A real writer…what is this odd creature? For me, a real writer is a human who feels compelled to express her unique thoughts and ideas to a world of close ones as well as strangers…hoping someone somewhere will exclaim in delight. It really has nothing or little to do with acquiring money or fame. For me at least. Thanks, Janni Styles.
When a sage is born, shining like a star in a noon sky, some are fortunate enough to encounter him or her personally and to directly absorb his teachings. But after he passes away, other elements take over, and these folks are rarely of the high caliber of their master. Gradually, sometimes over centuries, what was once a vibrant and liberating teaching often becomes a rigid and entrenched institution, guarded zealously by those who do not understand the true essence of what the sage originally taught.
Consider the fundamentalists of all stripes and religions today, who warp, distort and twist what their original teacher said to serve political, power or financial purposes. How, for instance, could the true teachings of peaceful and pure Jesus of Nazareth ever have been used to justify the unbelievable horrors of the Inquisitions that followed centuries later? We can come up with a thousand other such examples, of course, for no major religion is exempt from this madness.
One thing that really bothered me when I began my own spiritual quest is that a certain ilk of teachers would insist that, once you signed on for their teachings, that was it, you could not leave their fold. Yes, you owed them not perfect and total loyalty until you took your last breath! Some also insist that you tithe part of your income to them, and god forbid if you move on to another guru more suitable to your spiritual needs—then you are nothing less than a despised and fickle traitor. Continue reading
The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.
~Ferdinand Foch – Crossroads – Atul Ranchod’s poignant poetry…read on…
The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.
Watch “Klangkarussell – Time” on YouTube
by Atul Ranchod
Fire and ice.
Magma and steam.
Inches carving mountains.
Crossroads of time.
Snail to the speed of light.
Geological to astronomical.
Seconds shaping lifetimes.
What mysterious matter!
In this porous skin,
Something so akin.
All the clues pointing within.
What marvels my soul
Has for me to be whole.
Gracefully going to and fro.
Allowing me to discover and know.
Vision behind eyes.
Seeing beyond sight.
Unseen but felt.
Subtle game of hide and seek.
Stricken by thunderous golden rays.
Each of my living days.
Fueling this thirst
In various ways.
The pact between my soul and me;
Untouchable, unscathed, unwavering.
Changeless amidst the fury.
Unending source of beauty.
Let this instrument play out its song.
Regardless of all that is going on.
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The true guru does not need anything from us – thanks for sharing this, Harsh Luthar!
I cried as I read this true story – my love for Ramana grows every second – he is the great cosmic lotus unfurling one petal at a time and engulfing us in the peace that comes from knowing that we are loved no matter what, and even more, that our true nature is LOVE itself. Thanks for sharing this, Harsh Luthar!
Voruganti Krishnayya was a great devotee of Bhagavan Sri Ramana. He has narrated many incidents that he observed while in Bhagavan’s company. The following story is one of my favorite.
Bhagavan was most tender with people who thought themselves for some reason or other to be miserable sinners and who went to him torn by repentance.
During summer evenings we used to sit in the open space near the well. We would collect in the dining hall for dinner and come back to the well. Suddenly, one day, a visitor started weeping bitterly, “I am a horrible sinner. For a long time I have been coming to your feet, but there is no change in me. Can I become pure at last? How long am I to wait? When I am here near you I am good for a time, but when I leave this place I become…
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Wow! I like this…
The imagination is the true fire, stolen from heaven, to animate this cold creature of clay, producing all those fine sympathies that lead to rapture, rendering men social by expanding their hearts, instead of leaving them leisure to calculate how many comforts society affords.
…is all it takes to blast open the mind and to prove to us, from the inside where it counts, that what we take for reality, as revealed to us via the five senses and our limited finite mind, is just a thin covering over an Absolute reality simply staggering in its intricate beauty and vast complexity.
As a child growing up in south India, I used to catch strangely disorienting fevers that incapacitated me for a couple of days. I would fall into a heavy sleep at night, then wake up to find myself floating above my body; what would hold my ethereal body from floating away, was, believe it or not, the thin cotton top of the mosquito net we always slept under! I would look down with a gasp of surprised terror to see my sleeping body below, and the next second I would be back within it. This happened often enough for me to ponder its meaning: If I had left my body, I realized, then my body was not “me”; of course, it was this numinous knowing that led me gradually to explore this “I” that had so easily left my body—and then, decades later, after much suffering and confusion in the external world, to begin the awesome journey into discovering (or rather, uncovering) who I AM beyond body, mind, emotions, track record, etc. Continue reading
Atul Ranchod’s Endless Rose…
With light as its prose.
A photograph of a rose.
From its very being
The light playfully dancing.
What passion ignited.
No longer quieted.
When form and structure
Composed to bring out,
Articulated in notes sublime,
Total disregard for time.
In a moment the forming
Of such an exquisite being
Inviting me into its essense.
Breathing the perfume.
For a moment
The seas did part.
Here between heaven and earth
Beyond the grasp of knowledge.
Such profound presence,
Here and now.
Forever, is a part of me.
I am lost in its eternal gaze.
My heart racing,
In the silence swallowing,
The cosmos came to visit
In the endless rose.
Ramana Maharshi: “I am” is the name of God. Of all the definitions of God, none is indeed so well put as the Biblical statement “I am that I am” in Exodus. Thanks for a perfect post, Harsh!
Words are used in various spiritual traditions to describe God or give God a name. Many people are convinced that their religion, their scriptures, and their way of worshipping God is the best way. Sometimes people argue and and fight over God as well.
Our conception of God is to large extent a function of where we are born and in what religion. Our mental conditioning is often so strong that we are not able to see the diversity of perspectives in various spiritual traditions. Only the mystics in different religions, who have through self-reflections and meditation, gone beyond their mental conditioning offer a unified vision of God.
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