Tag Archives: Spiritual life

You’re the Voice, Try and Understand It

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One of the things I like about one of our local coffee shops is that they play a nice wide selection of music. Mostly popular songs from pretty much every decade back to the ’60s. I think they have one of those looping playlists you hear sometimes in shops and cafés.

It must be quite a long list because you don’t necessarily hear the same songs repeated at every visit. Which is a nice thing too.

Anyway, yesterday the chorus of a song I heard played got stuck in my head. The song, You’re the Voice, was a hit around the world in 1986 when it was released by Australian singer John Farnham.

It’s essentially a protest song reminding us that we all have a voice, and encouraging us to use our voices to stand up against corruption and war. One of the co-writers Chris Thompson missed out on going to an anti-nuclear protest because he slept late. He felt so badly about sleeping in that he wrote the lyrics reminding us about taking personal responsibility and making our voices heard.

Okay, back to the chorus getting stuck in my head.

You’re the voice, try and understand it
Make a noise and make it clear Oh woah.
We’re not gonna sit in silence
We’re not gonna live in fear Oh woah

You see? It’s very catchy, and an excellent piece of advice too. And, for a hermit monk, it’s actually advice I could and do aspire to live by. Just not quite in the sense the song intends perhaps.

This morning, when my partner hermit suggested we just sit in silence for a while, I spontaneously started singing the chorus, though a slightly modified version:

We’re just gonna sit in silence
We’re not gonna live with fear.

Then, as I sat in said silence, I got to thinking about the words of the chorus.  Nobody wants to live in fear, yet it is an aspect of the human condition and something so many people live with constantly all over the world. All through human history as well.

The message of the song reminds us all that we have a voice which we can use to help create a state of affairs in which we don’t have to live in quite so much fear, fear that’s coming at us from so many sources.

For me, this is a vital, fundamental, and absolutely essential principle. Without those who do stand up, those who do use their voices to try to right wrongs, then, well I can’t think of what that might mean.

Yet, for me, I’ve chosen silence. Not only chosen I must admit: temperament, my own nature, health, all are factors that have made silence the best course for me to take. Silence as in seclusion from the world, minimizing outside imput, and reducing as much as possible the attachment to the world and its things and fears.

And this way of living ironically allows me to use my voice in my own ways to address the Truth as I see it; to help effect change and contribute to the healing so sorely needed.

Being ‘out there’ and engaged with worldly things and activities and interacting with people constantly causes me so much anxiety that it threatens my health and ability to act in the world.

There is also the personal choice aspect, common to so many who live a contemplative life. Silence – when I can actually achieve such a state – gives me the energy and clarity to write; it gives me the mental, emotional and spiritual ‘space’ and energy to pray, to contemplate, and to foster the ‘good vibrations’ I feel are also necessary to turn the world towards peace, healing, and truth, as well as to assist in maintaining the wellbeing of all life.

The world, and all of life, needs both those who can’t or won’t be silent (I’m definitely not suggesting the world needs more noise). We all need people who can and do raise their voices against war, poverty, corruption, and all the ills that plague us.

And it needs those who are able to ‘just sit in silence’. The work to be done is the same; the outcomes perused are the same; and in essence the means themselves aren’t all that different either. Silence as mentioned can include the use of our voices in ‘quiet’ ways, in ways that don’t have to relate so directly the affairs of the world.

It really is a symbiosis: Those of us living secluded and contemplative lives with our prayers, our witness, our creative endeavours, support those active and vocal ones out there trying to heal the world.

And at the same time those out there in the world support the secluded and contemplative ones. Their efforts and hard work, and simply knowing they are there, are encouraging and nurturing for the secluded and contemplative ones.

We are One after all.
Yet our voices are all unique, each and every one.
That’s what I understand to be true.

Story of a Misadventure & An Apology

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Today I’d like to share with you a short cautionary tale. It’s a true story, relating events that took place very recently.

There was a blogger, a serious student on the spiritual path; a monk whose mission in publishing his blog was – is – to share that path with others, to share the lessons he’s learned/learning. He sees it as one important aspect of his ‘doing God’s work’, reaching out to others of like heart and like mind.

Anyway, this blogger, he suddenly felt an intuition: he thought, I’ll set up an account on (insert here very popular platform) social media. That’s how to promote my blog he thought, and attract more readers.

So, dutifully, he set up an account and began posting. One or two poems, a couple of photos with commentary, that sort of thing. The plan was, post whatever seemed might be enlightening, whenever the feeling was there.

The blogger felt that this was a sort of ‘next step’. He thought that bringing more readers to his blog would help him with his quest to love more, and to share love.

But. Something wasn’t quite right. Sure, he, the blogger was excited by this new venture, this expansion of his service to the Divine and to the world. But he felt – literally and physically – a bit sick. A kind of nervousness gnawed at his guts; he just felt yuck.

‘I can’t do this,’ he thought to himself. ‘It’s not right’

So, there and then he resolved to delete the account, to close that chapter forever, and bring his focus back more fully to his blog. That’s where, he realised, was where God’s work could be done, as well as where his own passions lay.

But, the resolve, didn’t last long. He just had to act immediately. So, again right there and then, he deleted the account.

Instantly, a wave of relief swept over our blogger friend. He felt free, back on track. He now felt less burdened by a burden he’s made for himself, a burden that there really was no need to be carrying.

Okay, I confess: the blogger of whom we speak is in fact me. I know, you guessed that already, but it’s a disturbing saga and I guess I had some need to distance myself a little, at least to start with.

So, why the big relief? Why did it feel so right at the outset, but – almost immediately – felt so wrong to the extent of putting me ‘out of sorts’ physically and mentally?

Funny. That ‘out of sorts’ expression. That’s exactly the root of the issue right there I think. Years ago I withdrew from all social media – though I am on a photo sharing platform that is simply for that purpose and only that purpose, sharing photos.

You see, I thought (and still think) that social media generally had become a ground for conflict, and the celebration of conflict; it was a ground for corruption, gossip and sensation, for all the worst of the news (I know, the best too). Anyway, you know wht I mean: I’m not alone in giving it all up.

And, yet, here I was, feeling led to reopen that particular social media account. An example, I think, of an ego-driven desire for gain disguising itself as a genuine heart or soul intuition or calling.

I choose not to criticise or comdemn any social media platform. They are what they are. All I can say is that it’s not for me, not my ‘sort of thing’, not my cup of tea as it were. No wonder I was feeling out of sorts!

In my selfish, ego-driven compulsion to ‘increase traffic’ (what a horrible expression), I forgot entirely – as we so often do when blinded by desire – that this blog is seen and read by exactly those who are meant to see and read it – you!

So, I apologise to you for that sudden blindness, and for ignoring the absolute reality that it’s all working out just as it’s supposed to.

Thank you for making that so.

Peace and love
Paul the hermit

Slowly & Mindfully: A Reminder

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Among the physical exercises I try to perform on a daily basis, are a couple for strengthening the hips. One of these begins with me standing upright, feet together, eyes level, looking ahead.

Then I swing one leg at a time for ten repetitions in a kind of arc like motion out to side, keeping it level with the side of my body, bringing the leg back to the rest position with feet together. It’s a pendulum motion.

Anyway I’d been merrily going along doing these exercises more or less every day for ages, months really, until one day my partner hermit was watching me, and said:

‘You’re supposed to be doing it slowly and mindfully’. Or words to that effect.

You see I had been quite happy swinging each leg out in turn at a fast pace, kind of like an aerobic sort of thing. Just to get it done if I’m honest. Wrong! Supposed to be slowly and mindfully.

Lift one leg slowly in an arc like motion out to the side of the body. Pay attention to the movement as it’s happening; no need to push the leg out, just lift it to a comfortable position. Just let the arm trail loosely and of its own accord, along with the leg. Then, again slowly and paying attention to the process of the movement, bring the leg back.

And I do have to say there’s been an amazing difference. I can actually feel the muscles working during the exercise, and can sense the minute incremental motion as the leg swings slowly. It’s a way better exercise than it was, and now I wouldn’t do it any other way.

I was reminded of this incident this morning as I came across a short admonition, a little reminder to myself I have stuck on a Table of Contents page in my Bhagavad Gita.

Go slowly and mindfully in everything

What’s interesting is that, despite seeing and reading this so-called reminder more or less every day, and despite proofs of the benefits of actually listening to the reminder, such as what I’ve just described with the exercise , the reminder seems to mostly go right over my head, in one ear and out the other as they say.

Today, for some mysterious reason, it actually got my attention. At the same time, again who knows why, it triggered a truly relevant and appropriate memory to act as a kind of metaphor to illustrate the point to me.

I suppose it’s stating the obvious, but I can say that doing that (or any) exercise slowly and mindfully – in a watchful and observant manner – acts as an exercise in presence. Otherwise I’d not be sensing or feeling the muscles and the movement, or the peace of no random thoughts.

Did I mention that, having corrected my modus operandi with that particular exercise , I’m feeling the benefits? It definitely feels like things with legs and hips are loosening up, getting stronger. I’m actually walking further now without my legs aching on me.

More than that, I actually find myself wanting to do the exercise as opposed to ‘wanting to get it done’. Why is this? Well, I think it’s because I’m yearning to rediscover that feeling of presence; it’s a bit like a meditation, and in the same way clears the mind of random thoughts – at least for the short duration of the exercise. Having said that, even a short duration clarity plays its part in reconditioning a stubborn mind.

So, mental clarity, good exercise for the body, for the heart, even the soul?I think it’s the perfect metaphor for how I aspire to be living my life.

Slowly and mindfully.

A Gift Came to Me in an Email

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Even a Leaf

A couple of days ago I recieved a beautiful gift in an email. I often receive wonderful things through the email, and this one, as with so many of the others, has profound meaning for me.

Not only that, but this gift has served as a reminder to me of that significance. I’d like to share with you that gift, as well as some thoughts on its importance and meaning to me.

There are a multitude of sources online where you can learn all the technical stuff, word meanings, history, origin, when it’s used and all the rest. I would like, however, to just ‘think out loud’ in my own words, and follow my own heart’s promptings.

Hari Om Tat Sat, is actually two mantras in one: Hari Om, and Om Tat Sat.

Hari Om represents the totality of what we might call God. Hari refers to the manifested cosmos, as well as the creative impulse in its manifest form. I call that Ishvara, but it doesn’t have a name I’m sure!

Om, is the unmanifested universal consciousness, the Absolute Reality. Meaning, as I understand it, existence itself. I call it Brahman, or God, but again, names are just labels we humans apply to things to make it all seem so neat and tidy!

They say that Om Tat Sat is the most sacred of mantras (in Hinduism). It’s used at the completion of prayers and rituals as a way of invoking the presence of the divine and ‘bringing it all together’ you might say. Well not so much bringing, more like a reminder that everything is one already.

I really like the chanting of Hari Om Tat Sat. It’s a centering practice I would say, a way to remember the oneness of all. And I say it, as the traditionalists do, as a closing to prayers or other practice; it’s like ‘Amen’ or ‘It is so’ or ‘Let it be so’ or, well it’s endless – and personal and subjective.

As mentioned, Om means Brahman – or God in the unmanifested state; Tat, not only sounds like that but does in fact mean all that is. In other words, Brahman or the Absolute. Sat means Truth, Absolute Truth or, once again Brahman.

For me it is a little prayer of its own actually. And I’ve heard it used as a greeting many times. It’s a means I think of honouring the divine within the one being greeted, while at the same time I have a sense that it is a recognition, or acknowledgement rather, of the oneness, the unity of the greeter and the greeted along with everything else.

This is why I don’t really feel the need to break the mantra down to explain in technical detail all the constituent syllables (even I were qualified to do so, which I most surely am not).

It really is a way to acknowledge the oneness of all, the Absolute, which includes, obviously, me and you. The Truth is absolute, it says, so must we be, absolute.

Hari Om!
Om Tat Sat

A Lesson in Humility

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Opening my Bhagavad Gita this morning for my daily reading, I noticed that I was about to begin a new chapter. I always like when that happens, but this post isn’t about that; it’s inspired by a small scrap of paper glued on the facing page.

In years long gone, a less minimalist me would collect bits and pieces cut from newspapers, magazines or wherever (no Internet in those days). This particular strip of paper was cut from a newspaper (makes me shudder a bit to think how I would devour newspapers every day if I could. Shudder in horror) and has the title Today’s Text. It was a daily quote, usually a verse, from the Bible, and I’d often cut out those that appealed to me. As this one obviously did.

No longer collecting such bits and pieces, this one somehow survived the now ancient culling of excess material stuff, and has ended up in my Bhagavad Gita. Don’t ask me how or when.

Anyway, before I get off track, or too far down the track, here’s the quote we’re talking about

A man of knowledge uses words with restraint.
    Proverbs 17:37

I paused when I read this. As you probably are already guessing, I just had to write it down and added some notes of my own before getting on with my Bhagavad Gita reading.

What comes next is essentially what those full of first thought notes said, plus a little context setting to begin with.

In addition to the Bhagavad Gita, I am also reading, bit by bit, another sacred text. A couple of times (including today) I’ve been frustrated at having to plough through a page and a half (for example) of a description of a concept or idea that I’ve thought could have been said in no more than a couple of sentences.

Is he, the author, a person of knowledge? He most certainly is. He has wisdom too. He was a respected teacher and scholar. Some, many, say he was a saint.

So, perhaps it’s me demonstrating my own lack of knowledge here. Perhaps it is me, also lacking in wisdom, who is using words without restraint. Just because my opinion proposed using fewer words, does not mean by any means that they are better words.

Perhaps it’s me in error: passing judgement on an author I consider knowledgeable and wise, and who is certainly more than intimate with the topics he’s commenting on.

So, allow me to put another perhaps into this mix: Perhaps if such a person takes one and a half pages to describe an idea, then it might just mean that I am in need of more knowledge than I think I have. Surely I am missing something.

At the very least I am being prompted to reread the sections in question, that I was so hasty to dismiss as too wordy. Perhaps (what is it with this word today? Have to nominate it word of the day – perhaps) there is something for me to actually learn before letting my mind run away with critical thoughts based on quick and ill-informed judgements.

A Few Thoughts on the Big Question: Why a Monk’s Life?

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Just now, on rediscovering a quote I’d noted down months ago, I spontaneously decided to download again the book I took it from. This will be the third reading: seems to be one of those books that keep calling you back.

The book (The Abbot’s Shoes by Peter Robertson) tells the story of the author’s foray into monastic living in New Zealand way back in the early 1970s when he was twenty something.

One of many mini monastries we’ve been blessed to live in

I’d like to share the mentioned quote with you, because I think it really speaks to my own commitment to the contemplative, hermit life, which is for us a monastic life too – a hermitage is actually a mini monastery.

Sitting in his apartment one night, completely dissatisfied with life the universe and everything, the author contemplates the state of the world around him.

‘All the marching, all the writing, all the campaigning in the world isn’t going to change this insanity, brutality, and carnage.’

Actually this isn’t the quote I’d made a note of; it’s the preceding  sentence which I saw again today and it seemed to just fill out the context for me. Anyway, after a few moments of quietness and thought, the author concludes:

‘I somehow intuited that the most powerful, significant , and influential  action I could take to change the course of this kind of history, was to hide in a monastery.’

He goes on to reflect that by doing so – living simply, in a community devoted totally to contemplation and prayer – he could become a tiny part of ‘the turning of the tide’.

Years later, reading Thomas Merton‘s diaries, he discovered that Merton had felt the same way, concluding that those living simple, prayer filled, contemplative and quiet lives were ‘keeping the universe from crashing in pieces and falling apart.’

There is a strong sense among contemplatives, hermits, nuns, monks, that this is their function: keeping the whole thing going. Or as our author says, each playing a tiny part in the big picture. I would say, like I know Merton did many times (and acted upon his words), that action in the world is absolutely necessary; it’s just that it can’t do all the work alone.

In our hermitage we too speak often of these ideas, and think about them deeply and try to realise how they affect our lives as hermit monks.

So, hiding in a monastery? Or in a hermitage? It’s true it’s very much a hidden life in many ways. For me though, it’s not about  being hidden, it’s more about just what Black Elk says, I’m trying to make my every step a prayer.

Speaking for myself, it’s not that I’m unwilling to pray for a specific individual, or for peace in such and such a country, or relief from poverty, and oppression for specific individuals or communities.

It’s more that: picking and choosing in that way risks leaving people and issues out inadvertently or through some unconscious bias.

I have chosen to live this life apart as much as possible from the world in order to minimise the anxiery being ‘out there’ causes me, to have the quiet, the time, the ‘head and heart’ space to simply pray. To make of my life a prayer

Let every step you take upon Mother Earth be as a prayer

Black Elk (Ogala Lakota Holy Man)

My partner hermit is fond of reminding me of the well known aphorism that a stone dropped in a pond will make ripples that spread out and out. Just like the vibes – the vibrations – emanating from a prayerful life, from all the prayerful lives.

The Hermits (and the Lion) Sleep Tonight

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The Lion Sleeps Tonight. That’s the song name I always think of. Sometimes you might hear it called Wimoweh. While it’s the song’s Zulu title, it’s actually not a real word: it references a mishearing (and subsequent recording by a group in the early ’50s) of Uyimube (the original chorus) which is Zulu for you are a lion.

In any case, I feel like I’ve known the song all my life. I suppose I have: it was a smash hit when I was seven or eight years old. It’s been one of those songs that have stuck, become a constant presence, to be hummed occasionally, to be sung even less frequently, heard rarely, but loved and familiar.

Anyway, recently (in March I think) my affection for the song surfaced. I was thinking about something my partner hermit had said about creativity and suddenly the melody to The Lion Sleeps Tonight came into mind.

That melody, and my memory of the lyrics then became integral to the poem I wrote to express some of my thoughts about my partner hermit’s statement. It helped me say what I had to say.

I hope you like it – the song – Listen to the Tokens doing their version from 1961; check out the lyrics too. It’s a happy song, a reassuring song of safety and love.

With that I humbly offer my poem. Enjoy

THE HERMITS SLEEP TONIGHT

A creative way to start the day.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

In Samsara’s jungle there is a village, a suburban village.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Near the village – no, in the village
the hermits sleep tonight.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

The walled enclosure,
their very own paradise,
like a castle keep,
keeps them safe.
A peaceful way, a peaceful way.

Hush my sisters; hush my brothers.
No need to fear the jungle.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Day breaks; Surya rises.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Sleeping hermits gather, to break the fast.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Fast broken, sacred tea imbibed.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way

The hermits begin, begin their day of prayer.

A creative way to start the day.
A prayerful way, a prayerful way.

Realisation of Reality; It started With a Joke

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‘I like looking at you,’ says the hermit.

‘You must be sick in the head,’ replies, as quick as  you like, his partner hermit of 40 odd years. (Obviously an old and oft shared joke).

‘Of course I’m sick in the head,’ bursts out of the hermit in response. ‘It’s like saying the sun comes up every morning. It’s a given, a simple fact of life.’

Problem is, it’s not true is it? the sun I mean; it doessn’t come up does it? Doesn’t go down either for that matter. I mean it looks like it rises up every morning, and it looks  like it goes down every night. But it doesn’t. In reality it’s us here on planet Earth who are doing the turning.

At ‘sunrise’, our home planet in its continual revolving has us looking at a stationary star (our Sun, Sol, Surya) that is, rather than going up, just sits there as we revolve downwards leaving it behind, Same story at night with the sunset, just the other way round.

Our experience when looking at this scene is that the sun is going down behind the hills. But in reality it’s the hills and river and the viewer going up as Earth rovolves. Hard to get one’s head around.

To explain what we see, what we experience – or rather what our ancestors saw and sought to explain – the simplest, most obvious thing to do is tell it like we see it. Sounds obvious enough, but as we’ve just seen, the story we inherited and which was only recently (in historical terms that is) shown to be incorrect, of the rising and the setting of the sun was based on an illusion,

As to the hermit and his story – the long-held believed to be true story – well, if we’ve been able to establish that stories we tell ourselves are often based on illusions, then perhaps the hermit can look for another story concerning the state of his head health, that is based a little more on facts, not so much on illusion.

Or to put it in other words: It’s quite possible that if the truth of the matter is that the sun never goes up and never  goes down, then just maybe the hermit is not actually sick in the head.

Except perhaps when it comes to old jokes shared between beloved partner hermits.

Don’t Stick Your Feet Out

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Just now (as in earlier today) I had some perfectly natural, normal, and expected thoughts about my prayer life. If I’m to be honest though, and perhaps a tad overly tough on myself, the thoughts I had felt slightly ridiculous given my professed commitment to praying constantly, and my supposed understanding of the meaning and function of prayer.  In other words, there I was again: putting some kind of unrealistic expectations on myself – again!

Anyway, enough of that. To sum up those thoughts: I was thinking they – my prayers – aren’t working. Nothing is happening. And I was asking myself questions: What’s been achieved? What’s coming from all the effort? Where are the results?

And then, exactly at the moment I was writing down those thoughts and questions, I lifted my eyes from my notebook to see my partner-hermit approaching.

‘It’s my blessing at the moment,’ she said walking by my chair.

Why did she say that?

Because, right there before my eyes was evidence that none of my ridiculous thoughts and questions on my prayer life, had any meaning whatsoever. There was the answer, walking past me.

As I said, right there before my eyes.