Monk in the World Guest Post: Jason M. Deutsch
I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Jason M. Deutsch’s reflection and poem “Whispers Beneath the Sacred Tree.”
“Men, driven by fear, go to many a refuge, to mountains and forests, to groves and sacred trees,” said the Buddha. “But that is not a safe refuge … a man is not delivered from all pains after having gone to that refuge.”
It’s very tempting to envision a life without any external noise or disruption. But to be a monk in the world seems to me to be about finding a sense of inner peace not only amidst sacred trees and distant mountains but also traffic jams and supermarket queues — and then to share that presence with others. It’s not easy and I have a long way to go, but I aspire to see all environments as opportunities for contemplative practice and creative expression.
Whispers Beneath The Sacred TreeAlone beneath the sacred treeWhose height and sturdy branches sayIt has seen many a pilgrim trek to its home,I speak only in whispers that touch the forest floor.I confide to my companion thatI come in search of absenceFrom the sounds that submerge the everydayAnd the echoes flooding back from its walls,Bringing only the soles of my feet with me.The earth-bound trunk has a wearied airAnd its bark feels rough against my hands,But it yields as I arch into its bodyAnd let my eyes close to the woodland.As I embrace my portrait of darknessMy ears long for the music of the forest,To hear the birds chanting in the branches,The cicadas crying out to the dusk,And the evening wind pass gently through the leaves.Yet the real-life soundtrack of nature is not thecrystal-clear symphonyI had composed at home.Now it is made cloudyby a distant hum on a dusty road,Muddiedby the screeching of tyres in a parking lot,And disruptedby the metallic clanging of closing doors.For I had envisaged a peace that livesin but a paper land of sacred trees,And amidst the jarring notesof reality's imperfect melody,No angel sings out with the harmonyNor ray of sun falls through the canopyTo illuminate the brown earthOn which I sit. A minute of restMarks the finale of my score,So I let my hands fallmotionless, to my knees.But the choir doesn't heed its mute conductor,And the whispers of the other silence-seekersContinue beneath the other sacred trees.I open my eyes.I must go deeper.
Jason M. Deutsch lives in Sydney, Australia and writes at the crossroads of spirituality, depth psychology, and the arts. He’s inspired by the late poet-songwriter Leonard Cohen who spoke of the yearning “to find a voice, to locate a voice; that is, to locate a self.” Visit him at soulfulthoughts.blog/.
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