Clutter’s Cave. Hewn out of granite. Probably a hermit or shepherd’s cave. Start of a ley line through Woolhope. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There once was a hermit, who had been living in a cave high up in the Himalayas for turtles’ years(=eons). Devout people from a tiny village, which lay three  days’ travel from the good man’s abode, brought him food at regular intervals, taking care not to disturb him in his meditations. However, one winter, due to heavy snowfall, the cave was unreachable for four months and the villagers feared for the venerable hermit’s life.

After the thaw, when a small delegation of worshippers finally found him still alive, one of their part, a very humble and well-meaning individual indeed, entreated the holy man to leave his cave and take up residence in a small grotto close to their village, where they could see to all his needs.

The hermit was a sight to behold: his bedraggled rags had become indistinguishable from the spider webs that seemed to emanate from them. If one looked carefully, one could just make out tiny stalagmites forming on his head and on his knees and a family of mice had taken up residence between his buttocks.

It was then that this Master of contemplation made his first and final statement to the outside world:

“My dear brothers, I have just started to take root here. I have plugged myself into Mother Earth and this is giving me no end of satisfaction. My mind is floating on a sea of perpetual ecstasy. The entire universe is at present residing in the tip of my little pinky finger. My skin is finally starting to take on that translucent quality of parchment,, which is so sought after by hermits everywhere.

The air that I breathe contains particles of pollinated love, which sustains me in body and in soul. I want for nothing and I desire nothing, except for the continuation of contact between my arse and the cave floor that by osmosis nourishes me even further. Any plan that requires action, I have long since put off untill some other lifetime, where hopefully I shall be reincarnated as a rock or preferably a small hill.

I have reached the ninth level on Nirvana for all procrastinators, where even the postponement of action is too much bother. I am become inactivity personified! To ask me to move, now or ever, would be tantamount to sacrilege of the highest order. I ask only to be left in peace!”

After these words of infinite wisdom, the delegation left in the understanding that the man was forever beyond their worldly reach. And for all we know, he might still be there…