The
Silent Power
Selections from
The Mountain Path
and
The Call Divine
SRI RAMANASRAMAM
THERE IS NOTHING, BE!
Major A. W. Chadwick (Sadhu Arunachala)
THE PHILOSOPHY OF Sri Bhagavan, the greatest of sages,
can be summed up in just three words “There is nothing.”
So simple and yet so supremely difficult. “There is nothing”.
All this world that you see, this mad rush of people after money
and ‘existence’ is just a fabricless thought. “There is nothing.”
You, as a personality, as a petty entity striving for your own
selfish ends, ever seeking so-called ‘Self-Realisation’, are nothing.
You are like the shadow of a leaf cast by the moonlight,
intangible, unsubstantial, and in fact non-existent. And, as the
shadow is a purely negative phenomenon, is in fact nothing
but a shutting out of light, so is the ego and everything else
(because everything follows in the train of the ego and is actually
a part of it) only a shutting out of the light of the Self.
Sri Bhagavan tells us just one other thing. He says: “Be.
Just be your real Self, that’s all.” “Certainly, it sounds all right,”
you say, “but when one tries to do it, it does not seem so easy.
Has he no method?”
Method! Well, what exactly do you mean by method?
Sitting on the floor and concentrating on the navel? Or blowing
the wind out of alternate nostrils? Or repeating some incantation
one crore and eight times? No, he hasn’t got any method. All
these things are no doubt good in their way and help to prepare
one, but Sri Bhagavan doesn’t happen to teach them.
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“Then what am I to do?”
You must just BE, he says. And to be you must know the ‘
I that is.’ To know the ` I that is’, just go on enquiring `Who
am I?’ Don’t take any notice of anything except the ` I ‘, throw
everything else away like refuse. And when you have at last
found the ‘I ‘, BE. All talk, all empty words. `There is nothing
‘ and that’s the end of it. No method, nothing to discard, nothing
to find. Nothing at all is except the ` I ‘. Why worry about
anything else? Just BE, now and always, as you were, as you are,
and as you ever will be.
‘There is nothing.’ You may justly ask ‘ Who wants this
purely negative state? ‘
To which I can only reply: ‘ It is just a question of taste.’
Though, note you, I have never suggested that Sri Bhagavan
ever says that the ultimate state after which, it is presumed, we
are all striving is negative. On the contrary, when he says: ‘
There is nothing ‘, it is obvious that he is speaking about our
present egoistic existence, which for us is everything. But this
being where there is nothing must obviously be a state which is
something. That state is Self-realisation. Not only is it something
but it is EVERYTHING, and being everything then logically
and philosophically it must be PERFECT.
‘ If we are already perfect and there is nothing else, what
need is there for us to go to Bhagavan? ‘ you ask.
And this reminds me of a story against myself.
An Australian journalist came to the Ashram, quite why
he came is a mystery, I doubt if he would be able to tell himself.
Anyhow he did come and in the course of his visit came to see
me in my room. It was obvious from the first moment that I
was a tremendous problem to him. Why a European should
shut himself away in a place like this was beyond his
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comprehension. He asked many questions but none of my
replies satisfied him.How could they? Especially as he had not
the first idea of what the Ashram was, or what people were
doing here. I didn’t even write, then what on earth did I do? At
length he could contain himself no longer and bluntly asked
me what I was doing here. Now here was a problem to answer.
If I had tried to tell him the truth he would never have
understood, that I realized, so making the best of it I just said
that here I found peace of mind. I knew it was an inadequate
answer but hoped it would stave off further enquiries.
He looked at me seriously for a few minutes and then said
pityingly: ‘Oh I see, I have never been troubled in that way
myself’!
All I had succeeded in doing was in confirming him in the
conviction that I was insane! And was there not, after all, some
ground for his belief? Here have I been spending (‘wasting’, he
would say) half a lifetime searching for something I already
possess. I know that I possess it too, which makes matters appear
worse.
‘Just BE.’ It sounds so easy. Well, Sri Bhagavan says it’s the
easiest thing there is. I really don’t know. I suppose it all really
depends on how much refuse there is inside. We’re all different
anyway and perhaps some of us were handicapped at the start.
It’s certain that the rubbish has to come out and the coming out
process is full of surprises. All kinds of hidden vices and evil
tendencies start to pop up their heads which one never suspected
were there at all. But it’s all for the good. Bhagavan says they
have to come out. But let them come out, not take charge.
Don’t give way to them.
Those who expect Sri Bhagavan to hand them
Self-realisation, as if it were some tangible thing, are surely sadly
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deluded. How can anybody give one what one has already got?
All he can do is help one to remove the ignorance that hides it.
It is like going to a lake with a cup and sitting by its side praying
to it to fill the cup with water. You may sit there for a thousand
years but it is certain that unless you lean forward and dip the
cup into the water yourself nothing will happen. Even then
you have to make certain that the cup is not already full of a lot
of residue. Most cups are!
You say: ‘If there is nothing, why write?’
Yes, why? The whole thing can be summed up in four
words: ‘There is nothing, BE! ‘ When one understands those
four words one understands everything including Bhagavan
himself.
Then there is no more to say!
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UNIQUENESS OF
BHAGAVAN
Dr. T.M.P. Mahadevan
BHAGAVAN WAS UNIQUE. He was unique in that he
was not unique. What struck even a casual visitor to the
Ashrama was Bhagavan’s naturalness. He did not impress any
one as if he were non-natural, even supra-natural. There was no
affectation at all in Sri Ramana. Let me illustrate what I, mean.
In South India sadhus refer to themselves, while speaking, in the
third person. They would say ‘this was walking’ or ‘this wants to
go there ‘while referring to themselves.They would not use the
first person singular ‘I’. But Bhagavan quite naturally used to say
‘I go’, ‘I walk’, ‘I sit’ and so on. One who has the experience of
the plenary illumination constantly, naturally, has no use for such
affectations. And always he used to behave in the most natural
manner. There was nothing which would make others think that
there was some unnaturalness about Bhagavan.But yet once in
his presence there was no need for prompting from outside. One
would be convinced in one’s own heart that one was in the
presence of the non-dual Reality. Now, this was an experience
that almost everyone had in the presence of Bhagavan.
He was an open book for all at all times. He did not make
any distinction between what is private and what is public. So
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far as Bhagavan was concerned, there was no privacy. In those
days, devotees used to be with him in the small meditation hall
all day and night. We used to sleep in the same hall where we
used to sit during daytime. And he was a silent witness to all
that happened around him. Any one could walk in at any time.
He was easily accessible not only to humans but also to animals.
Squirrels used to play with him. The cow Lakshmi used to walk
in at her own pleasure. The monkeys used to come into the
Ashram without any let or hindrance. Bhagavan remarked about
a trespassing cow,“Who is to be taken to task? If you had no
fence and the cow walked in through your garden, who was
responsible for this, you or the cow?”
Bhagavan’s love and grace knew no limits.In his presence
there was no high and no low.All were the same. There was no
distinction between a Maharaja of old days who visited him
and the rustics who wanted to have his darshan. He could
understand the language of the mute creation. In earlier days
when he was on the Hill Arunachala, the monkeys used to go
to him for arbitration. This shows how Bhagavan taught the
plenary experience to others — the experience which makes no
distinction between one level of creation and another.
Others might think that Bhagavan practised austerities
during the early years of his stay in Arunachala, that his Mauna,
silence, was deliberate, that his sitting posture for days and weeks
in the sub-terranean temple was sadhana, but some of us have
heard him say that all this was not tapasya, although it seemed
to be so. The time factor did not enter into the realisation of
Bhagavan. There was no earlier preparation; there was no
evolution thereafter. Of what is referred to in Advaita as
sadyomukti, instantaneous release, we had a glowing example in
Bhagavan Sri Ramana. One does not know what led to this
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instantaneous illumination. There was no growth, no procedural
technique, no yogic meditation, no other sadhana. All of a
sudden, the experience came without his inviting it. Now, this
is unique; the entire history of sagehood holds no parallel. A
boy at school who had no particular interest in spirituality, who
was not even a brilliant boy in studies, that such a lad should,
all of a sudden, become transformed into a sage, I think, is
unique.And what was the nature of the realisation? It admitted
no stages, required no effort. It was all complete. Completeness,
fulness was there when Sri Ramana had in a trice solved the
mystery of death. Nachiketas had to go to Yama, wait at his
house for three-days and nights, and put to him questions. The
fear of death was only an occasion for solving the mystery. The
non-dual Self which knows no death and no birth came to Sri
Ramana in a flash; but that did not vanish like a flash, it remained
as His sahajasthiti.
I am not saying that the process of meditation has no place
in sadhana, but that what one gains through the method of
thought-control, emptying of mind, is not the plenary
experience of the non-dual Atman. In the case of Bhagavan this
pinnacle- was gained without the least conscious effort. That is
his uniqueness. Ordinarily, a study of scripture comes first and
then experience. But in the case of Bhagavan, experience came
first and only later an acquaintance with what scriptures teach.
It was when scholarly devotees came to him and wanted some
doubt or other to be cleared that he listened to the readings
from scriptures and then told them that His own experience
confirmed what the texts taught.
The great scholars, both traditional and modern, were
astounded at the simple words that fell from the lips of Bhagavan.
Ganapati Sastri was one instance. He was a master of Sanskrit.
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He was a great teacher. He practised mantra-sadhana all through
his life. He was accepted as a Guru by a large number of disciples.
But he was tormented and went to Sri Ramana. It was Ganapati
Muni that announced to the world the greatness of Sri Ramana,
finding the culmination of his earlier sadhana in Bhagavan.
Elsewhere, I have tried to compare these three great teachers
of Advaita: Dakshinamurti, Sankara and Ramana. Dakshinamurti
is the Adi Guru, the first preceptor. He sat beneath the banyan
tree, a youthful figure surrounded by elderly disciples, and
instructed them in the language of silence. Most of us cannot
understand the language of silence. So, Dakshinamurti rose from
His seat beneath the banyan tree and broke His silence. He
appeared in the form of Sankaracarya. He is constantly going
around this world, rousing it from its slumber.
All the great ones who came after him, whether they would
acknowledge it openly or not, are but reflections of this form
of Sankara. In the form of various masters it is Sankara that is
moving in this world. It is the same Sankara that appeared to us
as Sri Ramana.
The times have changed. The present world can be saved
neither by the Guru who is seated in a particular place nor by
the one who is perpetually moving about. The Guru who is
required for our times is neither the one who keeps absolute
silence, nor the one who, speaks profusely. We had this need
satisfied in the avatara of Sri Ramana. He did not move out of
the limits of Arunachala. He did not talk profusely or read
extensively. Day in and day out, most of the time, he was in
silence. People used to come with long lists of perplexing
questions formulated in their minds; some of them, lest they
might forget, used to write out those questions. But what
happened? When they came and sat before Bhagavan they forgot
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all about those questions. I happened to be present when Paul
Brunton came. P. B. had seen other saints in India. He had
written out the questions which he wanted to ask. He sat there
for a long time without opening his mouth. The friend who
had come with him had to prompt him. It was only then that
he read out his questions. This was not an isolated instance.
This was the daily experience. The questioning mind was silenced
in his presence.
And what is the quantum of his “writings”? But they are so
potent that even a single line could transform the lives of people.
Here, we have a middle course between silence and speech.
Silently but surely the influence of Bhagavan is felt. No one
could have thought some years ago that the influence would be
felt so strongly in the capital of our country. But this is what is
now happening all over the world. In Europe and America
there are seekers, who when they get even a glimpse of Bhagavan’s
teachings feel that they have turned a new leaf in their lives.
What is, again, significant in Bhagavan’s teaching is that it
involves no mystification. There is nothing by way of creed. It
is an open book of wisdom from which one could draw
according to one’s capacity. There is no narrowness or
parochialism of any sort in the Master’s teachings.
All the teachings of all the sages are put in a capsule form
in this single sloka, Hridayakuhara-madhye which says that in
the cave of the heart Brahman shines. He made known to
sadhakas the bardavidya. He was the one who discovered that
the spiritual heart is the Self itself. The hridaya is the non-dual
spiritual Self. The ‘I’ is manifest in the region of the hear; When
a person refers to himself he points to the right side of the chest.
The ‘I’ shines in the heart; the Self is manifest in the cave of the
heart. This manifestation of the Self in the form of ‘I’ is direct,
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immediate to every one. It does not require any belief, or faith
or creed. One need not read Sastra to realise it, one realises it
every moment: And the Upanishads tell us that in deep sleep
one goes into it. Thus, one cannot deny oneself however much
one might try. In a famous verse Sankara says ‘It is this ‘I’ which
is immediately, directly experienced in the region of the heart
by every one; but this Self is not realised to be the non-dual
Brahman on account of ignorance. There is no realising the
Self. Because the Self is real, you cannot realise or make it real.
What is to be done is to unrealise the unreal. We imagine that
this world is real, while in fact it is not. Today the scientists are
approaching Vedanta through science. Nuclear physics tells us
that even in the hardest piece of matter there is no hardness. If
you can accept the evidence of the physicist that what you regard
as a concrete piece of matter is not concrete after all, then from
a higher level is there anything which is unintelligible or
impossible in the proclamation of the Sage that the entire world
is Maya? Maya does not mean that there is no reality. In fact,
the Self is the real and the world is only an appearance. And so,
Bhagavan tells us that this Aham-spburana, the ‘I’-manifestation,
is a pointer that, if we are judicious enough to discern the truth,
we shall realise the identity of the Self with Brahman. This is
what we have to experience. Self-realisation is no more than
this. It is losing the individuality in the non-dual Reality. How
is one to gain this? What is the way? Hrdi visa. Enter into the
heart. Use the mind, but there is a stage where you have to
transcend the mind and be what you are always. You can throw
off your body; it is difficult to throw off your mind. It is with
you all the time you are empirically conscious. You have to
make use of it. It is in jagrat that you have to perform the
sadhana not in deep sleep. We have to work this out during our
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conscious moments, moments of wakefulness. And what
functions in wakefulness is the mind, which is to be made use
of. Enter into the heart with your mind. The direct road is
Self-enquiry. It is by Self-enquiry that you have to reach the
heart. But if that becomes impossible for the moment, then
adopt the technique of surrender. If even for this your mind is
not ready, practise pranayama. You begin at the physical, vital
level. Bhagavan says in the Upadesa Saram that the source of
both the vital principle and the mind is the same. By controlling
the vital principle you can control the mind. Begin then with
the practice of regulating the breath.
You will find the mind settling down through the practice
of pranayama, and then you will be ready for the right royal
road. Very often people consider jnana-yoga to consist in
intellectual analysis. This is not so. It is not intellectual
speculation. Up to a point the mind can go; but there it stops.
Bhagavan has taught a simple mode by which one goes beyond
mind. What is that mode? The ‘I’-thought is the first of all
thoughts. All other thoughts arise after the I-thought. Only later
on ‘this’, ‘that’ and ‘the other’ arise in your mind. Trace the
source of the I-thought and the practice will reveal to you that
the I-thought arises from the Self. Because we may not have
either the competence or the time to go through the Sastras
and discover the path ourselves, this technique is taught to us as
it can be pursued by one and all at any time. This certainly is
not an easy path. We must not delude ourselves by imagining
that it is easy. It requires preparation, constant practice; it requires
all the other sadhanas. But along with those sadhanas the enquiry
can be practised. And if the Grace of the Guru is there, we will
be helped on this road faster than we may imagine.
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THE MIRACULOUS AND
SUPERNATURAL
Marie B. Byles
TELEVISION ONCE SHOWED a picture of a man lying
on his back on a bed of nails with two planks across him
and a tractor or some-such thing being driven over him on the
two planks; at one time a wheel slipped off the plank and went
over his body. As he stood up the interviewer asked him how he
did it and how he felt. He said that he put his faith in Almighty
God and that he felt okay. Another film showed a man chewing
up wine-glasses and saying he enjoyed eating them.
I cannot vouch personally for these two happenings. But
it does seem that such strange and seemingly impossible things
do occur with certain unusually gifted people, and that science
is beginning to take notice of them and sometimestoivescientific
explanations.
There are also the strange workings of astrology and psychokinesis
— as when a tensed hand is held over a compass and
swings the needle in the opposite direction, and extra-sensory
perceptions — as when the details of the sinking of S.S. Titanic
were perceived thousands of miles away at the same time that it
happened. And most envied of all are the miracles of healing
both physical and mental. There have always been many such
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healers, One of the best known is Agnes Sanford who wrote the
well known Healing Light. And a less known mental healer was
the American Buddhist monk, Sumangalo, who unexpectedly
found he had suddenly acquired the ability to cure mental
disorders. Among these apparent miracle-workers we must place
those gifted preachers who have the power to convert people
from delinquency and drug addiction.
Let us then admit that these supernormal happenings are
factual, and also that science is becoming increasingly interested,
so that we may well expect a widening of our knowledge.
The question we need to consider is whether it will make
any difference to our social well-being if there are people trained
to eat glass or even to cure people of drug addiction and
delinquency. No supernormal talent in itself implies simple
goodness and compassion which alone can bring about more
harmonious relations between man and nature. True, some
religious books assume the goodness of the healer and other
miracle-workers, and assume that no one can be a saint unless he
performs miracles. But are miracles any different from other
supernormal happenings? Does what you call it make any
difference? Those who now walk on fire for the edification of
tourists, admit that it does not mean the same for them as it did
when they performed the same act for the glory of God. But the
fact remains that they outwardly achieve the same result as when
they did do it for the glory of God. Those who examine these
supernormal happenings from the scientific angle assume that
the moral goodness of the doer has nothing to do with the matter.
And indeed — why should we think that goodness or
badness in the doer is important? After all the world is composed
of and founded upon pairs of opposites. Therefore we cannot
have white magic without black magic too, any more than we
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can have a positive without a negative. It is therefore obvious
that a person who performs, say, a miracle of healing is not
necessarily a good man or woman. For this reason it may or
may not be inspiring to read about miracles or other abnormal
happenings, which appear to be supernatural.
The supernormal happening depends upon the natural
talent of the individual who performs it. It is not of any
importance. The only thing that matters is whether it springs
from love and compassion which alone can draw us above the
pairs of opposites. To read of those who performed no miracles,
but who did achieve this love and compassion is far more likely
to be helpful and inspiring to ordinary people like ourselves.
Foremost among such ordinary people of whose thoughts
we have a written record is the saintly Stoic emperor of Rome
in the second century, Marcus Aurelius, who kept a record of
his meditations. And that simple record has been the inspiration
of millions all over the world. And yet he had no outstanding
talents: He had only simple goodness and kindness, springing
from compassionate love and understanding of the oneness of
all creation.
And another such was the simple Carmelite monk, Brother
Lawrence of the 17th century, who performed no miracles except
what the Buddha would call the only real miracle, that of a
transformed life. He accomplished this merely by turning his
mind to God and doing nothing but for the love of God. His
whole being radiated serenity and’ love, and without any
intellectual explanations his example transformed the lives’ of
many.
Of course we must all use the talents we have been given
and do the work that falls to our lot — being the emperor of a
mighty empire, a cook in a monastery-kitchen, performer of
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miracles or healer of the sick. None is superior or inferior, and
talents do not count The way to compassion and enlightenment
is the same for all. We cannot and should not want to acquire
supernatural talents we do not already possess, nor scientific
knowledge beyond our normal capacity, nor even an inclination
to harness these supernatural happenings or miracles. There
are always specialists dealing with their particular fields. But we
each have a built-in computer, as it were, which collects what is
necessary for each of us according to our talents, if only we will
let it work freely unimpeded by our predilections. One of the
best ways of letting it work freely is to repeat in thought’ or if
possible in a whisper, what the Hindus would call a mantra,
suited to one’s individuality. Brother Lawrence’s practice of the
presence of God is a perfect example, for he would do nothing
except for the love of God. By this means our whole being
tends to get tuned-in with Cosmic laws and the harmony of the
universe, whether we know them clearly or not.
Thus our individual talents get utilized by the internal
computer get and directed as migratory birds and fishes are.
Then whatever our talent, whether to perform operations
without anaesthetics like the Philippine healers, or merely to
wash dishes, our work will be well done.
Therefore let us read and learn whatever is helpful, but let
us not be bewildered by or crave for supernormal powers. Let
us be content with the Inner Light that has been given to us,
remembering that the greatest of Masters like Buddha,
Ramakrishna Paramahamsa and Ramana have decried the
craving for and display of supernormal powers as utterly
detrimental to one’s spiritual enlightenment.
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AN ANGRY PRAYER
Jean Butler
In this moving narrative we see the efficacy of an intense
prayer.
SOME YEARS AGO my daughter Martha and I were living
on the island of St. Croix in the Caribbean. At that time
the Virgin Islands (in which group this falls) were so povertystricken
that they were spoken of as the world’s poorhouse.
One evening I went into the local drug store and found
the chemist, Mr. Edwards, arguing in English with a little Puerto
Rican peasant who was pleading volubly with him in Spanish.
Mr. Edwards was saying, “I’m sorry I can’t give you any
credit. I don’t own the drug store. I am only an employee and
have to obey orders.”
The peasant answered, “It is only until my tomatoes are
harvested. Then I can pay you.”
Mr. Edwards was unmoved.
“But,” cried the peasant in despair, “what will my son do
without the medicine?”At that point I said rather angrily, “Give
him the medicine, Mr. Edwards, and put it on my bill.”
I turned to the peasant and asked what was the matter
with his son. A torrent of Spanish poured forth as he explained.
He had five children ranging from fourteen years to three
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months. His wife had died giving birth to the baby. The oldest
boy had epileptic fits, as many as five a day. By law the children
had to go to school, but when the eldest boy had his medicine
he could stay at home in the mornings and take care of the
baby while the father worked his land. If the boy did not have
his medicine he could not be left with the baby. Nor could he
go to school. The only thing the father could do was to tie the
baby on to his back when he went to work on his land and
leave the boy unattended in the house; and on one such occasion
the boy had a fit during which he broke his leg.
A wave of such intense fury, pity and sheer horror came
over me that for a moment I turned dizzy — not only on account
of the little peasant but also of all the others in the world who
were equally suffering and equally hopeless and helpless.
I told the peasant that I knew a great specialist in New
York to whom I would write for a new medicine I had been
reading about. I wrote down the peasant’s name and the age
and weight of his son. “The medicine should come in about ten
days,” I said, “and I will have it sent care of Edwards for you.”
I rushed out into the night blind and sick with rage against
God. “D—n you!”
I cried, “What are you doing? Why don’t you at least help
the poor and sick who can do nothing to help themselves and
who have nothing?” I cried and cursed all the way up the long
hill to my house, hating the world, hating God, hating the
unspeakable injustice of life. All night, even in my sleep I
alternated prayers with curses and invectives and blind anger.
Day and night for a week I had no peace. I directed my thoughts
repeatedly to the sick boy, saying to him, “God made you in
His image and likeness. God is perfect, without flaw or sickness.
Be you therefore perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect.
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That is what Christ said to you.” This alternated with my
repeating that, “not even a sparrow falls to the ground without
His knowing it.” And I pointed out somewhat bitterly that the
Son of God had said, “Inasmuch as you do it to one of the least
of these you do it also to me.”
Gradually the anger and frenzy died down, but
remembrance of the peasant and his epileptic son continued
day and night. One evening, about ten days after my first
meeting with the peasant, I was just going into the drug-store
when a bare-footed man in worn overalls and a big straw hat
came out, holding a package in one hand. On seeing me he
swept off his hat, waved the package in the air and exclaimed
excitedly, “This has just come, the medicine for my son. But I
no longer need it. Something has happened.”
It was the same peasant. I had not recognized him with his
hat on. I knew what was coming and felt faint because of it. I
said, “Remember, Senor, the Bible says that the Lord giveth
and the Lord taketh away. What He does is a mystery to us.
Don’t ask any questions. Just go to the church and give thanks
to God.”
“But Senora,” he said, “I must tell you what has happened.
Since we talked the other night my son has had no more fits.
What shall I do with this?” And he held out the box of medicine.
I had known what was coming. “Don’t open it, Senor,” I
said, “You won’t need it. Just go to the church and give thanks
to God.” And I turned and rushed up the hill to my house,
thinking, “Excuse me, God! Forgive me!”, consumed with
humility and shame at my former rage, overflowing with love
of God.
On a Sunday morning some months later, when I had
completely forgotten the peasant and his son, I was leaving my
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house with Martha to go to the beach when an ancient truck
full of people dressed in their Sunday best came roaring up the
hill and stopped outside my door. One by one they scrambled
out and came on to the terrace, each one carrying something in
his hand. They made quite a pile there — fruit, eggs, chickens,
fish, freshly baked bread, a bottle of wine, lobsters — and then
they returned to the truck, while I kept on remonstrating, “You
have made a mistake! You have come to the wrong house! I
didn’t order anything!”
Just then my little Puerto Rican friend, scarcely
recognizable in his Sunday clothes, came up to me shyly and
said, “Senora, these are my relatives. We have brought you these
gifts to show our appreciation for what you did for my son.”
“But Senor”, I protested, “I did nothing, nothing! Please
try to understand me. It was not I who did it!”
Then I asked him about his son, how he was now. He
glowed with quiet pride. “He has gained fifteen pounds,” he
said, “He is quite well now. I sent him to the island of St. Thomas
to work on his uncle’s farm for a few weeks and now he is back
here with me. He works on the land with me in the morning
and we earn enough to pay a girl to look after the baby, and in
the afternoons he goes to school. He has never had another fit.”
�� ��
216
AN INCARNATE
ABBOT EXPLAINS
Asked about reincarnation, Sri Bhagavan remarked,
”See how a tree grows again when its branches are cut off. So
long as the life source is not destroyed it will grow. Similarly,
latent potentialities withdraw into the heart at death but do
not perish. That is how beings are reborn.”
Here is an instance taken from a speech by Trungpa
Trulku Rinpoche given at Roselaleham.
AFTER THE DEATH of the previous Abbot of Surmang,
my monastery, the monks sent a deputation to His
Holiness Gyalwa Karmapa, the head of our particular school of
Tibetan Buddhism. They asked him whether he could tell them
where their Abbot had taken birth again, so that they could
bring him back among them. Gyalwa Karmapa spent several
days in meditation, and finally gave them the answer that their
Abbot was born as a young child living in the village of Geje, in
a house facing south and that the family had two children and a
brown dog. After some difficulty the monks found the house
and the young child, who was myself.
I am told that as the monks came in and presented me
with the traditional white scarf, I behaved in exactly the right
manner, although I had never been taught how. Also that I
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recognised various objects that had been the possessions of my
predecessor, shown to me among others of the same kind.
Eventually they were convinced that I was the eleventh Abbot
Trungpa and they brought me back to Surmang.
Shortly after that I was formally enthroned as Abbot,
although of course, all my duties were performed by an elder
monk acting as regent. I was put into the charge of a tutor, and
continued to see my parents from time to time. I began learning
about religion from my tutor, who told me about the life of
Gautama the Buddha and about his teachings. At the age of
eight I began my first simple meditation.
From then on I learned more and more about the various
meditations of our school. I received instruction from two of
the great Gurus or Teachers of Eastern Tibet. One of them,
Chentse Rinpoche, is now in India and is still my Guru.
Sometimes I lived in the monastery and sometimes away from
it, in retreat. Every monk of our school spends several years in
solitary meditation during that time, living, sleeping and eating
in one small room. Meditation is really the heart of a monk’s
life, for in it he discovers and experiences the actual truth of the
teachings he has before known only intellectually. I do not want
to speak about the particular techniques of meditation. There
are many and they are adapted to suit the needs of all kinds of
individuals. I want rather to speak about the reasons for
meditation and its essence, for meditation is not necessarily a
matter of sitting cross-legged and motionless for long periods
of time, it is something that may be practised, consciously or
unconsciously by anyone at any time.
You will be able to draw parallels to what I shall say both
from the beliefs and practices of other religions and from your
own experiences. We are all human beings and our existence
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presents similar problems and similar possibilities. As Milarepa,
the great sage and poet of Tibet, sang from the top of mountains,
‘I am the goal of every great meditator, I am the meeting place
of the faithful, I am the coil of birth, death and decay.’
To start at the beginning - each one of us may be struck at
one time or another by the inadequacy of our way of experiencing
the world. We feel that something is missing, that our attempts to
explain and to organise our lives and to provide ourselves with
an emotional security are doomed to failure and are indeed in
themselves contradictory to the nature of things. Also that in our
simply fulfilling our own desires we are cheating the Universe.
Meditation is the attempt to remove those aspects of our
natures in which our awareness of life is limited and confined,
and experience a new depth. Upon what does our everyday
picture of the world depend? It depends not upon things
themselves but on our reactions to them. We project outwards
on things our own hopes and prejudices, and order our separate
world accordingly. Meditation is a gradual loss of these private
worlds, and realisation that our true natures lie hidden in the
heart of the Universe.
It is one of the fundamental teachings of Buddhism that
things in themselves are without substance. They are all, like
flowers, springing up suddenly out of nothingness and again
withering. The world of things, or the appearance of things, is a
kind of puppet show, a masquerade. In itself it possesses a kind
of demonic energy, but it can give no lasting satisfaction to the
heart. In meditation we begin to cross the threshold between
appearance and reality.
Many of us will have thought like this, but will also have
experienced how difficult this threshold is to cross. All
unconsciously, the world of appearances exercises a certain
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fascination. Everything in its appearances releases a small charge
of energy, and our ignorant minds, feeling dissatisfaction with
their existing states, leap to swallow this charge. Thereafter, the
imprint of the object remains fixed in the memory. If the
experience is in some way pleasurable, the mind desires a
repetition of it. If it is unpleasant, the mind will reject any
repetition of it, and a negative force is set up.
Meditation consists of seeing the world for precisely what it is.
This can be done only when one remains quite unaffected by hatred
or desire. One observes dispassionately one’s reactions to things, and
gradually the passions of greed and hatred are driven out of one’s
system. Instead of reaching out for one thing after another, one
becomes calmer and more self-possessed. One uses the strength thus
released to gradually eliminate distracted and discursive thoughts as
they arise, and brings oneself into a state of clear, one-pointed
awareness. One begins to experience greater freedom and room to
move about. One no longer heeds one’s hopes and fears, and lets go
the burden of them. Becoming nothing, one becomes everything
and suddenly it may happen that one is left for a moment still. There
is before one, through one and around one infinite space - the reality
flowing unobstructed. As Milarepa says:
‘As happy as the current of a great river,
So is the sage who enjoys the stream of thought.’
This is possible for everyone, but clearly it requires certain
qualities in us, and it requires time to come to fruition.
We need first of all to have clearly in our minds what we
are trying to do. Our basic assumptions influence us far more
than we realise and we must become thoroughly steeped in the
ideas and the attitudes of the spiritual life before we can begin. I
had to memorise a large portion of our scriptures and repeat
them by heart to my tutor.
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As well as study, we need determination and integrity. Each
one stands before the threshold of eternity, alone with himself.
He cannot rely on any created thing. Each one of us can forge
a true vessel only out of himself; others may help us but in the
end it is we alone who are responsible. Gradually we have to
realise the agony of our mistakes, our failure to understand and
we have to have the courage to come out of prison.
Beyond this solitude, one thing else is needed. Just as
everything in the world of appearance releases a charge of energy,
so also does everything in eternity. That energy, indeed, is far
stronger because it has been purified of the stain of greed, hatred
and material illusion. The thought is not a thought of anything,
it is a thought which in itself is pure energy, passing into and
through everything unobstructed. So when we purify our minds,
a force is built up from which each one of us can draw and in
the light of which, each one can examine himself. In the
monasteries and hermitages of Tibet I could feel this strength
in operation. It was something of which we were all part. If I
may be allowed to say so, I feel this atmosphere lacking in the
cities and even in many churches of this country. I hope very
much that during our time here together, we may join in making
a spirit that one may call new and some may call old but which
in itself abides forever.
�� ��
221
ZEN STORIES
The following are well-known specimens of Zen stories,
much condensed.
TWO MONKS, one older, one young, came to a muddy
ford where a pretty girl was waiting to cross. The elder
picked her up and carried her over the water. As they went
along, the younger, horrified at the act of his brother monk in
touching a woman, kept on commenting upon it, until at last
the elder exclaimed: “What! Are you still carrying that girl? I
put her down as soon as we crossed the water!”
* * *
When a Master was troubled by a monk who persisted in
saying that he could not understand, the Master said: “Come
nearer”. The monk came nearer. The Master again said: “Come
nearer”, and once more the monk did so. “How well you
understand!” remarked the Master!
* * *
A boastful monkey went to heaven and there met the
Buddha. He said: “Buddha is a small thing, but I can jump
many leagues.” “If you are so clever,” said the Buddha “jump
away from the palm of my hand.” The monkey thought that
would be easy since the palm seemed to him only inches wide.
So he leaped far, far away. He found himself on a large plain
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bounded by five great pillars. To prove he had been there he
made a mark at the base of one of these. After returning to
Buddha he boasted of what he had done. “But look at my hand,”
said Buddha. There the monkey saw the mark which he had
made. It was at the base of one of Buddha’s fingers!
* * *
A Master was once approached by a boy requesting
instruction, so the Master gave him the koan: “What is the sound
of the clapping of one hand?” The boy went away and happened
to hear some Geishas playing, so he went to the Master and
imitated that. On being told that was not it, he went away and
heard water dripping, again the water flowing, again the locust
- altogether ten times. All were wrong. Then the boy could find
or think of no more, and lo! he discovered the soundlessness of
one hand, the sound of sound!
* * *
A man chased by a tiger jumped over a cliff and clung to a
tree growing on the side. Looking down he saw another tiger
waiting for him to fall. Worse and worse, he saw two mice, one
white and one black, gnawing at the branch to which he was
clinging. It chanced that he just then caught sight of some
strawberries growing within reach. With one hand he plucked
a strawberry and put it in his mouth. “How good it tastes!” he
thought.
A Zen monk named Ryoken lived in a hut alone and
without any possessions. One day when he was out, a thief
entered to steal. He was about to depart when the monk
returned. The monk said: “I am sorry you have found nothing;
please take my clothes.” After the thief had gone, the monk sat
naked looking at the moon. “Alas!”, he mused, “What a pity
that I could not give him that beautiful moon!”
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THE STORY OF LILA
An elderly gentleman, formerly a co-worker with B. V.
Narasimhaswami and author of some Visishtadvaita work,
visited the place for the first time. He asked about rebirths, if
it is possible for the linga sarira (subtle body) to get dissolved
and be reborn two years after death.
M.: Yes. Surely. Not only can one be reborn, one may be
twenty or forty or even seventy years old in the new body
though only two years after death.
Sri Bhagavan cited Lila’s story from Yoga Vasishta.
(Talk No.129)
There was a reference to reincarnation. Reincarnation of
Shanti Devi tallies with the human standards of time whereas
the latest case reported of a boy of seven is different. The boy is
seven years now. He recalls his past births. Enquiries go to show
that the previous body was given up 10 months ago.
The question arises how the matter stood for six years and
two months previous to the death of the former body. Did the
soul occupy two bodies at the same time?
Sri Bhagavan pointed out that the seven years is according
to the boy and the ten months is according to the observer. The
difference is due to these two different upadhis (mental states).
The boy’s experience extending to seven years has been
calculated by the observer to cover only 10 months of his own
time.
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Sri Bhagavan again referred to Lila’s story in yoga Vasishta.
(Talk No.261)
Once there was a king by the name of Padma, who was
wealthy and wise. He had a beautiful wife called Lila who was
devoted to her husband.Once she thought, “My Husband is
dearer to me than my life. He is young and prosperous. How
to make him remain forever young and deathless?”
She consulted learned pandits of the court. They advised
her,”All successful accomplishments are attained by religious
austerity, repetition of mantras and self-control, but immortality
can not be obtained on any account.”
Having heard thus from the learned Brahmins, she
reflected, “In case I have to die before my husband, freed from
all agony, I shall happily rest in the Self and in case he precedes
me then his soul should not go out of this room. I shall worship
the Goddess Sarasvati and ask for boons.”
Having resolved thus the queen, without telling her
husband, performed severe austerities as laid down in the
scriptures.
Goddess Sarasvati was pleased by the queen’s austerities.
She appeared and said, “Ask for any boon and it shall be
granted,”Overjoyed Lila sang hymns of praise to the Goddess,
and asked for two boons,“ When my husband dies, the soul
of my husband, should remain here. Whenever I pray to you,
give me your vision.” Accordingly, the Goddess granted both
the boons.
After several years Lila’s husband passed away. The bereaved
queen placed her husband’s corpse in a bed of flowers as instructed
by the Goddess. In great distress she asked the Goddess,“Where
does my husband reside? What does he do? What is his state at
present? Lead me to him. I cannot live without him.”
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The Goddess taught Lila about Brahman (the Supreme
Spirit or Ultimate Reality) and narrated the existence of various
planes penetrating one another and existing quite unperceived
by the inhabitants of other planes. She also taught her the method
of seeing and visiting the various worlds interpenetrating one’s
own. Lila abandoned her own body, and the Goddess took her
to the world of her husband’s in which she saw him in an assembly
of kings. She was surprised to see him sitting on a throne, now
looking very young. Lila asked the Goddess for an explanation.
She was told about the delusion of creation. The Goddess
spoke as follows:
“Once there lived a virtuous Brahmin named Vasishta.
His wife was Arundhati who equaled him in all respects. Once
he saw the king passing by with his retinue and thought,
‘Kingship is indeed delightful, blessed with all good fortune. I
wish that I were a king.’
“Vasishtha’s death was impending and knowing this, his
wife took refuge in me. Like you, she prayed to me, ‘ May the
soul of my dead husband not depart from this place.’ I granted
her prayer. The poor Brahmin died, his wife, Arundhati, being
unable to bear the pangs of separation from her husband, burnt
herself along with the body of her husband.” Sarasvati told Lila
that all that had happened only a week ago, and that the Brahmin
pair had been born as herself (Lila) and her husband, King
Padma, in the world where he had just died after having lived a
long life, leaving Lila alone. Lila did not believe this story, because
the couple had died recently, whereas Lila and Padma were born
years before. Lila asked the Goddess whether one soul can
occupy two bodies simultaneously. Saraswati explained that the
two frames of reference were different and that a person’s strong
sankalpa (determination or aspiration) can manifest as humans.
226
The Goddess then took Lila to that world, and made her verify
the story from a son of the deceased pair. Through meditation,
she remembered all her previous births since her origin from
the Creator. Lila lamented, “Alas! Today I have remembered
hundreds of my previous births. Indeed, I have wandered much
in various kinds of wombs.”
Both Lila and Sarasvati returned to the present world of
the king, who was called Viduratha, and found him in his 70th
year. His wife was also named Lila (let us call her Lila II). Lila
and Saraswati manifested themselves before the king in his private
apartment and mysteriously reminded him of his previous
existence as Padma. He entertained a desire to be Padma again.
His present wife, Lila II, propitiated Sarasvati to confer a boon
upon her to be the wife of Vidurtha even in his next life.
After a short time, there was a war in which King Viduratha
was killed. His soul, which was present, throughout, in the room
where the corpse of Padma was lying, reentered the dead body.
And lo! The soul rose again as King Padma, who found standing
before him his two wives, namely, Lila I and Lila II. “Let all
sorrows end and let there be endless happiness.” So saying the
Goddess blessed them and disappeared.
Finally, all three of them- Lila, the second Lila and the
King- were liberated while still alive, and in due course, became
one with the Absolute by the grace of the Goddess.
�� ��
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APPENDIX
Important Events in Sri Bhagavan’s Life
1879 December 30, Monday – corresponding to 16, Margali of
Tamil Year Pramadi – Star Punarvasu – Ardra Darshan
Day – Born at 1 a.m. at Tiruchuli (‘Sri Sundara Mandiram’).
1891 Moves to Dindigul, after completing elementary
education at Tiruchuli.
1892 February 18: Death of father, Sundaram Iyer. Moves to
Madurai. Studies at Scott’s Middle School and American
Mission High School.
1895 November: Hears of ‘Arunachala’ mentioned to him by
an elderly relative.
1896 (about middle of July): ‘Death Experience’ at Madurai
ending in complete and permanent Realisation of the
Self (‘Sri Ramana Mandiram’).
August 29, Saturday: Leaves Madurai for Arunachala.
September 1 – Tuesday: Arrives in Arunachala – Stays in
the Temple premises within the Thousand-pillared Hall,
beneath the Illupai Tree, in Pathala Linga (underground
cellar), sometimes in the Gopuram.
1897 Moves to Gurumurtam in the outskirts of the town (early
in the year).
Stays in the shrine and the adjoining Mango grove.
1898 May: Uncle Nelliappa Iyer visits Bhagavan at Mango grove.
September: Moves to Pavalakkunru.
December: Mother Alagammal visits Bhagavan at
Pavalakkunru.
1899 February: Moves to the Hill, Arunachala. Stays in various
caves up the Hill, but mostly in Virupaksha Cave, using
Mango Tree Cave as summer residence.
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1900 Replies to questions put by Gambiram Seshayya, at
Virupaksha Cave.
1902 (The above published as Self-enquiry)
1902 Answers to questions asked by Sivaprakasam Pillai
(Who am I?)
1905 Moves to Pachaiamman Koil for six months during the
plague epidemic — returns to the Hill.
1907 November 18: Momentous meeting between Bhagavan
and Kavyakanta Ganapati Muni. Bhagavan imparts
upadesa to Muni.
1908 (January to March): Stays at Pachaiamman Koil (with
Ganapati Muni and others) and again goes back to
Virupaksha Cave.
Translates into Tamil prose Adi Sankara’s Viveka
Chudamanai and Drik Drisya Viveka.
1911 November: F.H. Humphreys, the first Westerner, meets
Bhagavan.
1912 Second death experience at Tortoise Rock in the presence
of Vasudeva Sastry and others.
1914 Offers prayers (songs) to Arunachala for Mother’s recovery
from illness.
1915 The Song of the Pappadum written for the sake of mother.
The following were also written during Virupaksha days:
Arunachala Aksharamanamalai, Arunachala Padikam,
Arunachala Ashtakam, Translation of Devi Kalottara,
Translation of Adi Sankara’s Hymn to Dakshinamurti,
Guru Stuti and Hastamalaka Stotra.
1916 Moves to Skandashram.
1917 Composes Arunachala Pancharatnam in Sanskrit.
Mother settles at Skandashram. Sri Ramana Gita in
Sanskrit written by Ganapati Muni.
1922 May 19, Friday: Mother’s Maha Samadhi.
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Middle of December: Moves to the present site of
Sri Ramanasramam.
1927 Composes Upadesa Sara in Tamil, Telugu, Sanskrit and
Malayalam.
April 24: Composes Atma Vidya (Self Knowledge).
1928 Composes Ulladu Narpadu (Forty Verses on Reality) in
Tamil and Malayalam (Sat Darshanam).
1930 Sat Darshanam in Sanskrit (translated from Tamil by
Ganapati Muni).
1933 Translated into Tamil the Agama: Sarvajnanotharam –
Atma Sakshatkara.
1939 September 1, Thursday: Foundation laid by Bhagavan
for the Matrubhuteswara Temple.
1940 Selects 42 verses from The Bhagavad Gita (now entitled
The Song Celestial) and translates them into Tamil and
Malayalam.
1947 February: Composes Ekatma Panchakam (Five Verses on
the Self ) in Telugu and Tamil.
1948 June 18: Cow Lakhsmi attains Nirvana.
Translates into Tamil Atma Bodha of Adi Sankara.
1949 March 17, Thursday – Kumbabhishekam of
Matrubhuteswara Temple in the presence of Bhagavan.
1950 April 14, Friday: Brahma Nirvana of Bhagavan at 8-47
p.m. At that moment a shooting star, vividly luminous,
coming from the South (the present Nirvana Room) and
moving slowly northward across the sky and disappearing
behind the peak of Arunachala was observed by many in
various parts of India.
My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Bhagavan Sree Ramana Maharshi
and also gratitude to Bhagavan’s great devotees for the collection)
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