Friday, August 16, 2019


Eternity has worn a human face,
Contracted to a little human span,
Lo, the Immortal has become a man,
A self-imprisoned thing
in time and space..                      

Harindranath Chattopadhyaya  pp. 63-4

The pages that follow contain first-hand experiences of a hundred and sixty (160) individuals,
including twenty eight foreigners from across  the  globe,  who  visited  /  interacted  with  
Sri  Ramana  Maharshi


Thursday, August 15, 2019

David Carse - All That Is - That is All


You can listen selected passages from the audio book "Perfect brillant stillness"
Read as PDF

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Unmani - ‘What is the meaning of it all?’

Since I was a young child I asked myself this question ‘What is the meaning of it all?’ Why am I here?’ What the hell is going on here? I was surrounded by facades and people pretending to know a lot of apparently very important stuff. There were so many rules and so much mental information that must prove that there is a secret meaning that they all know. And this meaning must be very grown-up, important and serious.

But as much as I tried, I couldn’t understand what the real meaning of that kind of life was? It seemed very restricting, exhausting and above all simply didn’t resonate with what I knew to be true. That knowing that I knew wasn’t intellectual or any kind of belief. It wasn’t some kind of special experience or state of mind. It was beyond all of that. It was, and is, a simple knowing that whatever is happening, good or bad, comfortable or uncomfortable, is part of the movie of life. I am watching the show. The show sometimes is a rollercoaster of emotions and sensations and sometimes it is calm, but I am watching it all. I am also watching this woman participate in the show. She is the main actress. She is the point where the ‘watching’ and the show come together. She is a living paradox of watching and participating.

The meaning that is usually assumed to be important in life, is the meaning for ‘me’. As if this ‘me’ is really who I am. But recognising that the person that I am, is in fact only the tip of the pencil of that ‘watching’ that uses this person to write itself, then in fact there is no ‘me’ in here. Only a watching myself participate. Only a play ‘as if’ there is a ‘me’ in here. Recognising this and letting go of the usual chase for meaning for ‘me’ can leave you feeling very lost and even depressed at first. You recognise that Life is essentially meaningless. But eventually this ‘dark night of the soul’ passes and you see that even the meaning of being lost and depressed is still an assumed meaning for ‘me’. There is even less meaning than that. This meaninglessness is not a depressing state. It is simply empty. Empty of anything that means anything about or to ‘me’. Empty of ‘me’.

Then what is left is simply the experience itself. It doesn’t mean anything about me, and yet it is still experienced. In fact without needing a meaning for me, this gives space to really experience Life fully. Everything is experienced in an open and raw way, without any overlay of meaning. None of it needs meaning. It is enough as it is. It is in fact more than enough. It is overflowing with Life expression, with Life playing itself in this way or that. This is the expression of Love. Life is Love loving itself in this particular way, now exactly as it is in this experience. This is the true meaning of Life. The raw experience without any need of any filter or overlay. Nothing means anything and yet, everything means so much that it is beyond all the words. It is just that the meaning is inherent in  itself without anything extra needed. The strawberry is perfectly sweet enough as it is, without needing any extra sugar on top. There is no need for any extra meaning or mental labelling or interpretation to Life because it is enough unto itself. This enough-ness is too mysteriously simple for the mind. In fact the only thing that the mind can do is bow down in absolute reverence to the simplicity of Life as it is.

Our limited minds can not know the true meaning of Life no matter how hard they try. It is only when you give up trying to know something that will give you a special ‘me’ identity, that you see how simple and obvious the true meaning really is. Life doesn’t care about the meaning you think you know. It is simply living itself as it is.

Within the movie of this person’s life, the only purpose or meaning is to acknowledge this simplicity and live in alignment with that. You don’t need to learn how to do that. It is all around you, in you, and as you. Just stop for a moment and see the mysterious love song of Life to itself. 

Thursday, August 8, 2019

Adyashanti - Everlasting Inheritance

"Listen now, or lose your life, for what I have to say is what you have imagined in quiet moments but have failed to realize in full. Perhaps you were too timid or astonished at the critical moments, or couldn’t find the courage to step through the veil of your frail life when the door was opened for you.

Or perhaps you wanted to keep your life as your own, and chose to hold onto a few pennies when you could have had gold. No matter, for yesterday has passed into the dust of remembered dreams, and tomorrow’s story is yet to be written.

Which is precisely why you and I are now here together. You and I. You and I. Oh, the sheer mystery of it—how could anything be more grand? Stand with me here at the precipice and take my hand in yours, for I am good company to those ready to depart familiar ground. If not, then let loose of my hand now and take that of a more familiar companion. For where we stand is known, but our next step will not be—nor the one after or the one after that.

So shoulder all of your longing and intent and leave all else behind. I give you fair warning: The world you are about to leave will not be there when you return. For nothing truly left behind is ever the same upon our return. Let us not waste any more time on discussions or debates; you have surely been caught in those tide pools too long already. Too much talk is wearying to the soul and evades the spirit of things. Longing is the true measure of a man or woman and alone has the power to draw us out of ourselves and into the vast air of eternity. But we shall not rely only on the winds of longing, for they can be fickle and unpredictable. We shall also need the fire of intent—that fine-tipped arrow of courage flying true and straight to its goal, piercing through the fabric of our dreams as it goes.

This is as fair a day as any to begin the journey back to your origin. So lift your foot together with mine and we will step off the well-trodden paths and into the uncharted woods where the essence of things lies waiting for you to open your eyes.

It is time to begin watching your steps, dear companion. For you have already wasted the goodness of too many days stumbling along with the unconscious drove. Today I bid you to place no foot upon the earth without feeling the sinews, skin, and bone of your feet with each step. How awake you are to the least of things will determine how awake you become to the greatest in due time. For in the play of time, the great and manifold diversity of things in the end proves their unity. And it is toward the end that we are headed, for it is only by means of the end that we arrive here, on this spot, free and immortal.

I can see in your eyes a fear and confusion. All this talk of endings brings a tremble to your bones. But fear not, for I do not speak of death or chaos except to point out that you have already fallen prey to both. No, I talk of awakening from the death of sleepwalking in dreams and veiled imagination. Beyond the veil all is well, and more well than I can attest. Within the immortality of what you are, there is a contentment and peace born only of your true identity.

Have you not been told how grand you are, how uncontained, how limitless? I for one maintain that you are as unseen and eternal as the space that spans beyond the myriad universes. I praise the immortal self—not one self among many, but the self within all selves. For everywhere I go, and in each and everyone I meet, I greet my secret and unseen self. For I know each man and each woman as I know myself, none greater or lesser in essence or worth.

I have no desire or pull toward the gods, nor sacred relics, nor holy books. For I have waded through the various dogmas and found them lacking the essential vision, the unitary glance that reveals God’s hand within every gesture. Why should we go looking for more than we are, when we are what we are looking for? Beware of a misguided longing, for it leads in the end to brutality. How much blood has already been spilled in God’s name and how much more to come?

I bid you, dear companion: Throw off the yoke of belief, for to arrive at the nobility of truth you must be cleansed of all borrowed knowledge till you are as innocent as the day before you were born. You must forge from within your longing a fiery sword of discrimination, unsheathed from the past—starting now on this hill we stand upon, determined to never again take anything secondhand, but instead prove true or false each statement yourself.

For truth belongs to neither man or woman, nor holy book, nor well-reasoned philosophy or belief, but only to itself—immortal and pure. I seek only to remove untruth from your mind so that you may be restored to the unitary vision which is your everlasting inheritance."

-- Adyashanti, Everlasting Inheritance
(An Unfinished Poem)
© 2006


Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Lao Tzu - Why scurry about looking for the truth?

Why scurry about looking for the truth?
It vibrates in every thing and every not-thing, right off the tip of your nose.
Can you be still and see it in the mountain? the pine tree? yourself?
Don't imagine that you'll discover it by accumulating more knowledge.
Knowledge creates doubt, and doubt makes you ravenous for more knowledge.
You can't get full eating this way.
The wise person dines on something more subtle:
He eats the understanding that the named was born from the unnamed,
that all being flows from non-being,
that the describable world emanates from an indescribable source.
He finds this subtle truth inside his own self,
and becomes completely content.
So who can be still and watch the chess game of the world?
The foolish are always making impulsive moves,
but the wise know that victory and defeat are decided by something more subtle.
They see that something perfect exists before any move is made.
This subtle perfection deteriorates when artificial actions are taken,
so be content not to disturb the peace.
Remain quiet.
Discover the harmony in your own being.
Embrace it.
If you can do this, you will gain everything,
and the world will become healthy again.
If you can't, you will be lost in the shadows forever. 


Saturday, August 3, 2019

Hazrat Inayat Khan - Abstract sound

Abstract sound is called Saut-e Sarmad by the Sufis; all space is filled with it. The vibrations of this sound are too fine to be either audible or visible to the material ears or eyes, since it is even difficult for the eyes to see the form and color of he ethereal vibrations on the external plane. It was the Saut-e Sarmad, the sound of the abstract plane, which Mohammad heard in the cave of Ghar-e Hira when he became lost in his divine ideal. The Qua’an refers to this sound in the words, ‘Be ! and all became.’ Moses heard this very sound on Mount Sinai, when in communion with God; and the same word was audible to Christ when absorbed in his Heavenly Father in the wilderness. Shiva heard the same Anahad Nada during his Samadhi in the cave of the Himalayas.

The flute of Krishna is symbolic of the same sound. This sound is the source of all revelation to the Masters, to whom it is revealed from within; it is because of this that they know and teach one and the same truth.

The Sufi knows of the past, present and future, and about all things in life, by being able to know the direction of sound. Every aspect of one’s being in which sound manifests has a peculiar effect upon life, for the activity of vibrations has a special effect in every direction. The knower of the mystery of sound knows the mystery of the whole universe. Whoever has followed the strains of this sound has forgotten all earthly distinctions and differences, and has reached that goal of truth in which all the Blessed Ones of God unite. Space is within the body as well as around it; in other words the body is in the space and the space is in the body.

This being the case, the sound of the abstract is always going on within, around and about man. Man does not hear it as a rule, because his consciousness is entirely centered in his material existence. Man becomes so absorbed in his experiences in the external world through the medium of the physical body that space, with all its wonders of light and sound, appears to him blank.

This can be easily understood by studying the nature of color. There are many colors that are quite distinct by themselves, yet when mixed with others of still brighter hue they become altogether eclipsed; even bright colors embroidered with gold, silver, diamonds, or pearls serve merely as a background to the dazzling embroidery. So it is with the abstract sound compared with the sounds of the external world. The limited volume of earthly sounds is so concrete that it dims the effect of the sound of the abstract to the sense of hearing, although in comparison to it the sound of the earth are like that of a whistle to a drum. When the abstract sound is audible all other sounds become indistinct to the mystic.

The sound of the abstract is called Anahad in the Vedas, meaning unlimited sound. The Sufis name is Sarmad, which suggests the idea of intoxication. The word intoxication is here used to signify upliftment, the freedom of the soul from its earthly bondage. Those who are able to hear the Saut-e Sarmad and meditate on it are relieved from all worries, anxieties, sorrows, fears and diseases; and the soul is freed from captivity in the senses and in the physical body. The soul of the listener becomes the all-pervading consciousness, and his spirit becomes the battery which keeps the whole universe in motion.

continue reading HERE


Thursday, August 1, 2019

John Astin - Awareness

her gaze is so constant
our every move watched
with such affection,
a ceaseless vigil
without condition or agenda,
unrelenting in her

There is endless room in
the heart of this lover,
infinite space for whatever
foolishness we may
toss her way.

But she is also
crafty, this one –
a thief who will steal away
everything we ever cherished,
all our beliefs,
all our ideas,

all our philosophies,
until nothing is left
but her shimmering

this simple love
for what is.


Science Says Silence is Vital for Our Brains

The value of silence is felt by everyone at some point in their life. Silence is comforting, nourishing and cosy. It opens us up to inspiration, and nurtures the mind, body and soul. Meanwhile, the madness of the noisy world is drowning out our creativity, our inner connection and hampering our resilience. Science is now showing that silence may be just what we need to regenerate our exhausted brains and bodies...

 Silence is an empty space. Space is the home of the awakened mind.
 – Buddha

Read the full article HERE


Monday, July 29, 2019

Ella Wheeler Wilcox - Voice of the Voiceless...

 So many gods, so many creeds,
So many paths that wind and wind,
While just the art of being kind
Is all the sad world needs.

I am the voice of the voiceless:
Through me, the dumb shall speak;
Till the deaf world’s ear be made to hear
The cry of the wordless weak.

From street, from cage and from kennel,
From jungle, and stall, the wail
Of my tortured kin proclaims the sin
Of the mighty against the frail

For love is the true religion,
And love is the law sublime;
And all is wrought, where love is not
Will die at the touch of time.

Oh shame on the mothers of mortals
Who have not stopped to teach
Of the sorrow that lies in dear, dumb eyes,
The sorrow that has no speech.

The same Power formed the sparrow
That fashioned man-the King;
The God of the whole gave a living soul
To furred and to feathered thing.

And I am my brother’s keeper,
And I will fight his fight;
And speak the word for beast and bird
Till the world shall set things right....”


Thursday, July 25, 2019

Gyandev (GD) - ‘the story of me’

Pause. See if you can notice the stream of thoughts moving in your head in this moment. That is what we call ‘the story of me’: it’s ‘my story’, ‘my life’. It’s like a non-stop movie inside our head. And it’s always in movement – and this movement is based on all the stories of the past and all the stories of the future. It’s a non-stop river, and it’s always about me, me, me. It’s a kind of dreaming we do even when we seem to be awake.

For most of us, the story of me is so unconscious, we don’t even know it is going on throughout the day. And the story of me can remain active only when there is unawareness. When there is pure awareness, even for a few moments, the story of me disappears. And what remains is just an openness, a stillness, a sense of being.

This story of me is always plotting, planning and scheming. It’s very clever. How can I get all the things I want and need? How can I avoid all the things that I fear? The ‘me story’ is always about avoiding all forms of pain, sickness and disease. And about acquiring all forms of happiness and pleasure. If you notice, this ‘me’ in your head is always going towards something or going away from something. It is never still… ever.

Imagine you are sitting in a movie theatre watching the movie ‘Titanic’ fully engrossed… feeling the emotions, enjoying the drama. And something goes wrong with the projection. Suddenly the movie stops. And we realize there is just a blank screen! We kind of wake up and realize the boat was not real, the characters were not real: there was nothing actually happening there. It was just a kind of hypnosis.

Similarly, there is a movie going in our mind on all the time – stories about my future, my past, my spirituality. They are all imaginary and they are all painful. Why are they painful? Because they are constantly running into the future. They are stories of unfulfillment, they are stories of neediness, they are stories of desperation. In a cinema hall, this drama happens for two hours, but for us it continues for sixty-seventy years. Morning to night, this imaginary story of me goes on and on and on.

All our conflicts with others also arise from this story of me – based on what I believe, what I think should happen, what I think is ‘right’. So the imaginary story of me is not just hell for me, it creates hell for others also. The ‘me’ tries to impose itself on everybody else. If others don’t agree with us, there is violence. The violence can be very subtle, like we may sulk and go into the other room, or it can be very loud and we directly attack the other person.

A time comes in our life when the story of me becomes spiritual – then the story of me becomes preoccupied with getting enlightenment and having the perfect state. The joke is that the story of me can never get enlightened! Because it’s this very story, this dreaming that is the obstruction to what is already always present!

Allow yourself to notice this story of me… again and again. Throughout the day, use this question: What unconscious dreaming is going on in this moment? The moment you pop this question, something will change, something will shift, and the story of me will snap. And what will be revealed is pure awareness – that which has no past, no future, and no story.


Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Wislawa Szymborska - Utopia

Island where all becomes clear.

Solid ground beneath your feet.

The only roads are those that offer access.

Bushes bend beneath the weight of proofs.

The Tree of Valid Supposition grows here
with branches disentangled since time immemorial.

The Tree of Understanding, dazzlingly straight and simple,
sprouts by the spring called Now I Get It.

The thicker the woods, the vaster the vista:
the Valley of Obviously.

If any doubts arise, the wind dispels them instantly.

Echoes stir unsummoned
and eagerly explain all the secrets of the worlds.

On the right a cave where Meaning lies.

On the left the Lake of Deep Conviction.
Truth breaks from the bottom and bobs to the surface.

Unshakable Confidence towers over the valley.
Its peak offers an excellent view of the Essence of Things.

For all its charms, the island is uninhabited,
and the faint footprints scattered on its beaches
turn without exception to the sea.

As if all you can do here is leave
and plunge, never to return, into the depths.

Into unfathomable life.

By Wislawa Szymborska
From “A large number”, 1976
Translated by S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh


Thursday, July 18, 2019

Fred LaMotte - Portals of unknowing

 "God leads every soul by a separate path." ~St. John of the Cross

I cannot possibly know what is most important: that which will transform me. If I already know what it is I will never be free, because I have packaged "liberation" as knowledge, in the tight wrapper of a concept. This means that spiritual transformation can never become a program, a technique, or a course that I take.

The moments that liberate me are wild portals of unknowing, when the blue sky of wonder outshines any cloud it contains; vast emptiness shifts into the foreground; techniques, traditions, concepts cultivated in the past, dissolve. Thus the sage Ashtavakra taught the first and last spiritual practice : "Layam vraja - dissolve now."

The best meditation evaporates into amazement. The best mantra melts into silence. The best guru dances in mist at the edge of the meadow, and disappears into your longing heart, where true path has no beginning.*

No, I cannot possibly know what is most important - how a blue moth disguises herself as a petal of lupine, why cascade lilies frolic in a rainy mountain meadow, what the hermit thrush means to silence. I cannot know when the golden sun will burst my chest wide open, turning the small dark chamber of self-doubt into a boundless empyrean.

*Not a metaphor. I actually saw this happen one Guru Purnima, my Guru dancing, disappearing and reappearing in a meadow lit with fireflies as we chanted and drummed. In this playful lila, he did something quite profound, though we didn't realize it at the time: he was erasing the difference between bija and nirbija, form and formlessness. It was the moment when my outer Guru gracefully became Guru-tattva, the Guru within. This is a true Guru's only goal.

Wednesday, July 17, 2019

Pablo Neruda - Keeping quiet

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.


Sunday, July 14, 2019

Kahlil Gibran - Have Mercy on Me, My Soul!

 Why are you weeping, my Soul?
Knowest thou my weakness?
Thy tears strike sharp and injure,
For I know not my wrong.
Until when shalt thou cry?
I have naught but human words,
To interpret your dreams,
Your desires, and your instructions.

Look upon me, my Soul; I have
Consumed my full life heeding
Your teachings. Think of how
I suffer! I have exhausted my
Life following you.

My heart was glorying upon the
Throne, but it is now yoked in slavery;
My patience was a companion, but
Now contends against me;
My youth was my hope, but
Now reprimands my neglect.

Why, my Soul, are you all-demanding?
I have denied myself pleasure
And deserted the joy of life
Following the course which you
Impelled me to pursue.
Be just to me, or call Death
To unshackle me,
For justice is your glory.

Have mercy on me, my Soul.
You have laden me with Love until
I cannot carry my burden. You and
Love are inseparable might; Substance
And I are inseparable weakness.
Will ever the struggle cease
Between the strong and the weak?

Have mercy on me, my Soul.
You have shown me Fortune beyond
My grasp. You and Fortune abide on
The mountain top; Misery and I are
Abandoned together in the pit of
The valley. Will ever the mountain
And the valley unite?

Have mercy on me, my Soul.
You have shown me Beauty, but then
Concealed her. You and Beauty live
In the light; Ignorance and I are
Bound together in the dark. Will
Ever the light invade darkness?

Your delight comes with the Ending,
And you revel now in anticipation;
But this body suffers with life
While in life.
This, my Soul, is perplexing.

You are hastening toward Eternity,
But this body goes slowly toward
Perishment. You do not wait for him,
And he cannot go quickly.
This, my Soul, is sadness.

You ascend high, through heaven’s
Attraction, but this body falls by
Earth’s gravity. You do not console
Him, and he does not appreciate you.
This, my Soul, is misery.

You are rich in wisdom, but this
Body is poor in understanding
You do not compromise
And he does not obey.
This, my Soul, is extreme suffering.

In the silence of the night you visit
The Beloved and enjoy the sweetness of
His presence. This body ever remains
The bitter victim of hope and separation.
This, my Soul, is agonizing torture.
Have mercy on me, my Soul!

Thursday, July 11, 2019

Jack Kornfield describes his encounter with Nisargadatta Maharaj

Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield describes his encounter with Nisargadatta Maharaj in "The Eightfold Path for the Householder."

"There's something in us, in our nature, which compels us to discover. I remember a very powerful moment with the old guru who I studied with, Nisargadatta Maharaj, who taught the way of Nisarga Yoga. "Nisarga" means natural. The basic translation of his name was "Mr. Natural". He was this 80-year old cigarette-smoking man. He had a little cigarette stand. He was kind of a combination like Krishnamurti and Fritz Perls. He would put you on the hot seat when you came in and ask you about your spiritual life.

One day we were in a room about this big.

People were coming in and asking questions. Somebody came in and asked a question and was a little bit dissatisfied and left. And another person raised their hand and said, "Maharaj, what will happen to that person who came and asked that question and left? Is it all over for them in this life? They didn't stay here. You are a great guru, and they weren't interested, and they went home." And he twinkled at that moment, he really lit up, and he said,

"It's too late. Even the fact that they put their foot in this room, even if they hadn't asked the question, means that somewhere in there there's a seed of really knowing who we are and what this life is about. Not what you were taught in elementary school or what's on TV or the newspapers, but a deep seed of knowing our true nature, that wants to discover; it's like coming home. The fact that he just walked in the room means that that seed has started to sprout. And no matter if he tries to forget it and goes back and gets lost, sooner or later that will manifest in awakening.

...I'll read you a passage from Nisargadatta Maharaj, the old bidi wallah who I studied with in Bombay; wonderful old teacher. He sold little Indian cigarettes on the street corner, and he was fully enlightened somehow at the same time. He had these classes. He died a couple of years ago. He was a wonderful old man.

Someone asks:

What can truth or reality gain by all our practice?

He uses truth and love interchangeably. He says:

"Nothing whatsoever, of course. But it is in the nature of truth or love, cosmic consciousness, whatever you want to call it, to express itself, to affirm itself, to overcome difficulties. Once
you've understood that the world is love in action, consciousness or love in action, you will look at it quite differently. But first your attitude to suffering must change. Suffering is primarily a call for attention, which itself is a movement of love. More than happiness, love wants growth, the widening and deepening of awareness and consciousness and being. Whatever prevents that becomes a cause of pain, and love does not shirk from pain."

-- The Eightfold Path for the Householder:
Ten talks by Jack Kornfield,
transcribed from audio tape

Sri Anandamayi Ma - Samadhi

"During samadhi Her face lost all freshness of life; the body appeared to be very frail and weak and in Her general appearance there was no expession whatever of either joy or pain. In that state it took Her much longer to recover Her normal self. In 1930, when She came to Ramna Ashram, She often appeared to have lost all signs of life during samadhi and passed four or five days together without response to any outer stimulus. During the whole phase, from the beginning of the samadhi to its end, there was no indication that She was alive or could ever become alive. Her body became as cold as ice and remained cold for a long time after consciousness returned. . . On inquiry we learned from Her later that while She was in that condition She would feel a fine threadlike upward current of life flowing from the lower end of the spinal cord right up to the topmost centre in the brain, and along with it a thrill of joy would run through every fibre of Her body and even through the pores of Her hair. She would feel at that time that every particle of Her physical frame danced, as it were, with infinite ripples of bliss. Whatever She touched or saw appeared to Her to be a vital part of Herself. Her physical body gradually ceased to function.
At that time, if Her backbone was massaged or the joints of Her body were rubbed for a long time, She would remain quiet for a while and recover Her normal condition. It was at this stage that She was found to be brimming over with heavenly joy and Her looks had all the indications of one lost in Universal Love. . . .
One evening, just at dusk, Sri Ma was lying in a state of samadhi. Our Didima (Mataji's mother) was on the bed by Her side. Pitaji was also in the room. At about 2 A.M. I was seated on the verandah meditating on Mother's lotus feet. I felt a thrilling sensation in my heart produced by the sound of Her footsteps. I opened my eyes but could not notice anything. I heard some feeble sound inside the room. When I left my seat I noticed two tiny footprints of Mataji's wet feet.
On entering the room I found Sri Ma in bed. I inquired from Didima if Ma had gone out. The reply was 'no'. The night passed. Next morning She was on the plane of physical consciousness for a brief interval. Though She recovered Her sense on the following day, it took three or four days more to regain Her normal ways of life.
A few days later I said to Mataji: 'I have heard that during samadhi it is not possible for anybody to move about in his physical body. How was it that I noticed your footprints on the floor last night?' Sri Ma said: 'Is it possible for man to explain all things in words?' and resumed silence."

~Bhaiji (Jyotish Chandra Ray), from his book "Mother As Revealed To Me", pages 63-66, 1983 edition printed by Shree Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, Calcutta, India

Thanks to  Ccarol Grayson

Wednesday, July 10, 2019

Mystic Meandering - The Sanctuary of Silence

Sitting in the Sanctuary
of Silence,
the deep space of
keeps pulling me in,
enticing me to


In this space of Pure Awareness,
beyond thought,
I can feel the intimacy of Silence
once again;
The organic Rhythm,
immersed in its Quiet Flow...
Out of which all movement arises
and takes form...

Not two - yet not one;
not either/or
The Ineffable Mystery

I sometimes call it "The Beloved",
sometimes now "The Unmanifest."
It has many names -
this Aware Silence,
this Hush of the Mystery
that we are,
that we emerged from,
Life ItSelf;
and is no-name as well...

The Unknown...

In this Sea of Silence
I remember the feel of
Its Rhythm;
the transparency and
of its endless S p a c i o u s n e s s
that Just IS...

The Mystery of Life living ItSelf
the vast
pulse of Living Silence...

recognizing ItSelf as "me",
and "me" recognizing It
as my

I had forgotten
this Sacred Silence
that knows us intimately
as ItSelf...

Our pain, sorrow, grief;
our laughter and joy,
are inexplicably
ITs own


It knows our shadow
and embraces
all darkness
as ITs own -
IT is -
ITs own


that knows
no darkness

The grief, the loss,
the sadness, the suffering,
the woundings...

ALL ITs own;
feeling what we feel,
experiencing what we experience
as ItSelf...

to all experience

Not a cold, conceptual
hollow vacuum of Nothingness...

But the V a s t n e s s of Life ItSelf,
intimately living ItSelf...
OM-ing pre-Existence into Existence...
Breathing ItSelf into Life -
into every wound of pain
and suffering
with ITs soft caress...

Aware Living Silence
knows our Hearts
as ITs own,
and dances with

I had forgotten THIS...
The feel of this deep intimacy
in ITs complete and utter Embrace;
Its total enfoldment;
Its inclusiveness
of all that we are;
forgotten the once known
innocence of
being touched
by the


Mystic Meandering
April 11, 2015

Saturday, July 6, 2019

Badshah Khan - Your dear heart

 Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 84

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

Listen politely to your dear heart,
Its Speaking to you’
Its uttering the language of eternal love.

Heed to your dear heart,
Its a boundless wealth of righteous,
Your heart, habitually recite the sacred words.

The sacred words of your divine creator
Keenly listen to your dear heart’
Without any scholarly literatures.

Properly referring to you,
The poetic language of eternal love,
Listen willingly to your dear heart.

Divinely revealing your eternal truth,
Whom you unconditionally Follow,
Who you Call Him as your beloved.

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Thursday, July 4, 2019

Arthur Osborne - Be Still

 Thou art? — I am?
Why argue? — Being is.
Keep still and be.

Death will not still the mind.
Nor argument, nor hopes of after-death.
This world the battle-ground, yourself the foe
Yourself must master.

Eager the mind to seek.
Yet oft astray, causing its own distress
Then crying for relief, as though some God
Barred from it jealously the Bliss it sought
But would not face.

Till in the end,
All battles fought, all earthly loves abjured,
Dawn in the East, there is no other way
But to be still.

In stillness then to find
The giants all were windmills, all the strife
Self-made, unreal; even he that strove
A fancied being, as when that good knight
Woke from delirium and with a loud cry
Rendered his soul to God.

Mind, then, or soul?
Break free from subtle words.

Only be still,
Lay down the mind, submit, and Being then
Is Bliss, Bliss Consciousness: and That you are.

PDF - Be Still, It Is. The Wind. That Sings:

My Life and Quest-Arthur Osborne





Wednesday, July 3, 2019

Rashani - The feast of this moment (a song of gratitude)


"During the months of May and June, 2003, I offered 7 retreats, several
public satsangs and over 70 private sessions in New York City, at
Kripalu Yoga Center and in Sweden and Denmark. 

The following is a song I wrote for the many people who attended these
events. I was deeply moved by their willingness to be present with
whatever arose and to trust in the unknown."

            THE FEAST OF THIS MOMENT  (a song of gratitude)

            welcome to the feast, it’s just begun.
            it’s a celebration for everyone,
            a chance to meet the moon and sun within you.

            there’s space for every part of you,
            regardless of your point of view.
            come and share the old and new together.
            bring to the feast your tender child,
            bring to the feast the meek and mild,
            bring the jaguar and all your wildest creatures.
            bring the one who’s been abused,
            and the part of you which feels confused.
            bring the pride which has refused forgiveness.
            bring your beauty and strike the gong,
            enter the field beyond right and wrong,
            bring the ones who long to be received now.
            invite the one who’s so afraid,
            invite the child who never stayed,
            invite the part of you which played perfection.
            come to the feast, oh come and start
            to know the truth you kept apart,
            bring to the feast your total heart and being.
            bring the one who’s crying in pain,
            bring the dancer in the rain,
            bring the one who’s vain and sometimes selfish.
            bring the parts you left behind,
            bring the one who’s hard to find,
            bring the lonely and confined fixations.
            all are welcome here today.
            i long to hear what they each say.
            this feast of the moment may just last forever!
            invite the beast who has no name,
            who all these years you could not tame,
            in mercy’s presence, even shame will turn to gold.
            bring the nun & the monk you deified,
            and the lover’s heart you crucified.
            invite them gently, to abide together now.
            bring the betrayer and the betrayed,
            bring the wisdom you have not obeyed.
            yes, come to find Who made what can’t be broken. 

            this is a feast of day and night,
            where we receive the fragrance of light
            while leaving behind the plight of past and future.
            bring, yes, the one who wanted to die,
            whose heart is sepalled within the sigh.
            there’s space for every cry and song of creation.
            we’ve come to remember who we are,
            to marvel at the falling star
            that reminds us how far we’ve been from home.
            bring the child who wanted to hide,
            the one you lock so deep inside.
            even bring the voice which tried to silence you.
            bring the boy who played in the streams,
            whose only friends were deep in his dreams.
            invite him now to surf on beams of laughter.
            the sadness he carried all those years
            which turned his thoughts into so many fears
            are transforming now, into tears of understanding.
            bring the girl who was taught to believe
            that pain was the only gift she’d receive.
            deeper than pain, her Heart can perceive the truth
            she tried so hard to therapise
            and then she tried to analyse
            her purest being which has no guise or garments.
            invite the one who tried to transcend
            the haunting memories that would not end;
            who tried, but failed, to bend the spoon of childhood.
            bring the fear you tried to cage,
            the explosiveness that turned to rage.
            invite the tyrant who wants to wage each war.
            bring to the feast the exhausted mind
            which searched for years, hoping to find
            a way to change and leave behind all suffering.
            let us open now to this blessed day!
            and trust that there’s an effortless way
            to Be who we are while giving away our burdens.
            let’s close our eyes and open to grace,
            see, without seeing, our original face
            and know, deep within,our place  in this creation. 
            it’s a caravan of no despair!
            it doesn’t matter what you wear.
            you’ll see that love is everywhere around you!
            around, within, above, below,
            in the breath itself, it’s not fast or slow.
            kiss the earth and throw to God your sorrows.
            feel the butterflies in your womb,
            the cobra rising from the ancient tomb.
            we’re the tapestry on the heart-loom of existence.
            there’s something waiting deep  inside.
            a radiant aliveness unable to hide.
            it’s the  ever-abiding  current in our center.
            it’s "the pearl beyond price" deep within,
            it’s the essence of both yang and yin,
            what we are, have always been & will always be!
            it’s the golden light in the polarbear’s fur,
            the star that shines in every "him" and "her".
            it’s the gentle purr of the white siberian tiger.
            it’s the sea turtle eating what you thought was pain,
            the woman in the desert who you thought was insane,
            who turned out to be the sanest, wisest shaman.
            it’s the diamond he gave you from the other side,
            the forgiveness from your sister who long ago died,
            it’s the nectar of love residing in us all.
            purusha, buddha, quan yin, and tao,
            tatanka weanska, to you i bow...
            coming home, without knowing how i came here.
            "blissful sobriety" is one of its names,
            a pristine clarity that plays no games.
            it’s a quiet spark within the flames’ bright center.
            it’s a powerful force,
            an effortless current, ofcourse:
            an invitation to divorce the mind’s dilemmas.
            to dyhani ywahoo and ma ananda mayi,
            to every bodhisatva in their suit and tie,
            to the 5 year old child who asked, "Why do stars grow
            in spirals?"
            i bow to ramana and papaji too,
            gangaji, faisal, pema and norbu,
            to family, friends and lovers, who show me the
            pathless way.