Hi Folks,

I’m dealing with perfectionism. It’s crippling me.

But…

I am also gaining clarity on what this project/newsletter will become.

As well as the kind of things I wish to share with you all, and how that all fits into my life and this new direction.

If you recall, all this came from a dream. I wrote about it here if you’re interested in catching up.

This dream, the direction it revealed, and everything that came from it have been a seismic shift for my life. And one I did not see coming. And I use the word “seismic,” with real intention as it has taken a while to find my feet again.

So what I found myself doing was doing nothing at all. At least when it comes to what I am sharing with you all here. I guess I have been waiting for things to settle and become clearer before sharing more.

And now feels like a good time to update you all.

But before I do, I feel the need to point out (and to myself as well) just how normal this is.

In that regard, I was talking with a friend about this recently, and his response was incredibly helpful. Loosely paraphrased, it went, “Your taste is working. That’s why it hurts. It’s not a flaw. It’s signal."

We were talking about taste, creative process, and natural potential.

This can be a powerful combination, but it’s a dangerous one. Dangerous because it can be a paralyzing force when you cannot work through it in a healthy way.

So I need to keep telling myself, “This gap is normal,” and move forward in spite of it. And I need to give myself permission to create regardless of the outcome.

But also, to do this in a safe place where I can control things. Or at least have a sense of control, even if that is not really the case.

Sounds perfectly easy. But it’s not, at least not for me, right now. What is easy is not to start at all. To postpone or overthink, or over-prepare.

But I am working through it. I’m trying my best.

And to do so, I am going to begin to share my new project with you all.

Now you may ask, how does this dovetail into “a contemplative life?”

Honestly, right at this point, I don’t know.

But…

• I do know my personal practice continues.

• I do know my work will always have something to say about our human potential for connection with something deeper and beyond.

• And I do know I need to open myself up to the chaos of an unknown future without fear or judgment.

So, what is this new project?

The new project is a solo music project.

I plan on writing and releasing an EP or album, and will share the process here.

At this point, the first record will be called Chasing Ghosts.

This is a reference, of course, to the vain attempt of chasing after moments that are gone forever. The glory of the past can never be repeated.

At this point, it’s all just an idea and a few notes. As things progress, I will share it all with you.

I will share with you:

• conceptual ideas,

• lyrical ideas,

• song demos,

• updates on album progress,

• meeting with other artists that will help me bring this project to life,

• as well as the inevitable ups and downs.

I also hope to be brave enough to play the demo songs here for you. But it’s been a long time since I played music for anyone, and my voice is not what it used to be…so we will have to wait and see. But for now, that is the plan.

Thank you for being so patient with me. I really hope you stick around for this new phase, but understand if you don’t.

warmly,

Clarke Scott

p.s. The photo above is of me, but 10 years ago. I’ve added it here because I do not have photos of myself, and apparently I need to get used it posting photos of myself if I want this artist thing to become something real.

It was taken around the time I wrote and directed a tiny indie feature film called A Thousand Moments Later. It was a tiny little low-budget, slow-burn arthouse drama. I had a blast making it.

Now that I am moving toward sharing art again, I might upload it, along with a short film I did.

Let me know if that is something you would be interested in.

Hi Folks,

Let me make a promise to you…

I want to get back to a regular cadence of a weekly newsletter—a rounding up and summary of the past week.

For one thing, it helps me feel as if I am contributing something positive to the world. And it bookends the week, giving me a sense of finishing something each week! So I promise to write a newsletter email every week, just as I have in the past.

I know…I know…I seem all over the place, and there is some truth to this. Inconsistency is an ongoing struggle and something I continue to work through.

Although, in my defense, there is one thing I have always been consistent with—my spiritual and contemplative practice. Since July 1995, when I first met my teacher, I’ve not missed a single day of meditation. And I’ve not missed a single day when some level of contemplation took place. So I can be consistent.

Several of you reached out to see if I was ok, and to encourage me to continue writing.

Thank you again for your patience and support.

So…where to now?

Here is my promise to you: I promise to send a weekly newsletter much like the one you are reading now. From there, I hope to build things back up again, so I am writing, creating, and publishing regularly.

Now on with the rest of this week’s Notes on a Contemplative Life.

What I’ve Been Thinking

I’ve not been thinking deeply about much lately, to be honest.

Seems I have been in a phase where I’m allowing life to wash over me and seeing what comes of it. Feels good to. Feels good not to have to do much more than eat, sleep, and meditate.

The hermit’s life is for me. But there is also the desire to contribute something to the world. Not a self-congratulatory impulse. Simply as a gift without expectation.

But I needed the time away—if I’m honest, I could do with more—as a way to find balance between a personal contemplative life and the need I want to contribute to others. And I was seriously out of balance, too. Possibly still am.

Finding balance is one of the most difficult things to achieve. This is a universal human experience. Although going through it, we do feel as if we are the only ones that could possibly be this profoundly broken. I’d like to write on this topic more deeply (more on that below).

So I think it is now time to get back in the saddle. To begin to engage with ideas and share the thinking through the human and spiritual implications of them.

What I’ve Been Reading/Listening

I’m coming to the end of the 6 volume journals of Thomas Merton. I’m in the last few months of his life, just before he heads off to India and contact with the Tibetans.

It has been such a wonderful experience reading Merton’s day-to-day thoughts and struggles, his hopes and dreams, and reading into all these my own experience of being human. Really, that is the generosity of journals. It gives you the ability to see oneself in the experience of another human being. A reflexive tool to go deeper into universal experiences.

I purchased two new books from a recommendation from a prolific musician. Quitter and Finish. I don’t normally read these types of books. But, when it comes to contributing to the world, these two - quitting and finishing - are at the core of something problem I’m yet to fully work through. I know the issue to related to the fear of making the wrong decision—crippling self-doubt, and an inability to remain focused in one direction. But I am working through these issues and as I do I will be sure to share my thoughts in case this might help someone out there.

I’ve also purchased two albums on vinyl recently. Seems that vinyl is making a comeback. I still need to buy a turntable to play them.

• Keith Jarrett Koln concert - https://ecmrecords.com/product/the-koln-concert-keith-jarrett/

• Jan Garbarek Luminessence https://ecmrecords.com/product/keith-jarrett-luminessence-jan-garbarek/

These two albums made a huge impact on me as a student at music school.

What I’ve Been Creating

In the last few months, I’ve been doing little more than reading and meditation. As I said above, it seems as though I’ve been in a period where I needed to pull back from the commitment to publish in order to see what makes sense for my personal spiritual practice moving forward.

The trouble all began about this time last year when I tried something new and started publishing journal entries. This was inspired, in part, by my experience of reading Merton’s journals. And despite the fact that I was already journaling, turning these into posts for others to read was a far bigger job than I imagined. Indeed, I spent more time editing than practicing.

So I had to drop everything. Catch my breath. Let the currents of life and grace take me wherever they must. Then stand again once I was in shallow water. Of course, what happened was that I was put through a number of trials, and the whole process is still not complete. But complete enough to begin again.

For instance, I’ve started working on some essay ideas, but first off, I want to rewrite the essay I wrote a few years back about my experience of first joining my monastery back in 1995. I called it, How to bend like a piece of wood. It’s a practical story, with an interesting mystical element, and with a deep lesson. Looking back now, I rushed the writing on this essay, and as a result, it never really had the impact I’d imagined it would.

So I hope to continue writing these types of essays that bridge personal experience with deeper philosophical and spiritual lessons.

I also want to write about the intersection of art, creativity, philosophy, and the contemplative life because that is what I am interested in. As I develop the essays, I will share my thinking, as this is a good use of time and will mean I am focused on one topic at a time. Yet be able to share along the way.

I really dropped the ball over the last months. Now I’m here to pick it back up.

It feels good to be writing to you again.

Until next week. Much love,

Clarke Scott

Hi Folks,

So, I’m here, at my desk, inside my little studio.

It’s where I spend my days working, thinking, creating.

In front of me is an array of daily knick-knacks (is that how you spell “knick-knacks”?) — reading glasses, notepad, pens, and behind me guitars, keyboards, books, and a place to sit to read and another to meditate.

A friend recently said it looks like a music studio now. I smiled and thought, “Yes” then smiled some more.

So, it’s been 8 weeks since music turned up in my life after 30 years.

No one knows what life will bring. Life doesn’t work that way. Yet it seems to me there is a plan, only we are not the ones writing it. And although I’ve always found change easy, it’s not without a sense of unsettlingness.

But when I look back, there is a weird kind of logic that appears. A logic that says, “it couldn’t be any other way.”

In a previous letter (perhaps the first link below) I mentioned I had written a bunch of songs six months before running off to join a monastery. I still recall the feeling of unease writing those songs. As if what I was attempting to say was never going to be enough. Sitting here now I know why.

So despite what I said above about plans, I hope to continue from where I left off all those years ago—writing songs, and this time I know what I want to say.

But it has been a long time, so there is a little bit of work needed to bring skills back. Fingers need strengthening, vocal chords too. And I’m sure there will be a bunch of bad songs before (hopefully) the good ones appear. And I will continue to write about my search for truth, peace, and meaning.

This all feels like an extension of what Notes on a Contemplative Life has always been — albeit, set to music.

This search has always been something that interested me. One of the jazz songs I wrote for my audition to music school was called, In Search of Peace.

Embarrassingly, it was about a viking ship that went into battle. It was based on a John Coltrane blues progression, and in the middle of my saxophone solo I took the mouthpiece out and started screaming and shouting the sounds of battle.

Oh, to be a foolish young person! I must have looked ridiculous. But the judges seem to love it.

It seems, the search for meaning is a thread that has run throughout my life. It is what gives me energy and makes life worth living.

So, I have a title for the first album as well as a number of songs. And I hope to spend the next few months preparing, then writing, and recording demos for the album. And I will share everything with you along the way.

For instance, an idea for a song about grief came to me last night as I was listening to something I cannot remember now, but it took me to a moment in time where grief punched me in the face!

It was my teacher’s funeral. I was still a monk. I sat at the front with all the other monks as he was led in.

Seeing you carried in on the shoulders of others.
My heart burst - I will never see you again.
A friend lent back and with a gentle pat on the knee said its ok.
I cannot help but feel - I will never be the same.

These lyrics are a rough draft (at best) but, they do indicate how I might bridge the experiences of my life with the search for meaning in a way that is interesting, I hope!

As for the musical side of things, I’m not set on the sonic quality yet and I was always leaned more towards rock but age does strange things and I’ve really been digging Americana vibes of late.

If you have any suggestions, please let me know.

much love,

Clarke Scott

p.s. the links below outline what happened over the last 8 weeks.

1. Those Forks in the Road

2. Comparison Kills Meaning

3. Choice a Lesson

I hope your week has been as productive as mine.

It seems "the message" was on point, as I feel a certain depth of peace and certainty this week that has made it easy to be alive and moving forward with the things I want to achieve.

If you missed the last letter where I explained "the message" you can read it here - https://clarkescott.substack.com/p/comparison-kills-meaning

Thank you for all the wonderful emails and well-wishes—it's heartwarming to know that when we share we live more connected.

But it is also worth noting that I share all the bumps and bruises because it feels authentic to do so. Perhaps I am wrong in thinking this way but I feel this is important, at least for me.

So thank you all for being here.

Speaking of which, there was a wonderful comment with some questions that I thought would be worth exploring.

Here’s the comment from Roberta T,

It’s interesting how time matures one’s understanding of self…only way one can have meaning is thru direct experience… makes one wonder how long you’d been suffering with what to do with your life now that you weren’t a monk? Do we have to be pushed against a wall before we consider prayer & where does trust play into our lives?

Thank you Roberta for the wonderful comment.

Here are my thoughts:

One can only make sense of life by looking backward. However we live moving forward, and this has a degree of uncertainty baked in. None of us know what is coming. We can plan all we like but plans often fail. And perhaps the outcome was going to happen whether or not we planned it.

That may sound fatalistic but we do have free-will inasmuch as we have control of our own minds. Therefore we can choose to experience things as lessons or as suffering.

My Tibetan teacher would sometimes talk about what he called, "wanted and unwanted suffering."

A headache is an unwanted suffering. But the suffering from working towards a meaningful goal, is, in fact, not suffering. A pretty simple concept and one that I’m sure we can all agree is true.

So I would put the suffering I’ve experienced from my search for meaning into the latter bucket. Sure, it is suffering but it is useful suffering for it has got me to where I am today. And this is a wonderful thing. Truly wonderful.

I also believe, “the message” will always be delivered at the exact right time we need them. In my case, the same prayer a month before would not have had the same impact. I needed to go through what I’ve been through in order to be in the position to receive it.

It may feel like being pushed against a wall, and perhaps it is, but without that pressure to transform no transformation will come.

For me, one of the most beautiful things about life is that we can choose to push ourselves against the wall. And by doing so, we come closer to who we really are…deep…deep…deep down inside.

much love,

Clarke

Hi Folks,

In the last letter, I mentioned a little about the story of my younger years at music school.

If you've not read that, you can do so here.

(Oh, before I forget, I'm going to experiment with the length of these letters. You may find some of them shorter than others. If you have a preference, please let me know.)

Back to the story...

This time 30 years ago, while at music school, I spent the Christmas break writing rock songs. I had the idea of releasing an EP and over those few weeks, I knocked out a number of demos (the number 11 comes to mind.)

I never released the songs and six months later I met a Tibetan lama and my life changed in an instant.

In my first meeting with the lama, we were walking together when he asked what I did. Full of ego I said, "I'm a musician and I go to the Victorian College of the Arts." He just smiled and sounding just like Yoda said, "Music...just entertainment."

These words felt like freedom. They lifted a huge weight of self-imposed comparison. At the time it was exactly what I needed. I believe the Tibetan lama could see this. And could see that the only way forward for me was by removing myself from a toxic environment. And it was toxic—two kids I knew from music school, one I knew very well, died of drug overdoses.

So a few months after meeting the Tibetan lama, I decided to give up music for good. Instead, I wanted to become a monk and dedicate myself to a life of meditation and study. And I did just that. And in the following 30 years, I've not given music or the career I gave up a second thought. But if you've read any of my journal posts, you will have noticed I've been struggling with what to do with the remainder of my life now that I am no longer a monk.

So, on Sunday night three weeks ago, as I sat on the edge of my bed, I prayed. I prayed for a sign of what to do. I didn't ask for more than this. And at this point, I really did not care what the answer would be. I just needed one so I could get on with my life. Then I crawled into bed and meditated myself to sleep.

I woke 7 hours later, shocked!

I realized that all night there was a message being sent to me. It was not a dream as it felt like it was coming from outside of myself. Dreams on the other hand always feel like they are coming from inside. It was like warm sunlight embedded with a clear message.

Play guitar. Do it well. And on my terms.

(Side note: I played saxophone in jazz music school. But the message was most definitely to play guitar instead. So I went out the following day and bought a guitar.)

However you prefer to label the divine—God, Buddha, The Universe, or even the Freudian Subconscious—my prayer was answered with such clarity it was impossible to miss.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. For I simply did not see this coming. Not in a million years would I have thought this was an option. I guess because while music was such a large part of my identity as a young man, it was also closely tied to an egoic mindset of self-indulgence and self-importance.

In the cosmic sense, 30 years is a mere blip in time. Yet, for us humans, 30 years is a long. So, while I'm grateful for everything in my life, at the same time I feel like it's all too late. Still, I am comforted by the idea I have another 30-something years to go. And a lot can be achieved in that time.

Exactly where this will all go, I cannot say I can say I feel a direction that has been missing for a long time. And with everything I've learned from my life, I know this time will be less toxic and full of meaning.

And to me, meaning is all that matters. The more we can bring true meaning, divine meaning, to the ordinary things we do in life, the more meaningful life becomes.

It's interesting to me to see that the title of my newsletter, Notes on a Contemplative Life, now takes on a new meaning. When this dawned on me I smiled.

The surprises of life are truly amazing!

much love,

Clarke Scott

I missed last week’s newsletter because, well to be honest, I need more time to distill and digest the dream I had two weeks ago now.

If you are new here, this post explains more.

This process is ongoing but a few things are beginning to emerge. But I need time to see the path ahead.

Time in silence—not writing, not thinking, Just being.

From the stillness of my soul, I heard a voice that spoke but not with words.

Clarke

Hi folks,

Welcome to this week's, Notes on a Contemplative Life.

Happy New Year to you.

A little story time...

Back in the day, I went to music school. This was the 90s and I was sti…

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This is the first week with the new (old) writing schedule and things are feeling good.

I am glad to be back because there is something quite comforting about ending the week with reflection…

Read more

Hi Folks,

It's been far too long since my last update but I have some good news on that front.

But before we get to that...

I'd like to wish you and your family a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I hope your 2024 was a wonderful time for personal growth. And even if it was a difficult one, if you grew from it, it was a success!

In April, I blinked, and it was December. And I'm not even joking - today I looked at a draft article I wrote but never published and it's date was 17th of April. Whaaat!!!

It is stunning how quickly this year passed.

Personally, this year was a year of deep reflection. A year in which, for every step forward, there was a half step back—sometimes three. But if there is one thing I've learned over the years, it is this - sometimes these backward steps are necessary as if my momentum comes from them. I put this down to the fact that missteps give clarity in ways success cannot.

That is why I'm never afraid to try new things because I know the worst that can happen is clarity for what not to do.

One of these missteps was publishing my journal. Not because I was revealing too much but rather because I stopped writing altogether. I cannot say exactly why I stopped but a good part of it was simply the workflow.

I want to write, not, not write.

Writing, for me, is a way to reflect and learn about myself. It is a profoundly contemplative activity. One in which I get to share with others.

So, I am going back to the old weekly newsletter format where I share:

1. What I've been thinking, researching and learning

2. What I've been reading

3. And what I've been working on.

I wrote the newsletter in this format for a long time. It just worked. Readers got value. And it allowed me to share things without it becoming an obstacle to the work itself.

As a reminder...

The first section (What I've been thinking) is where I share the ideas and insights from the week. And because it is weekly these insights are often small in scope. As they are not a full-blown essay they are easier to digest and to integrate the lesson or insight into your own life.

The second section (What I've been reading) is where I share interesting books and articles I've read, or plan to read, in the course of my research.

And the third section (What I've been writing) gives me the chance to link to anything I've published during the week. Or it might be a small section or update from my book.

I was the most consistent when writing the newsletter in this format. It gave me a weekly cadence that was easy to follow and gave the reader something they could use in their own lives.

So, I'm committing to the weekly schedule starting today.

See you next week.

This is not true, obviously, but have you ever noticed the subtle psychological change that occurs when you put on formal attire? I have.

It’s funny how these things work.

Yesterday while I was writing my “hello again” post I had a sudden realization—the name I chose for this project was no longer appropriate. Like wearing a Black-tie formal to a backyard BBQ, the word “project” stuck out like a saw thumb. And I started to think that perhaps the formality of the word was partly to blame for my lack of writing. It somehow clogged things up because it shifted things into a formal mode.

Now as this became clear to me, so did a new name. One that more closely captures what I would like to do here. And one that, being less formal, feels more like an ongoing conversation.

So I’ve changed the name from, The Contemplative Life Project to…

Notes on the Contemplative Life.

I hope you like it as much as I do.

The change will help unlock more writing because, as the name suggests, these are notes, not formal pieces, and as a result, I will share them as they come up.

Less friction, either self-created or not, is a good thing.

This doesn’t mean the writing will be lazy or sloppy. Rather it will be informal.

And the change also gives me permission to publish ideas and thoughts as a work-in-progress. Not only will this make things easier to share, but content too will change.

For instance, I’ve had notes from a lecture series by Thomas Merton on spiritual direction just waiting to be processed. I’ve been putting off doing something with the notes because a big formal essay felt overwhelming so I just kept putting it off.

I still like the idea of writing formal pieces but, having a place I can publish as a work-in-progress and get feedback is one of the reasons I moved to Substack.

Talking about the notes of Merton and spiritual direction, I think this might also make for a good workshop. Let me know if that is something you’d enjoy.

Doing this as a workshop will allow me to publish the notes together with my thoughts sooner, go deeper with commentary, and without the need for formality.

The name change will allow for this to be a place to explore ideas, and topics and traditions, researching all in the search for truth, peace, and the divine—whatever that means. And I would also like to do this across traditions, exploring the full range of practices just as Merton did.

The journal-type posts will allow me to publish things that come up as I go about my day. This is part of my contemplative journaling practice (as this can get quite personal I am likely to begin paywalling these posts).

Something of the ideas will turn into longer articles, and these might turn into larger projects like books.

Yes…I love this!

The name change feels good.

Until next time. Be well.

Clarke Scott

I came across this photograph I took years back during the week. A flood of memories rushed over me.

Circa 2009 and I’m sitting in a tiny village restaurant having lunch. I’m on a road trip from Dharamsala to Manali with new and old friends. I was in India researching my never completed Ph.D.

The Ph.D. was not going well but I’d picked up a new camera while there (Canon 60d/28 f1.8) and was falling in love with making art again.

I still remember the feeling of sitting there quietly looking out over the vast and ancient landscape and sensing how small I am.

How many people have lived and loved here? How many people have hoped and dreamed and had to deal with disappointment, here?

Looking out I could grasp just how small one life is.

Just a blip in time. And I thought to myself, don’t waste it.

Welcome to this week’s edition of The Contemplative Life Project.

What I’ve been thinking

India is a fascinating place as long as you do not look down.

Over the years, I’ve read many books from masters that lived there thousands of years ago, and often wondered, what was it like then? Probably, or at least, possibly, not all that different than it is today.

The mountains and plains. The sky and the smell. It is a place of contradictions. And the land feels old too. But old in a pure way.

There is a vastness about India I never feel here in Australia.

Actually, that is not entirely true—I was in Tasmania about 5 years ago and parts of Tasmania can feel similar.

(side note: I am thinking about doing a solo road trip through Tasmania and documenting it for a creative project. More on that below. I will share it with you if I end up going.)

Many people feel connected to something larger than themselves when in nature. For some it is the mountains. For others the ocean.

When I look at this photo and recall my feelings as I sat there, I recall I felt connected to something larger than myself via a sense of time and my place in history.

Not in the sense of being remembered. Rather, I am just one of many that builds the history of a place and a people.

When I look at my life and how it has unfolded, I’m struck by the fact that it has not been linear—not even remotely.

In fact, what I am coming to realise is just how much time I have wasted wondering what I should do with it. I’ve probably spent more time thinking about what to do than doing.

This is not a good thing, obviously. Still, it is a question I am yet to fully solve. So I must keep asking.

Ask; reflect. Ask; reflect.

What I’ve been reading

This week has been a week of reflection. I need more of them. We all need more of them.

But the one thing I could not keep out of my mind was the current format of this newsletter is not working. I often feel I am posting to no one despite there being more than 12,000 of you.

Then I read an article that mentioned Rick Rubins’ idea of the selfish artist.

That is to say, for those that create, they must be emotionally connected with what they create, if what they create is going to move others.

I’m not emotionally invested enough to continue with the current format.

Perhaps this is the reason it is not working? Perhaps this is the reason it is not moving others to the degree I hoped.

What I’ve come to understand more clearly this week is that I need to shift the focus of the content (not the theme) to include my passion for photography.

I am seriously thinking about bringing those skills to bare on The Contemplative Life Project.

This will mean the content will change. No more workshops about meditation.

I understand if you will unsubscribe as a result. I get it. But this is something I need to do for myself. I need to be selfish in the Ruben sense.

I do not know how that will work; or even if it will work.

But I do know this, I must try.

What I’ve created (or going to create)

I am thinking of doing a solo road trip to visit sacred places and old Churches around Tasmania, and recording the trip as I go.

I could see myself creating content about this trip. Part travel video; part artistic journal; BTS videos. Sharing the experience and creating art.

I would post a finished video about the Youtube—with exclusive content posted along the way here.

This is just one idea. There are many.

For example, perhaps a video/doc series about Thomas Merton and his involvement with Buddhism???

And the educator part of me is still interested in sharing knowledge so I am also likely to do workshops but only the artistic journey rather than a contemplative one.

That was my week. I hope yours was good too.

warmly,

Clarke Scott

p.s. TL;DR

I mentioned above I feel like the direction of this newsletter is shifting. I’m not entirely sure how but I can tell you this. It will always be focus on the search for something beyond the senses. A deeper look into what it means to be human.

p.s.s.

I’d love to hear your feedback. Please let a comment if you have an opinion - both positive or negative.

In 2015 I started work on a film project.

The project was a feature film called, A Thousand Moments Later.

The central theme of the film was love. But love to me is not something we find, or that magically appears when two perfectly matched souls meet.

Rather, love is a choice. A choice to connect with something deep inside yourself. Only through this connection, can we truly love another.

I wrote and directed this film but it never found a distributor and was never released. So I moved on to other things.

But my interest in things that move us to connect with this deeper thing has never diminished.

Welcome to this week's edition of the Contemplative Life Project.

What I've been thinking

Looking back at this film project I can see how it is a seed for the things I am doing now. Both are an exploration of connecting with this deeper thing. This impulse to create in this way is possibly the one thread running through all my work—written, and visual. But only this project, it seems, allows me to share this with you in real-time, and in doing so we are connecting, at a deeper level.

In Japanese, there is a word for this. They call this, Ikigai. Ikigai is a vocation that gives you a sense of purpose and satisfaction in which others can participate—this is how I like to think about it, at least.

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In the opening to her wonderful and very raw book, A Year of Magical Thinking

Joan Didion wrote the following:

Life changes fast.
Life changes in the instant.
You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.
The question is self-pity.

It’s a memoir of the year following the sudden death of her husband, John.

According to Philip Lopate, Didion had an “uncanny ability to create an atmosphere on the page” and I can feel these lines.

I have not read past the first few pages. I want to sit with it, without distractions, and there are other books I must read before this one.

But what struck me in those first pages is how it's only when we are thrown into the chaos of impermanence that we can truly reflect on what is meaningful. As if we must be inside the pain to understand it.

No amount of words on a page, no matter how beautifully arranged, will ever suffice for experience for Wisdom is born of experience. But they can prepare us for that moment when we are thrust into its belly!

Welcome to this week's edition of The Contemplative Life.

And despite the gloomy beginning; there is a happy ending.

Let's Go!

What I was thinking about this week

The beauty of these first four lines from Didion is their simplicity.

Hard-boiled prose. Boiled right down to the bone. Raw but quiet self-reflective dealing with unprepared misfortune.

Knowing this, it's easier to see her mindset. The disbelief as she sits down for dinner, for the first time, in a long time, without him.

Yet at the same time, there is a hint of hope formed as a question. A moment of reflection, where she acknowledges the pain and the potential to lapse into self-pity. It is as if she is asking herself who will win—ego or wisdom.

This week I found myself reflecting on my own impermanence. Living with one foot in this life and another in the next is a strangely centering place.

I have started the process that will end in a memoir. I will call it Meditation or Die: the Search for Truth, Peace, and the Sacred. I've had the title of this book for some time now but I never understood what the book should nor could be about, until this week.

I hope to research and plan Meditate or Die as I am writing the Deep Meditation. Then begin writing after the first book is complete. I will possibly publish it here as a series (I’m told traditional publishers allow this.)

And as always the best kind of research always begins with books.

What I read this week

I've been on a book-buying spree over the last few weeks—30 books in total.

Some are anthologies of essays that will serve as reference books.

(I mentioned these in the previous week's letter. If you missed that edition you can read it here - https://clarkescott.substack.com/p/tcl-022-goals-for-2024)

Some are literary; others popular. Some fiction and others not. Some are Pulitzer Prize winners such as Angelas Ashes. Some are International best sellers such as When Breath Becomes Air.

The opening to this last book, too, is focused on the impermanence of life:

You that seek what life is in death. Now find it air that once was breath. New names unknown, old names gone; Till time end bodies, but souls none. Reader! Then make time, while you be, But steps to your eternity.

Only now am I seeing the theme of impermanence and its connection to deadlines. This truly is one of the most beautiful things about writing, and the reason I encourage writing as a spiritual practice.

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Hi All,

Welcome to this week's edition of The Contemplative Life.

If you are new around here these letters (I call them letters because I want them to be read like an old-school letter from a friend) are a reminder to practice and a quick way to stay informed of the various projects, essays, book updates, and workshops I am offering to those interested.

Moving forward, I am going to keep the letters shorter than previous letters so as to keep you informed in a timely fashion, yet not waste a good title.

I had planned to call this one, Identity, Masterpieces, and Gertrude Stein. I had a wonderful story I could tell about a time in my 20's while I was at music school where I had the strong impression the more I knew about musical theory the less I knew about music.

I had it all planned out. The back story, the inciting incident, but I began writing and kept bumping on format.

I had a lot to say about identity and I wanted to relate this to my education in music theory. But I was also trying to fit in with updates on how this relates to the contemplative life. And I was trying to write it with updates on my goals for 2024 (as I promised I would do in the previous letter.) And I was trying to write it so as to let you know about a new workshop. And I was trying to write and have it be philosophically insightful. And I was trying to write it with practical takeaways. And I was trying to write it as...you get the point!

The narrative arc and the philosophical insights bursting out were bumping up against word count and five other things I had to include in the weekly update. So I had a sleep, went for a walk, and had two meditation sessions before trying again. But I found myself yet again feeling desperately inadequate.

Then I realized I was trying to do two or three or ten very different things when I should have been doing just one!

One letter. One thing. So that all changes today.

This approach will help take the pressure off writing something truly insightful and unique, that is beautifully crafted, masterfully edited, and all done in a day.

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Another year passed and I feel younger! I will tell you how in a bit.

But before I do, please note...

If you are going to read only one section of this letter, read the section titled: Wr…

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My mother is 81.

This year is the first year she's not going to have her family together for Christmas, and the suffering is intense.

Her husband (my dad) is in a nursing home. He has been there for 18 months. He no longer recognizes her, despite the fact she insists on telling him who she is every time they are together.

He has not known who I am for longer. I'm okay with that. My years of training have taught me this: everything is constantly changing; it is only when we fight this that suffering arises.

This is true in my own experience. And as they say, the truth will set you free. But it's not a truth that leaves you cold and detached. Rather it is a truth that can look backwards with a gentle loving fondness and forwards with hope. This kind of hope is true wisdom because it is practical.

Ah, hope—the one thing that turns salt into sugar. Too much and it will rot your teeth. But the right amount can turn anything into...yum! Hope is a little like that. Just enough and even the worst of situations can be useful, perhaps even joyful.

It's Christmas! Oh, Christmas—a time of hope indeed.

But also a time of loneliness, and summer for those of us living on this side of the globe. When I was a kid, these two came together. The sun, the surf, and a deep sadness as lonely as the edge of the sea—to borrow a phrase from Merton. But now Christmas is a time of reflection and retreat on what is important. A time to look back to see how the year went. And to look forward to what might be. All of this is made possible, of course, by that little train that could we call, HOPE. I think I can; I think I can. Still a beautiful and important message.

With that, I want to thank you all for a wonderful 2023. The number of emails and messages I received this year, all the "thank you's" and "I didn't get email X...can you please resend it?", was overwhelming at times but left a strong impression I was helping in some small way. This made me smile. Not that I do, what I do just to make myself feel better. But it's nice to smile, isn't it?

Personally, this year has been one of change. I started new projects. They all failed. Failing is good. Failing shows me what I'm doing wrong. It points to something deeper. Something not working, or simply, as in a few cases, that the projects were just a bad idea, or the wrong idea to begin with.

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Getting the old writing cogs working again as it has been three months since my last newsletter.

I do have an excuse but I won’t bore you with it for…

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When I was 13 years old…

I entered a high school swimming race and humiliated myself in the most comical way possible.

Self-sabotaging behavior is just weird!

Welcome to this week’s edition of The Contemplative Life – the Search for Truth, Peace, and the Sacred.

This week I want to share the above story as a way of addressing two things I see as important:

1. The importance of having a vision for your life.

2. Understanding how the egoic mind keeps you small.

Vision empowers hope. Ego wants to own it.

These two do not work well together in an interesting way.

So while I am still working through my thinking, I intuitively feel there is something important here. Something I wish to pry open to take a look.

Oh and…

I must say, and this is just a little side note…

I absolutely love what I do. I love writing. Writing for you and for me. Working through things that impact my life, and yours…feels like writing to heal.

This, I believe, is an expression of hope.

Now onto my swimming story.

What I’ve Been Thinking

I’m a skinny 13 year old, standing on the blocks at the south end of an outdoor Olympic sized swimming pool.

I’m in lane two—second from the left.

It’s a warm summer night and my family, together with hundreds of other families, lines the sides of the pool cheering on their kids.

I’m the fourth leg of a 4 person relay team event, and my team, at this point in the race, is in third place.

But we are within striking distance of a win so it’s up to me to bring it home!

As I stand there waiting for my teammate to tap the wall, I glance over to my family. Mum and Dad and my little sister standing there watching. My mother holds her hands tightly to her chest as if pleading with her God to let me win.

I turn back to the action and steel myself—determined to win whatever the cost.

I placed my right foot at the front edge of the block and my left foot at the rear just as my coach instructed.

The first-place team touches the wall and the kid dives in.

The noise of the crowd grows.

And so does my determination.

I crouch into the starting position; legs at the ready to spring into action.

Second place…touches…kid dives.

And I have to wait for what feels like a Christmas night.

A few seconds later my teammate touches the wall and I spring from the block and dive into the warm summer’s water, to be hit with silence.

The crowd is gone. The competitors are gone.

It’s just me, the water, and my will for glory!

This is my moment. I can feel it. Thrashing through the water for the first ten strokes before I remember to take a breath. I lift my head, take a breath, and go back to winning.

But before too much of this, my arms start to tire. But I don’t care.

Nothing is going to stop me. Nothing is going to take my crown from me.

But I’m not a swimmer. I’m not even sure how long, or how many strokes it will take to reach the other end. All I know is that I must try harder.

I must push myself if I am to be crowned king of the world.

Then, all of a sudden, I ran into the wall.

That was quick…I hear myself say. I must have won!

I cannot believe it. I’ve won…right?

I bring my head up and shake the water out of my eyes.

I look up and I’m facing the crowd and my family on the side looking at me.

Wait…what?

Not only did I not win, I did not even swim in a straight line. I ended up halfway down the pool on the opposite side from where I started.

Crushed, I pull myself out of the water and walk slowly towards my mum.

Now, you might be feeling a little sad for this kid right now. I know I am.

It’s certainly not a happy story with a happy ending.

BUT…

This story is actually a beautiful illustration of how the ego creates self-defeating situations where the end result is the exact opposite of what it hoped.

And it does this by causing you to focus on the outcome rather than the process.

In my case, the vision of glory caused me to lose sight of what was most important—swimming in a straight line!

But for fear this week’s edition is becoming too long, too soon, I will answer in brief now and in detail in next week’s edition.

While this case is rather obvious, I’d suggest that every case of “failing” is a case of the exact same experience—the ego trying to own the outcome.

The question then becomes, can we do anything about it?

And the short answer to this is yes. And we do this by understanding what I call, dispositional narrative—the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves.

Because it is through this that we come to see how the ego operates.

More on this next week.

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The results of the survey are in. Thank you to everyone that submitted their feedback.

And there is a lot of information for me to see trends, and as I gave space for you to provide feedback in your own words also, there are some really nice and frank thoughts provided.

This too will help me moving forward.

It was heartwarming to read the feedback.

The biggest trend that came flying off the page as I was collating the data was that you would like shorter articles/emails. Indeed over 90% of you wanted shorter articles.

I hear you. And I will try my best to be more economical with my words.

There are some topics that will need more. But let's see how things progress moving forward with shorter pieces.

All in all the survey was a useful exercise and I loved hearing from you all.

What I've Been Thinking

The life of a contemplative should be a life of learning to live well.

What do I mean, exactly? For this might sound a little too hedonic to be taken seriously by anyone that is spiritual.

But if you read anything hedonic in that statement then you read it wrong.

Let me explain.

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In my silence, I am nothing, to no one, and I am free.

A few weeks back I received an email from a concerned reader. I was intrigued because I'd never gotten an email from a concerned reader.

She was concerned I was making a terrible error of judgment by titling my book, Meditate or Die.

She even let me know that she had never written to anyone like this before and felt compelled to do so here.

I have always admired earnestness. And I admired it here.

I was flattered and very much appreciated her concern and intent behind it. I read it twice before responding and four times since. But I replied in short as I want to say more, much more, in an article.

I hope it was not too disappointing to get a short reply.

The email got me thinking about the degree to which I have been misunderstood throughout my entire life—maybe Wittgenstein was right after all.

Recently I believe I have located the source of much of this misunderstanding, and a good bit of what was motivating me to use such an opening provocative title to a book about meditation.

I had hoped to publish the article this week but instead published two articles on meditation. The article, "What's in a Name - everything you never wanted to know about naming a book and the importance of not caring about legacy." Or something to that effect.

I am currently writing the article and it should be completed soon.

However, in the reader survey mentioned above, I added a question, you may have seen it already, and that is: do you like the title, Meditate or Die? And gave you a binary choice - Yes/No. Then, underneath this, I left a space for you to add any further remarks.

If you completed the survey before reading this and you want to add more, simply reply to this email with those comments.

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