

Last little comment: I would really love for the present to remind me of what this walk/pilgrimage was. I’m a bit curious I guess(yes I know, curiosity is a present moment deflater) Maybe it’ll come back to me now I’ve written this post.

Peace

Dharamshala Dharma Dreaming

Posted on August 10, 2023 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

DHARAMSALA DHARMA DREAMING

The hand of the monk
agéd, insistent, but gentle too,
takes and holds mine.
The monk sits, the Dharma before him,
sacred texts resting in their saffron shroud.
My presence completes
this circle.

Mountain monastery
calling him; it’s not home.
Other mountains
he’s climbed. Escape.
High places divide
this world from that,
that time from this.

His loving touch, his smile,
linger in rarefied air.
Air drenched with the warmth
of the Dharma,
in this late monsoon
restaurant of the Snow Lion,
south of his land.

Hommage aux Ailés

Posted on February 14, 2023 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Creatures of the Air,
the Winged ones.
Same like you and me:
Bound to material nature.

A Seaside Musing

Posted on February 4, 2023 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Yellow-Golden sands
carpet the floors
of tidal rockpools,
home to crustations and seagrasses.
And the coffee tasted like medicine.

Am I Here & Now or There & Then?

Posted on April 21, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

One week today and I will be there. In other words, this time next week at this time I will have arrived in the desert city of Broken Hill. Almost in the heart of the continent and right in the middle of the Outback. In fact they call that whole area The Big Red after the colour of its tens of thousands of square kilometres of desert sands.

It’s about 1500 kilometres from the Pacific Coast where I am right now. I’d like to write about the ‘call’ to the desert, which I am finally answering, but maybe I’ll get to that in another post.

Right now I only want to say how excited I am to be going. A bit anxious too (I’ve been there before, but still …), and plain and simple looking forward to getting there.

Acturally, to be perfectly clear about it: I can’t wait to be there. But, you see, herein lies the problem: I am so keen to get there that I’m feeling as if I am no longer here. I am not present; I am not living in the moment and in the place I’m in (which I love by the way, the place I mean).

I don’t mean to say that I am some sort of Buddha who is usually fully present in each moment; or who is serene and calm when he knows change is coming. Any reader of this blog will tell you that presence isn’t necessarily my greatest strength.

But, I must say that lately I have improved (slightly) my living in the moment, being here and now, way of living. It’s just that I’ve been longing for this particular change (and all that I anticipate will come with it) so much that I just can’t help myself.

Did I mention already that this is a problem for me? Well, yes, I did, and it is. I prefer very much to be where I am and when I am and fully in the flow of the ongoing present.

Of course there is nothing wrong with wanting something to happen. The problem arises when one is so anxious for whatever it is to happen, that what’s happening here and now ceases to be where one is at—in other words: the trouble is that I stop being in the present.

Buddha taught what are called The Four Noble Truths. (which pretty much form the core of Buddhist teachings) The second of these Truths says that attachment is the cause of suffering. Suffering here means anxiety, worry, regret, fear; all those kinds of things. Whenever we say something like, ‘I can’t wait to…’, then it is a sure sign we are attached to that want or desire.

By the way, the First Noble Truth is: Life is suffering. Suffering, The Buddha taught, is simply the price of being alive. We get hungry, we are conscious of pain (in all its guises), we grieve; we grow old; we get sick; and we die.

But, right now, I want to talk more about Noble Truths three and four. Number three says that suffering can be overcome. Nice clean, clear, and not to mention, succinct little statement. Of course, it’s easy for him to say isn’t it? He is Buddha after all.

Perfectly reasonable reaction from us suffering humans. But there is hope and we will find that in Noble Truth number four which gives us the how to overcome suffering. There are quite a few ways to put this Truth into words, but the one I like best says:

The way to overcome suffering is to sit.

What? Sit? Yes, sit. Be still; stop moving. Of course if we relate this Truth to my little dilemma for wanting to so badly to be somewhere else that I’m not able to be where I am now, we can expand this Truth to something like this:

Focus your full attention on what you are doing now, and where you are now as well. As much as you can, be open to change, but be less attached to the nature or timing of that change. After all, you can make all the plans you like, but who knows what’s really going to happen—you won’t know that till it actually happens.

So, that’s what I am trying to do. Instead of saying stuff like ‘I wish I could go sooner’, or ‘it’s only x days till I go’ (yes I know, that’s what I said way up there at the top of the post), I am going to ask myself, ‘What am I doing now?’, and I plan to look around me, and engage more with the reality of this moment. And try hard to realise the ongoingness of that everlasting moment.

As Ram Dass said,

Be Here Now.

Hey, that’s a great mantra isn’t it? Chanting it whenever I start getting out of the here and now mode, might just put me back there again. I mean here—and now. You know what I mean!

Love and blessings from me to you

Paul

I’ll Try Not to Pass Them By

Posted on April 12, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

So, anyway, here I am. Just sitting. It’s what I do, when I can, when I’m able. Well, to be completely accurate, here I am sitting and typing. Writing yes.

But every day, I sit. I try to sit. On a comfortable chair or bed. Here is where I commune with the Divine. It’s where I say my prayers, empty my mind, try to be silent, sometimes read holy books.

Whatever I do when I am just sitting, the sitting bit isn’t always easy; it requires effort and patience. Just being still can be hard; everyone knows that. But it’s part of the practice, part of the sadhana, the way to liberation. All that.

Of course I’m not the only one you might find just sitting. Why, just today on my way home from buying fruit I saw some other people sitting. One had his eyes fixed, completely transfixed on his phone’s flickering screen; head bowed, the world around him shut out.

The other sat, head bent forward, arms crossed; I couldn’t see her eyes. Perhaps she was sleeping, perhaps feigning sleep, perhaps trying for sleep. Whatever, resting it looked like.

These two were a lot like me I thought: just sitting, being quiet, resting even. Mind you, they were younger than me. Though of course what’s age got to do with it? I carried shopping bags; they sat beside a very full shopping trolley.

But, wait, my bags held fresh fruits to top up our supply. Their trolley overflowed with, what shall we call them? All their worldly goods? Personal effects? All they own?

And another difference? I’m going home with my bags. They have no home to house those effects; no soft bed to rest upon or commune at leisure with the divine.

Whereas I sit under a roof, in a room, on a soft bed, they sit in a bus shelter. Sure, there’s a roof but it offers scant protection from the approaching storm, and none at all from the incessant wind that will soon be full of rain blowing.

It’s no use asking why am I in a comfortable house, and they are in a bus shelter, just as I was and they were, the last time I saw them. There’s nothing for me to say that will mean anything to them, to anyone else, or even to myself.

I suppose I or you or someone else might remind me (remind all of us) that the world can be hard, is hard: bad things happen to all of us. Of course that’s true. I actually truly believe that the world by its very being in existence is hard. What did The Buddha say? Life is suffering?

But, as they say, that just doesn’t cut it, does it? All just words don’t you think? It’s what I think today anyhow. Oh yes, I’ve been praying since I passed them by (and I did pass them by with no words, no smile or greeting, my face turned away. I am ashamed).

I thought of them as angels there to remind me of my own advantages and privilege. Even those very thoughts themselves prove my own failing to understand, to actually get it.

But, yes: all just words. Meaning very little. I suppose after all that perhaps all I can do is pray.

For all of us.

Peace

Not as if I don’t bloody live here is it?
Yeah. I know, I know. Its a bloody bus stop.
But, geez, a fella’s gotta live
somewhere. Don’t he?

Just Passing Through … or Seeking Noble Truths: A Poetical Sharing

Posted on March 25, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Greetings friends

In my last post I mentioned I would share a poem with you in this one. And here it is!

Just Passing Through … or Seeking Noble Truths, is, like the previous post, concerned with passing through, how as I go through life, I am always in some sort of passing through place. Before we get to the poem, just let me fill you in on a bit of the back story.

First, I wrote the poem as I walked home to our hermitage at the time in a town called Moama on the Murray River in Australia. Now, the Murray is the biggest river in the country and the then little town of Moama sits across the river from its bigger city sized sibling: Echuca, the biggest inland port in Australia.

Anyway, I’d just crossed the river bridge and the words just started coming to me. Not exactly as you read it here, but close. I am very lucky that I had only a few minutes walk left to get home, otherwise the whole lot could have been lost to memory.

The longer back back story? Well, as the poem suggests, I’d spent a lot of time hitchhiking, in Australia and a few other places too. It’s true what it says in the first lines: I’d done a lot of trudging through a rather large number of towns unknown to me then, and only some of which are better known to me now in much later years.

Okay, that’s enough back story to last a while, so let’s just present the star of the show. I share this, as I do all my efforts, with heart.

JUST PASSING THROUGH … OR SEEKING NOBLE TRUTHS

Many have been the nights
I’ve trudged (and less often, strode)
past illuminated windows framing.
families sharing sit down meals.
Or huddled worshipfully before
flickering and silent (to my passing by ears)
picture boxes in corners of cosy family rooms.

I am just one more invisible (to most), anonymous
drifter. Just passing through
the empty nighttime streets of one more
anonymous town.
Longing to enter the illumined frame.
Longing to share one of those sit down meals.
Longing to worship at the alter of the flickering picture box.
Longing is loss.

The edge of town roadside summons
this lonesome bodhisattva begging rides.

It’s just one more quiet and cold
semi desert night. A high moon in a clear sky
casts ghostly shadows through Eucalypts:
my only company as the waiting game begins.
Waiting to see headlights coming and going my way.
Waiting to be rescued from this lonely edge of town roadside.
Waiting for another ride, to another anonymous town.
Waiting is wasteful

Better to be here, now, on this
edge of town roadside. A place as good
as any. Illumined by the moon,
the ghostly gums create the frame
in which this bodhisattva rests.
And worships.

Thank you for allowing me to share these words with you. The road, as many of you will know, can be a teacher, a guru. I don’t hitch-hike anymore, but the road is still teaching me. And I am grateful.

Sometimes Happy, Sometimes Blue

Posted on March 25, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Remember, this is just a passing through place

Many years ago now, a wise person I know used these words to remind me of a fact of life that, even now, I sometimes (to be honest, this should read very often) forget: we are – all of us – only passing through. For me, the words have extra resonance beyond what you might call that overarching reality of the temporary nature of our time in this world: I was, born and still am, a nomad.

Even though I very much see myself as being on a never-ending pilgrimage, I do often get anxious about should I move? should I do this? Should I do that? Existential and other kinds of angst are common to all of us I think. So, now and again it’s a good idea to hit the refresh button and click the reminder that I am always in a passing through place.

I often find myself singing (usually very quietly or in my mind) the chorus from Passing Through, a very special Leonard Cohen:

Passing through, passing through.
Sometimes happy, sometimes blue,
Glad that I ran into you.
Tell the people that you saw me passing through
Leonard Cohen – Passing Through

And that’s the refresh: It is literally true to say – both in terms of my internal life journey and where I might be geographically speaking at any given time – that I am only passing through.

Change is constant, that’s the message here. Being sometimes happy, sometimes blue are just facts of life Leonard’s song tells us. But putting the whole chorus together you can see it’s about presence. It’s about being in the ongoing present moment; the moment that just keeps on keeping on. It’s about living in and being conscious of that ongoingness, whether we’re happy or blue.

As I typed that last sentence, about states of happiness and blueness, I suddenly thought of a poem I wrote quite a while ago now. Just Passing Through. Or Seeking Noble Truths. It, too, is about presence, about the attachment to outcomes (like being happy, or not being blue) being the cause of our suffering. Of course this isn’t my idea: it’s one of the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths.

I think I would like to share that poem with you. But let’s do it next time shall we? Because, while there might be no time like the present, as we’ve just seen, the present is ongoing.

So, see you next time

Peace and love