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Just Another Spiritual Book

"Hey Man I Think He's a Yogurt!"

I had always thought how nice it would be to be more respected by prison administrations instead of being regarded as some way-out space cadet bringing in a weird program. But I got my wish once and never wished it again.

It happened in the Albany (NY) prison around 1978. The superintendent was so enthusiastic, she arranged the workshop in the gym, and required everyone in the prison to attend. A busload of young convicts from New York City arrived right around that time, and she herded them all into the gym as well. They came in and saw the whole prison population sitting in front of me, seated on a table, eyes closed, my legs folded in front of me. Those dudes must have thought this was a pretty weird orientation process!

So there we were, about 200 young male inmates, a dozen armed guards standing eight feet high on catwalks around the perimeter, and me trying to center myself and figure out why I didn't become a doctor like my mother wanted me to do. Acoustics in the gym were horrible and I had no microphone. The crowd was getting noisier and more rowdy by the moment, shouting things like, "HEY, WHAT'RE YOU DOING UP THERE—SLEEPING?," and others responding on my behalf, "NO MAN, HE'S DOING YOGURT. HE'S A YOGURT."

As if things weren't bad enough, the final straw came in the form of about twenty young female inmates, led in and seated in one long row at the very back of the gym.So now, not only was no one getting ready to listen to me, they weren't even looking at me anymore. I had a gym full of young hormones going wild.

Like the tv ads for ginsu knives, "But wait; there's even more!" Also at the rear of the gym, off to one side, sat a small delegation of NY Dept of Corrections officials who came to see what my typical workshops were like. Good luck!

I sat in intense concentration and invoked an ancient, special mantra which links me directly to God (It goes like this: "HELP!!!") A loud buzzer sounded, signaling the beginning of the workshop. I sat still, waiting for divine help to come, waiting for even a morsel of guidance. Five minutes. Ten minutes. the crowd gradually resumed talking, scuffing the floor, shifting in their seats. Fifteen minutes. the din once again became a roar, punctuated by occasional remarks directed specifically at me ("I THINK HE'S DEAD, MAN!") or at the women ("HEY BABY, I'M GETTING OUT SOON; WHAT'CH YOU DOING?").

Meanwhile, I was in severe negotiations with God. My position was pretty firm — I'm not attached to how this goes; if You don't move me, I'll sit here for an hour. I need a direct little push, damn it.

After a total of about twenty minutes past the buzzer, a hand tapped me on the shoulder and startled me out of my bargaining talks with The Big Guy. It;s amazing how many different dramas can be going on at once, because this one I hadn't even considered. The hand belonged to the lieutenant in charge of the correctional officers, and he was clearly very agitated. He leaned over and shouted into my ear, "IF YOU DON'T START SOMETHING SOON, THIS PLACE IS GONNA BLOW!"

It wasn't quite the Divine sign I had in mind, but then again, He works in strange ways. And He hates to negotiate.

I opened my eyes and a lot of guys hooted and clapped, playing with the fact that I wasn't dead. I spoke a few words trying to quiet them down, and I realized that I would have to give my entire talk at full volume. So I screamed about quietness of mind, and shouted about inner peace, and eventually there were only fifty or sixty inmates looking at the women or competing vocally with me in the room which amplified even the crossing of your legs into an annoying sound. I took a few shouted questions, yelling my best responses under the circumstances, and then called the discussion part to a close.

Thankfully, that's when I invited people to leave if they've come only for the talk, or if they would feel uncomfortable following instructions about sitting still and closing their eyes and so forth. So, the place cleared out pretty quickly, leaving about seventy-five male inmates (the women had to leave in a group) scattered throughout the gym. I asked them to get closer together, and finally, we got down to the business at hand and had a good workshop for the next couple of hours.

They were earnest, they were interested. And on my part, i had a tremendous degree of respect and sympathy for the chaos they had to face every day in that prison. I just had a brief taste of it, and it was really something.

But the practices I came to share do indeed work. They worked for me, and those remaining inmates were impressed by that — as were the officials off to the side. Once again, what I thought was a catastrophe was merely another perfectly choreographed production number to make things more real and immediate for all of us.

I Call The Eagles!

Wherever the body is, there the eagles will be gathered together.
Matthew 24:28

When writing this book I have frequently asked myself: "Just who am I writing this for?" I have also occasionally asked: "Who will read this?" but since that was beyond my determination I would go back to my first query and try to work that out.
Finally I have.
I have written this book for those my Lord called "the eagles," and have put His words about them on the title page. You, my beloved eagles — just who are you? As far as the superficial traits the world sees, I expect you appear to be all kinds. But here are some basic facts about your inmost heart that separate you from those around you, whether they know it or not:
You do not want to philosophize about God, you want to know God.
You do not want just want God to love you, you want to love God in return.
You will not be satisfied with less than God.
You will pay any price, will make any sacrifice, to find God.
You gladly would be a fool in the eyes of the world for the sake of knowing God.
You have made commitments and accepted spiritual labels and identities, but none of them has led you "home."
You see the folly of false Christianity, and you want no part of it, but you still believe in the wisdom of Christ.
You have looked here and there outside of Christianity, attempting to fill the void, but it will not be filled.
And through it all, your heart — however much your reason and emotion might protest — keeps going back to Jesus the Christ.

Contact

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 25, DHARAMSALA

As we entered the guard house, just within the Dalai Lama's compound, I remember the Hasidic tale of a young man who journeyed many difficult miles to visit his rebbe. "Did you go to study Torah?" he was asked."No. I went to see how the rebbe tied his shoes."

I was eager to see how the Dalai Lama tied his shoes. How he spoke, how he listened. I hoped to find in his gestures what it might mean to call a human being holy.

The Jewish group filled our forms, showed passports and visas, and registered with Indian military security, a reminder that the Dalai Lama was far from home, and not entirely safe.

We crossed the courtyard to the front porch of Bryn Cottage, bordered by roses and purple bougainvillea, and entered a small anteroom. Shoshana Edelberg, a professional journalist who was normally cool under pressure, nervously fiddled with her boom mike and cords. The rest of us were armed with cameras and cassette recorders.

The Samaya Foundation videotaped the sessions. To accommodate the fixed camera, the eight Jewish delegates sat in a horseshoe pattern around the Dalai Lama.

Michael Sautman led us in to the meeting room, which was more homey than royal. The participants sat in comfortable stuffed couches covered with blue cloth and the rest of us observers on folding chairs. Two stuffed armchairs were reserved for the Dalai Lama and whoever addressed him. Professor Nathan Katz would be up first, followed by Rabbis Schachter and Greenberg.

Behind the Dalai Lama's chair was a wooden shrine that looked like a fireplace mantel. On it rested twelve gold and silver bowls, brimming with water, as an offering, along with two vases of fresh roses and carnations. In a cabinet, behind a glass door, stood a golden icon of Avalokiteshvara. For the Tibetan faithful, the Dalai Lama himself is that Buddha of Compassion.

A curtain parted and he entered through a doorway beside the shrine. We rose to meet him, falling into a line that circled the perimeter of the horseshoe. Everyone grabbed the chance, video technicians, the reporters, Yitz and Blu' son, Moshe Greenberg, and Michael Sautman's parents.

Michael had instructed us meticulously on the protocol. Each of us approached the Dalai Lama— palms together in a sign of respect and a white scarf, a katak, draped over the wrists. The Dalai Lama took the scarf quickly. To leave in on would be arrogant — to Tibetans the katak symbolized divinity.

"When you greet him." Michael Sautman had explained, "don't hurry. He'll want to make some contact with you. It's not just a ritual of handing him a scarf, it's a moment of human contact with him. He's just radiating then."

My turn came. The Dalai Lama smiled, radiant, yes, beaming so that I couldn't help but smile myself. Then he gave me a sharp penetrating glance. I turned my head away. I felt a little naked, in the soul.

Now a seasoned reporter would call this purely subjective, possibly nonsensical; a psychologist might say I was experiencing anxiety— and a cynic would laugh— and I had within me all those characters.

The Dalai Lama gathered his bright robe tightly around himself, joking to Professor Nathan Katz, seated next to him, that "it gives me some kind of warmth." Then he turned to the group at large and spoke in a deep voice.

"Welcome, our Jewish brothers and sisters. We are always very much eager to learn from your experience, and of course we are only happy to exchange our own experiences with our Jewish brothers and sisters." He reached for some neatly folded yellow cloths on the armrest of his chair and wiped his nose. "Today I have quite a severe cold, so I hope you will not get it. I hope not to exchange this cold."

Rabbi Judith Halevy: Cycles of Jewish Time
Metivita, Wilshire Boulevard
Monday, March 27, 1995;25 Adar II 5755, 2 P.M.

" The whole question of women really needs to be looked at," Rabbi Judith Halevy told me Monday morning, between appointments in her tiny Metivita office. "I don't have any answers on it, but..."— she trailed off—"the crunch is the crunch of a women's life."

From our first encounter a year before, I'd been impressed by Rabbi Judith's energy. At fifty-two , she balanced multiple roles: freshly minted rabbi, teacher, spiritual counselor, actor-student of Torah and of the tables of Rebbe Nachman,administrator at Metivita, and, in her personal life, partner, homemaker, mother, stepmother, cook. Charming, vivacious, she dramatized in her own life complexity of Jewish women's time.

"You saw me," she went on, and I nodded. "Are we going to get the chicken on the table? Are we going to take care of the kid and make sure she has face cream? And are we going to prepare midrash at six o'clock in the morning?"

"I was getting tired just watching you," I said.

Midrash at 6 A.M. I'd seen for myself. Friday morning, Judith had been up at dawn preparing her class. When I showed up for a breakfast session with Jonathan, I saw a strip of paper she'd left on the table. In bold black Hebrew letters, Rashi's commentary on the opening verses of the Song of the Sea (Exod. 15:2): "A maidservant at the Sea saw that which prophets did not see."

From a Torah many contemporary women find difficult she'd plucked out an inspiring passage for her women's midrash class. Yet even on this hopeful strip of paper, the poetry— the aggadah— is problematic. It's clearly based on a hierarchy in which a maidservant is the lowest of the low. Sexist categorizing is a very real part of the "drama of distinctions" that define Jewish tradition and make it, for many women, a confinement. In my conversation with Jonathan on Shabbat, we'd touched on my own difficulty with some of the "bad poetry" in the Torah. Much of that bad poetry is about women.

Judith tackles this issue with energy and will, and through her teaching inspires other women to do the same. If women's stories are skimpy in the Torah, the blanks themselves become openings, as Joseph Cohen taught— the openings for creative spirit. The feminist content may be novel, but the process is ancient: midrash always rushes toward the holes in the story. Judith Halevy belongs to a generation of women creating new midrash. Her particular style owes much to her background in theater. Indeed, in a crucial way, theater brought her back to her Jewish path.

An ant today had a ball of pollen attached to one leg. God is all, everything, and everywhere, "they" say. So the ant touched the flower as part of God's everywhereness. Then it wandered, not in a happenstance manner, but each move blending in tune with a cosmic melody, until I glanced its way, as was meant to be, and started thinking about the everythingness and everywhereness of God.

The flies twist and buzz in a confused frenzy of activity. Yet could it be that each turn, every stop and go is part of the mystical dance? If i brush one away, if I don't, is it all the same? A fly smashes into a window, reels back stunned, falls in a daze. This too? A lesson for the fly, for me, or what? Either we believe it is all an accident, or there is a creative force. Einstein said he did not believe God throws dice. So there is nothing less godly about a stunned and confused fly than one in perfect harmony, functioning as a fly should. Moreover, whether we, as human beings, are in a state of emotional balance or we are bewildered and flustered, we are still an expression of the Divine. When we are "enlightened," we glow with God's light; but it is no different when we are dense hulks of neurosis and anxiety — we still radiate the same light for those who know how to see.

6th January

Did not sleep last night, was thinking and thinking. I must change radically.

"Please don't think that I am displeased with you, if I speak to you like this; if I am really displeased, you can sit here for years and years and you will get nothing."

I got nothing in those last few days, ad my heart was so full of longing, so full of desire to go on. I really must try to swallow everything, must change completely. This morning I decided to behave as everybody else. I got up when he came in and will do that from now on. I saw his best disciples do it. It seemed to me that he gave me an ironic smile, but perhaps I was mistaken?

In the evening after talking all the time in Hindi, he suddenly turned to me: "Mrs. Tweedie, how are you?"
"Thank you, I am well."
"Did you sleep well?"he inquired.
I said that I did not sleep since midnight at all.
"And why?" he wanted to know.
"Thinking," I said.
"Thinking what?"
Told him that I was reflecting on his words about me changing my attitude. He kept nodding. "Yes,"he said slowly, "Plenty to think about, isn't it?" He did not speak to me anymore, but when I was leaving there was again this lovely smile like a warm greeting on my way home.

The Gift of Water
Someone who doesn't know the Tigris River exists
brings the caliph who lives near the river
a jar of fresh water. The caliph accepts, thanks him,
and gives in return a jar filled with gold coins.

"Since this man has come through desert,
he should return by water." Taken out by another door,
the man steps into a waiting boat
and sees the wide freshwater of the Tigris.
He bows his head, "What wonderful kindness
that he took my gift."

Every object and being in the universe is
a jar overfilled with wisdom and beauty,
a drop of the Tigris that cannot be contained
by any skin. Every jarful spills and makes the earth
more shining, as though covered in satin.
If the man had seen even a tributary
of the great river, he wouldn't have brought
the innocence of his gift.

Those that stay and live by the Tigris
grow so ecstatic that they throw rocks at jugs,
and the jugs become perfect!

                 They shatter.
The pieces dance, and water...

                 Do you see?
Neither jar, nor water, nor stone,
                 nothing.

You knock at the door of reality,
shake your thought-wings, loosen
your shoulders,
             and open.

The Lion and the Bull

Once upon a time Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as his son, and after acquiring all the arts at Takkasila, on his father's death, he ruled his kingdom righteously.

At that time a certain neatherd, who was tending cattle in sheds in forest, came home and inadvertently left behind him a cow that was in calf. Between the cow and a lioness sprang up a firm friendship. The two animals became fat friends and went about together. So after a time the cow brought forth a calf and a lioness a cub. These two young creatures also by force of family ties became fast friends and wandered about together. Then a certain forester, after observing their affection, took such wares as are produced in the forest and went to Benares and presented them to the king. And when the king asked him, "Friend, have you seen any unusual marvel in the forest?" he made answer, "I saw nothing else that was wonderful, my lord, but I did see a lion and a bull wandering about together, very friendly one towards another."

"Should a third animal appear," said the king, "there will certainly be mischief. Come and tell me, if you see the pair joined by a third animal."

"Certainly, my lord," he answered.

Now when the forester had left for Benares a jackal ministered to the lion and the bull. When he returned to the forest and saw this he said, "I will tell the king that a third animal has appeared," and departed for the city. Now the Jackal thought, "There is no meat that I have not eaten except the flesh of lions and bulls. By setting these two at variance, I will get their flesh to eat." And he said, "This is the way he speaks of you," and thus dividing them from one another, he soon brought about a quarrel and reduced them to dying conditions.

But the forester came and told the king, "My lord, a third animal has turned up." "What is it?" said the king. "A jackal, my lord." Said the king, "he will cause them to quarrel, and will bring about their death. We shall find them dead when we arrive." And so saying he mounted upon his chariot and traveling on the road pointed out by the forester, he arrived just as the two animals had by their quarrel destroyed one another. The jackal highly delighted was eating, now the flesh of the lion, now that of the bull. The king when he saw that they were both dead, stood just as he was upon his chariot and addressing his charioteer gave utterance to these verses:

Nought in common had this pair,
Neither wives nor food did share;
yet behold how slanderous word,
Keen as any two-edged sword,

Did devise with cunning art
Friends of old to keep apart.
Thus did bull and lion fall
Prey to meanest beast of all:

So will all bed-fellows be
With this pair in misery,
If they lend a willing ear
To slanderer's whispered sneer.

But they thrive exceeding well,
E'en as those in heaven dwell,
Who to slender ne'er attend—
Slander parting friend from friend.

The king spoke these verses, and bidding them gather together the mane, skin, claws, and teeth of the lion, returned straight to his own city.

The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying
Sogyal Rinpoche

Active Laziness

There is an old Tibetan story that I love, called "The Father of 'As Famous as the Moon." A very poor man, after a great deal of hard work, had managed to accumulate a whole sack of grain. He was proud of himself, and when he got home he strung the bag up with a rope from one of the rafters of his house to keep it safe from the rats and thieves. He left it hanging there and settled down underneath it for the night as an added precaution. Lying there, his mind began to wander: "If I can sell this grain off in small quantities, that will make the biggest profit. With that i can buy some more grain, and do the same again, and before long I'll become rich, and I'll be someone to reckon with in the community. Plenty of girls will be after me. I'll marry a beautiful woman, and before long we'll have a child...it will have to be a son...what on earth are we going to call him" Looking round t he room, his gaze fell upon the little window, through which he could see the moon rising.

"What a sign!" he thought. "How auspicious! That's a really good name. I'll call him 'As Famous as the Moon'..." Now while he had been carried away in his speculation, a rat had found its way up to the sack of grain and chews through the rope. At he moment the words "As Famous as the Moon" issued from his lips, the bag of grain dropped from the ceiling and killed him, instantly. "As Famous as the Moon," of course, was never born.

How many of us, like the man in the story, are swept away by what I have come to call an "active laziness"? Naturally there are different species of laziness: Eastern and Western. The Eastern style is like the one practiced to perfection in India. It consists of hanging out all day in the sun, doing nothing, avoiding any kind of work or useful activity, so that there is no time at all to confront the real issues.

If we look into our lives, we will see clearly how many unimportant tasks, so-called "responsibilities" accumulate to fill them up. One master compares them to "housekeeping in a dream." We tell ourselves we want to spend time on the important things of life, but there never is any time. Even simply to get up in the morning, there is so much to do: open the window, make the bed, take a shower, brush your teeth, feed the dog or cat, do last night's washing up, discover you are out of sugar or coffee, go and buy them, make breakfast — the list is endless. Then there are clothes to sort out, choose, iron, and fold up again. And what about your hair, or your makeup? Helpless, we watch our days fill up with telephone calls and petty projects, with so many responsibilities — or shouldn't we call them "irresponsibilities"?

Our lives seem to live us, to possess their own bizarre momentum, to carry us away; in the end we feel we have no choice or control over them. Of course we feel bad about this sometimes, we have nightmares and wake up in a sweat, wondering: "What am I doing with my life?" But our fears only last until breakfast time; out comes the briefcase, and back we go to where we started.

I think of the Indian saint, Ramakrishna, who said to one of his disciples: "If you pent one-tenth of the time you devoted to distractions like chasing women or making money to spiritual practice, you would be enlightened in a few years!" There was a Tibetan master who lived around the turn of the century, a kind of Himalayan Leonardo da Vinci, called Mipham. He is said to have invented the clock, a cannon, and a airplane. But once each of them was complete, he destroyed them, saying that they would only be the cause of further distraction.

In Tibetan the word for body is lü, which means "something you leave behind," like baggage. Each time we say "lü," it reminds us that we are only travelers, taking temporary refuge in this life and this body. So in Tibet people did not distract themselves by spending all their time trying to make their external circumstances more comfortable. They were satisfied if they had enough to eat, clothes on their backs, and a roof over their heads. going on as we do, obsessively trying to improve our conditions, can become an end in itself and a pointless distraction. Would anyone in their right mind think of fastidiously redecorating their hotel room every time they booked into one? I love this piece of advice from Patrul Rinpoche:

Remember the example of an old cow,
She's content to sleep in a barn,
You have to eat, sleep, and shit—
That's unavoidable—
Beyond that is none of your business.

Sometimes I think that the greatest achievement of modern culture is its brilliant selling of samsara and its barren distractions. Modern society seems to me a celebration of all the things that lead away from the truth, make truth hard to live for, and discourage people from believing that it exists. And to think that all this springs from civilization that claims to adore life, but actually starves it of any real meaning; that endlessly speaks of making people "happy," but in fact blocks their way to the source of real joy.

This modern samsara feeds off anxiety and depression that it fosters and trains us all in, and carefully nurtures with a consumer machine that needs to keep us greedy to keep going. Samsara is highly organized, versatile, and sophisticated; it assaults us from every angle with its propaganda, and creates an almost impregnable environment of addiction around us. The more we try to escape, the more we seem to fall into the traps it is so ingenious at setting for us. As the eighteenth-century Tibetan master Jikmé Lingpa said: "Mesmerized by the sheer variety of perceptions, beings wander endlessly astray in samsara's vicious cycle."

Obsessed, then, with false hopes, dreams, and ambitions, which promise happiness but lead only to misery, we are like people crawling through an endless desert, dying of thirst. And all that this samsara holds out to us to drink is a cup of salt water, designed to make us even thirstier.

The Pipe

You are about to begin an adventure of the People, the Plains Indian People. You probably have known of these people only by their whiteman names, as the Cheyenne, the Crow and the Sioux. Here you will learn to know of them as they were truly known among the People,a s the Painted Arrow, the Little Black Eagle, and the Brother People.

The story of the People has at its center and all around it the story of the Medicine Wheel. The Medicine Wheel is the very Way of Life of the People. it is an Understanding of the Universe. It is the Way given to the Peace Chiefs, our Teachers, and by them to us. The Medicine Wheel is everything of the People.

The Medicine Wheel is the Living Flame of the Lodges,a and the Great Shield of Truth written in the Sign of the Water. It is the Heart and Mind. It is the Song of the Earth. It is the Star-Fire and Painted Drum seen only in the Eyes of Children. It is the Red Pipe of the Buffalo Gift smoked in the Sacred Mountains, and it is the Four Arrows of the People's Lodge. It is our Sum Dance.

The Medicine Wheel Way begins with the Touching of our Brothers and Sisters. Next it speaks to us of the Touching of the world around us , the animals, trees, grasses and all other living things. Finally it Teaches us to Sing the Song of the World, and in this Way to become Whole People.

Come sit with me, and let us smoke the Pipe of Peace in Understanding. Let us Touch. Let us, each to the other, be a Gift as is the Buffalo. Let us be Meat to Nourish each other, that we all may grow. Sit here with me, each of you as you are in your own Perceiving of yourself, as Mouse, Wolf, Coyote, Weasel, Fox, or Prairie Bird. Let me See through your Eyes. Let us Teach each other here in this Great Lodge of the People, this Sun Dance, of each of the Ways on this Great Medicine Wheel, our Earth.

Great Song—The Life and Teachings of Joe Miller


Edited by Richard Power

What Do You Want Out of Life?

What do you want out of life? Nine of ten people don't know what they want. They haven't figured a goal for themselves.

If you do figure out a goal, then see if you have the capacity in your physical, mental, emotional make-up to do it. If you have, then go for it. Nine out of ten times, you'll make it.

But if you don't have the physical capacity or intelligence or emotions to do the job, then pick something else that's in the neighborhood of it. But have some direction to go in.

The truth of the matter is if you'll just be still, be very still, that which is within you will tell you what you should do this time. It's a personal thing that you individually work out.

Nobody can say, "Well, you'd be a good...." That's a lot of hooey.

If anyone comes to you for help, let them talk to you, because you can't find out where they're at unless they talk to you. You're just guessing at it otherwise. By using your own intuition, you can jump to it, yes. But even to get to that, you should let them talk to you. And in their talking to you, you'll touch that Oneness inside of them. then you can help them, if you, in turn, can just have an open heart with the love of God flowing out.

I don't care if the person's a murderer or a thief on dope, they're a part of you. You got to remember that. I'll try to bring it to your consciousness in rather a coarse way, but it'll give you the idea: I don't know any of you men who would care to put your testes on a block of wood and hit'em with a hammer, and I don't know any of you ladies that would like to run one of your breasts through a ringer.

Think it over. Every time you hurt someone else, you're hurting yourself. Maybe that vulgar down to earth thought will STOP you when you feel like tearing somebody up even verbally. That don't do any good. you're only hurting yourself. many times it comes back at you quickly.

If you can't say anything good about someone, don't say anything.

Ramayana

Retold by William Buck

Then Night fell, increasing the strength of the demons. At dusk the War Chief Prahsta and King Ravana were on the wall again, and the darkness grew. Pale silk flags and standards crowned Beautiful Lanka with all their colors fast-fading and moving in the twilight wind. Up on the wall the air from the city below carried the scents of incense and the murmur of Rakshasa prayers to welcome Night. Demon soldiers were everywhere kneeling before fires built in the streets, stringing their bows, tying on their armor, and then putting on over that many garlands of flowers blessed with mantras of safety. And on battlefield outside the animals built many fires to light ground.

Ravana said, "Let the young warriors rest. Arm the veterans."
"That's what we're doing."

From a stone flask Ravana poured out a glass of some juice somehow stolen from heaven and gave it to Prahasta. General Prahasta drank it down and ate up the glass along with a dried string of red-hot peppers. He crunched the glass and chewed on the pepper seeds and smacked his lips. Ravana backed away from him a little.

Prahasta said, "I'll go out with them. I'll drive away the animals and isolate Rama. I'll entertain my friends with his flesh!" Little flames began to come from Prahasta's mouth, licking over his lips.

He touched his hands together and bowed his head and saluted Ravana. Ravana said, "be careful." Prahasta came down from the wall and tied back his flowing hair and got on his chariot

General Prahasta's chariot had two wheels covered by sheets of gold, that turned like rolling suns and rumbled like the clouds. Steel scythes were mounted on the axle hubs, and a long iron spike pointed forward from the harness pole that was all painted with crescent moons. Sixty-four mottled green serpents drew the car, harnessed by unsolvable knots; the chariot bristled with racks of swords and harpoons; it was armored with bullhide war shields and metal plates.

Things were loaded all over the Prahasta's chariot. He had slaughter-sledge, butcher knives and meat-hooks, chains and claws and clamps; he carried bombs and rockets and poisons and appalling jealousies; delusions and bad dreams, diseases and ambitions, many crises and confusions. Wrong-way road signs and false maps of mirages were tied on with broken promises. Small iron wheels spun in the air, their rims striking sparks against flint-stones and whirling in flames in the Night. There were lights and shadows and lying smiles, prisms and colored lenses and crooked brass mirrors and baleful green cat's-eyes. There were puzzles with essential parts missing and loaded dice and heartbreak and many first loves lost.

It was quite a sight to see! From a high flagstaff in the center of the car flew Prahasta's flag showing a serpent of emeralds and clawing lion topaz stones sewn onto blood-red silk. From the central flagpole a defensive net covered the chariot like a tent, made of glowing diamonds closely tied on blue steel threads, woven tightly with spun strands of adamant, guarding Prahasta as he fought and leaving small hidden ways for him to shoot his arrows.

It was fantastic. Still, Prahasta was a great archer; he had never turned back from a fight on Earth. Prahasta flexed his twisty bow and rolled his eyes. He leaned forward and told the charioteer—Take me to War! The chariot leapt forward protected by hatchet men in winged demon helmets. Again the north gate opened, and General Prahasta led out from Lanka the elite veterans, and Grand Army of the Rakshasas. the teeming soldiers followed, riding and shouting, bells tied on their arms and legs, mounted on chariots drawn by running scorpions and toads, riding on the backs of porpoises and camels and giant goldfish, on lizards and pigs and huge blue rats.

Stories of Indian Saints

N.R. Godbole

KIng Satvik and Karmabai

At Jagannath there was a King by name of Satvik. Nothing aside from God was pleasing to his heart. This sacred city of Jagannath Vadaya is truly a heavenly city amongst mortals. There th eLIfe of the world lives in the avatarship of Buddha and there He perfoms all His lila (voluntary deeds). That king living by the Eastern sea was rightly callled Salvik (trurhful). The eagle-bannered One was always very favourable to him. Three times a day at the time of worship the king came and seated himself at the temple. Receiving as his favour a tulsi leaf he afterwards would sit down to eat. Garments, ornaments, adornments and daily food he offered to God. If uninvited guests should come, the king himself gave them food. He kept a light burning night and day in th temple. He provided a place for free food and gave to those he thought were worthy. Food and water he gave to every creature. Now it happened on a certain day that the king sat by the great door of the temple. In order to pass the time., he began to play some gambling game. Laughing he threw down the dice nd had no consciuosness of what he was doing. Just then at the great door of the temple a preist came to distribute favours. In order to recieve a favour hte king put forward his left hand. The prieat felt this was a very strange act. Because he presented his left hand the priest went back again inthe temple. When the king had finished his playing dice he asked the people regarding the favours which the priest had been distributing. They replied, 'When he distributed them around you put out your left hand. Therefore the priest went back again in to the temple...

He said, "My hand has commited a great wrong and I must punish it.' Saying this he devided a plan. He alled his minister, and told him his thiought. 'When sleeping at night in my palace I am visited by a ghost; he puts his hand in through the window and I become greatly freightened; so you remain in my bed and cut off his hand.' the minister replied, 'Your wish is my command. When the ghost appears I will cut off his hand.' He then took a sharp instrument and at night he sat hiding himself. The light were burning in the palace and the minister remained awake, waiting fro the ghost. He proposed as soon as the ghost appeared that he would cut off his hand. At that moment the king put out his own hand through the window and the minister took his instument an dimmediatly cut off the hand. the moment the hand fell down the minister recognized it. He was overwhelmed with sobs and threw himself down upon hte ground. He mourned aloud. Just then the king came inside and said, 'My hand was my enemy, therefore I had it cut off. Let your mind be at rest...'

Miracle of Love — Stories about Neem Karoli Baba

Compiled by Ram Dass

I had hear of Maharajji while wandering in India, and I finally found him in Allahabad. Muy first meeting was in the early morning. Maharajii was in a room on the bed, with a Ma (Indian woman devotee) sitting before him on the floor. There was fruit on the bed. Then out from undera big blanket came his hand. He took some big appples and kept bouncing them off the Ma's chest, but she was totally absorbed in meditation. I sat watching, then suddenly Maharajii looked directly at me. He was like atree, so grounded, so organic. He flipped me a banana and it landed right in my hand. I wondered what I should do with the banana, a sacred object. I figured it would be best to eat it.

A young fellow once came and maharajji asked him how he was, and he said, "Oh, Maharajji, I've overcome anger." Maharajji said, "Oh, very good!" and kept praising him.

At teh time, there was another fellow present who had been asking Maharajji fo rmany years to come to his house, but maharajji had never come bcause the boy's father didn't believe in sadhus or saints. But now Maharajji turned to this boy and said, "do you still want me to come to your house?"

The boy said, "Yes, but let me arrange it with my father." Maharajji turned to this boy and said, "Go and then we will all come." The visit would mean, of course, that the place of honour in the house would be given to Maharajji so the father would have to sit someplace else.

Finally, the whole party went and maharajji sat on the tucket belonging to the boy's father. Then Maharajji leaned over and looked the father in the eye and said, "You're a great saint." But in Hindi he used the very personal form, which you use only to very intimate friends and to people in the lower caste. So it was relly an insult to use that form to the old father. the old man got upset but held himself together. A little time passed and Maharajji leaned over again and said, "You're a great saint." By this time the father's face got red and he was getting worked up, but he still kept control. A few minutes more went by and Maharajji leaned over and said the same thing again. This time the father completejy lost it. He got up and started screaming at Maharajji, "You're no saint, you just come in and eat people's food, you take their beds, and you're a phony."

At this point the young fellow who had overcome anger leaped to his feet, grabbed the father by tehcollar, and started to shake him, saying, "Shut up, you don't know who you're talking to. He's a great saint; if you don't shut up I'll kill you."

At this point Maharajji got up, looked around bewildered, and said, "What's the mater, what's the matter, don't they want me here? We should go—they don't want me here." So he got up and started walking out and said, "It's very difficult to overcome anger. Some of the greatest saints don't overcome anger."
The fellow said, "But Maharajji, he was abusing you."
"That's right, he was abusing me. Why were you angry?"

The Mahabharata

Retold by William Buck

"Welcome, Vyasa," said Yudhishthira. "It has been many years. Will you have dinner with us? We've had nothing to eat since morning."

Vyasa smiled and Draupadi went inside to her kitchen. She lit the cooking fire from the tiny flame that burned for the household gods. Then she realized that they had no food.

She frowned, and thought, "Oh, Krishna! What will I do?"

Krishna stood smiling and leaning back against the wall. Draupadi jumped and put her hand to her breast. "Oh! You scared me."

Krishna said, "Princess, you got me out of bed ad I'm hungry. Give me a little something to eat."

"That's just it. There's nothing."

"Can't your husbands catch anything?"

"Only king Jayadratha."

Krishna looked around the kitchen. "Nothing at all? I don't believe it. Just let me take a look," and he began to go through the pots and pans.

Draupadi watched him. "Why were you in bed so early?"

"Don't you know I have sixteen thousand wives?"

"You do really? I heard that but I never believed it."

Well, why should I deny it? But look." Krishna took a rice grain and a tiny shred of vegetable from the rim of an iron pot. "Now sit down facing me, close your eyes, and be quiet. This is hard to do."

Krishna sat down on the kitchen floor, holding the bit of leaf and the grain of rice in his fingers. The sounds of the forest night fell away, and the fire flickered and died. Krishna began to speak softly in the silence.

"Now listen...so have I heard —
The moonlight is your smile. Earth and sky are your illusion.
At the end of Time, first comes the drought, then the seven suns that bring fire and leave Earth hushed in death and deep in ashes, overhung by burning colored clouds.
Then the lightning breaks and the water falls. Drowned are the sun and moon, and the Earth and stars. You swallow the winds and float sleeping on the dark waters, resting on Sesha the thousand-hooded serpent white as pearls.
Then you awake, and like a winking firefly at night during the rains, you dart over the water, seeking Earth. You dive and bring her back as before, and place her Sesha as before, and create all beings as before.
And after Time has begun again, when Sesha yawns, quaking the Earth, do you not go to him and say:
"Just a little longer?"
Narayana—if I have said well, take this food for all the world."

Krishna swallowed the bit of vegetable and the grain of rice. The fires danced into life, and Draupadi heard the Pandavas talking outside with Vyasa.

"Princess, open your eyes. It is done."
Draupadi looked at him. "I was hungry before, but now..."

"Now no one in all the world is hungry," said Krishna. "Everyone is full of food right up to his throat." He shivered. "But it is very hard to do."

Wake Up and Roar— satsang with H.W.L. Poonja — Volume 1

Edited by Eli Jaxon-Bear

I have an impediment. This impediment is doubt and it keeps me from loving you fully. It is giving me a headache.

What kind of headache do you have? There are two kinds that i know of. One is carrying a load on your head. The other is from having the load removed. If you suddenly have no load on your head, this can seem disorienting; you lose your balance and have a headache. No load can also seem like a headache.

There was once a wealthy man who knew he was to die. He had never prepared himself spiritually, never meditated. So he hired twenty workers from the marketplace to meditate for him. He said, "I will give you double wages and feed you your meals."

The workers were very excited. They wanted to begin right away but did not know what to do. "Just sit like this," the man told them as he showed them the meditation posture.

After a few hours, the workers rebelled. "Keep your double wages," they said. "This will make us sick, sitting here doing nothing." And so they quit.

So I don't know what kind of headache you have, but I suggest you give up the very idea of impediment. This idea in itself is now the only impediment. The scriptures say there are certain impediments to give up. First is the idea of a personal identity, a personality, name and form, as to who you are. Give this up, detach from it.

Next is the idea of heaven after you die. The idea of merit and demerit, that action will get you anywhere. Give up this attachment as well.

And then God. Give up your attachment to God itself. The idea that there is some agency outside of yourself that can help you now. Give this up.

And then give up the very idea of giving up! This must also be abandoned!

Yesterday, you said, "Tie up you camel and pray to Allah." I say now, ride your camel and forget about Allah! Ride the camel and you need not pray. If you tie it, you will have to untie it. If you tie it to a tree, you are also tied to it, who will pray to Allah?

Impediment is only retaining the idea of impediment. the idea of the disappearance of impediment is the last impediment. This is the last hurdle, the last rung, the last leap forward.

Yes, there is a leap and there is the fear of emptiness—no name, no form. There is the fear of embracing this emptiness. You don't see anything there. Unknown! Absolutely empty! You need courage to hug that emptiness of no name and no form. Nobody can help you. Help can take you to the edge. But no one can help you here. the idea that here is help is itself an impediment. Throw away everything in name and form, and jump!

Wake Up and Roar— satsang with H.W.L. Poonja — Volume 2

Edited by Eli Jaxon-Bear

Everybody want to be free. What is the one impediment between you and freedom? Craving. Desire or expectation for something which is perishable.

You are devoted to that craving. Thus you are devoted to this manifestation and its construction; craving that which is impermanent leads to suffering, old age, and death.

Everyone is involved in this craving for sense pleasures, and it has not given peace to anyone. No one, from king to middle class workers, is happy. They are all chasing what appears and disappears.

Craving for what is not real takes you away from the eternal reality. Gods have everything, but still they are not happy.

You always have a light within you, but you don't turn toward it. Instead you see this light shining on outer objects. You chase these objects looking for the light. But you are only seeing reflections of the light within. You run looking for satisfaction from the objects that have caught the reflection for your inner light.

You are hunting outside. This is called craving.

When you decide "Enough! I must be free," then the function of the mind stops going out and clinging to objects in search of happiness. It becomes no-mind. The mind is only mind in the fulfillment of its desires. When you desire something, when you crave something, when you expect something, then it takes this function, and its name is mind.

Stop it, and it is quiet. In this quietness, you can't call it not being wasted then. When it is dammed, it stops. Then it is quiet. In this quietness, the river will be no river. You can't call it a river now. Now call it a reservoir.

This reservoir, without ripples, is identical to your own light. This light is inside your mind.

Now the mind is no-mind. No mind, craving, no expectations, no desires, no notions, and no ideas.

It is good to stop. Then you will see that you have found the precious stone you have been seeking. Having found this, you will be happy. You will be satisfied. You don't expect anything more, because this is chitdarman, the fulfillment of all desires. Chitdarman means you just think and it happens. Chitdarman, the precious stone which shines by its own luster.

You are That! — satsang with Gangaji

That which you yearn for, that which you hunger for, is That which is always present. That is who you truly are.

When I say you, I am not referring to your body. Your body is in that. I am not referring to your thoughts. Your thoughts are in that. I am not referring to your emotions. Your emotions appear in and disappear in that. I am not speaking of your circumstances. Circumstances too appear in and disappear out.

Bodies, thoughts, emotions, and circumstances change. They appear and disappear. They may be good or bad. They may be pleasing or displeasing. the truth of who you are is permanent and unmoving. The great, good new is that however you might imagine yourself, you can recognize who you truly are. Regardless of the experience of yourself as a body, or as the thought, I am this body, you can receive the direct transmission of the truth from your own Self. That transmission is satang. Satang confirms your true identity as pure consciousness, free of all perceived constraints.

When this good news is heard, really heard, there is immeasurable opening. No one has ever reported an end to realizing the Self. What does end is the preoccupation with imagining yourself to be some particular entity separate from boundless consciousness.

Self-realization is not something that can be captured in words. Although words will be used, no word that anyone has ever spoken has touched the glory of the true Self. I am here to point to that, to celebrate that, and to laugh at the very flimsy excuse that something could ever really obstruct.

I do not have anything to teach you. Self-realization is not about learning. I am not asking you to remember anything. I am not asking you to do anything or to get anything new. Nothing new is needed. I am asking you to realize you are already that which you want. And I am simply suggesting, as my teacher suggested to me, and as his teacher suggested to him, that you take one instant, one millisecond to allow the activity of the mind to stop.

In that millisecond, what a discovery is made! In that millisecond, you receive the invitation to surrender to what is revealed when there is no attention on body, thought, emotion, or circumstance. This is a momentous instant! In this instant the body is gone. In this instant of perfect silence you discover what is permanently here, what has always been here, what is permanently you. This instant of silence is the invitation to true refuge, true retreat, true peace, regardless of comings and goings.

What an instant this is! In this instant there is no dwelling on the past, there is no speculating on the future, and there is no analyzing the present in relation to the past or the future. In this instant there is no mental preoccupation, there is no conditioned existence. There is only that pure, pristine consciousness. In this instant you are in satang.

Somehow, by some stroke of good luck, your individual consciousness has been called to satang. You have heard the words that you are Truth itself. Now you are free to discover yourself as Truth. You are free to rest in that Truth. You are free to be happy, regardless of bodies, thoughts, emotions, or circumstances. You are free to be who you truly are.

Welcome to satang.

You are That! — Volume II— satsang with Gangaji

How do I give it all up?

This is an essential question. Recognize how you have attempted to hold it all together. Then you will see that no attempt has ever been successful. Whatever the appearance of success, recognize it is finally impossible to hold it all together. Isn't that a relief?

There is a belief or mind-set or brain-washing which promises that you can hold it all together. This begins with the learning of your name. How many times did you have to hear your name before you learned to think, Okay, yes, that is who I am.

Your name is forgotten each night as you go to sleep and has to be remembered each morning. Of course, you get very used to remembering, so that when you come out of the sleep state, your name arises and you easily slip it on. Your occupation is waiting and you slip your occupation on. Success or failure is waiting. Worthlessness or superiority is waiting.

Now you can ask how to remain naked.

See that all you have put on is illusion, is make-believe. You are not your name, however well you have memorized it. You are not success or failure, however thoroughly you have evaluated circumstances. Recognize that it takes some degree of effort to recall and put on name, evaluation, conclusion, somebodyness. Simply see that you are, in fact, always truly naked. Recognize that illusion only appears to cover who you are. Realize the shining quality of presence that cannot be covered by your o or anyone else's name or form.

Do you know the story of the Emperor's new clothes? The Emperor walks through the street naked because he is deluded into thinking he has many different, very fine outfits. Because he is the Emperor, everyone wants to keep him satisfied and happy. Almost all his subjects say, "Oh, Beautiful new outfit. Yes, that is very nice." Except for one young innocent who truthfully says, "But wait, you don't really have anything on. You are actually naked!"

This is the guru's purpose in your life. The guru says, "You think you are dressed poorly or dressed well, but your nakedness shines through in its glory, in its beauty."

Whatever you think you are clothed in is imply thought, and it is a weighty, unnecessary thought. Whether you clothe yourself with a thought of rightness or wrongness, who you are is naked beauty, glory, pristine no-thingness. Stop thinking otherwise and see. Then you don't have to go to the trouble of letting it all go. You will recognize, Ha! There is nothing there anyway. What I thought I could hold on to is simply a thought, and thoughts are made of nothing. They seem to be something, and are experienced as something, but in reality, they are nothing.

How to let it all go is a very good question. The only problem with the question is that it assumes there is something to let go of. This assumption is based on the naming process, the believing process, and the "acting as-if" process. Don't "act as if." Don't name. Don't process. Just be.

Sri Ramana Maharshi often said, "Be as you are."

To be as you are is to be before naming, before clothing. Be That. The effort is in the naming and clothing, and the following evaluation of what has been named and clothed, and the comparison of that with other names and clothes.

Be as you are. Then you will see as I see, and you will have a good laugh, a deep laugh, a serious laugh.

The Free Mind — The Inward Path to Liberation

Free Among the Unfree

These days there appears to be a great deal of talk in the air about freedom, which is perhaps not altogether surprising in an unfree society. A man in prison always yearns for the wide world beyond his bars. Instinctively, many of us feel that freedom is one of the greatest goods on earth, if not the greatest. But the word "freedom," like the word "love," is heavily loaded. What, actually, do we mean by it? Is it freedom of thought, or freedom from oppression, from what, from government interference? One could define many more kinds of freedom; but, however necessary all these are in decent society, they are as nothing when set against Freedom in the most fundamental sense of the word, with which we are concerned here.This Freedom is an inner condition of mind which flourishes regardless of the outer freedom or the lack of it; at the same time it represents the only genuine way toward the achievement of the outer freedom. A free society can never come into being through the efforts of slaves, no matter what they do. And we are slaves, as long as we do not recognize that we are totally conditioned, that all our actions spring from the past.

Fundamentally, inner freedom is freedom from the demands of self, the self which is "you," "me," and is also the society which we have created. Since there exists no greater tyranny than that of self, the inner freedom is the ultimate freedom. But, it may be asked, how can such a thing be? How can I, being "me,' be free from "me"? This seems one case where mere logic will not get us very far, because obviously our very terminology is begging the question. Since words are essential for communication, we should use them lightly, assigning only a provisional degree of finality to their meanings. In this way, we create the necessary freedom to go beyond the words, which is essential for an understanding of any depth.

Paradoxically, losing one's self is finding oneself. This means that one has to find out what one is, not in a theoretical sense—to be told one is the son of God, or made in his image, or any rubbish— but actually to discover for oneself what is the energy, the activity that is experienced as the "me." For the self is not to be made into an abstraction, and can therefore never be described. It is constantly in motion; it is the most evanescent thing in the world. The moment you think you know it, it is already something entirely different. As it is not within the field of knowledge, you cannot find out what that "self" is from someone else—whether he be your psychoanalyst, your favorite guru, or present writer.

So the few words with which we can only hint at the nature of "self-knowing" will have no meaning whatsoever, unless one is actually doing this process of self-discovery, which is meditation in the most real sense. to understand the nature of the self one must pay attention to one's actions, thought, and feelings; one must observe all the secret longings, quiet despairs, and inner conflicts of the mind without being carried away by what one sees. The moment one gets carried away there can be no further observation which should be as uninvolved with the scene observed as the operation of a photographic camera. If one can thus be "choicelessly aware" in watching oneself, one may find that at every moment our action is based upon a memory of a past experience; this past experience, which seeks continuation, intensification, modification, creates the future. All action is concerned with linking a present situation with a past situation, giving some continuity to the past. Therefore we never live in the present moment, although intellectually we can acknowledge that it is only the latter that exists. Is not this strange? At the same time it may be seen that we mold what is into what should be, on the basis of past experience, conditioning. And the feeling of divergence between what is and what should be— which is really a kind of resistance against what is—is none other than the ego-sense and lies at the root of all conflict; therefore it is the only obstacle to our freedom. To be really free means that one is fully submerged in what is, no longer concerned with what is going to happen to that little self, and so no longer projects the future.

Crisis in Consciousness —The Source of All Conflict

This Question of Thought

I think "thought" is the most important and fascinating subject under the sun. See, how in its very initial consideration thought is involved, and so ho w careful we have to be in our approach to the subject. For when thought is dealing with thought, it is like, in mathematics, dividing infinity by infinity: the result may be quite misleading or even meaningless. To go into this question of thought at all fruitfully, there must therefore be an element of non-thought, i.e., love; we must be fascinated by the problem for its own sake and we shall then see that in its unraveling lies great beauty. We shall, however, miss this beauty if we go into the problem without real love, such as when we expect a result from it, whether this be freedom from suffering or simply an entrenchment of our intellectual store of ideas. This love gives us the capacity for Fundamental Thought, implying direct perception, which is obviously required for any examination of thought, if we are not to go round in circles within thought.

First, it may be useful to look into the relationship between love and Fundamental Thought. Obviously fundamental thinking can exist on all levels. After all, what is fundamental thought if it is not thought in the broadest categories? Is not that thought fundamental which moves from general to the particular, thereby seeing each thing through its matrix, which is placing it in a larger frame of reference? But what we are here concerned with is Fundamental Thought, with capital letters, and this must be thinking in the very broadest categories possible; this means that ultimately the terms of reference of thought itself are left behind, and thought is eliminated—and maybe then love is born. After all thought is always divisive, isolating, and love is the total elimination of all barriers.

In the second place, it is essential to understand that the above implies that like can never be understood by like but only by unlike, and then only if this is more fundamental and more comprehensive. For example, if I am interested in clouds and cloud formation, I can learn a certain amount when observing the clouds from the inside, by being "part of the cloud" as it were (e.g., from flying through it in an aeroplane or glider). But I can learn much more and obtain a far more comprehensive picture when the observations are made from the outside (e.g., from a satellite) as well as from the inside. In other words, a thing cannot be properly understood on its own level only.

10-15 a.m. — Mr. Rappold, an American devotee, opens his eyes from meditation in which he seems to have been deeply sunk and raises his voice:

Rappold — Bhagavan, what should a devotee do at the time of death?

Bhagavan — A devottee never dies, rather he is already dead. What should a devotee do at the time of death? What can he do? Whatever a man thinks in his life-time, so he does in his last moment — the worldly man thinks of his worldly affairs and the devotee of devotion and spiritual matters. But a Jnani having no thoughts of any kind, remains the same. His thoughts, having died long ago, his body also died with them. Therefore for him there is no such thing as death.

Again, people fear death because they fear to lose their possessions. When they go to sleep they do not have such fear at all. Although sleep resembles death in leaving all possessions behind, it causes no fear in their hearts because of the knowledge that the next morning they will enter into their possessions once again. The Jnani, having no sense of possession, is entirely free from the fear of death. He remains the same after death as before it.

5th September

9-40 a.m. — A visitor hands the Maharshi a very beautiful walking stick, which seems to be made of the best ebony. Maharshi takes it, turns it on all sides, and carefully examines every part of it, then stretches it back to the giver, who signifies that it is an offering for Bhagavan. Sri Bhagavan replies, "What will I do with it?" and turning to the disciples, he smilingly says: "in olden days I used to make and give away sticks. Nowadays I am being presented with them. What will I do with them? If I take this stick, it will remain here unused till someone will one day carry it off. Then the presenter will feel sorry. Will it not then be better for him to take it back right now and, seeing it, he will remember me?" The devotees laughed, and the visitor's depression turned to elation, which made him exclaim: "Your grace has overwhelmed me; I'll cherish it all my life, as it has been hallowed by Bhagavan's touch."

Living by the Words of Bhagavan

Building Works — I

My work as an attendant only lasted about a month. At the end of that period Bhagavan decided that I would be better employed supervising construction jobs within the ashram. The first intimation that Bhagavan was planning this for came while I was attending to my usual duties in the hall.

Bhagavan suddenly turned to me and said, 'A man is building a wall near the water tank. Go and see what he is doing."

It seemed a rather vague kind of instruction but I carried it out as best I could. I watched the mason for a few minutes and then asked him what he was doing.

He replied, "Ramaswami Pillai told me to construct a wall here, so I am constructing a wall'.

In English the term 'mason' is used to denote someone who builds with stones or bricks. It is not used to denote people who cut, carve or dress stone.

I went back to the hall, told Bhagavan what the mason had said and gave him a brief report on how the work was progressing.

A few minutes later Bhagavan looked at me again and repeated his original instruction: 'Go and see what he is doing.'

Slightly perplexed, I went outside and again asked the mason what he was doing.

The mason replied, 'I have already told you, I am constructing a wall'.

Since I could see nothing wrong with the wall, or with the way he was constructing it, I could not understand why Bhagavan was so insistent that I check up on his activities. I went back to Bhagavan and gave him a further progress report.

A few minutes later Bhagavan repeated his instruction for the third time: 'Go and see what he is doing.'

Quite understandably, the mason was somewhat annoyed when I went back and asked for the third time what he was doing.

'Are you mad?' he said. 'I have already told you that I am constructing a wall. Can't you see for yourself what I am doing?'

I would not have been surprised to learn that he really did think that I was mad since it was quite clear to everyone that he was building a wall in a reasonably competent manner. There was really no justification for my repeated queries. I felt obliged to ask them only because Bhagavan clearly wanted to know what was going on. For the third time I went back to the hall and told Bhagavan what the mason had said.

After remaining silent for a few minutes Bhagavan turned to me and said, 'From now on somebody else can take care of your work in the hall. Go and supervise this mason. Make sure that he does the job properly.'

My first reaction to this new assignment was: 'Why didn't Bhagavan give me this instruction in the beginning? Why did he make me go backwards and forwards three times before telling me what his real intention was?'

Later, I came to understand that Bhagavan was training me to understand his own method of supervision. Although he sometimes gave me detailed instructions, on many jobs that he gave me he would only give me the briefest hint of what he wanted to be done. I would then have to decide what Bhagavan really intended and execute the work accordingly.

Talks With Sri Ramana Maharshi

6th June, 1936

Mr. Jharka, a gentleman from the University of Benares, holding the M.A. and the M.Sc. degrees, said that he was stricken with grief due to bereavement of wife and children. He sought peace of mind and asked how to get it.

M.:It is in the mind that birth and death,pleasure and pain, in short the world and ego exist. If the mind is destroyed all these destroyed too. Note that it should be annihilated, not just made latent. For the mind is dormant in sleep. It does not know anything. Still, on waking up, you are as you were before. There is no end to grief. But if the mind be destroyed the grief will have no background and will disappear along with the mind.

D.:How to destroy the mind?

M.: Seek the mind. On being sought, it will disappear.

D.:I do not understand.

M.: The mind is only a bundle of thoughts. The thoughts arise because there is a thinker. The thinker is the ego. The ego, if sought, will vanish automatically. The ego and the mind are the same. The ego is the root-thought from which all other thoughts arise.

D.: How to seek the mind?

M.: Dive within. You are now aware that the mind rises up from within. So sink within and seek.

D.: I do not yet understand how it is to be done.

M.: You are practicing breath-control. Mechanical breath-control will lead on to the goal. It is only an aid. While doing it mechanically take care to be alert in mind and remember the 'I' thought and seek its source. Then you will find that where breath sinks, there 'I'-thought arises. They sink and rise together. The 'I'-thought also will sink along with breath. Simultaneously, another luminous infinite 'I' — 'I' will become manifest, which will be continuous and unbroken. That is the goal.

The Teachings of Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi — In His Own Words

Concentration on the Heart or Between the Eyebrows

Concentration on the point between the eye-brows s a yogic practice. Bhagavan recognized its efficacy, especially when combined with incantation, but recommended concentration on the heart on the right side as being both safer and more effective.

A Maharashtra lady of middle age, who had studied Jnaneswari and Vichara Sagara, and was practicing concentration between the eyebrows, had felt shivering and fear and did not progress. She required guidance. The Maharshi told her not to forget the seer. The sight is fixed between the eyebrows, but the seer is not kept in view. If the seer always remembered it will be all right.

A visitor said: We are asked to concentrate on the spot in the forehead between the eyebrows. Is that right?

B.: Everyone is aware that he exists. Yet one ignores that awareness an goes about in search of God. What is the use of fixing one's attention between the eyebrows? The aim of such advice is to help the mind to concentrate. It is one of the forcible methods of checking the mind and preventing its dissipation. The mind is forcibly directed into one channel and this is a help to concentration. But the method of realization is the enquiry 'Who am I?' The present trouble affects the mind and it can only be removed by the mind.

D.: Sri Bhagavan speaks of the Heart as the seat of the Consciousness and as identical with the Self. What exactly does the word 'Heart' signify?

B.: The question about the Heart arises because you are interested in seeking the source of Consciousness. To all deep thinking minds, the enquiry about the 'I' and its nature has an irresistible fascination. Call it by any name, God, Self, the Heart or the seat of Consciousness, it is all the same. The point to be grasped is this: that Heart means the very core of one's being, the centre without which there is nothing whatever.

D.: But Sri Bhagavan had specified a particular place for the Heart within the physical body—that is in the chest, two digits to the right of the median.

B.: Yes, that is the centre of spiritual experience according to the testimony of Sages. The spiritual heart-centre is quite different from the blood-propelling, muscular organ known by the same name. The spiritual heart-centre is not an organ f the body. All that you say of the heart is that it is the core of your being, that with which you are really identical (as the word in Sanskrit literally means) whether you are awake, asleep or dreaming, whether you are engaged in work or immersed in samadhi.

D.: In that case, how can it be localized in any part of the body? Fixing a place for the Heart would imply setting physiological limitations to That which is beyond space and time.

B.: That is right. But the person who puts the question about the position of the Heart considers himself as existing with or in the body. While putting the question now, would you say that your body alone is here but that you are speaking from somewhere else? No, you accept your bodily existence. It has no form or shape, no within or without. There is no right or left...Pure Consciousness—which is the Heart— includes all; and nothing is outside or apart from it. That is the ultimate truth.

Conscious Immortality — Conversations with Sri Ramana Maharshi

Beyond Yoga

Miracles, clairvoyance, clairaudiance — what are these? They are sidetracks. The realized person is above them. The greatest miracle is to realize the Self! Some people describe hundreds of former lives seen by clairvoyance, but what use is it? Does it help them or others to know the Self? What are these lives but body-births? The true birth is in the Self. Even if you could be in England now (astrally), would it make you any better off? You would not be a bit nearer realization.

What good will siddhis (occult powers) do? Suppose you exercise all these wonderful powers? You experience one desire and try to fulfill it, and when a fresh desire breaks out, you expend your energy and attention on that. Isn't the net result merely worry caused to the turbulent mind? If happiness is your real goal and aim, you must ultimately come back from your diversion and siddhis and try to find yourself by inquiring who it is that wants the happiness.

Some jnanis may develop siddhis such as invisibility. They are equal to Siva and can even grant boons, but no powers can equal Self-realization. People are not content with their idea of jnana and want siddhis as well. They only look at the body. They are likely to neglect the supreme happiness of jnana and get side-tracked and lost on the way instead of following the royal path. Jnana is everything, and a jnani will not waste any thought on the occult powers.

The Maharshi is unvarying in his attitude towards psychic visions. Even when his disciples report that his own picture has appeared to them, transfigured in brilliant light, he counsels them to put aside all 'form' and to remember that what is thus seen is perception of the Self that must be seized.

The Collected Works of Ramana Maharshi

'The Self is covered over by the five sheaths caused by the power of ignorance. It is hidden from sight like the water of a pond covered with weeds. When the weeds are removed the water is revealed and can be used by man to quench his thirst and cool him from the heat. In the same way, by process of elimination, you should with keen intellect discard the objective five sheaths from the Self as "not this, not this". Know the Self distinct from the body and from all forms, like a stalk of grass in its sheaths of leaf. Know it as eternal, pure, single in its essence, unattached, with no duties to perform, ever blissful and self-effulgent. He who is liberated realizes that all objectivity reality, which is superimposed on the Self as the idea of a serpent is on the rope, is really no other than the Self, and he himself is the Self. Therefore the wide aspirant should undertake discrimination between the Self and the non-Self. Of the five sheaths (food, life-breath, mind, intellect, and bliss), the gross body is created out of food, increasing by eating it and perishing when there is none. It is the sheath of food. Compounded of skin, blood, flesh, fat, marrow, excreta, and urine, it is most filthy. It has no existence before birth or after death but appears between them. It undergoes change every moment. There is no set law governing that change. It is an object, like a pot, is insentient and has a variety of forms. It is acted upon by other forces. The Self, on the other hand, is distinct from this body and is single, eternal, and pure. It is indestructible, though the body with its limbs is destroyed. The Self is the witness who knows the characteristics of the body, its modes of activity and its three states. It is self-aware and directs the body. Such being the contrast between the body and the Self, how can the body be the Self? The fool thinks of it as the Self. The man of wise action with some measure of discrimination, takes body and soul together for "I", but the really wise man who conducts the enquiry with firm discrimination knows himself always as the supreme Brahman, the Being which is of its own nature. The "I am the body" idea is the seed of all sorrow. Therefore, just as you do not identify yourself with your shadow body, image body, dream body, or the body that you have in your imagination, cease also to associate the Self in any way with the body of skin, flesh, and bones. Make every effort to root out this error and holding fast to the knowledge of reality as the absolute Brahman, destroy the mind and obtain supreme peace. Then you will have no more births. Even a learned scholar who perfectly understands the meaning of Vedanta has no hope of liberation if, owing to delusion, he cannot give up the idea of the non-existent body as the Self.'

Spiritual Stories as told by Ramana Maharshi

Enter the Heart

A devotee who had suddenly lost his only son came to Bhagavan in a state of acute grief, seeking relief. He asked a few questions in which he grief was evident. Bhagavan as usual asked him to enquire into the Self and find out who is grieving. The devotee was not satisfied. Bhagavan then said, "All right. I will tell you a story from Vichara Sagaram. Listen".

Two youngsters by name Rama and Krishna, told their respective parents that they would go to foreign countries to prosecute further studies and then earn a lot of money. After some time, one of them died suddenly. The other studied well, earned a lot and was living happily, Some time later the on that was alive requested a merchant who was going to his native place to tell his father that he was wealthy and happy and that the other boy who had come with him had passed away. Instead of passing on the information correctly, the merchant told the father of the person that was alive, that his son was dead, and the father of the person that was dead, that his son had earned a lot of money and was living happily. The parents of the person that was actually dead, were happy in the thought that their son would come back after some time, while the parents of the person whose son was alive, but was reported to be dead, were in grief. In fact, neither of them saw their son but they were experiencing happiness or grief according to the reports they received. That is all. We too are similarly situated. We believe all sorts of things that the mind tells us and get deluded into thinking that what exists does not exist and that what does not exist exists. If we do not believe the mind but enter the heart and see the son that is inside, there is no need to see the children outside.

Periapuranam —The Lives of the Sixty-Three Saivite Saints

Ilayankudimaara Naayanaar

Maaran of Ilayankudi made it his loving duty to honour and extend generous hospitality to all devotees of the Lord of the mystic dance at the Golden Hall, who came to his place. He was initially as rich as Kubera, but the Lord to test him, made his wealthy decay gradually. The heart of Maaran did not shrink with his wealth decay gradually. The heart of Maaran did not shrink with his diminishing property, he continued to feed the devotees, even incurring debt for the purpose.

Once, late on a rainy night, the Lord appeared before Maaran as an old and hungry ascetic, and was at once welcomed courteously,enabled to dry himself and seat himself conveniently. Then, Maaran enquired of his good and dutiful wife: 'We may lack food for ourselves. Still, we have to find a way to offer food to the noble guest. What can be done now?'. The lady replied: 'It is too late to go out and ask our neighbours for anything, even if it were meet to do so. Paddy seeds were sown in our field during this day, they will be floating, on account of the heavy rains. If you could gather and bring them here, I shall try to cook the stuff. There seems to be no other way'. Maaran then felt he had regained all his wealth and straightaway took a basket and plodded his way in rain and utter darkness. Reaching the field, he felt in the dark and gathered the floating paddy seeds into his basket and turned homeward. His wife did not stay within, because there was a male guest, within! She was on the threshold, awaiting with great anxiety her husband's return. When Maaran gave her the basket of seeds, she cleaned the stuff and made it fit for being cooked. Now a fresh problem arose—there was no fuel! Maaran solved this by cutting down a bamboo rafter from his house!

The noble lady carefully prepared the rice and made it delicious to eat. But the rice had to be served with some curry. When she pointed this out, Maaran went to the backyard and pulled out some tender greens which were only half grown and brought the stuff inside. The lady prepared different kinds of curry with these greens! When everything was ready, at her suggestion, Maaran went to the guest and gently awakening him said, 'Oh, great and noble one, who has come to save me out of my deep ignorance, deign to partake of my humble fare'.

Then a great halo rose up and before the wondering gaze of the couple, the Lord gave 'darshan' from the heavens, mounted on his bull, along with his consort, and proclaimed to the devotee, who had so nobly tried to do his duty, 'Beloved one! You have offered adoration in the most acceptable way. Both of you, now come off to my own abode where you may continue to do service, waited upon by Kubera himself!' And so, the devoted couple reached the blessed state.

Matri Vani —Volume 1

The following message was sent to someone who had discarded his sacred thread out of grief over death of a beloved member of his family:

"So you have cast away your sacred thread? Well, Well! Of course, you are bound to do what gives you peace of mind. In this world, when a man dies his wife does not accompany him, neither does the husband go with his wife when she passes away, nor the son with his dying father. How can anyone of his own will go with his loved-ones when they depart from this world? Surely this is self-evident! Everyone has to live his life according to the results of his past actions.

Now that this misfortion has befallen you, have you given up eating, have you renounced your wife and children, your friends and relatives? Have you left off wearing clothes, or sleeping, or talking to people? It is true that you have been plunged into a sea of misery. But what possessions of yours has gone with him who died? Only your sacred thread? Your parents' gift of love and esteem, so precious as an aid on the way to the eternal Goal of human life! If today you resume the sacred thread in honour of him who has left this world, it will keep his memory alive in your heart. You had accepted it for his sake, this symbol of all that is an aid towards immortality. To discard the sacred thread the sacred thread, once it has been assumed, is a matter of deep regret for the ordinary man. Surely, you could keep it in remembrance of him who has passed away.

One should not pray to God for any person; all prayer has to be solely for That which, when found All is found. The wearing of the sacred thread is also meant for this purpose.'

Matri Vani —Volume 2

For ages and ages you have already enjoyed so much of eating and sleeping, of worldly pleasures and comforts. The more one indulges in them the more prominent they grow. One must not give in to them. Man does not know at what particular time the Divine Power (Sakti) may manifest. Make up your mind never to abandon your practices aiming at That (Tat karma) until you have reached your Goal. You must keep on exerting yourself, binding every minute of the twenty-four hours. The more the mind remains absorbed in the thought of God,the stronger will that Power grow, and this Power is your companion on the path to the Supreme — remember this.



Even on this thorny path the Guru is constantly holding your hand and leading you towards the One. Remember, this is the actual truth.

Occasionally to mistake marsh-gas for real light is but natural. Albeit, it is He indeed who is present in all forms. The path that brings full and unobstructed Enlightenment must be pursued with the utmost concentration at every moment and to the limit of one's capacity. Where He manifests as the pilgrimage undertaken for the sake of supreme union, there is hope its being crowned with success.

Sad Vani

Whenever you have the chance, laugh as much as you can. By this all the rigid knots in your body will be loosened. But to laugh superficially is not enough: your whole being must be united in laughter, both outwardly and inwardly. Do you know what this kind of laughter is like? You simply shake with merriment from head to foot, so that one cannot tell which part of your body is most affected. What you usually do is laugh with your mouth while your mind and emotions are not involved. But I want you to laugh with your whole countenance, with your whole heart and soul, with all the breath of your life. In order to be able to laugh in this way you must have implicit faith in the power of the Self and try to bring the outer and inner parts of your being into perfect harmony. Do not multiply your needs, nor give way to the sense of want, but live a life of spotless purity. Making the interests of others our own, seek refuge at His feet in total surrender. You will then see how the laughter that flows from such a heart defeats the world.

That Compassionate Touch of Ma Anandamayee

Strange Little Incidents Depicting Mother's Divine Glories

(As Narrated by Gauridasi)

One evening in the Ashram at Agarpara, I happened to be sitting quite close to Mataji during Satang. Though I was as near to Her as one could be and directly in front of Her, I could not see Her face. She was lying down and had Her arms folded and slightly raised so that Her face was entirely hidden from us. Like all who have been 'caught' by Her, I had only one desire which will no doubt sound very foolish to those who have not been so captivated an intense longing just to sit there and look upon Her exalted expression, to see Her eyes that ever seem to be gazing into the beauty of Eternity. And it appeared tat She was deliberately making that impossible. Then it occurred to me, this is exactly ho God hides from us in his universe; with the limbs of his own body, He remains veiled to our sight. I did not take my eyes off Mataji; neither did I observe Her move Her arm or raise Her head. Nevertheless, as soon as that thought ad crossed my mind, I was suddenly looking straight into Ma's eyes and She into mine, that still, blissful gaze enveloping me — as if to say, "At last you have understood a little something."



Just as a physician does not concern himself with ascertaining whether his patients are rich or poor, intelligent or stupid, handsome or ugly, good or bad, but treats them simply as ailing men and women whom he has to cure, in a similar way Mataji sees in all human beings her friends. And She meets them accordingly, with friendliness. Here probably lies the secret of her irresistible charm. She never has to exert Herself in order to be friendly or to act in a friendly manner.

In Raipur Ashram, one of the Ashram girls had, it seemed, repeatedly done what the others considered wrong. "Reprimand her", begged the other girls, "she does not listen to us. Do please scold her." Mataji summoned the culprit. The expression on Mataji's face was moving and puzzling at the same time. She obviously tried hard to look severe. But the mask of anger was only too transparent and brittle and Her voice expressed the same play of hide-and-seek behind Her pretended unfriendliness. Suddenly She turned round on Her heel and started laughing heartily. Still laughing, She stood before the girl like a child that has been caught. Ma then said, "Don't you know that I cannot be angry with anyone? How then could I scold her?"

Parables of Sivanada

Parable of the Well-Cooked Feast

Once upon a time there lived a Brahmanishtha Guru with a certain disciple of his. They were both living in one and the same Kutir. The disciple duly studied and mastered the various scriptures. He also served the Guru day and night.

Hi proximity with the Guru made him think that he was the only beloved disciple of the Guru. This further led him to believe that the other disciples who were wandering hither and thither all through the year and occasionally visited the Guru not truly devoted to the Guru. All that only strengthened his ego.

One wintry night, the disciple returned to the Kutir after finishing some outdoor work. He heard the voice of another disciple, an occasional visitor, inside the Kutir. He knocked at the door. The Guru asked, "Who is that?" The disciple replied, as usual, "It is I, please open the door."

The Guru replied, "I am enjoying a well-cooked feast. There is no room for a second one in my feast."

The disciple misunderstood the Guru. He thought he was belittled and insulted before an occasional visiting Gurubhai, almost a stranger for all practical purposes. So, being annoyed and offended, he left the place immediately and went about wandering aimlessly.

As days rolled by, his heart, mind and ego got thoroughly burnt by the fire of separation from the Guru. His heart and mind, his very being as well, were cooked well by the fire of Viraha. He forgot himself and went almost mad with Guru-Bhakti.

One day, all on a sudden, he rushed towards the Guru's Kutir and kept knocking at the door aloud: "Gurudev, Gurudev" in a rich love-ladden tone. That very sound drowned even the Guru's usual and formal question, "Who is that?" His mind was filled with the presence of his Gurudev alone. He was blind to everything, nay, neither he nor the universe existed for him; only Guru existed.

The Guru knew well the voice of his disciple. He could no longer wait. He, too, rushed out and affectionatly embraced the disciple, saying "I am now enjoying a well-cooked feast. There is no room for a second one in my feast."

God is omnipresent and non-dual. There is no room for a second one to exist by Him. There is no room for that little self of man in this vast universe.

As long as the little ego persists, you, too, should be wandering in the dark, undergoing all hardships like the proud disciple. In the state your being religious, your visiting temples and places of worship, your observing austerities—all those things cannot make you the beloved of God.

You should have Ananya-Bhakti, love of God for God's sake. Mere service of God with the thought "I am serving God" cannot become Ananya-Bhakti.

When your ego is consumed by the fire of Viraha, when your heart and mind are well cooked in that fire, nay, when your love for God is well cooked over the fire of separation, and becomes delicious and palatable to Him, when, in that state, neither you nor this universe exist to you, but only He exists filling your heart and mind, then and then alone, will you become the beloved of God. He will then rush towards you and embrace you like the Guru embracing the disciple.

Then both of you will enjoy a well-cooked feast at which there will be no room for a second one.

Kill the little self and say:

"O Lord! All this is Thy Own Self."

Practice of Brahmacharya

Passion Blinds the Intellect

Sexual pleasure is an illusion. It is Bhranti Sukha. It is no real happiness at all. It is mere nerve-tickling. All worldly pleasures appear as nectar in the beginning. They become poison in the end. Reflect well, O Saumya, my beloved son! Do not be led away by impulses and passion. Nobody has benefited in this world by this Maya. People weep in the end. Ask any grown-up householder whether he finds even an iota of happiness in this world.

The fly runs toward the fire or lamp thinking that it is a flower and gets burnt up. Even so, passionate man runs towards a false beautiful form thinking that he can get there the real happiness and gets himself burnt up in fire of lust.

Just as the silkworm entangles itself in its self-woven cocoon, so also, you have entangled yourself in the meshes of your own desires. Tear the meshes by the knife of dispassion and soar high in the realm of eternal peace on the wings of devotion and knowledge.

A passionate man is a real blind man. Though he may be an intellectual man, he becomes blind when he is under the sway of sexual excitement. His intellect proves to be of no use when he suffers from this kind of blindness. Pitiable is his lot! Satanga, prayer, Japa, enquiry and meditation will eradicate this dire disease and bestow on him the eye of wisdom.

There is no sex in the elements. There is mind in the body which is made up of these elements. There is Kalpana in the mind. And that Kalpana or desire for lust is sex desire. If you kill this mind which is a bundle of desires, you kill lust and everything. Kill that Kalpana. You will have no lust then. You have killed lust.

The sex idea is a mental creation. The whole Maya or Avidya is nothing but the body-idea or the sex idea. The whole spiritual Sadhana is calculated to destroy this one idea. The extinction of this one idea. The extinction of this idea alone is Moksha!

Concentration and Meditation

Memory
When you sit for meditation, thoughts of your friends and office-work, memory of conversation that took place in the previous evening with your friends and relatives will disturb your mind and cause= distraction. You will have to withdraw the mind again and again cautiously from these extraneous worldly thoughts and try continuously and fix it on your Lakshya or point. You will have to disregard and ignore the worldly thought. Be indifferent. Do not welcome these thought. Do not identify yourself with these thoughts or ideas. Say within yourself, "I do not want these thoughts. I have nothing to do with these thoughts." They will vanish gradually.

You may be living in a solitary cave in the Himalayas. You may be practicing meditation. If the memory of your past experiences in the plains comes, if you allow the mind to dwell on it again and again, you a reliving actually on the plains only, though your abode is in solitary retreats of the Himalayas. Further you do not lead the perfect divine life again and again subjectively in the sacred cave. Thought is the real action.

When you climb the ladder of Yoga, when you walk in the spiritual path, do not look back, do not remember your past experiences; kill all memory of your past experiences. Build up your mental Bhava 'I am Brahman' strongly. Strengthen it. Generate again and again Brahmakare Vritti. Keep it steady by regular and steady constant meditation. A single thought of your past experience will give a new lease of life to the thought-image or memory-picture, rejuvenate and strengthen it and will pull you down. It will be di