Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Musings on one Hermit's life & world

Let Me Tell You About a Visitor I had This Morning

Posted on April 22, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Greeting and Welcome to you

Quite a long time ago now I half wrote a book. I mean to say, I wrote half the thing before giving up. The book was going to be called When a Pet Dies, and was about, well exactly what the title suggests. All the practical stuff that you’d expect, as well as ways to deal with the grief over the loss of a companion animal .

I thought at the time that the reason it was only half written is that, once I got through that practical stuff and was ready to tackle the grief and loss parts, some kind of lethargy set in, or I got lazy. Or perhaps, I was thinking also, the muse for that particular project had simply left and was gone. So it remains half written.

So, why am I musing over this half done, half forgotten project from long ago? Well, let me tell you about a visit I had this morning.

I was sitting, focusing on chanting my mantra. Suddenly I felt an absolutely overwhelming sense of loss and sadness. I don’t recall thinking of anything in particular beforehand, but the sense was overpowering. Flooded with grief is what they call it I think.

Lofi (on the right) with his sister Shanti

And then, just as powerfully, I sensed the presence of Lofi, my cat who died in my arms over ten years ago. Immense feeling of presence is what I wrote in my notebook. Now, I’m not saying he was literally there with me. I’m also not saying he wasn’t. All I can say is that it was among the most intense of similar experiences I’ve had over the years. Anyway, that’s most likely what got me thinking about my incomplete book.

Later this morning I was sitting with my partner on a benchseat overlooking the sea, the bit of the Pacific coast I’ll be leaving behind next week.

Actually, now I’ve mentioned that, you might remember from my last post how keen I am to get out there to the desert. That excitement and anticipation doesn’t mean for a second that I’m not feeling quite sad about leaving the coast.

Anyway, we were just sitting there and chatting on and off, when suddenly a thought seemed to push its way to the surface. I all of a sudden knew why I stopped where I did when writing that book. I realized in a strong and convincing way that you can’t build a structure to define what grief is or how or if it should be experienced, by whom and when.

I’m not talking about the ‘truism’ that one hears all the time that says that the ‘stages of grief’ are in a set order, until they’re not. Actually come to think about it, I’m not even sure this is true. I mean, I’m not sure it (grief) is a thing to be labelled, quantified, recorded, predicted, analysed.

I mean, who’s to ever say how any other individual, or even oneself, will feel about anything at all? Sure, there might be a ‘typical’ set of responses to any given circumstance, such as a loss, but even the proponents of such theories will tell you that none of us is typical.

Which kind of leads me back to my feeling of oneness with my Lofi earlier in the day. Obviously I’m not alone in having such feelings. How often has any one of us heard other people say, after they’ve lost a loved one:e, ‘S/he was really here. It was so real’.

Such experiences can occur anytime, even decades after the loved one has left. I’ve mentioned somewhere else that I’m reading (in little chunks) a great book by Joseph Campbell, the renowned scholar of myth. Let me share with you a quote from the section I’ve been reading today where he’s talking about how art in India seeks to portray the divine in all things:

This is the wonderful song that one hears when one reads the Bhagavad Gītā or any of the great texts of Eastern philosophy. This is the song of that immortal spirit that never was born and never die.

Of course this isn’t meant to be a consolation to myself or anyone else. After all, we are physical beings, living in a material, solid and apparently ‘real’ world. So, naturally, we experience loss, like everything else in that context.

Our bodies react (or don’t) as do our minds, creating physical sensations and emotional responses. Or not. These physical and emotional responses, or lack of them, are totally unpredictable, unexpected, and most definitely unclassifiable by anyone outside of oneself (myself)

Anyway, there are no rules. Even the grief and loss experts will tell you this. Mind you, I can and will only speak for myself, and my experience. Basically that experience has taught me that I have an intuitive resistance to ever thinking in terms of there being a ‘roadmap’ for grief.

Or a statistically valid ‘pattern’ or ‘process’, or that there are even such things as ‘stages of grief’.

My grief for my Lofi is unique, just as everyone’s is. I’m pretty sure I don’t even want to define it, label it, ‘try to get closure’, ‘come to terms with my loss’. No. None of that. It’s like I’ve said someplace else, or at some other times:

Sometimes we make way too many words for something for which there are no words.

Thank you for allowing me to share these words with you. I pray that they are not ‘too many’

peace and love

Quiet and Free (A Haiku of Sorts)

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

Much speech leads to exhaustion;
guard your inner being.
And keep it free.
A bit of blue sky coming.

When a Day Off Isn’t a Day Off

Posted on April 20, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Namaste and welcome

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.

Peace and love

Believe It or Not

Posted on April 19, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

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 name Christopher: 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.

Peace and Love
Paul

I Live On a Big Round Ball

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

Namaste friends

Recently I came across some notes I’d made about a book I read ages ago, at least a year I think. Anyway, the name of the book: The Art of Mindful Walking. Sorry, but no prizes for guessing what it’s about.

Reading my notes I see that I had been particularly taken with what the author had to say about ‘our place in the Universe’. He reflects on our – humanity’s that is – perception of our size in the big scheme of things.

The author recounts how we once went for a walk with American astronaut Dave Scott, who’d been to the moon on one of the Apollo missions. Scott described to him what it felt like looking back at Earth from the surface of the moon:

It hangs in the black sky like a glass bauble, a blue and white Christmas decoration. It’s a small, fragile world.

Ford then goes on to reflect that this image, of a small, fragile ball floating in space, has ‘become a part of the modern psyche’. Then he says:

We begin to see how vulnerable we actually are. We are the first generation truly to see this. We are also the generation that is coming closest to polluting and destroying it.

I don’t think I’d quite looked at it in this way before. And I admit, it stunned me a bit.

Just think: Of all the humans who have ever lived, those alive in the last 50 or 60 years have been the first to see our home planet in its entirety. At least we’ve had the good fortune of seeing images of Earth just as those astronauts saw it. Thanks to those images made from space, we now have had a glimpse of where we actually live and the nature of our world.

Yet, at precisely this point in our history as a species, when we have that particular knowledge, this is the time we seem to be almost wilfully destroying the very ground we walk upon, the air that keeps us living, and the water without which there is no life.

I’m not a warrior. I am a hermit and a pilgrim and I try hard to not make judgements. As such, I can only look on in wonder.

And I can pray.

Thanks to Jimmy Buffett for the title. It’s a line from one of his greatest songs, called Defying Gravity. Thanks Jimmy for all the music man.

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.

The Ananda Mart is Closed Today

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

Hello and welcome dear reader

Almost four years ago now, we spent a couple of months in Bali. For a big portion of that time we based ourselves in a town called Ubud, on a street called Gautama. Yes, indeed, most auspicious.

Anyway, one day I was walking down the street, going somewhere, and for a change without my camera. I passed a small shop that somehow looked unusual. and I stopped to make a photo with my phone.

That’s it: The Ananda Mart is closed today, I remember thinking. In the few weeks we’d been there, I don’t think I’d ever seen it closed before. On most days the man who runs the shop could be found sitting on the front steps. And mostly he’d have his dog for company.

In the early days of our time on Gautama Street, we’d buy bottles of water at the Ananda Mart. Each time I would smile, say hello, and enquire after the shopkeeper’s health. And while he always responded, it was never with what you’d call a friendly smile or a cheery wave. Probably grumpy grunt would be a more accurate way to describe his replies.

You know you’re on Gautama Street when you see the man himself at the corner

And each time I passed the shop, I would say hello. Again on a lucky day I’d get a grunt, but mostly he would say nothing and ignore me. Just as he ignored everyone who passed him and his dog. Eventually after a particularly rude response to me trying to purchase water, I, as they say, took my custom elsewhere.

Often in such situations I have been known to become irritable, angry even, and end up being just as rude (or ruder) than the other person. For some reason, this time I didn’t react that way. Instead I was interested in figuring out why the shopkeeper acted in this way and seemed to be in a world of his own which, from what I could see, he shared only with his dog.

Of course, being the overthinking speculator champion of the galaxy, I made many guesses: he is the owner of the Ananda Mart and is totally over people; being I thought in his 60s, maybe he’s just hanging out till he can retire. Given that the Ananda Mart is only one component of what looks to be a multi-armed business this could be a good guess. He’s one of the family elders, doing his part.

Above the door beneath the name it reads ‘cheap and friendly’. And it’s interesting to check the meaning of Ananda. In Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism it refers to extreme happiness, one of the highest states of being. In Sanatana Dharma philosophy for example, God is sat-chit-ananda or existence, consciousness, bliss.

Now, before I ramble on too long, I will just say that really and truly ‘the real story’ is absolutely none of my business. I suppose what I’m getting at is, rather than dismiss him as a grumpy man in a shop, My reaction to our, shall we call it, our relationship was one of compassion and curiosity. Let’s just say my sense was that the Ananda Mart shopkeeper is perhaps not a happy man.

You see what I mean? I tell you that it’s none of my business, then I tell you how I kept sticking my mind in where it doesn’t belong. Makes me human I guess!

Paramhansa Yogananda, one of the first teachers to bring Yogic philosophy to the so-called West, and the author of Autobiography of a Yogi, says in that book that Ananda is different from the temporary happiness that comes from sense pleasures such as eating and other ‘material pursuits’. He said , too, that Ananda is not the kind of joy that we’d call monotonous and that always stays the same.

Yogananda wrote in Finding the Joy in Life, that Ananda refers to a joy that ‘changes and dances itself in many ways to enthral your mind and keep your attention occupied forever’.

It’s anybody’s guess really isn’t it? Whether our seemingly unhappy and not so friendly shopkeeper, has that kind of joy in his life. And perhaps his aloofness and ‘grumpiness’ is merely an expression of his weariness of the temporary joys of the material word with its emphasis on pleasures of the senses.

Anyway, as I say, it’s none of my business.

Peace to you from the Hermit

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

Walk In The Waters of Life

Posted on April 2, 2022 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Since I launched this blog (a whole month and a bit ago already), I’ve had an idea for a post. A short, spontaneous, chatty but informative little piece on my favourite name and form of the Divine Feminine (often referred to as the Goddess): Saraswati.

Well, as the keenly observant among you will have noticed, no such post has appeared. Procrastination in overdrive you might say. Or perhaps it was that the Goddess just wasn’t keen on me doing the post about her?

You see, I did some research, made a ton of notes, and discovered all kinds of fascinating things and I just felt I wanted to share what I’d learned. Somehow, though, the idea didn’t go any further. I’ve thought about it from time to time, but still, nothing has come. Then, a couple of days ago, I came across my notes and reread what I’d discovered.

Now, here’s a key moment: as I reread those notes, I thought (paraphrasing here), ‘I really must post this. It’s all so fascinating and would interest a lot of people and even be helpful.’ Something like that anyway. Yet, still, it is not written.

So, despite my notes seemingly begging for my attention, I guess that maybe it’s not the time. Now my notes are safely tucked into a few nice little folders within a larger folder somewhere in the depths of my harddrive.

All that struggle; all that thinking and fretting over what was supposed to be a short, spontaneous couple of hundred words on a subject I love. Still, the episode has got me thinking about intuition and how it can disguise itself – with our help – as procrastination. And vice versa.

Yes, I know, obvious question: how can we ever know the difference? When are we inventing all kinds of reasons for putting something off, and when is it really intuition trying to guide us?

Well, it’s complicated. As creatures able to reason, we are always ready to come up with arguments for and against, to think endlessly and agonize over the smallest and most trivial details while ignoring the big stuff. Really, in my case that’s all there is to it: I just think too much.

Sticking to the Saraswati blog post episode (a catchy title don’t you think? Watch out for a post headed up ‘The Saraswati Blog Post Episode‘), I don’t recall why I didn’t just get right to writing it. It might have been any number of things: a perceived lack of time; a promise to self to ‘give it some more thought’; a resistance to the actual ‘labour’ required. Who knows?

Or, was it more that, while the idea was a good one, I just wasn’t feeling it? Maybe the timing just wasn’t right? The problem is that sometimes an intuition comes in a flash of knowing – with a capital K – that you can’t possibly miss.

Then, other times, it creeps up so slowly and quietly that it gets drowned out and ignored as our monkey mind takes over with its endless arguments for and against, pros and cons, advantages and disadvantages,

The lesson I was given here was this: What is going to get done, will get done; what is not going to get done, won’t. Sounds simple really, but so often we make it more complicated with our overthinking, our coming up with excuses. We procrastinate.

Then, at other times, we just dive in the deep end, flowing with the intuition. It may be right or it may be wrong, but it’s done. Actually, I am trying to realise that there is no right or wrong about a decision made: it just is as it is. Easy to type, hard to do.

Flowing. That’s a good word actually. Saraswati, along with many other characteristics, embodies flow. As in the flow of the river of life. She’s the Goddess of all things creative as well as any activity that helps one to discover the essence of self.

So, flash or gradual realisation; right or wrong; left or right, be the river: flow with what happens or doesn’t happen. Don’t fret about the twists and turns, the ebb and flow of tides, the rocks in the stream that force us to flow around or over, or to change direction completely. In 1946 the poet Jorge Luis Borges wrote an essay about time. In that essay, among other things he says:

Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river (emphasis is mine)
Jean Luis Borges A New Refutation of Time 1946

Reading that quote reminded me of a song that I’ve been humming on and off for a very very long time (hint: I saw the movie when it first came out).

The river flows, it flows to the sea.
Wherever that river goes, that’s where I want to be.
Flow river flow.

Peace from me to you.

PS: Thanks to my memory for giving me these lyrics from The Ballad of Easy Rider. Or was it actually Saraswati whispering in my ear?

Much speech leads to exhaustion;guard your inner being.And keep it free.A bit of blue sky coming.

Much speech leads to exhaustion;
guard your inner being.
And keep it free.
A bit of blue sky coming.