One Word from Bhagavan; Mountain Path, Advent 2012 In the annals of those who came to Sri Bhagavan there are many instances of a word, a phrase or sentence that utterly transformed the life of listener. The instruction could have come direct from Sri Bhagavan or it may have been directed to another person in the assembly. It may have been even a casual remark but non the less, the force of Sri Bhagavans speech had the impact of a depth charge that rocked the balance of the every day mind and set the person on an entirely new track. There are documented cases of this radical summons, as for instance, that of a university biochemist who, in 1948, was prostrating to Sri Bhagavan before taking leave, when he heard the command Iru ---- Be!. As a rule, devotees took leave of Sri Bhagavan out of respect and he did not usually indicate a preference as to whether someone came or went but would either smile or nod in acknowledgement In this case, it was unusual. Sri Tinnai Swami as he was later known, obeyed both colloquial (stay) and the literal (be) meaning of the word Iru uttered by Sri Bhagavan. From that moment, he never left Tiruvannamalai, and he also remained fixed firmly in the eternal state of Self abidance,. (Michael James,Mountain Path, April 2004). Such dramatic instances did happen though not always known. More often than not a word from Sri Bhagavan would irrevocably change a persons life, direction and attitude. Sri Bhagavans words are not to be treated lightly. There is a depth in them that can outright transform us, if we are receptive. before that, a correction, the article appeared in Jayanti, 2012 and not in Advent 2012: How then at this distance in time from the historical Bhagavan, do we grasp His upadesa? Certainly we cannot expect that if, after reading about the injunction to Tinnai Swami we hear the command Be!, it would happen automatically to us. It depends on our sincerity and willingness to change. It requires fertile ground. Nothing nourishing grows on barren land. More often than not when faced with a heart felt injunction to revolutionalize our lives we are good for high intentions and plans but quickly run out of impetus. We need food to persevere; our suffering is food; our insights into the nature of our own thoughts, is food; our deep, sustained reflection on the word of the guru is food. This food is the fertile ground for the grace of the Guru. The gurus word is like a mantra that embeds in our consciousness a relentless, sometimes soft, sometimes loud, admonition. Sri Bhagavan used the analogy of gun- powder, coal and wet straw to illustrate the level of preparedness in a seeker. The act of setting us alight occurs at a higher level. Yes,we actually are already where we want to be, but it does not help if we are identified with avidya (ignorance). The removal of avidya is not an act where we go from ignorance to knowledge. It has nothing to do with the cause and effect. It is a vertical shift in the moment out of our normal consciousness. It feels as if we are lifted up out of our skin. The previous apparently fixed procession of our life is irrelevant. This metamorphosis is not ours to command. It is for us to be aware that we are commanded when we have purified our hearts and minds. Not before. We are the template which is acted upon. Learning about Sri Bhagavans teaching requires patient attention. If we are full of our own preconceptions we may not hear the underlying meaning, for the words then are hollow and will have no lasting impact. Words in themselves do not bring us alive, on the contrary, they may bewilder and we may, through our laziness or ignorance deliberately misunderstood. It is authoritative intent behind the words which is paramount. The teachings are meant to shake and awaken us. If we listen aright we catch fire and burn with a new intensity and range of active misunderstanding. The ultimate teaching is not an answer but a silent transformation. There is a Moroccan Sufi story which illustrates our predicament. One day a woodcutter was asleep in the forest, when a long green serpent slithered up to him and slid into his open mouth and down his throat. The woodcutter woke up as the snake was suffocating him. Panicking, he managed to stand up and flap his arms about moaning as loudly as he could. As luck would have it, a horseman was riding by at that precise moment. He saw the woodcutter waving his arms in distress.Having come from the neighboring land where snakes were plentiful, he realized immediately what had happened. Pulling out his whip, he leapt from his steed and began to lash the poor wood cutters stomach with all his strength. The woodcutter tried to protest, but half suffocated by the serpent, and wounded from the horsemans seemingly unprovoked attack he could do nothing except fall back to his knees. Displeased at the discomfort of its hiding place, the snake reversed up out of the woodcutters throat and slithered away. When he saw that the woodcutter was out of danger, the horseman jumped back on his mount and rode off without a word. Hailing from a land where such attacks were frequent he didnt give he matter a second thought. As he caught his breath, the woodcutter began to understand what had happened, that the horseman had attacked him in silence because time was the essence, before the reptile had injected the venom into his bloodstream. (Shah, Tahir, In the Arabian Nights, Doubleday, London, 2008). Ignorance is like that snake. It creates fear and confounds us. Its reality is far more immediate and apparent than our so called accurate description of events. Our explanations lack the sharp directness of the experience. If we wish to truly understand we should hold fast to the experience and not explain it away. Then consider the gurus words and how lightly we can treat them if we are unmindful. In the holy traditions of all religions the sacred books are treated with great reverence. This is not just out of respect but in order to remind us that the contents are not to be treated casually. The implication is pay attention. Like a delectable taste we want to enjoy, we should roll the instructions round in our mind and let them mature. Language implies there is someone communicating and that there is someone listening who are both on the same wavelength.This has serious implications for there are many conflicting strands of thought competing in us for for dominance. Sri Bhagavan likens pure contemplation to a fortress which is attacked by sallies of thoughts. When we say I it is not necessarily the same I since, like monkeys, mind jumps from one branch of thought to another. Our identification blinds us. How then do we communicate with ourselves and touch truth? By being still. By not allowing the static of thinking to interfere with silence of direct understanding. All our efforts in meditation are meant to bring us to this crucial point, the bindu. Sri Bhagavan tells us that all that He has composed can be encapsulated in one letter. It may be a letter written in dead ink on a page but in our heart it shines. He questions whether there is anyone who can write it, that is, identify and know it as separate from oneself. (One Letter: All the letters in this book add up to a single, imperishable letter. This as written you have read. This single letter shines for ever of its own accord within the heart. Who can ever hope to write it? - Collected Works). How can we be at one in our hearts with the innermost core of Sri Bhagavans teaching? How can we possibly resonate with that silent hum when our minds are filled with noise of our rampant thoughts? We know deep down that if we can stay attuned we will be effortlessly guided and moved in the right direction. Unfortunately,we cannot always remain in this state. Our tendencies interfere and cause us to lose our hold. If we cannot remain in contact with its wonderful ascendancy we resort to worlds to elucidate and explain how we can come into union again with its wholeness. For this, grace acts quietly in the back of our minds reassuring us with the notion that there is an answer. There is an unseen power which subtly interweaves with us its persistent and invisible sway. There is a single divine law which makes sense of all the chaos which surrounds us. Sri Bhagavan related the story of Tattuvaraya, the great Tamizh advaitin whose Guru, Sorupananda, was to the outside world,an unknown idle man. Tattuvaraya composed a bharani praising his guru. Pandits who read the composition protested such a poetic form was normally reserved for those who killed more than a thousand elephants in battle. Tattuvaraya requested them to come with him and meet his guru, which they did. They were rapidly impressed with the sanctity surrounding Sorupananda and it is said, Remained in beatific peace for a few days with out the least movement. Recovering their normal state of mind they realized the greatness of Sorupananda, saying that he had excelled the warriors in that he could subdue the ego, which is much more formidable task than slaying a thousand elephants. (Talks No 262.). It is clear from the story told by Sri Bhagavan that though words may assist us, ultimately it is the silence of the guru alone which can purify our mind. The purpose of all our reading and listening is to seek that silence which can slay the thousand rampaging elements of our mind. We should understand clearly that silence is not a fixed mental state. It is not an object to be captured and manipulated according to our desire for peace. It does not have any perceptible characteristics. It is elusive and free of limitation. We can no more hold it than grasp the wind that caresses our faces. Bhagavan said that A person may refrain from speech in order to avoid the obstacles of the outer world, but he should not consider that to be an end in itself. True Silence is really endless speech; there is no such thing as attaining it because it is always present. All you have to do is to remove the worldly cobwebs that enshroud it; there is no question of attaining it. (Letters, Suri Nagamma, 3rd Sept. 1947.) We read the words of the guru and wait and listen for a clue that will transform us. When we hear the sound of birds it is for no other reason than to enjoy their melodious sound. There may be sense in the pitch and trill known to another bird, but for us it is simply pure delight. Similarly, when we hear the words of the guru, they touch a center in us that resonates in affirmation. Yes, yes, yes. If we hear the message correctly it should not be drowned with explanations but lived in quiet joy. It is a song we discover and slowly replicate until it resounds with irrepressible urgency in the corridors of our mind. It suffuses our dreams and shapes our decisions in daily life. We begin to sing the gurus song. Who then hope to write it? We are that song!
Posted on: Sun, 26 Jan 2014 01:00:16 +0000
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