Tag Archives: prayer life

Pray & Work

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One of the topics I like to explore on YouTube (my ‘break’ is over and I don’t think I’m scrolling quite do much as I was before I took that break) is the lives of hermits; the monastic life as lived by nuns, monks and priests of any and all religious traditions or none.

That’s more than one topic isn’t it? Well, you get the drift. In any case, last night I rediscovered a nice documentary on a monastery in the United States I had already seen but decided to watch it again. Here’s the link.

Courtesy Wikipedia

A monk on the doco talks about The Rule of Benedict. Just as the name suggests this is the rule (of life) written by Saint Benedict of Nursia in the 6th Century to help guide monks and nuns living in monastic communities in all aspects of a shared life dedcated to God.

Benedict had a good insight into such a life (and human nature) and the ‘Rule” is in fact a text containg many instructions and a great deal of advice on monastic life centred around what he termed Ora et Labora  –  the very essence of the contemplative life in his view.

It’s Latin of course and translates to Pray and Work and is followed by many monasteries in the Christian traditon. Of course, monastic communities in most traditions have similar sts of guidelines or ‘Rules’.

The primary focus and function of monastics is to pray. That’s what they are there for. But Benidict figured that some kind of balance was needed; not only so the monasteries could support themselves but so monks and nuns actually got some physical activity. Hence the equal emphasis on work.

So, the two ideals work together in a way supports a balanced, ordered, harmonious and peaceful community (in theory). Pray and work are intertwined. Even the Latin for pray, Ora is embedded in Labora, the word for work.

We don’t do rules here at the hermitage, not into them at all actually, but I do like this Pray and Work idea very much. It is, after all, what we do too, and why we are here. In fact, I try to approach everything I do as a prayer. It doesn’t always work in the sense that, while prayer and work may be one and the same, I tend to sometimes forget that fact. So having this pray and work principle as a central tenet of my life reminds me to remember that I am actually doing both.

I pray – quite a lot actually. Chanting mantra, reciting set prayers I’ve gathered into my practice over the years or that I’ve written myself. Then there is the prayer that comes from within silence, the contemplation of the texts I study, the things I see, hear, or talk about.

There is the cultivation of ‘good thoughts’ and feelings of compassion. Just sitting, being still and quiet with an open mind. Simply stopping to look at a flower, a tree or another person and sense the beauty. All these and more are prayer.

Which leads us to the ‘Work’ side of the equation. What exactly is my work? First thing to say is, I am a hermit and a monk and my primary job is to pray. If  It sounds like a closed system, that’s because it is.

My work includes my studies and practices which are aimed at cultivating those good thoughts and open mind we talked about, and that attempt to ‘create good vibes in the world’. (Which, as I’ve written many times, is best achieved when I am secluded at least a little from the busyness of the world.

Lest you imagine that I am missing out on the physical activity seen by Benedict as essential to balance, let me assure you I do get quite a lot of exercise – more all the time as I recover.  It’s my yoga practice, an integral aspect of my prayer and work life.

This blog is a part of my work. Though, to be honest, publishing this blog and engaging with our little community, gives me so much pleasure, joy, and ‘good vibes’, that I really can’t call it ‘work’. Writing and posting does me good!

When it comes to work, it’s not so much about what you do (we gotta do what we gotta do), but more about how you approach that work.

What transforms work into prayer is doing it for the right reasons. But who’s to say what are ‘right reasons’? Well that’s easy: you. Or me. Or any other individual deciding for themselves and for themselves alone.

As I said my work – and prayer – is to try to create good vibes in the world. I don’t always succeed but I think it really is the effort and intention that is most important. And not being attached to the outcomes. As in: ‘Aren’t I so holy and virtuous praying for the world all the time’. Hardly.

No. Create the vibe, let it go, and let it do its thing.

We All Get to Stay

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Sharing our prayers this morning, the hermits each reciting a prayer to the other so each can pray, and talking about the oneness of life (prompted by one of the shared prayers), the dependence of one species upon another.

As we reflected on that idea – of interdependence – it occured to me that perhaps, there might be a problem in how we as humans, interpret its meaning. We can maybe call it a kind of paradox, but we’ll get to that in a bit.

Our dependence – as humans beings – on so many other species is actually a well known, and I hope increasingly accepted, reality. For food, for shelter, for water, air to breathe. Everything.

In any case, an aspect of this interdendcence idea that struck me as perhaps missing, that I’ve not really heard before (I haven’t researched this; just winging it thought and contemplation wise) is this; If, say, bees disappeared, or all trees were cut down, would humans survive? Definitely not.

On the other hand, let’s say that in an instant or even over time, all humans on Earth disappeared. What would happen to all the other living beings? All the bugs, the fishes, the animals of all kinds, trees, grasses – all the living beings?

It seems to me that all those other species, all those beings of all kinds, would not only survive, they would most likely thrive.

Actually, now I think about it, I remember during the COVID lockdowns, people in various places around the world were amazed at the return of birds to usually busy polluted cities, and how the air seemed fresher in some places when in ‘normal times’ it was getting hard to breathe. And beaches and rivers looked a bit cleaner than usual.

Fewer people commuting; fewer planes flying; less goods being transported on congested roads; less waste going into rivers and the oceans. Seems life on Earth was doing better when we (humans) were out of the picture, even for a short while.

Which is to say, humans may not be necessary for the survival of planet Earth and the other life that lives here. Putting it very simply: We go, they thrive; They go, we go too.

But, my thought train races along its newly discovered track here, what if I’m wrong? What if I’m looking at the whole issue on just a superficial level? What if all I am seeing is the gross material level of the whole question? What if I’m missing the real point of it all?

Well it seems to me that on that purely physical, surface level, my theory (borrowed as it may be perhaps) might be right, the irony true: we go, they thrive; they go, we all go; they stay, we all get to stay.

But who are ‘they‘? Who are ‘we‘? For me it’s clear that we are not all simply and only our physical bodies and our minds living here in the material world; that’s all temporary and comes and goes. No, there has to be more to it than that.

Which is what I end up coming back to so very often: there is only one. No separation; no you and me; them or us. Just one. Without a second. Only Consciousness.

I think the best thing to do, just to be on the safe side is to look after each other – regardless of the particular body we happen to be inhabiting at the moment.

That way, we all get to stay, and we’ll all thrive

All I Can Afford is a Loving Heart

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Our post today is closely related to our last one. In fact, so close is the relationship, we can call them sibling posts, even twins.

Anyway to begin, I’d like to share one verse from a song I’ve loved and not loved for years. The song’s called You’re Just a Country Boy by Alison Krauss:

Never could afford a store bought ring
with a sparklin’ diamond stone.
All you can afford is a loving heart,
the only thing you own.

It’s easy to start disliking this song right from reading the title: ‘Just‘? As in only? As in ‘Is that all you are?’. And ‘country boy’? What’s wrong with people – of whatever age or gender – who come from rural areas?

But, there is some to love as well: The lyrics are clever (cleverer than I’d thought, as you will see soon); the singer has a lovely and skilled voice that I like a lot; and there is a generally relaxed, easy listening kind of vibe to the whole tune.

Still, there is more to dislike: The song is addressed to said country boy, perhaps as well meant advice from a friend who is trying to let the country boy down easy as they say. ‘Get real my friend,’ she seems to be saying. ‘You have nothing that anyone wants. You’re poor, you’re from the country, and no way will anyone ever want you.’

The lyrics are like an affirmation or confirmation of what we know already: the world turns on material objects and money, and you aren’t anyone or going anywhere if you don’t have that stuff.

But, then on the other hand, there is much more to love. And this verse kind of sums it up. For the first time today, rereading the lyrics as I ate my lunch, I finally got it: it’s IRONY!

‘What?’ the lyrics seem to say. ‘You mean to say that the only thing you own is a loving heart? What use is that for goodness sake? Nobody wants that. Everyone wants money, jewels, and other material things’.

Well, I think I’d actually gotten it already; it’s just (there’s that troublesome little word again) that today is the first time the word itself came to mind. How ironic to come to the realisation of the irony of this song after all this time?

I like the use of the word afford. Clearly our country boy is broke, has no money, little material worth, and being a ‘country boy’ he obviously has limited prospects.

The irony is, of course, obvious: if one has a loving heart (or an awakened heart as we reflected on in our last post), what else do they need to be able to afford?

Our friend has most likely earned his loving heart over and over again anyway as he’s lived his life with its inevitable trials, tribulations, joys and sorrows. Riches galore right there. Afford? Of what value are material riches when one already possesses the most valuable asset to which a human being can aspire – a loving heart?

Just thought I’d look up the lyrics to another song I also quote from quite often. It’s also about that ‘all I have’ idea. The song is Words by the Bee Gees. These two lines I like:

It’s only words and words are all I have
to take away your heart

Or, as I might reinterpret it: ‘I know these are only words, but they’re all I’ve got to try to speak to your heart from my heart’.

If I’m to dig deep, be honest, and all that, I would have to say that this idea has been a major guiding force in and for my life in one way or another – whether I’ve been conscious of it or not. As has been aspiring to a loving heart, though that aspiration has at times been bogged down in the mire of the mess of life.

Words are good and sacred, and I’ve always seemed to have a lot of them (it’s not the words that are at fault, it’s the one who uses or abuses them). Really, as I think about it now, all I want is to continue using them – words – to express what’s in this (aspirational) loving heart.

All I can afford is a loving heart.

PS Now I’ve actually truly and really seen the irony in the lyrics, maybe I don’t have to dislike this song quite so much

Flee, Be Silent, Pray Always: A Revisit

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Courtesy Wikipedia

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?

We are here, and it is now.

with love
Paul the Hermit

Moment of Catharsis?

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One morning recently I was reciting my prayers when I began to notice the welling of tears in the corners of my eyes. Soon the wellings became a slow stream down each cheek. And, before long, I was more or less sobbing. For a little while.

Where did the tears come from? Why was I crying? Well, to be honest, it’s a mystery.

No mystery, you might be thinking: Sounds like your tears were brought on for some reason by reading the prayers.

I’m not so sure. I used the words ‘reciting my prayers’ deliberately: Not only was I not paying attention to, or even seeing the words on the paper, I was not engaged in the least in the words themselves and their meaning.

Rather than ‘praying’ I was reciting from memory, rote fashion, as if chanting my times tables in primary school. Merely mouthing the words; my mind was blank, as in not there, distant, off doing what my mind does, without awareness from me, when I’m trying to pay attention.

So, was this some sort of moment of catharsis? Possibly, or so it seems to me.

Sometimes – often spontaneously, other times with some forewarning – there is a release: a shedding of tears, as in my story above; a heavy inner or outer sigh of relief; sometimes simply a sense of something let go, something gone, or at least on the way to being gone.

When such moments of catharsis take place, often what causes them, the catalyst, appears obvious. On the other hand – as in my recent sobbing session – that catalyst is a mystery, unrelated in any obvious way to anything happening at that moment, or at least to anything taking place on the surface of that moment.

Equally the cause for the tears, sighs, relief, and so on – the object of any potential catharsis – may also be a mystery. I had no idea at the time, nor do I know now, what caused my tears.

The prayer being recited at the time was about silence. But, as I’ve already mentioned, no way was I actually praying, what with my total lack of attention, obliviousness to the words, my mental blankness. My unconsciousness come to think of it. Nothing to suggest a catalyst or catharsis.

In any case, when such miraculous happenings occur, one thing I try (I hope) to remind myself to not do: Do not ask why. Let catharsis – or whatever process is underway – be as it is.

And to put aside my habitual tendency to analyse and categorise; resist the temptation to want to know and label everything that happens to me. Let the catharsis – if that’s what it is – carry on as it does and not dismiss it as: ‘Oh that’s just me getting emotional.’ Or ‘I must be a bit overtired today.’

To – wildly and freely – paraphrase a few words from an iconic movie character:

Catharsis is as catharsis does.

A Prayer to Share: for the Divine Mother

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Namaste and Welcome

Today I would like to share with you a prayer (it’s a poem too, but …) I’ve written in praise of the Divine Mother. It’s actually the second prayer I’ve written to and for her. I shared that first one, called simply, A Prayer to the Divine Mother on the blog previously and you can find it here.

That post will also give you some background to my reverence for the Divine Mother – what she means to me; where my initial devotion comes from; my heart sense that this universal creative energy drives and sustains all creation; and finally how Divine Mother may be worshipped in many and varied (and even no) forms.

The prayer I share with you today – Jai Shree Maa –  emerged as I knelt chanting those exact word at the alter of a holy place dedicated to the Divine Mother as revered by many in her form as Our Lady of the Rosary.

It is a temple in that name I sometimes go pilgrimming to for quietness, meditation, and devotion.

Please accept my prayer. Thank you

JAI SHREE MAA

In this temple to the Divine Mother
upon my knees and praying.
Jai Shree Maa

I chant with sacred love in my heart,
sacred words upon my lips.
Jai Shree Maa

Divine Mother, with these words,
Jai Shree Maa
I invoke your holy presence;
I speak from my heart to yours.

With love and wishes for peace

Paul the Hermit

Flowing With the River of Life: A Work in Progress

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O Lord, I take refuge in You.
You are my sole guide, my master.
Show me the right path and
I shall follow it.

This is a prayer I like very much. It appeared one day in a previous incarnation of this notebook, then migrated to my prayer book. Its origins are lost in the mists of forgetfullness.

In any case, I like it – a lot. In a big picture kind of way it encapsulates much about the way I aspire to live my life; what I aspire to devote my life and energies to.

The prayer is addressed to the ‘Lord’ – to the Divine; to the Absolute Reality of (to borrow a favourite phrase) Life, the Universe, and Everything. Some will call this God, some think of it as the creator. For me it is simply Lord: all that is existence.

And it is there that I aspire to take refuge. I seek shelter in the knowledge of the rightness and order of the universe. Not an easy task when I think about the state of life ‘on the ground’ on our home planet; how the horrors can be almost impossible to grasp, to understand, and to keep from despairing over.

But a contented state of refuge, of safety, security, and even happiness, may be found, I sense, by a cooperation with what we might call the flow of the river of life.

And if I am to discover for myself that refuge, then there really is only one choice: to accept that flow of the river of life as my only guide to how to live, what to do, how to be.

Not surprisingly I struggle with the idea of cooperating with and accepting the often crazy and random nature of that flow of my life as my ‘sole guide’; how much harder is it to accept that very river as my master?

Again, if I ever want to be happy, if I ever hope to be free from suffering and attachments to those things that cause me to suffer, then I must accept and cooperate with the reality: the river of life is the master whether I like it or not. I may as well accept it.

Which absolutely and I hope obviously, does not mean I’m a fatalist, or that I am resigned to just let the currents toss me about willy nilly. No, not at all.

My deep sense (yet another site for other struggles) that the solution to suffering does indeed lie in an acceptance of the reality of the flow of life as it’s happening moment to moment.

By not resisting life and what it presents to me, I aspire to arrive at a state of acceptance where I might contentedly and freely ask what is my role here? What is the universe asking me to do?

If I can listen, and actually hear with the ear of my heart, then I might be able to discern the path, which if followed, will free me from suffering .

Then I shall be going with the flow, following the path of least resistence, and I’ll be contributing to my own smooth (well, smoother at least) ride through life.

A Prayerful Poetics, A Poetic Prayer

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Just about to open my tablet to retrieve an email I’d sent myself a day or two ago with a prayer attached that I’d found in a book.

But I stopped: I felt, no, no need to transcribe that prayer; I sense some words of my own that are struggling to emerge (actually paraphrasing a very vague sense and direction here; I rarely think – or speak – in such a formal way). So, I left my tablet and reached for my notebook instead

So, what emerged? Well, it’s a prayer and it’s a poem. It’s a prayer or a poem, Either or, and both. In any case, here is the first draft – I only got these words down on paper a half hour ago.

Words from my heart to my heart. A prayer to my Self, a prayer to all that is. And it’s a poem too, remember!
So, now I share this prayer (or poem?) with you.

I am, you are, we are.

Thou art that

MY LORD, WHAT SHALL BE MY PRAYER?

My Lord, what shall be my prayer?
Oh, where even to begin.

There are painful fragments from the past,
fear-fuelled fantasies of the future.
None of them real. None of them mine.
The mind only controls.
Yet clinging to them haunts me.

I aspire to monkhood, to the hermit life.
Yet to desires of many kinds I am attached.

I long to be absorbed in Bhakti;
I long to worship, to praise, and to celebrate All
Ceaseless prayer I aspire to,
to be absorbed in communion.
Yet again the ego-mind
fills me with reason’s illusions
and endless words of the world.
I am barricaded, from You.

I strive to remember who I am;
to recall who You are.
Within the words of this prayer lies that memory:
I am. You are.
Thou Art That.

A Prayer Is a Prayer, Is a Prayer, Is a …

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‘I’ll carry on with my Gita then,’ I said to my partner hermit after we’d been discussing something for a while.

‘I’m enjoying reading my prayers this morning. So I’ll read a few more then read a few verses’ (of the Bhagavad Gita).

‘Reading’ my prayers? Is that what I’m doing? Surely a prayer – prayers – are for praying? Anyway, not simply for ‘reading’.

Of course in this particular instance, the forms the prayers are taking – on the most superficial, worldly, material level –  are as words written by human hand (mine) on paper pages in a little book.

But, right now, the big question, the existential question really, is have I been merely reading those prayers? Or have I been praying those prayers?

Then there’s another, equally existential, concern that arises: How to know the difference. Reading? Or praying?

I feel like saying that the first thought that comes to mind – the first answer to reach the tip of my pen on this page – is this: Actually, the answer has come in the form of a rhetorical question:

If a prayer is prayed, how would it ever even occur to me query if  it is in fact a prayer, and not just words on a page to be read?

Yes, first thought best thought here I think. When a prayer is prayed, even if its form is words written on a page, there is a movement beyond those words on the page. In fact, there is a transcendence of all that is of the material world that takes place.

A prayer is what it’s always been: a prayer. The forms prayers take are, I think, literally endless, uncountable, and can never be submitted to categorisation by us humans.

Prayer is for praying, that’s the lesson for me. Just pray.