The Rhythm of Life

Saccidananda Ashram (The Ashram of the Holy Trinity) describes itself as a community of spiritual seekers. In charge is a monastic community belonging to the Camaldolese Congregation, dedicated to contemplative life in the Benedictine tradition.

There are just a few basic rules; guests are requested to:

1.   Observe the periods of silence as shown on the daily timetable.

2.  Remain faithful to the original intention underlying their visit to the ashram.

3. Assist in preserving the spiritual atmosphere of the ashram.

3. Assist in the daily running of the ashram by helping with domestic tasks.

It is a warm and welcoming atmosphere, with a vibrant energy that is fired by the mix of backgrounds, nationalities and beliefs. There are currently a dozen or so guests, including Hindus, Roman Catholics, Buddhists and Protestants. They come from India, Luxembourg, France, Austria, Italy, Ireland, Germany, America, Australia, South Africa and UK. That list is almost certainly incomplete, and it changes daily, but it gives you a taste of the flavour of the place.

One corner of the chapel,
showing a strong Hindu influence

There is no compulsion to attend any of the gatherings, starting with early morning meditation and chanting, and with 3 formal prayer sessions, morning, noon and night. 

Most afternoons the Master gives a talk and leads a discussion. 

You can read more about the history and organisation of the ashram at their website:

http://saccidanandaashram.com/

The liturgy of the services is fascinating, a mixture of English, Tamil, Sanskrit, and other Indian languages with an occasional Gregorian chant in Latin. I can recognise large parts of the Mass liturgy that have been lifted from the Syrian Orthodox tradition, and other sections that are identical to the 09.30 at Lincoln Cathedral every Sunday morning. 

Then, there are Hindu chants woven into the service, and – when you read the translation of these in the booklet – the words could just as easily have come from Matins in a country parish church somewhere in England. It all adds to the powerful, overwhelming sense of universality that is the core message here.

The ashram has a working farm and employs around thirty local people in the running of it and in generally maintaining the property. They run a care home for local elderly women, and support the education of a number of local children with school fees and uniforms. There is a constant flow of guests, like myself, and the steady pattern of arrivals and departures is a gentle reminder of the transient nature of life as newly-made friends depart on their onward journey, and new faces arrive daily. Things are in a constant state of flux, and yet the context of the ashram itself is permanent, and only alters slowly, through the seasons, and with new building developments and more infra-structure, thanks to a recent legacy.

Newly planted rose beds in another part of the monastery

My room is in a quadrangle of twenty, around a garden of evergreen bushes and banana trees. As I write this, I am completely alone, apart from the peacock that has come visiting, and is strutting around the garden and keeping a wary eye on me. Yesterday, the gardeners planted out two new rose beds. 

The pace of and simplicity of life is a wonderful break from the consumerist culture of life in England. Mind you, right now, I could murder a drop of good malt; just a simple Glenlivet would do.

View of the chapel entrance