Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Musings on one Hermit's life & world

The Q&A in the Scripture Part 3

Posted on October 16, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Welcome to another installment in our occasional series (see links to all previous installments at the end of this post) looking at some of the answers given by Krishna to his cousin Uddhava during a kind of Q&A session that takes place as both are about to leave their hometown which is on the brink of war. Krishna’s returning to Heaven, while Uddhava is heading for parts – and a future – unknown.

Hence all the questions around living a good true life, all driven by the knowledge that Krishna isn’t going to be around anymore to give Uddhava life advice.

And the question we’re discussing today is certainly a big one. In fact, though it is a single part of a three part question, I felt inclined to give it our full attention. To me it is that significant. In fact, thinking about it now, I could even add here that of all the questions and answers, this one could stand alone as the question, the answer.

To the question then, as asked by Uddhava to Krishna:

What is Charity?

Well, although I thought I knew what the word charity meant, and what charity is, I did end up looking it up, just to get a clearer and deeper picture.

Yes, a charity is an organization set up to give aid to those in need. And, as I also knew, charity is the voluntary giving of help – often in the form of money or other material goods – to those in need.

All just as I’d thought. But, then, I came across another entry that filled out the picture for me a little more. In addition to the above, this listing told me that the ‘true meaning‘ of charity is generosity and helpfulness.

Again, it specifies that this generosity, this helpfullness, is usually extended to the ‘suffering and needy’. Still it suggests that charity may be at least a little more universal an attitude toward functioning in the world, a world shared with so many other living beings.

(note from me: This latter definition comes from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. I’ve used this dictionary a great deal, and for very many years. It’s been my favourite go to, as they say.

PRESS THE PAUSE BUTTON PLEASE

Right, yes, I hear you loud and clear. Here I am going on as if this is a semantics blog. Sorry about that. Perhaps we should get back on track and allow Krishna to give the answer Uddhava and the rest of us have been waiting for:

Charity is the renunciation of aggression.

Perhaps you can see why I was at first a bit taken by surprise, and I puzzled over it for a while. Then after seeing that Merriam-Webster definition, I knew I’d found a clue: generosity and helpfullness.

Then it came to me: Ahimsa!! No, this is not some obscure exclamation reserved for Eureka! moments. Rather Ahimsa is a foundational principle underpinning many of the great religious traditions of India.

For me, Ahimsa is basically doing no harm, the practice of non-violence towards all living beings, through one’s thoughts, words (speech), attitudes, actions.

However because life is complicated (ie: there are no easy answers), various schools of thought over time have developed a kind of modification in which they say that Ahimsa is choosing to tackle the complexities of our lives in the world in such a way that we do as little harm as possible.

But how, one might ask, can we expand those dictionary definitions to include Ahimsa? Well, as far as I’ve been able to think about it so far, I’d say that Krishna’s answer itself is the root that we can graft those definitions onto

Which is to say, renouncing aggression is that root, that foundation on which to base the cultivation of charity and a charitable attitude and manner in our relationship with ourselves, with all other beings, and with the planet (and the rest of the Universe too of course).

(By the way, thank you to my Partner Hermit for that word: charitable. Not that I didn’t already know the word, obviously, it’s just that at the time I just could not find it anywhere in my slow-moving brain!)

That open, generous, helpful, compassionate, patient, kind, thoughtful (oh let me count the applicable words!), that charitable demeanour and behaviours with which we engage with the world (and with ourselves) are the result of removing aggression from our thoughts, words, and deeds.

Actually, thinking about cause and effect, and effect and cause, for a second: the way towards that state of charity is the same. In other words the means and the end don’t only justify each other, they are each other. One thing.

Don’t be ready for fight or flight each time you communicate with your boss, or your spouse, or your child, or your parent. Or with anyone else in any situation you find yourself in.

Listen to and observe with patience, care, compassion, and your full attention, the needs of others. Don’t assume you know best. And include yourself in this paying attention.

Look before you leap. Stop, listen, think, pause, before jumping into any situation that needs understanding, calm, quiet and time to alleviate any possible confusions, or misunderstandings.

If you make a mistake (or is it when?), don’t be so hard (aggression?) on yourself. Be just as open, friendly, forgiving, patient and the rest, with you as you would like to be with everyone else.

As to ‘generosity and helpfullness to the needy and suffering’? Well, all living beings suffer simply in the act of living itself. We are all well aware of this. The degree and forms of this suffering (and the needs that cause the suffering) will always vary, but even so, they are inevitable.

There’s a small mantra or prayer, I often use to end other prayers or reading, that I’ve always liked a lot:

Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti

I have always thought that this was simply a prayer to the Divine that included the repetition of the word for peace three times.

Of course it is that, but recently I heard that it’s structured in this way with the three repetitions to make of it a deeper or more universal prayer:

Shanti: Peace within myself
Shanti: Peace to all living beings
Shanti: Peace to the world itself

I may have the words slightly off, but the essence is there. Anyway, for me this really does sound like Charity.

If you’ve missed earlier posts in this series please click on the links below

New Series Coming Soon: An Introduction

The Q&A in the Scripture: Part 1

The Q&A in the Scripture Part 2

Spotted on a Sand dune: A Poetic Sharing

Posted on October 12, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

With the current hermitage located not so much on the side of the road, as right on the side of a large sand dune system, you might imagine that I am at and on the beach every day.

While almost every day, I walk the track that follows the crest of the dunes in this particular area, I’ve only actually gone down to the beach itself a handful of times.

So, yesterday as start to my resolve to make amends for this omission, I climbed the dune, ignored the crest track leading left and right, and continued straight on and down the other side of the dune, and onto the beach itself. My intent was to spend an hour or so walking along the tide line.

And so it was.

Judging by such rare experience of the beach itself, I might easily say I am no ‘beachcomber’; no discoverer of coastal treasures, little natural beauties from the sea, or even the occasional oddity one might expect washed up. Until yesterday that is.

Not that I went to ‘comb’ the beach: rather I was there trying to put myself on the receiving end so to speak, to be a receptacle for what I might be blessed with (not to forget the need for exercise and movement).

And so it was.

This sense of grace and blessings, I hope I’ve conveyed in the small poetic effort (as well as its companion photo) that I now share with you.

SPOTTED ON THE SAND DUNE

Strolling (briskly mind you) along the sands,
There I was – deep in the liminal zone.
Ankle-deep – sometimes – seawater cooling my feet.
One way to receive Varuna’s blessings.

Back on dry sands (still in the liminal zone) I pause
to examine a spiral shell – an elegant and delicate sea creature.
It lives. Reverently, I move it to deeper water.

As I rise from my small task of union, of reunion,
I glance – still within the liminal zone – upwards.
There, near the crest of the sand dune sits a chair.
An armchair I spotted right there on the sand dune.

There it was, facing me – and the sea – in the middle of nowhere.
Though this is clearly somewhere for somebody.
The perfect perch for taking in
Pacific views.

Empty chair, lonely sight
overlooking the liminal zone.

When One Word is Actually Two & Becomes One Again

Posted on October 8, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

‘It’s good practis/ce sitting out here.’ So said my partner hermit as we sat sipping post evening meal tea on our little front porch that happens to face exactly due west.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask: ‘Do you mean it’s a good thing (practice) to be doing regularly as in Sadhana, a spiritual practice? In other words is it a good habit to cultivate?

‘Or do you mean it’s good as a kind of training – as practise – in improving our ability to sit in quiet and stillness?’

As I say, these questions were on the tip of my tongue, but then: Blog Alert!!. So, in a rare moment of triumph I managed to hold my tongue (metaphorically speaking) and let those questions sift through my mind so that later (it’s now the next day) a post to share with you might emerge.

So, here we are, setting the scene for this post. I know it’s about words, about language. Semantics is what it could be about, given that it’s about words and their meanings.

But, aren’t words simply symbols for the things they describe or represent? And so often semantics involves quibbles over meanings.

So let’s not make this about semantics, no quibbling required here. You see what set off the Blog Alert!!! was that here was the one word, that is actually two distinct words each with their own meanings, that just happen to sound alike.

Still no quibbling though: we don’t need to pick and choose between meanings – actual and/or intended. Two words, two symbols, two meanings (one for each word that is), so we can choose not to choose – remember no quibbling.

We can realise that in the context, both words are equal and correct. Both may be acknowledged as being meaningful to and in the moment, to the situation.

Lately I think I’ve been saying quite a lot about silence quiet – quietude – peace and calm. Stillness also. All are the same thing: all are states in which we might realise the truth of our natures as divine.

Anyway, we had just finished our evening meal, and now sat with tea, having just witnessed the last remnants of the sun sink below the horizon (or was it the horizon coming up to meet and finally hide the sun?).

Quietly sitting, relaxing you might say, in post sunset peace and quiet, with only the occasional and softly spoken conversation going on.

Then that comment from my partner hermit, sharing that sitting as we were is good practis/ce.

Certainly for one such as me who has great difficulties in being quiet, being still, and cultivating silence, such occasions of quiet sitting (with tea naturally) is excellent practise, good training in the changing of long-established and conditioned habits and behaviours.

And, as such, it is a most excellent practice to cultivate, a great thing to do (I’d say action to take, but somehow that feels not quite right) to cultivate stillness and silence. I’ve written elsewhere that to cultivate or to rediscover silence is to realise that silence already existent as the divine, as consciousness, as all and everything.

My partner hermit is one of the wise ones, a sage. One spoken word that actually contains two words, two symbols, each with its own meaning, that finally merge into One.

No quibbling.

The Q&A in the Scripture: Part 2

Posted on October 7, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Namaste

And welcome to Part 2 of The Q&A in the Scripture series in which we are looking at the answers given by Krishna to a list of questions asked by his cousin Uddhava in a scripture called the Uddhava Gita.

Remember the scene? Uddhava has asked Krishna a pile of questions about how to live a good life, how to live in the world with discernment.

These questions have become urgent because the cousins are about to leave their hometown which is on the brink of war. Both will be going their separate ways and both know they won’t be seeing each other for a while – perhaps never again.

Anyway, moving right along: In our last installment, we had Uddhava asking the first of his questions; this one happens to have two parts:

What is quietude and what is self-control?

We discovered that quietude is not the state in which one finds peace, silence, our true selves, or the Divine, but is itself that consciousness, that pervades and permeates all that is, silence, peace. In other words, quietude is the Divine itself.

In the present post, we move to the second of Uddhava’s two-part question: what is self-control? Krishna’s answer is excellently short and sweet:

Dama (self-control) is restraint of the senses.

Krishna in his response, makes it clear that restraining the (one’s own) senses includes mind as a kind of sixth sense in addition to the five physical senses. In the context you could almost say that it’s his mind that Uddhava is in most need of restraining. Maybe that’s the message for all of us?

Well, we are all well aware of the ways in which we have tried to control our senses; Uddhava knows too. But look at the situation these two cousins find themselves in:

It’s fine for Krishna: he’s returning home to Heaven, or wherever. But, Uddhava, who is also about to leave, is facing more uncertain prospects. He’s experiencing great turmoil, and fear over his and his familiy’s safety as the threat of war closes in. Most likely he’s also grieving over having to go into exile from his ancestral home.

Of course he’d be fearful for the future: where will he go? What will he do? How will he protect and provide for his family? Like I said, an onslaught of mental and emotional anguish.

Still, it does seem that Uddhava is maintaining quite a steady presence of mind. He’s thinking about the future; he is clear about the sort of stuff he needs to find out from his cousin (remember Krishna is God) in order to put and keep his life on the right track despite the challenges facing him now and in the future.

Then there’s the fact that this self-control thing is only one question on a list of 36. Clearly Uddhava is looking for a lot of advice.

Restrain the senses – all six of them – Krishna says. But how? What does it mean, ‘restrain the senses’? I think I alluded to the notion that we all have some ideas, some clues, about how we as individuals might restrain them, but let’s personalise this: What does it mean for me to restrain my senses?

Actually, now I’ve made that suggestion, I feel overwhelmed: Where would I start? Surely I need to do a whole series of posts, just on this one topic alone?

Oh wait, I can start right there. Exaggeration, hyperbole, over-dramatising, catastrophizing, all perfect examples of emotional reactions leaping from an unrestrained senses central: my mind.

Let’s put aside that mental stuff for a little while, and just say that all those emotional responses could do with a bit more restraining training. Just looking at the physical senses to begin with, I can easily say that they also, at least some of them sometimes, need various degrees of working on.

First, my sense of taste: it goes into overdrive sometimes, and then I eat too much. Not so much as in the past, but the restraint has a way to go still.

My sense of sight is pretty good, well restrained for the most part. But there are times when I lapse into old habits and spend too much time looking at a screen and scrolling in a mindless kind of way. Getting there though!

As for my sense of hearing: You might remember a post from a while ago when I talked about letting go of much of my music collection, some of which I’ve listened to my whole life. I’m doing this because so much of what used to be ‘my favourite’ songs or artists, no longer serve my spiritual growth, nor does much of it reflect the view of life and the world that I’m trying to cultivate.

Well, I’ve made a good start, but occasionally I slip and find myself humming old tunes, or listening to an album that I really ‘should have’ deleted already. Restrained? Sort of, and I’m still encouraged.

Enough! Let’s get straight to the biggie: my mind. If I’m honest, I have to say that my mind, while not exactly in full agreement with my efforts at restraint, is starting to get into sync with me and my aspirations for a more controlled mind.

But still, those previously mentioned emotional reactions like exaggeration, over-dramatising and the rest, are still there. Falling into line, it’s true, still … .

Then there is the (more than) occasional first port of call reactions to pieces of news of various kinds: I’m prone to ask, just as I imagine Uddhava might have: Why don’t ‘they’ control themselves? Why can’t he or she or such and such country or politician show a little restraint?

Yes, I know, we’re all guilty of this one to some degree or other.

My quickness to anger is not quite, but almost, might soon be, won’t be long before it is, a thing of the past.

Then, there’s my tendency to ruminate: rehash endlessly real and imagined events and other stuff from the past – as well as the always imagined possibilities (as well as the impossibilities) for the future.

Again, I know I’m not alone in this emotional roller coaster ride, and I do know that I am nowhere near as much of a ruminator as I was; I have made great strides, significant inroads, and I am encouraged that the end of rumination is getting closer!

And now, here is the one thing I tend to think of one of my biggest, most tiresome and tedious, most annoying conditioned emotional responses: I talk too much. Not as much as I used to, but still too much for my comfort, and for the peace of mind of those around me. More restraint is called for.

Restraint has played its part in reducing my talking. But in a sense the major ally has been the ongoing quest I’m engaged in to discover my true nature, as consciousness, which is really my oneness with all that is.

And here our second question and answer leads us right back to the first: quietude.

I wrote in that post:

Quietude, calmness, peace of mind, are not where you will find God, consciousness, or whatever we call it. Quietude and the rest are God. They are consciousness.

Or putting it the other way round: cultivate silence, calm, peace of mind, and your senses will no longer need to be restrained. Your whole Self, including body and mind, will then be resting in Quietude, in your true nature.

That’s why I think these two questions are asked and answered together: Each leads to the other: by restraining our senses we are more easily able to achieve a state of calm, quiet, some level of peace of mind – in other words, Quietude.

I Confess: I have an Ego

Posted on September 22, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Today I scrapped a planned post that I’d been meditating on, angsting over, and making notes for, over the last several days. And now, I’m thinking about my reactions to this startling event. Startling in that it’s not as if this is the first time. Not even close. So what’s the situation with this not so rare occurence? Let me try to explain.

To begin, let me say that I haven’t quite subdued my Ego. Not in the sense of both my attachment to my own actions as well as not in my false identification with this body and mind. Both are still going quite strong.

Mind you, having said that I need to be honest and confess that I don’t feel like I’m an ego maniac (in either meaning of the word as I see it).

Stop! Get to the point will you?

Okay sorry. The point is I still get affected by having to dispose of a project I’ve worked long and hard on. There: I’ve said it.

Of course it’s not that such an event bruises my ego (the attachment and ‘pride’ meaning this time). So why? Why does such a thing still get to me? I think it is simply a sense of disappointment that I’ve failed at an endeavour that I had thought important.

Ah, so it is ego then? Yes, I suppose it’s true. Ego and attachment. Both are of the mind and they love playing those old old mind games in which they have the final word.

I’ve written before about my attachment to the desire to write more often, in more quantity , and with more quality. So, no need to revisit that topic. Unless of course you want to.

Anyway, why do I write what and how I do? Why do I publish this blog?

Well, if you have read the Welcome and About the blog page, you will learn that this blog is an element in my ongoing quest to fully realise the oneness of all life – which of course means all of you, me and everything that exists.

Also on that page I think I say that I, as a hermit retreating more and more from the entanglements of the world, nevertheless feels a strong sense that I need to share my life with the world – again, that’s you.

So, my writing is about my life. It’s about me opening up about my experiences, my learnings, my ideas, and any occasional insight I might be blessed with. As well, I write to share my aspirations for, and my reflections on, the spiritual journey – at least my little bit of it.

And I do that by thinking, meditating, sometimes writing then posting the conclusions. Or as happened today, I think, meditate, write, throw away writing, then don’t post.

In a sense there is no need for disappointment when that happens. I’m always aspiring to write from my heart, and share what I hope is in alignment with the Absolute Reality, or if you like, the Divine, or the will of God.

In other more straightforward words what comes out onto the page is supposed to, and, if at some point along the path what emerges ceases to ‘feel right with the Universe’, then throwing it all away is easy and ego and attachment free. Well that’s the theory I’m going to try to work from.

What I’m trying to say is that my writing in general and this blog in particular, is not my property; I don’t own any of it. All of it belongs to that Absolute Reality in the form of the natural order and flowing or unfoldment of the Universe.

Belonging to that Absolute Reality, to the Universe in other words, then it is yours too. Everbody’s and everything’s.
So I thank you for allowing me to share my life with you.

PS If my ego ever pops up again, just ignore it. One day I hope to do just that!

Reflections on a Word

Posted on September 17, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Did you know that Thoreau, when he was staying at Waldon Pond would sometimes sit on the front steps of his cabin right after sunrise.

Often he would look up and discover that it was already midday or even late afternoon; he’d spent those several hours in a reverie.

Being in a reverie is most often described as being a pleasant experience, just like a nice day-dream. It is also universally (at least in the context of my short Google searches) described as being ‘lost in thought’, as well as being a place of fantasy, a place in which fanciful and impractical ideas are born.

In other words, a reverie while being pleasant, does not seem to be looked upon as a useful, productive, or worthwhile experience.

I’ve been thinking about the word, reverie, and the state to which it refers for a couple of days now. In fact since I read the anecdote opening post in a truly wonderful and illuminating book called Thoreau’s Quest: Mysticism in the Life and Writings of Henry David Thoreau, by Paul and Anna Hourihan.

The outcome of this contemplation and the above-mentioned little bits of Googling, is that I don’t agree at all with the dictionaries when they tell us that reveries are almost useless and have little or no benefits.

Even the Hourihans dismiss the value of reveries when compared to the practice of formal meditation. Listen to what they say:

There is a difference between the two. Meditation means effort, concentration of the total mind. What Thoreau has experienced is reverie – passive, beautiful and enchanting, but not true meditation.

My reaction to this dismissal? Well, I say, what’s wrong with an experience that is passive (there might be a book in the idea that reveries might not be all that passive after all) beautiful and enchanting?

And on the other side? Why is it seen as virtuous to be always making efforts and concentrating the total mind all the time? Speaking for me and I suspect several billion other people, I get tired, always trying, making effort, always concentrating and the rest.

I’m not saying at all that I’m not in favour of meditation. Indeed, I spend hours each day (in theory that is) in some kind of effortful, concentrated meditation. But, really, isn’t it nice now and again to just give up the effort, lose concentration, just for a bit? Just rest.

Of course when one’s mind wanders in reverie, fanciful ideas and thoughts will arise. Mind you it’s equally likely that some of those thoughts and ideas won’t be fanciful, but be helpful. And you know, I doubt there’s a meditator in the universe who would not report exactly the same thoughts and fancies come up despite all their meditatory efforts and concentration That’s just how our minds work.

The notion of being ‘lost in thought’ is interesting to look at too. I don’t think it’s quite the right way to refer to what happens in reveries. At least not completely.

Was Thoreau really lost in thought when he would suddenly realise that several hours had passed without him being aware?

Perhaps it’s more likely that at least a proportion of those hours were spent in a thought free state, just as in deep sleep when our mind is absent.And we all know how restful and satisfying deep, dreamless sleep can be. Maybe that’s why reveries are described as ‘pleasant’ experiences.

My teacher talks about how sometimes when we’re listening to a favourite piece of music, we can become ‘lost in the music’. We all know how that feels. He then asks us to consider, what is it exactly that ‘gets lost’?

Well, just as with deep sleep or when in a state of Samadhi or deep meditation, it is the mind that disappears – along with its self-idenifying ego sense. In other words, whoever we think we are goes missing or absent for a while.

When I’ve experienced that state when listening to music, I would describe it as losing track of time, or rather not being aware of time at all. Thoughts come and go but don’t often stay long, ‘just floating by like clouds’ as someone recently described it to me. And afterwards when I return to ‘normal’ I sometimes have a sense that for a time I and the music were one, no separation or judgements, non-different.

And so it is when ‘lost’ in a reverie: the ego disappears; thoughts come and go. What’s left is the space between thoughts – a bit like the silence that exists between notes in a musical composition.

Some say that it is this silence, this space when mind and ego are absent, is where the divine is to be found. It is said, by some, that it is in this space, this silence, one may experience God, or Absolute Reality.

So, no ego; no monkey mind jumping about; no ‘I’ to interfere with the state of silence, stillness, and peace. And quiet!

And if one removes the letter ‘I’ from the word reverie? We are left with revere. Perhaps those who tell us that the silence is God, those who say that the absence of thoughts, ego and so on, allows us to detect the Divine, are onto something. That silence, and the process by which it is realised, are to be revered.

Being ‘lost’ (the dictionary’s word not mine) in a reverie might just be the most useful and the most productive (not the world’s definition, but more in the sense of the actions that make for the betterment of Self) thing we can do when the mood, the moment, and the inclination strike.

Follow the Way of Love

Posted on September 12, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Bhakti – intense devotion – leads to prayerful surrender which clears the mind of thoughts and concerns. Then, meditation is made possible.

Swami Tadatmananda

A recent favourite quote from my teacher, that is helping me a lot on my own spiritual journey. Wikipedia also describes Bhakti in terms of intense devotion, adding words such as faith, love, homage, worship.

The wonderful Wikipedia also tells us that Bhakti is a term common in Indian religions, which may refer to loving devotion towards a personal god, a formless god or an enlightened being such as Buddha. They add:

Bhakti is often a deeply emotional devotion based on relationship between the devotee and the object of devotion.

Then what of one (AKA me) who at least aspires to see all things – all living and non-living things, all of ‘creation’ – as the Divine? How does a ‘loving devotion’ towards God work when one is striving to fully realise that there is only the Divine?

In my heart I know that all there is is the Divine, or God. Or put another way: it’s not so much that the Divine is in everything, or that everything is divine; the sense I have and aspire to realize completely, is that everything is the Divine. One without a second, the teachers say.

(Just a quick disclaimer: my heart may be telling me that there is only the Divine, but the rest of me still has a lot of catching up to do)

So, how does it work? Well writing it down in words seems to make it sound very simple: if everything is the Divine, is God, then it’s simple logic to assume that devotion to the Divine means having loving devotion towards all and everything; for all of existence, for everything that is. For all of creation as some say.

Simple to say, yes. Not so easy to easy to actually attain such a state. Of course the first thing to say is that it isn’t a state to attain. I am a part (not quite the right word) of that creation, that divinity, and as there is only one without a second, then logic again tells us that I am that creation – just like you and everyone and everything else that exists.

As such, it would seem to be an easy matter of me simply loving myself which automatically includes everyone and everything else in the Universe in that love (note to self: make this little paragraph my new mantra).

Here is where that ‘thoughts and concerns’ thing comes in. We all know how our minds like to interfere and get involved with every little thing. The mind tries to convince us of our separation from other people and the rest of life too, while its ally the ego runs wild convincing us of the urgency of status, of possessing things, of competing (also status isn’t it?), acquiring more stuff and worldly knowledge and power.

The solution? The means to realize one’s love for all? Prayerful surrender – which our quote tells us is acquired through the practice of Bhakti or loving devotion.

But hold on: Isn’t the realisation of our love the very thing we want to achieve? So, we are to use a practice involving love to realize our love?

Ah yes: the means is the end. Now that’s a nice little insight don’t you think? But, still, Bhakti or loving devotion isn’t at all easy, even if you’re talking about a personal God or deity or the Divine; how much harder it is (speaking only for me here mind you) to suddenly love everyone and everything, to suddenly recognise everyone and everything as the Divine. Including, mind you, things and people I don’t like or have a distaste for or aversion towards.

So what I try to do is be open and receptive to things, ideas, concepts, other living beings, that resonate within me as representing the Divine. Then I make those things the objects of my devotion which means my prayers are prayed with a mood of love. Good vibes you see. They spread out like (my partner hermit says) ripples in a pond or even waves in the ocean. No need to think of who or what I don’t like; they’ll be affected by those ripples too.

You’ve read my prayer to the Divine Mother – the embodiment of the Divine qualities of love, nurture, compassion. And soon I hope to post my Prayer of praise and gratitude to Trees. In that prayer I express my love, praise, respect for, and gratitude to, trees.

So many people – even the non-spiritual – view trees as symbols of creation in action, strength, resilience, even compassion and shelter. In other words, the Divine.

To surrender my heart to such representatives of the Divine is my continual effort and prayer. I pray to fully surrender to the natural order and smooth running of the universe, or the Divine.

And that surrender will come through my continuing and growing loving devotion.

Now, the ‘meditation is made possible’ bit? Well we all know what meditation means don’t we? Pretty much as many meanings as there are people meditating (and many who are not!). In this context I think the meditation that’s made possible is more a kind of contemplation leading to a clear comprehension or understanding.

Contemplation of the entirety of the Universe (which includes you obviously) as one whole, undivided expression of love or the Divine.

Comprehension is understanding, in a final, complete truly ‘knowing’ way, that the things of the world – the status, the possessions, wealth, sensual pleasures – are not and never can be the means to attaining perfect peace and happiness.
Of course, the ‘things of the world’ continue to be important. After all, we are (at least our bodies and minds) things of the world too aren’t we?

But that contemplation of the totality as the Divine will help us to reduce our suffering by helping us to reduce our excessive desires or cravings for those worldly things.

I think I mentioned that Bhakti, loving devotion, can be difficult. It’s true it is often hard to focus on love and devotion, to always have your heart available and open. But, you know, it can actually be a very satisfying and enjoyable feeling, and I can say a really nice experience.

So, I hope some of the ripples (and some of the waves too), some of those good good vibes are making themselves known to you.

Thank you and my love to you

A Prayer to the Divine Mother

Posted on September 2, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Growing up Catholic, attending Catholic schools from age six to fifteen, going to Confession most weeks, going to mass once a week, oftentimes more, I was deeply immersed in a particular cultural environment of Catholicism. Over time I was (we all were) inculcated with, among other things, a deep love and a reverence for Mary, the mother of Jesus.

I say deep love. No, I’m not being quite precise enough to let it slide. Sure we were taught to love her, but in a kind of limited way. We should love her because she is the mother of Jesus. Not that being the mother of Jesus was what you would label a ‘limited’ role of course. But other than that we were taught to view Mary as an intercessor for us, a conduit if you like between us and our wants, and her son Jesus. So love yes, but a kind of conditional love.

Mind you I was always very fond of Our Lady as we called her. Through a serious dedication (for a time) to The Rosary, and the numerous Hail Marys imposed as penances in Confession, I grew close to her.

And, even as I moved on and out of that Catholic sub-culture and began to explore other ideas and ways of being, I still maintained that fairly deep reverence for Mary, a reverence that has pretty much stayed with me all my life. I only realised today that it wasn’t until quite recently that I stopped calling her Our Lady.

But, in truth, my concept of her evolved beyond her being the mother of Jesus. Indeed, I came to a point when I realised it wasn’t at all relevant if Mary herself was an actual historical figure or not (this was much much later though).

For me Mary had come to represent or symbolise the female aspect of the Divine. Still, in the early days, very dualistic of course, but a huge step from the ‘second place’ she occupied in the earlier days when we weren’t even allowed to worship her as Divine. Worship was reserved for God – who was emphatically and indisputably male, sitting in heaven, entry to which was held tightly in the hands of more males in a male controlled and dominated institution. Which, it does have to be said merely reflected the world it operated in.

Anyway, let’s jump ahead half a life time of, (shall we say for our purposes here?) living, to put ourselves into the present day. Well, recent times anyway.

To put a very long story into one sentence (again for our purposes here today) I will simply say that I moved away from Christianity and especially the denomination of my childhood. Okay, we need another sentence: In more recent times, through a whole lot of circuitous meanderings, I have come to realise that there is only God.

That is to say, all there is is God, only God, nothing else. ‘Not one God, only God.’ as my teacher’s teacher used to say.

*Earth Mother* (Courtesy of Amber Avalona, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons)

Nowadays I still love and revere Mary. As symbol. A symbol of the creative energies responsible for bringing the Universe into existence, and which is engaged in the ongoingness of its maintainance through the laws of nature. She is one manifestation among so many of this divine creativity. In a very real sense for me, she is the Divine Mother.

So, a prayer written by me to and for the Great Mother who manifests in whatever form – or no form – in which any of us may choose to worship and love her.

Hiccups on the Road to Enlightenment

Posted on August 16, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

These last couple of days I’ve been getting a good lesson in enlightenment. Wait, that’s a silly thing to say. What I mean is that these last couple of days I’ve been getting a good lesson in what it means to be not enlightened. That’s a bit better I think.

Not that I’m not receiving lessons all the time; the reality of not being enlightened, is that the entirety of one’s life is really one long ongoing lesson.

Anyway, moving right along.

We’re about to move to another hermitage, to one more safe-haven by the side of the road (in this case a very small, very quiet road). Obviously it’s a process we’ve been through quite a few times. This time, the concept excited us (well it usually does!) and the arrangements began on a smooth and happy note.

But, just as when any of us make a plan, take some action to fulfil that plan, and proceed from a good start, the path forward doesn’t always remain smooth and hiccup free.

And so it is this time with the hermits’ plan to relocate: one or two quite small hiccups have cropped up that we have had no control over.

‘Quite small’ are the key words here: it’s more my reaction to said hiccups that’s the point of this post.

You see, I’m not enlightened, nor am I the toughest kid on the block, and my skin’s not that thick. As well as that I’m no expert at letting things run off me like water off a duck’s back (guess who is a cliché lover?).

The hiccups under discussion themselves are trivial and as I say out of our hands. As such, they are not especially interesting to talk about.

Getting back to the water off a duck’s back thing: it’s actually a pretty neat description of what occurs when one in enlightened. Just a thought for now.

Contrary to popular myth, being enlightened isn’t a flash or some sort of mystical thunderbolt from heaven or from some other transcendental wherever, a flash that leads to bliss ongoing, superhuman or magical powers; It doesn’t render the enlightened one an intellectual or any other kind of giant.

And right to the point, being enlightened will not protect the enlightened one from the normal, natural apparently real troubles, ups and downs, pain, illnesses, sorrow and grief, and all the rest of being a physical creature living in a physical world.

What enlightenment does mean – in my interpretation at any rate – is the enlightened one is able to let these perfectly normal problems, hurts, pain, illness, and so on, (Oh the joy of repeating a great cliché) to roll off them like water off a duck’s back.

Of course the enlightened ones still experience the pain, the sadness, grief, the disappointments and so on; it’s just that those ones have attained to the knowledge – been enlightened to -that none of those things can really hurt them.

Sure they are still there, the pains in the body, the sadness or whatever in the mind. But the real us – the true Self that is the consciousness that witnesses all that’s going on in our lives right now – is unaffected.

That true Self, that Consciousness, is constant, it is and has always been existent and unchanging. All those pains in our bodies, those emotions, distress and the rest in our minds, will pass; they aren’t permanent. However that Self, that ‘I’ won’t pass, and it is permanent.

Anyway, back to the current topic. What happened to me was this: the hiccups refered to were minor – less than trivial in the context of the ‘real world’ – yet the disappointment resulting from one, and the annoyance coming from the other, were profound.

An enlightened person might say ‘That was disappointing.’ Or, ‘That was annoying.’ But me? Well I sank into a pit of negative emotions and negative (to put it mildly) thinking. I may as well have declared: ‘I am disappointment embodied. I am annoyance itself.’

Look dear reader, this was supposed to be a fairly light, quick telling of me reminding myself that the pains, sorrows and other stuff of the world can’t hurt me. That ‘me’ is the Self I talked about earlier, the ‘I’ who is, as I said, the witness to my experience here and now.

So, in conclusion as they say, all there’s left for me to say (in this post at any rate) is that I am most definitely not enlightened. Having said that, I wouldn’t say that I’m completely unenlightened. There was a time (a long stretch of time) when, far from letting things roll off me like water off a duck’s back, they very often overwhelmed and threatened to drown me.

Of course there is a lot more to be said on the subject of enlightenment. Suffice it to say that it is my dream and deep, deep aspiration to one day, one life (if there is indeed another one waiting for me) to get there, to realise enlightenment.

As The Seekers used to sing:

Some day, one day
time’s not so far away.

PS There is no need to worry. I feel a bit better now. I managed to gain a little perspective, a truer perspective. In fact gaining perspective is an important step on the path to enlightenment. The tricky thing about perspective though is hanging onto it once it’s been gained.

Salute to the Sun

Posted on August 12, 2024 by Notes from the Hermit's Cave

Namaste

In today’s post I’d like to share with you a photo. Actually, I share photos with you in just about every post don’t I? In fact, for me sharing photos (the vast majority of the ones I post on this blog are made by me.) is a really special and important element of my spiritual practice.

As is the actual making of them. My camera is – I think has always been – a tool for contemplation. Essentially, I wander around with my camera ready, my eyes open to see and receive, and with my heart and mind open. These last two are in the ‘much as I can’ category, but really that’s what I try to achieve: a kind of open, receptive, presence.

Then, sometimes, my eyes, mind, and heart all sort of see the same thing at the same time, or something draws my attention, or an insight dawns. Then, I raise my camera to my eye and the picture is made.

Anyway, let’s back to the topic. This isn’t a post about Contemplative Photography. My intention today is to share this photo with you.

It’s called At a Time of Prayer, and from the moment my senses, mind and heart too, coalesced to cause me to raise my camera to my eye and make the photo, it’s had a unique or special resonance for me.

And not only me: The photo has gone viral here at the hermitage, appearing on phone screens and tablet desktops and lock screens. And it appears very often in my thoughts and prayers, my contemplations and even in conversations.
Perhaps you will allow me to share the little story behind this image as well as a possible explanation for its hermitage wide fame, favour, and love.

About a month ago I was walking along the lake front in the seaside town hosting the hermits at the moment, heading home after a long walk. I was listening to and chanting a favourite mantra (one about removing obstacles).

Absorbed in the music and the vibe of the mantra, I looked up – seemingly at random – and saw, well what you see in the photo. Without thought or hesitation and simply instinctively, I raised my camera to make the picture.

Ah yes, I see what you mean. You are quite right, I can’t exactly say I saw the scene in tones of grey, not technically. Though the camera did actually see and record it in monochrome. Let me explain.

You see, sometimes I switch my camera to only make black and white photographs, with the intention of shifting my way of looking and seeing the world around me. It’s always amazing to me how differently I start seeing things, once I get used to the change. I never get tired of it really. Like magic!

Anyway, once I lowered my camera, I said a prayer to Surya, the divine in the form of the sun.

Everyday, each morning when I first get up, I go to a window in the hermitage that faces the rising sun. I give thanks and praise for the life given and sustained by the sun; I praise its beauty too and give thanks for its light and warmth. Today, although the cloud is mostly covering the sun, I know it is still there and still shining, giving us all life.

Okay, back to the moment of the making of the picture. It was after my small prayer – my Surya Namaskar – my salute to the Sun – that the name of the photo came to me: At a Time of Prayer.

That made sense to me: I was already praying before I made the photo, then after it was made, I once more said a prayer. It truly was a time of prayer.

Now, the big question: Why has this particular photo had such an impact here in this haven of the hermits? Why, even now, do I find it a really appealing focus for contemplation?

Despite it being a dramatic photograph of start contrasts between light and dark, it seems to me to exude a kind of serenity. Perhaps it’s precisely the balance of those contrasts that makes for a peaceful easy feeling in what otherwise might not be seen as a quiet and calm image.

And it may be just that serenity arising due to that balance that contributes to the sense I get when looking at the photo: All is well.

All is Well. Why sense that in particular? Perhaps because I was there at the time. Perhaps because I was praying, looked up at just that moment and all my senses led me, along with my camera, to make the picture.

And in a sense, it’s a moment I can relive and remem ber through the photo, especially given the prayerful, contemplative mood in which it was made. At that moment of making it did indeed seem that All’s well.

And now? I know that All is well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well (paraphrasing and with thanks to Julian of Norwich.)

There is too, the power and light of the sun illumining life, which here is represented in the form of the towering Pine Tree.

Yes, I sense that balance again. A kind of harmony also. This time between life itself and that which enables and supports life. It is good to contemplate balance and harmony.

Anyway, a gift given to me, now shared with you.