“Will the Maharshi express an opinion about the future of the world, for we are living in critical times?”
“Why should you trouble yourself about the future?” demands the Sage. “You do not even properly know about the present! Take care of the present; the future will then take care of itself.”
Another rebuff! But I do not yield so easily on this occasion, for I come from a world where the tragedies of life press far more heavily on people than they do in this peaceful jungle retreat.
“Will the world soon enter a new era of friendliness and mutual help, or will it go down into chaos and war?” I persist.
The Maharshi does not seem at all pleased, but nevertheless he makes a reply.
“There is One who governs the world, and it is His lookout to look after the world. He who has given life to the world knows how to look after it also. He bears the burden of this world, not you.”
“Yet if one looks around with unprejudiced eyes, it is difficult to see where this benevolent regard comes in,” I object.
The Sage appears to be still less pleased. Yet his answer comes:
“As you are, so is the world. Without understanding yourself, what is the use of trying to understand the world? This is a question that seekers after truth need not consider. People waste their energies over all such questions. First, find out the truth behind yourself; then you will be in a better position to understand the truth behind the world, of which yourself is a part.”
~Paul Brunton, 'A Search in Secret India' 1934
Showing posts with label Paul Brunton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paul Brunton. Show all posts
Thursday, November 27, 2008
A Ramana Thanksgiving Continues
“You say I. ‘I want to know.’ Tell me, who is that I?”
What does he mean? He has now cut across the services of the interpreter and speaks direct to me in English. Bewilderment creeps across my brain.
“I am afraid I do not understand your question,” I reply blankly.
“Is it not clear? Think again!”
I puzzle over his words once more. An idea suddenly flashes into my head. I point a finger towards myself and mention my name.
“And do you know him?”
“All my life!” I smile back at him.
“But that is only your body! Again I ask, ‘Who are you’?”
I cannot find a ready answer to this extraordinary query. The Maharshi continues:
“Know first that I and then you shall know the truth.”
My mind hazes again. I am deeply puzzled. This bewilderment finds verbal expression. But the Maharshi has evidently reached the limit of his English, for he turns to the interpreter and the answer is slowly translated to me:
“There is only one thing to be done. Look into your own self. Do this in the right way and you shall find the answer to all your problems.”
It is a strange rejoinder. But I ask him:
“What must one do? What method can I pursue?”
“Through deep reflection on the nature of one’s self and through constant meditation, the light can be found.”
~Paul Brunton, 'A Search in Secret India' 1934
What does he mean? He has now cut across the services of the interpreter and speaks direct to me in English. Bewilderment creeps across my brain.
“I am afraid I do not understand your question,” I reply blankly.
“Is it not clear? Think again!”
I puzzle over his words once more. An idea suddenly flashes into my head. I point a finger towards myself and mention my name.
“And do you know him?”
“All my life!” I smile back at him.
“But that is only your body! Again I ask, ‘Who are you’?”
I cannot find a ready answer to this extraordinary query. The Maharshi continues:
“Know first that I and then you shall know the truth.”
My mind hazes again. I am deeply puzzled. This bewilderment finds verbal expression. But the Maharshi has evidently reached the limit of his English, for he turns to the interpreter and the answer is slowly translated to me:
“There is only one thing to be done. Look into your own self. Do this in the right way and you shall find the answer to all your problems.”
It is a strange rejoinder. But I ask him:
“What must one do? What method can I pursue?”
“Through deep reflection on the nature of one’s self and through constant meditation, the light can be found.”
~Paul Brunton, 'A Search in Secret India' 1934
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Ramana's First Words to the West
I add that I regard the question of diet as being far less important than the quest which has brought me to his hermitage.
The Sage listens intently, his face calm, imperturbable and non-committal.
“It is a good object,” he comments at length.
This encourages me to enlarge upon the same theme.
“Master, I have studied our Western philosophies and sciences, lived and worked among the people of our crowded cities, tasted their pleasures and allowed myself to be caught up into their ambitions. Yet I have also gone into solitary places and wandered there amid the loneliness of deep thought. I have questioned the sages of the West; now I have turned my face towards the East. I seek more light.”
The Maharshi nods his head, as if to say, “Yes, I quite understand.”
“I have heard many opinions, listened to many theories. Intellectual proofs of one belief or another lie piled up all around me. I am tired of them, sceptical of anything which cannot be proved by personal experience. Forgive me for saying so, but I am not religious. Is there anything beyond man’s material existence? If so, how can I realize it for myself?”
The three or four devotees who are gathered around us stare in surprise. Have I offended the subtle etiquette of the hermitage by speaking so brusquely and boldly to their Master? I do not know; perhaps I do not care. The accumulated weight of many years’ desire has unexpectedly escaped my control and passed beyond my lips. If the Maharshi is the right kind of man, surely he will understand and brush aside mere lapses from convention.
He makes no verbal reply but appears to have dropped into some train of thought. Because there is nothing else to do and because my tongue has now been loosened, I address him for the third time:
“The wise men of the West, our scientists, are greatly honoured for their cleverness. Yet they have confessed that they can throw but little light upon the hidden truth behind life. It is said that there are some in your land who can give what our Western sages fail to reveal. Is this so? Can you assist me to experience enlightenment? Or is the search itself a mere delusion?”
I have now reached my conversational objective and decide to await the Maharshi’s response. He continues to stare thoughtfully at me. Perhaps he is pondering over my questions. Ten minutes pass in silence.
At last his lips open and he says gently:
“You say I. ‘I want to know.’ Tell me, who is that I?”
~Paul Brunton, 'A Search in Secret India' 1934
The Sage listens intently, his face calm, imperturbable and non-committal.
“It is a good object,” he comments at length.
This encourages me to enlarge upon the same theme.
“Master, I have studied our Western philosophies and sciences, lived and worked among the people of our crowded cities, tasted their pleasures and allowed myself to be caught up into their ambitions. Yet I have also gone into solitary places and wandered there amid the loneliness of deep thought. I have questioned the sages of the West; now I have turned my face towards the East. I seek more light.”
The Maharshi nods his head, as if to say, “Yes, I quite understand.”
“I have heard many opinions, listened to many theories. Intellectual proofs of one belief or another lie piled up all around me. I am tired of them, sceptical of anything which cannot be proved by personal experience. Forgive me for saying so, but I am not religious. Is there anything beyond man’s material existence? If so, how can I realize it for myself?”
The three or four devotees who are gathered around us stare in surprise. Have I offended the subtle etiquette of the hermitage by speaking so brusquely and boldly to their Master? I do not know; perhaps I do not care. The accumulated weight of many years’ desire has unexpectedly escaped my control and passed beyond my lips. If the Maharshi is the right kind of man, surely he will understand and brush aside mere lapses from convention.
He makes no verbal reply but appears to have dropped into some train of thought. Because there is nothing else to do and because my tongue has now been loosened, I address him for the third time:
“The wise men of the West, our scientists, are greatly honoured for their cleverness. Yet they have confessed that they can throw but little light upon the hidden truth behind life. It is said that there are some in your land who can give what our Western sages fail to reveal. Is this so? Can you assist me to experience enlightenment? Or is the search itself a mere delusion?”
I have now reached my conversational objective and decide to await the Maharshi’s response. He continues to stare thoughtfully at me. Perhaps he is pondering over my questions. Ten minutes pass in silence.
At last his lips open and he says gently:
“You say I. ‘I want to know.’ Tell me, who is that I?”
~Paul Brunton, 'A Search in Secret India' 1934
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
In Ramana's Presence, No Words
There is something in this man which holds my attention as steel filings are held by a magnet. I cannot turn my gaze away from him. My initial bewilderment, my perplexity at being totally ignored, slowly fade away as this strange fascination begins to grip me more firmly. But it is not till the second hour of the uncommon scene that I become aware of a silent, resistless change which is taking place within my mind. One by one, the questions which I prepared in the train with such meticulous accuracy drop away. For it does not now seem to matter whether they are asked or not, and it does not matter whether I solve the problems which have hitherto troubled me. I know only that a steady river of quietness seems to be flowing near me; that a great peace is penetrating the inner reaches of my being, and that my thought-tortured brain is beginning to arrive at some rest.
How small seem those questions which I have asked myself with such frequency? How petty grows the panorama of the last years! I perceive with sudden clarity that intellect creates its own problems and then makes itself miserable trying to solve them. This is indeed a novel concept to enter the mind of one who has hitherto placed such high value upon intellect.
I surrender myself to the steadily deepening sense of restfulness until two hours have passed. The passage of time now provokes no irritation, because I feel that the chains of mind-made problems are being broken and thrown away. And then, little by little, a new question takes the field of consciousness.
“Does this man, the Maharshi, emanate the perfume of spiritual peace as the flower emanates fragrance from its petals?”
I do not consider myself a competent person to apprehend spirituality, but I have personal reactions to other people. The dawning suspicion that the mysterious peace which has arisen within me must be attributed to the geographical situation in which I am now placed, is my reaction to the personality of the Maharshi. I begin to wonder whether, by some radioactivity of the soul, some unknown telepathic process, the stillness which invades the troubled waters of my own soul really comes from him. Yet he remains completely impassive completely unaware of my very existence, it seems.
Comes the first ripple. Someone approaches me and whispers in my ear. “Did you not wish to question the Maharshi?”
He may have lost patience, this quondam guide of mine. More likely, he imagines that I, a restless European, have reached the limit of my own patience. Alas, my inquisitive friend! Truly I came here to question your Master, but now ... I, who am at peace with all the world and with myself, why should I trouble my head with questions? I feel that the ship of my soul is beginning to slip its moorings; a wonderful sea waits to be crossed; yet you would draw me back to the noisy port of this world, just when I am about to start the great adventure!
But the spell is broken. As if this infelicitous intrusion is a signal, figures rise from the floor and begin to move about the hall, voices float up to my hearing, and wonder of wonders! — the dark brown eyes of the Maharshi flicker once or twice. Then the head turns, the face moves slowly, very slowly, and bends downward at an angle. A few more moments and it has brought me into the ambit of its vision. For the first time the Sage’s mysterious gaze is directed upon me. It is plain that he has now awakened from his long trance.
The intruder, thinking perhaps that my lack of response is a sign that I have not heard him, repeats his question aloud. But in those lustrous eyes which are gently staring at me, I read another question, albeit unspoken:
“Can it be — is it possible — that you are still tormented with distracting doubts when you have now glimpsed the deep mental peace which you — and all men — may attain?”
The peace overwhelms me. I turn to the guide and answer: “No. There is nothing I care to ask now. Another time ”
~Paul Brunton, 'A Search in Secret India' 1934
How small seem those questions which I have asked myself with such frequency? How petty grows the panorama of the last years! I perceive with sudden clarity that intellect creates its own problems and then makes itself miserable trying to solve them. This is indeed a novel concept to enter the mind of one who has hitherto placed such high value upon intellect.
I surrender myself to the steadily deepening sense of restfulness until two hours have passed. The passage of time now provokes no irritation, because I feel that the chains of mind-made problems are being broken and thrown away. And then, little by little, a new question takes the field of consciousness.
“Does this man, the Maharshi, emanate the perfume of spiritual peace as the flower emanates fragrance from its petals?”
I do not consider myself a competent person to apprehend spirituality, but I have personal reactions to other people. The dawning suspicion that the mysterious peace which has arisen within me must be attributed to the geographical situation in which I am now placed, is my reaction to the personality of the Maharshi. I begin to wonder whether, by some radioactivity of the soul, some unknown telepathic process, the stillness which invades the troubled waters of my own soul really comes from him. Yet he remains completely impassive completely unaware of my very existence, it seems.
Comes the first ripple. Someone approaches me and whispers in my ear. “Did you not wish to question the Maharshi?”
He may have lost patience, this quondam guide of mine. More likely, he imagines that I, a restless European, have reached the limit of my own patience. Alas, my inquisitive friend! Truly I came here to question your Master, but now ... I, who am at peace with all the world and with myself, why should I trouble my head with questions? I feel that the ship of my soul is beginning to slip its moorings; a wonderful sea waits to be crossed; yet you would draw me back to the noisy port of this world, just when I am about to start the great adventure!
But the spell is broken. As if this infelicitous intrusion is a signal, figures rise from the floor and begin to move about the hall, voices float up to my hearing, and wonder of wonders! — the dark brown eyes of the Maharshi flicker once or twice. Then the head turns, the face moves slowly, very slowly, and bends downward at an angle. A few more moments and it has brought me into the ambit of its vision. For the first time the Sage’s mysterious gaze is directed upon me. It is plain that he has now awakened from his long trance.
The intruder, thinking perhaps that my lack of response is a sign that I have not heard him, repeats his question aloud. But in those lustrous eyes which are gently staring at me, I read another question, albeit unspoken:
“Can it be — is it possible — that you are still tormented with distracting doubts when you have now glimpsed the deep mental peace which you — and all men — may attain?”
The peace overwhelms me. I turn to the guide and answer: “No. There is nothing I care to ask now. Another time ”
~Paul Brunton, 'A Search in Secret India' 1934
Monday, November 24, 2008
Ramana Calls the West
“Well, Mr. Subramanya, I am waiting for an explanation of your whispered remark in the house of the Silent Sage.”
“And I have been waiting all this time to give it to you! Take your questions to my Master, for he is the wisest man in India, wiser even than the yogis.”
“So? And have you travelled throughout all India? Have you met all the great yogis, that you can make such a statement?”
“I have met several of them, for I know the country from Cape Comorin to Himalayas.”
“Well?”
“Sir, I have never met anyone like him, he is a great soul And I want you to meet him.”
“Why?”
“Because he has led me to you! It is his power which has drawn you to India!”
This bombastic statement strikes me as being too exaggerated and I begin to recoil from the man. I am always afraid of the rhetorical exaggerations of emotional persons, and it is obvious that the yellow robed yogi is highly emotional. His voice, gesture, appearance and atmosphere plainly reveal it.
“I do not understand,” is my cold reply. He falls into further explanations.
“Eight months ago I came into touch with him. For five months I was permitted to stay with him and then I was sent forth on my travels once more. I do not think you are likely to meet with another such man as he. His spiritual gifts are so great that he will answer your unspoken thoughts. You need only be with him a short time to realise his high spiritual degree.”
“Are you sure he would welcome my visit?”
“Oh, Sir! Absolutely. It is his guidance which sent me to you.”
“Where does he live?”
“On Arunachala — the Hill of the Holy Beacon.”
~Paul Brunton "A Search In Secret India' 1934
“And I have been waiting all this time to give it to you! Take your questions to my Master, for he is the wisest man in India, wiser even than the yogis.”
“So? And have you travelled throughout all India? Have you met all the great yogis, that you can make such a statement?”
“I have met several of them, for I know the country from Cape Comorin to Himalayas.”
“Well?”
“Sir, I have never met anyone like him, he is a great soul And I want you to meet him.”
“Why?”
“Because he has led me to you! It is his power which has drawn you to India!”
This bombastic statement strikes me as being too exaggerated and I begin to recoil from the man. I am always afraid of the rhetorical exaggerations of emotional persons, and it is obvious that the yellow robed yogi is highly emotional. His voice, gesture, appearance and atmosphere plainly reveal it.
“I do not understand,” is my cold reply. He falls into further explanations.
“Eight months ago I came into touch with him. For five months I was permitted to stay with him and then I was sent forth on my travels once more. I do not think you are likely to meet with another such man as he. His spiritual gifts are so great that he will answer your unspoken thoughts. You need only be with him a short time to realise his high spiritual degree.”
“Are you sure he would welcome my visit?”
“Oh, Sir! Absolutely. It is his guidance which sent me to you.”
“Where does he live?”
“On Arunachala — the Hill of the Holy Beacon.”
~Paul Brunton "A Search In Secret India' 1934
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