Varuna and Surya. the Hindu deities of sky and all Earth’s waters (Varuna), and our sun (Surya). These names resonate for me. I like how such great natural phenomena fundamental to our existence on this planet, can be ‘personalised’ in this way.
I find that having acquired symbolic or representational names for sky, water, and sun, has allowed me to somehow relate to the inherent giving and preserving of the energies that power all life that water, sky, and sun provide in a prayerful, thankful way. Kind of makes it personal.
Let me put aside for a moment the obvious scientific reality that tells us we can’t live long without water, can’t live at all without the gases in our atmosphere, and if the sun goes dark for whatever length of time it is, then all life ceases to exist.
How many times have I stood in awe watching a sunset?
Or watched as big waves rolled in with a surfer hoping for a ride?
How many times have I welcomed the sound of rain on a roof and the sight of it nourishing trees or other life
And how many times have I sat on or walked along a riverbank feeling uplifted and a little more grounded?
Many, many times is the short answer. Varuna and Surya are constant presences in our lives. And I am grateful for the life-giving and life-sustaining natures of their existence.
Sharing with you today, a little poetic expression of one of those times when sky, water, and sun, gave me just a little more than those fundamental material energies.
ONCE AGAIN VARUNA AND SURYA
Once again, Varuna and Surya are coming to make rescue. They arrive on – as in fact they are – the currents and eddies of the river of life. In this way, the natural order remains in motion.
Shared with love
from Paul the hermit
Flow river go, past the shady tree. Flow river flow, flow to the sea. Flow river flow, flow to the sea.
Thanks to Roger McGuinn for one of the classic flowing on a river songs.
Today, a poem and a photo for you. I made the photo just over a year ago, and was very fond of it from the start. Then when I put into an editing app, it evolved to what you see today.
As well as that, as I ‘worked on’ the image, the little poem, (a kind of freestyle Haiku I think it could be called … sort of!) just emerged and I had to hurry to write it down.
Last night I was going through some poems of mine, and came across this one again. Not so much that I’d forgotten about it, more that I hadn’t thought of it since way back then.
So, I went on a search for the photo (also not forgotten, just buried deep in the hard drive!), so I could share it and the poem here with you on this blog. First the photograph:
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.
Surya’s life-giving energies shine upon scattered and drifting, yet converging, patches dotting the clear blue sky. Silver linings, so they say, granted to those scattered grey clouds.
Those clouds, those grey scattered and converging clouds, bless. Bless the domain of Varuna, God of the skies with the potential for change. All forms change.
Clouds, silver-lined or no, are Varuna, for he is also God of the skies. And now, with clouds’ convergence, the expectancy ends: the change begins.
The Sun, still present, yet his light blotted out by those very clouds – joins Varuna In the form of the cloud. Alchemy.
From the convergence of energy and matter water droplets emerge; Varuna has remanifested, and falls to wet Earth below.
To cleanse the dust from all things living and non-living. From the feathers of the winged-ones; From the fur of the four-legged; To quench the thirst of the Tree People. And to moisten the throats of us, the Two Legged.
Thank you my friends.
May your day be blessed by both Surya and Varuna, in the correct measure and balance that is for the benifit of all beings.
One of the key elements of the current temporary hermitage, the current safe-haven by the side of the road, is that it is literally two minutes walk from a very uncrowded and quiet coastal beach.
It is a place of golden sands (I know that’s a cliche but in this case I have the evidence!), gentle wave action, and the promise of a possible serenity of a kind I’ve not been close to for a long while.
While I don’t visit this little slice of Pacific coast every day, I get to walk and or sit there several days a week. And when I do, I find that it’s always uplifting and relaxing. A reminder too, of my oneness with all nature. All of us are actually nature, along with every other living thing on our planet (and of course elsewhere too).
Today, for the second time I built a little ‘shrine’ on the sand. Walking away from my little temporary temple, a poetic voice entered my mind and wrote itself a few lines. Too engrossed in the moment, I neglected to record it on my phone, so when I got back to the hermitage I wrote it as remembered.
And now, I would like to share it with you. I am grateful that I am actually able to share it, so thank you.
WE STAND ON SACRED GROUND
I planted the branch, the branch of a fallen tree person. On the beach, in the sand of the beach.
And I built a shrine around that branch. A pop-up shrine. Shells, stones, and a piece of coal.
A shrine to Varuna. A shrine to Surya, to Saraswati. A shrine to all the gods of Earth, Sky, Water. A shrine to the gods of all beings.
A shrine on the beach is subject to tidal flow. And soon, this simple shrine, pop-up and temporary in nature, will be engulfed.
Lord Varuna will make his claim. What has emerged, must always return.
Remember that old Bee Gees‘ song Words? It’s about one person offering all they have to another. Well, the one doing the offering must have been a writer because, while the song’s a love story, it’s words that are the big thing on offer here:
It’s only words, and words are all I have To take your heart away
Well, as this is a blog, words are the way it hopes to reach your heart. Actually, the posts also include photos and sometimes other art, but the main vehicle used here is words.
So, with that in mind I have a couple of words to offer you today. Well, one word and its opposite. Have a look at this sentence from Thomas Merton:
If Irish monks affirmed his Celtic spirit in their mastery of cataphatic contemplation of the wonders of divinity in nature, Buddhist monks evoked his Zen mind and drew him into the apophatic path of formless ’emptiness’…
As sentences go (though this is obviously only part of a sentence) this has to rank pretty close to the top for length and denseness.
Kataphatic. What a word! Of course I had to look it up; I’d never heard the word before (this post is a rewrite from notes written a while ago that I never got around to posting.), and even though the sentence seems to suggest the meaning, I was still curious.
Looking at Wikipedia – where they spell it with a ‘C’ like Merton, as well as with a ‘K’- I learned that cataphatic is an adjective that describes an approach to theology that uses ‘positive terminology to describe or refer to the divine (God, Truth, Dharma, Spirit. You know what I mean: the divine).
Apophatic, as you probably figured out already, is when one uses ‘negative terminology to indicate what it is believed the divine is not’. A process of negation or we could say you get to what the divine is by a process of elimination.
Pretty simple concept really, but with a couple of big words to label it, and a lot of words to define it. No, don’t worry, I won’t bore you with the meaning and origin of the words and all the rest. Mainly because I don’t know and I’m not especially interested anyway in all that technical stuff.
I simply resonated with the word, and the concept. Cataphatic made me think of Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious in Mary Poppins. But let’s not go there: this is a serious blog after all. Except to say there’s more to that word than you might imagine.
Putting aside the aesthetic appeal of the word for a minute, let’s contemplate a while on cataphatic, and it’s opposite, apothatic.
To begin thinking about these two words, it’s necessary to acknowledge the existence of the divine. We can call it God, if we like. Or Dharma, Truth, Spirit, Love, Beauty.
As the quote suggests, a cataphatic approach, ideology, theology, or whatever we call it, ascribes names and forms to the divine, as well as describing where and in what the divine may reside.
Whereas apothatic, again as the quote suggests, does not ascribe names and forms to the divine. Instead it seeks to discover what or who god is or isn’t by a process of negation as described already.
For a long time I labelled myself as a Humanist. I had decided that this physical body is all there is; the physical or material universe is all there is, and that there is no ‘god’ separate from us or who has special powers to affect our lives. No God at all in fact.
In the Grove of the Sentinals
But, all that while, I just knew that there was something else, something more than just the physical. And over time, I came to the knowledge that there is indeed more than the simply phsical universe (including we humans).
I’ve thought about it a lot over the years and I came to the conclusion not that many years ago, that I had simply been afraid to name or define that something more. It would have meant admitting to myself that something more really did exist.
That is to say, I was scared of taking the cataphatic approach – and I’d never even heard the word.
Well brothers and sisters, I saw the light. The truth was revealed to me. And what is that truth? Well, to put it simply, I wasn’t scared anymore. Not of names and forms, and not of what I couldn’t see.
Now I could take both the Catophatic and the Apothatic approach: that the something else I had actually always known just was, really is, and can have a name and form, or not. The divine is not an omniscient being or any kind of being at all; As I’m very fond of saying, the divine (or truth, God, Dharma) simply is. And it’s all there is.
Some of you might know that I am really quite fond of the Indian deity, Ganesha . Do I believe that a man with the head of an elephant actually exists or ever existed?. Of course not. Do I actually think that he resides in the lovely painted icon that sits by my bed? Well, obviously not.
But do I believe that there is a spark or aspect or attribute in all life, in you and me, in nature, in (scary word time) creation, that we can tap into to help us overcome obstacles? Or that we can access when we begin new ventures of whatever kind, or when we need strength to face challenges? Yes, I do. Very definitely.
And do I believe in a blue boy called Krishna who lived in India 5000 years ago and spent his time playing in the fields with the village cows and his friends, entertaining them with his flute? Again, of course not. Does he live in the other beautiful icon by my bed? The answer is obvious: no.
But do I chant the Hare Krishna mantra in an effort to come closer to the divine that is… well, that just is? Yes, again, very definitely.
Words. It’s all only words. Only words? Only??
In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the word was God. (from the opening of the Gospel of John)
Notes from the Hermit's Cave 