Author Topic: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:  (Read 9595 times)

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #15 on: September 06, 2013, 01:56:19 PM »

continues.....

I leave Him and wander away to  quiet spot in the jungle where I spend most of the day among my notes and books.
When dusk falls I return to the Hall, for within an hour or two a pony-carriage or a bullock-cart will arrive to bear me
away from the hermitage.

Burning incense makes the air odorous.  The Maharshi has been half reclining under the weaving punkah as I enter but
He soon sits up and assumes His favorite attitude.  He sits with legs crossed, the right foot placed on the left thigh and
the left foot merely folded beneath the right thigh.  I remember being shown a similar position by Brama, the Yogi who
lives near Madras, who called it 'the comfortable posture'.  It is really a half Buddha posture, and quite easy to do.  The
Maharshi, as is His wont, holds His chin with His right hand and rests the elbow on a knee.  Next He gazes attentively at me
but remains quite silent.  On the floor beside Him I notice his gourd shell, water jug, and His bamboo staff.  They are only
His sole earthly possessions, apart from the strip of loin cloth.  What a mute commentary on our Western spirit of acquisitiveness !

His eyes, always shining, steadily become more glazed and fixed. His body sets into a rigid pose.  His head trembles slightly
and then comes to rest. A few minutes and I can plainly see that he has re-entered the trance like condition in which He was
when I first came here and met Him.  How strange that our parting shall repeat our meeting! Someone brings His face close to
mine and wishpers in my ear, 'The Maharshi has gone into holy trance. It is useless now to talk.'

A hush falls upon the little company. The minutes slowly pass but the silence only deepens. I am not religious but I can no
more resist the feeling of increasing awe which begins to grip my mind than a been can resist the flower in all its luscious bloom.
The Hall is becoming pervaded with a subtle, intangible and indefinable power which affects me deeply.  I feel, without doubt,
and without hesitation, that the center of this mysterious power is no other than the Maharshi Himself.             
       

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #16 on: September 07, 2013, 11:27:29 AM »

continues.....

His eyes shine with astonishing brilliance.  Strange sensations begin to arise in me.   Those lustrous orbs seem to be peering into
the inmost recess of my soul.  In a peculiar way, I feel aware of everything He can see in my heart.  His mysterious glance penetrates
my thoughts, my emotions, and my desires;  I am helpless before it.  At first this concerting gaze troubles me; I become vaguely
uneasy.  I feel that He has perceived pages that belong to a past which I have forgotten.  He knows it all, I am certain. I am powerless
to escape; somehow, I do not want to, either.  Some curious intimation of future benefit forces me to endure that pitiless gaze.

And so He continues to catch the feeble quality of my soul, for a while, to perceive my motley past, to sense the mixed emotions which
have drawn me this way and that.  But I feel that He understands also what mind-devastating quest has impelled me to leave the
common way and seek out such men as He.
 
There comes a perceptible change in the telepathic current which plays between us, the while my eyes blink frequently but His
remain without the least tremor.  I become aware that He is definitely linking my own mind with His.  That He is provoking my heart
into that state of starry calm which He seems perpetually to enjoy.  In this extraordinary peace, I find a sense of exaltation and
lightness.  Time seems to stand still.  My heart is released from its burden of care. Never again, I feel shall the bitterness of
anger and the melancholy of unsatisfied desire afflict me. I realize deeply that the profound instinct which is innate in the race,
which bids man look up, which encourages Him to hope on and which sustains Him when life has darkened, is a true instinct, for
the essence of of being is good. In this beautiful, entranced silence, when the clock  stands still and the sorrows and errors
of the past seem like trivialities, my mind is being submerged in that of the Maharshi and wisdom is now at its perihelion. What
is this man's gaze but a thaumaturgic wand, which evokes a hidden world of unexpected splendor before my profane eyes?

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.             

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #17 on: September 08, 2013, 11:50:22 AM »

continues.....

I have sometimes asked myself why these disciples have been staying around the Sage for years, with few conversations,
fewer comforts and no external activities to attract them.  Now I begin to understand --  not by thought, but by lightning
like illumination -- that through all those years they have been receiving a deep and silent reward.

Hitherto, everyone in the Hall, has been hushed to a deathlike stillness.  At length, someone quietly rises and passes out.
He is followed by another, and then another, until all have gone. 

I am alone with the Maharshi !  Never before has this happened.  His eyes begin to change;  they narrow down to pin points.
The effect is curiously like the 'stopping down' in the focus of a camera lens.  There comes a tremendous increase in the intense
gleam which shines between the lids, now almost closed.  Suddenly, my body seems to disappear, and we are both out in
space!

It is a crucial moment. I hesitate.  -- and decide to break this enchanter's spell. Decision brings power and once again I am
back in the flash, back in the Hall. 

No word passes from Him to me. I collect my faculties, look at the clock, and rise quietly.  The hour of departure has arrived.

I bow my head in farewell.   The Sage silently acknowledges the gesture. I utter a few words of thanks. Again He silently
nods His head.

I linger reluctantly at the threshold.  Outside, I hear the tinkle of a bell.  The bullock cart has arrived.  Once more, I raise
my hands, palms touching.

And so we part.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.             
 

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #18 on: September 09, 2013, 01:51:50 PM »
In a Jungle Hermitage:

There are moments unforgettable which mark themselves in golden figures upon the calendar of our years.  Such a moment
come me now, as I walk into the Hall of the Maharshi.

He sits as usual upon the magnificent tiger skin which covers the center of His divan.  The joss sticks burn slowly away on a
little table near Him, spreading the penetrating fragrance of incense around the Hall.  Not today is He remote from men and
wrapped up in some trance-like spiritual absorption as on that strange occasion, when I first visited Him.  His eyes are clearly
open to this world and glance at me comprehendingly as I bow, and His mouth is stretched in a kindly smile of welcome.

Squatting at a respectful distance, from their Master, are a few disciples; otherwise, the long Hall is bare.  One of them pulls
the punkah fan which flaps lazily through the heavy air.

In my heart I know that I come as one seeking to take up the position of a disciple, and there will be no rest for my mind, until
I hear the Maharshi's decision.  It is true that I live in a great hope of being accepted, for tat which sent me scurrying out of
Bombay to this place came as an absolute command, a decisive and authoritative injunction from a super normal region.  In a
few words I dispose of the preliminary explanations, and then put my request briefly and bluntly to the Maharshi.

He continues to smile at me, but says nothing.

I repeat my question with some emphasis.

There is another protracted pause, but at length He answers me, disdaining to call for services of an interpreter and expressing
Himself directly, in English.

'What is all this talk of Masters and disciples?  All these differences exist only from the disciple's standpoint.  To the one who
has realized the true Self there is neither Master nor disciple.  Such a one regards all people with equal eye.'

I am slightly conscious of an initial rebuff and though I press my request in the other ways, the Maharshi refuses to yield on
the point. But in the end He says:

'You must find the Master within you, within your own spiritual Self. You must regard his body in the same way that he himself
regards it; the body is not his true Self.'

It begins to voice itself in my thoughts that the Maharshi is not to be drawn into giving me a direct affirmative response, and
that the answer I seek must be found in some other way, doubtless in the subtle, obscure manner, at which He hints.  So
I let the matter drop and our talk then turns to the outward and material side of my visit.

I spend the afternoon making some arrangements for a protracted stay.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva. 

             

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #19 on: September 10, 2013, 12:28:39 PM »
continues....

The ensuing  weeks absorb me into a strange, unwonted life.  My days are spent in the Hall of the Maharshi, where I slowly
pick up the unrelated fragments of His wisdom and the faint clues to the answer I seek.  M nights continue as heretofore,
in torturing sleeplessness, with my body stretched out on a blanket laid on the hard earthen floor of a hastily built hut.

This humble abode stands about three hundred feet away from the hermitage.  Its thick walls are composed of thinly plastered
earth,  but the roof is solidly tiled to withstand the monsoon rains.  The ground around it is virgin bush, somewhat thickly overgrown,
being in fact the fringe of the jungle which stretches away to the west.  The rugged landscape reveals Nature in all her own wild
uncultivated grandeur.  Cactus hedges are scattered numerously  and irregularly around, the spines of these prickly plants looking
like coarse needles. Beyond them, the jungle drops a curtain of bush and stunted trees upon the land.  To the north, rises the gaunt
figure of the mountain, a mass of metallic tinted rocks and brown soil.  To the south lies a long pool, whose placid water has attracted
me to the spot, and whose banks are bordered with clumps of trees holding families of grey and brown monkeys.

Each day is a duplicate of the one before. I rise early in the morning and watch the jungle dawn, turn from grey to green and then
to gold.  Next comes a plunge into the water and a swift swim up and down the pool, making as much as nose as I possibly
can so as to scare away the lurking snakes.  Then, dressing, shaving, and the only luxury I can secure in this place, --  three cups
of deliciously refreshing tea. 

'Master, the pot of tea water is ready', says Rajoo, my hired boy. From an initial total ignorance of the English language, he has
acquired that much, and more, under my occasional tuition.  As a servant, he is a gem, for he will scour up and down a little
township with optimistic determination in quest of the strange articles and food for which his Western employer speculatively
sends him, or he will hover outside the Maharshi's Hall in discreet silence during meditation hours, should he happen to come
along for orders at such times.  But as a cook, he is unable to comprehend Western taste, which seems a queer distorted thing
to him.  After a few painful experiments, I myself take charge of the more serious culinary arrangements, reducing my labor b
reducing solid meals to a single one each day.  Tea, taken thrice daily, becomes both my solitary earthly joy and the mainstay
of my energy.  Rajoo stands in sunshine and watches with wonderment my addiction to the glorious golden brew.  His body
shines in hard yellow light like polished ebony, for he is a true son of the black Dravidian, the primal inhabitants of India.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.                                     

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #20 on: September 11, 2013, 12:53:11 PM »
continues.......

......................
......................

From time to time, the Maharshi unexpectedly visits me at the hut after finishing His own lunch.  I seize the opportunity to
plague Him with further questions, which  He patiently answers in terse epigrammatic phrases, clipped so short as rarely
to constitute complete sentences.   But once, when I propound some fresh problems, He makes no answer. Instead, He
gazes out towards the jungle covered Hill which stretch to the horizon and remains motionless.  Many minutes pass but
His still His eyes are fixed, His Presence remote. I am quite unable to discern whether His attention is being given to some
invisible psychic being in the distance or whether it is being turned on some inward preoccupation.  At first I wonder whether
He has heard me, but in the terse silence, which ensues, and which I feel unable or willing to break, a force greater than
my rationalistic mind commences to awe me until it ends by overwhelming me.

The realization forces itself through my wonderment that all my questions are moves in an endless game, the play of thoughts                               
which possess no limit to their extent.  That somewhere within me there is a well of certitude which can provide me all the
waters of truth I require and that it will be better to cease my questioning and attempt to realize the tremendous potencies
of my own spiritual nature.  So I remain silent and wait.

On another visit He finds me in a pessimistic mood.  He tells me of the glorious goal which waits for the man who takes the
way He has shown.

'But, Maharshi, this path is full of difficulties and I am so conscious of my own weakness.' I plead.

'That is the surest way to handicap oneself', He answers unmoved, 'this burdening of one's mind with fear of failure
and the thought of one's failings.'

'Ye     'Yet, if it is true.....?' I persist.

'It is not true.  The greatest error of a man is to think that he is weak by nature, evil by nature.  Every man is divine and
strong in his real nature.  What are weak and evil are his habits, his desires and thoughts, but not himself.'

His words come as an invigorating tonic.  They refresh and inspire me.  From another man's lips, from lesser and feebler
soul, I would refuse to accept them at such worth and would persist in refuting them.  But an inward monitor assures me
that the Sage speaks out of the depth of a great and authentic spiritual experience, and not as some theorizing philosopher
mounted on thin stilts of speculation.                 

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #21 on: September 12, 2013, 01:50:27 PM »

continues...

Another time, when we are discussing the West, I make the retort:

'It is easy for you to attain and keep spiritual serenity in this jungle retreat, where there is nothing to disturb or distract you.'

'When the goal is reached, when you know the Knower, there is  no difference between living in a house in London and living
in the solitude of a jungle,' comes the calm rejoinder.

And once I criticize the Indians for their neglect of material development.  To my surprise the Maharshi frankly admits this
accusation.

'It is true.  We are a backward race.  But we are people with few wants.  Our society needs improving, but we are contented
with much fewer things than your people.  So be backward is not to mean that we are less happy/'

How has the Maharshi arrived at the strange power and stranger outlook which He possesses?  Bit by bit, from His own
reluctant lips and from those of His disciples, I piece together a fragmentary pattern of His life story.


...........
..............
..............

Day after day, brings its fresh indications of the greatness of this man.  Among the strangely diversified company of human
beings who pass through the hermitage, a pariah stumbles into the Hall in some great agony of soul or circumstances and
pours out his tribulation at the Maharshi's feet.  The Sage does not reply, for His silence and reserve are habitual. One can
easily count up the number of words He uses in a single day.  Instead, He gazes quietly at the suffering man, whose cries
gradually diminish until he leaves the Hall two hours later a more serene and strong man. 

I am learning to see that this is the Maharshi's way of helping others, this unobtrusive, silent and steady outpouring of
healing vibrations into troubled souls, this mysterious telepathic process for which science will one day be required to account.           

A cultured Brahmin, college bred. arrives with his questions.  One can never be certain whether the Sage will make verbal
response or not, for often He is eloquent enough without opening His lips.  But today He is in a communicative mood and a few
of His terse phrases, packed with profound meanings, as they usually are, open many vistas of thought for the visitor.

A large group of visitors and devotees are in the Hall when someone arrives with the news of a certain man, whose criminal
reputation is a byword in the little township, is dead.  Immediately, there is some discussion about him and, as is the wont of
human nature, various people engaged in recalling some of his crimes, and the more dastardly phases of his character.  When
the hubhub has subsided and the discussion appears to have ended, the Maharshi opens His mouth for the first time and
quietly observes:

'Yes. But he kept himself very clean, for he bathed two or three times a day!'

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.       

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #22 on: September 13, 2013, 11:15:50 AM »

continues.....

A peasant and his family have traveled over some hundred miles to pay silent homage to the Sage.   He is totally illiterate,
knows little beyond his daily work, his religious rites and ancestral superstitions. He has heard from someone that there is
a god in human  form living at the foot of the Hill of the Holy Beacon.  He sits on the floor quietly after having prostrated himself
three times.  He firmly believes that some blessing of spirit or fortune will come to him as a result of this journey.  His wife moves
gracefully to his side and drops to the floor. She is clothed in a purple robe which flows from head to ankles and is then tucked
into her waist.  Her sleek and smooth hair is glossy with scented oil.  Her daughter accompanies her.  She is a pretty girl whose
ankle rings click in consort as she steps into the Hall.  As she follows the charming custom of wearing a white flower behind her
ear.

The little family stay for a few hours, hardly speaking, and gaze in reverence at the Maharshi.  It is clear that  His mere presence
provides them with spiritual assurance, emotional felicity and,most paradoxical of all, renewed faith in their creed.  For the Sage
treats all creeds alike, regards them all as significant and sincere expressions of a great experience, and honors Jesus no less
than Krishna.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.       

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #23 on: September 14, 2013, 10:49:26 AM »


continues....

On my left squats an old man of seventy five.  A quid of betel is comfortably tucked in his cheek, a Sanskrit book lies between
his hands, and his heavy lidded eyes stare meditatively at the bold print.  He is a Brahmin who was a station master, near Madras,
for many years.  He retired from the railway service at sixty and soon after his wife died.  He took opportunity thus presented of
realizing some long deferred aspirations. For fourteen years he traveled about the country on pilgrimage to the Sages, saints and
yogis, trying to find one whose teachings and personality were sufficiently appealing to him.  He had circled India thrice, but no
master had been discoverable.  He had set up a very individual standard apparently.  When we met and compared notes he
lamented his failure.  His rugged honest face, carved by notes he lamented his failure.  His rugged honest face, carved by wrinkles
into dark furrows, appealed to me.  He was not an intellectual man, but simply and quite intuitive.  Being considerably younger than
he, I felt incumbent on me to give the old man some good advice !  His surprising response was a request to become his master !
"Your master is not far off.' I told him and conducted him straight to the Maharshi. It id not take a long time to agree with me
and become an enthusiastic devotee of the Sage.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.         

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #24 on: September 15, 2013, 11:38:33 AM »
continues.....

Another man in the hall is bespectacled, silken clad and prosperous looking.  He is a judge who has taken advantage of
a law vacation to pay a visit to the Maharshi.  He is a keen disciple and strong admirer and never fails to come at least once
a year.  This cultured, refined and highly educated gentleman squats democratically among a group of Tamizhs who are poor,
naked to the waist and smeared with oil,  so that their bodies glisten like varnished ebony.  That which brings them together
destroys the insufferable snobbishness of caste -- and produces unity, is that which caused Princes and Rajahs to come from
afar, in ancient times to consult the forest Rishis -- the deep recognition that true wisdom is worth the sacrifice of superficial
differences.

A young woman with a gaily attired child enters and prostrates herself in veneration before the Sage.  Some profound philosophy
and problems of life are being discussed, so she sits in silence, not venturing to take part in intellectual conversation.  Learning
is not regarded as an ornament for Hindu women and she knows little outside the purlieus of culinary and domestic matters.
But she knows when she is in the presence of of undeniable greatness.

With the descent of dusk, comes the time for a general group meditation in the Hall.  Not infrequently, the Maharshi will signal
the time by entering, so gently as occasionally to be unnoticed, the trance like abstraction wherein He locks His senses against
the world outside. During these daily meditations in the potent neighborhood of the Sage, I have learnt how to carry my thoughts
inward to an ever deepening point.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.             

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #25 on: September 16, 2013, 01:46:12 PM »

continues....

It is impossible to be in frequent contact with Him (Maharshi) without becoming lit up inwardly, as it were, mentally illumined
by a sparkling ray from His spiritual orb.  Again and again, I become conscious that He is drawing my mind into His own
atmosphere during these periods of quiet repose.  And it is at such times, that one begins to understand why the silences
of this man are more significant than His utterances.  His quiet unhurried poise veils a dynamic attainment, which can powerfully
affect a person without the medium of audible speech or visible action.  There are moments when I feel this power of His so
greatly that I know He has only to issue the most disturbing command and I will readily obey it.  But the Maharshi is the last
person in the world to place His followers in the chains of servile obedience, and allows everyone the utmost freedom of actions.
In this respect He is quite refreshingly different from most of the teachers and yogis I have met in India.

My meditations take the line He had indicated during my first visit, when He had tantalized me by the vagueness which seemed
to surround many of His answers.  I have begun to look into my own Self.

Who am I?

Am I this body of flesh, blood, and bone?

Am I the mind, the thoughts, and the feelings which distinguish me from every other person?

One has hitherto naturally and unquestioningly accepted the affirmative answers to these questions but the Maharshi has
warned not to take them for granted.  Yet He has refused to formulate any systematic teaching.   The gist of His message is:

'Pursue the inquiry 'Who am I" relentlessly. Analyze your entire personality. Try to find out where the I-thought begins.
Go on with your meditations.  Keep turning your attention within.  One day the wheel of thought will slow down and an intuition
will mysteriously arise.  Follow the intuition, let your thinking stop, and it will eventually  lead you to the goal.'

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.   
         

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #26 on: September 17, 2013, 10:28:13 AM »

continues....

I struggle daily with my thoughts and cut my way slowly into the inner recess of the mind.  In the helpful proximity of the Maharshi,
my meditations and self soliloquies become increasingly less tiring and more effective. A strong expectancy and sense of being'
guided inspire my constantly repeated efforts.  there are strange hours when I am clearly conscious of the unseen power of
the Sage being powerfully impacted on my mentality, with the result that I penetrate a little deeper still in the shrouded borderland
of being which surrounds the human mind.

The close of every evening sees the emptying of the Hall as the Sage, His disciples and visitors adjourn for supper to the dining
room.  As I do not care for their food, and will not trouble to prepare my own, I usually remain alone and await their return. 
However, there is one item of the hermitage diet which I find attractive and palatable, and that is curds.  The Maharshi, having discovered my fondness for it, usually ask the cooks to bring me a cupful of drink each night.

About half an hour of their return, the inmates of the hermitage, together with those visitors who have remained, wrap themselves
up in sheets or thin cotton blankets and retire to sleep on the tiled floor of the Hall.  The Sage Himself uses His divan as a bed.
Before He finally covers Himself with the white sheets His faithful attendant thoroughly massages His limbs with oil.

I take up a glazed iron lantern when leaving the Hall and set out on my lonely walk to the hut.  Countless fireflies move among
flowers and plants and trees in the garden compound.  Once, when I am or or three hours later than usual and midnight
approaching, I observe these strange insects put of their weird lights. Often they are just as numerous among the thick growth
of bush and cactus through which I have later to pass.  One has to be careful not to tread on scorpions or snakes in the dark.
Sometimes the current of meditation has seized me so profoundly that I am unable and unwilling  to stop it, so that I pay little
heed to the narrow path of lighted ground upon which I walk. And so I retire to my modest hut, close the tightly fitting heavy
door, and draw the shutters over glassless windows to keep out unwelcome animal intruders.  My last glimpse  is of a thicket
of palm trees which stands on one side of my clearing in the bush, the silver moonlight coming in streams over their interlaced
feathery tops.

****

Arunachala Siva.     
                               

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #27 on: September 18, 2013, 01:52:33 PM »
Tablets of Forgotten Truth:

My pen would wander on into some account of the scenic life around me, and into further record of many talks with the Maharshi,
but it is now time to draw the chronicle to a close.

I study Him intently and gradually come to see in Him the child of a remote Past, when the discovery of spiritual truth was reckoned
of no less value than is the discovery of a gold mine today. It dawns upon me with increasing force, that, in this quiet and obscure
corner of South India, I have been led to one of the last of India's spiritual supermen.   The serene figure of this living Sage brings
the legendary figures of his country's ancient rishis nearer to me. One senses that the most wonderful part of this man is withheld.
His deepest soul, which one instinctively recognizes as being loaded with rich wisdom, eludes one. At times, He still remains
curiously aloof, and at other times the kindly benediction of His interior grace binds me to Him with hoops of steel.

I learn to submit to the enigma of His personality, and to accept Him as I find Him. But if humanly speaking, He is well insulated
against outside contacts, whoever discovers the requisite Ariadne's thread can walk the inner path leading to spiritual contact
with Him. And I like Him greatly because He is so simple and modest, when an atmosphere of authentic greatness lies so palpably
around Him.  Because He makes no claims to occult powers and heirophantic knowledge to impress  the mystery loving nature of
His countrymen, and because He is so totally without any traces of pretension that He strongly resists every effort to canonize Him
during His lifetime.

It seems to me that the presence of men like the Maharshi ensures the continuity down history of a divine message from regions
not easily accessible to us all.  It seems to me, further, that one must accept the fact that a Sage comes to REVEAL SOMETHING to
us, NOT TO ARGUE ANYTHING WITH US.   At any rate, His teachings make a strong appeal to me, for His personal attitude and
practical method, when understood, are quite scientific  in their way.  He brings in no supernatural power and demands no blind
religious faith.  The sublime spirituality of the Maharshi's atmosphere and the rational self questioning of His philosophy find
but a faint echo in yonder temple.  Even the word 'God' is rarely on His lips.  He avoids dark and debatable waters of wizardry,
in which so many promising voyages have ended in shipwreck. He simply puts forward a way of self analysis, which can be
practiced irrespective of any ancient or modern theories and beliefs which one may hold, a way that will finally lead man to
true self understanding.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.               

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #28 on: September 19, 2013, 01:52:44 PM »

continues....

I follow this process of self divestment in the effort to arrive as pure integral being.  Again and again, I am aware that the
Maharshi's mind is imparting something to my own, though no words may be passing between us.  The shadow of impending
departure hangs over my efforts, yet I spin out my stay until bad heath takes a renewed hand in the game and accelerates an
irrevocable decision to go.  Indeed, out of deep inner urgency which drew me here, has come enough will power to overthrow the
plaints of a tired sick body and a weary brain and to enable me to maintain residence in this hot static air.  But Nature will not
be defeated for long and before a long physical breakdown becomes threateningly imminent. Spiritually my life is nearing its
peak, but -- strange paradox! -- physically it is slipping downwards to a point lower than it has hitherto touched.  For a few hours
before the arrival of the culminating experience of my contact with the Maharshi, I start to shiver violently and perspire with
abnormal profuseness  -- intimations of coming fever.

I return hastily from an exploration of some usually veiled sanctuaries of the great temple and enter the hall when the evening
meditation period has run out of half its life.  I slip quietly to the floor and straightaway assume my regular meditation posture.
In a few seconds I compose myself and bring all wandering thoughts to a strong center.  An intense interiorization of consciousness
comes with the closing of eyes.

The Maharshi's seated form floats in a vivid manner  before my mind's eyes.  Following His frequently repeated instruction, I
endeavor to pierce through the mental picture into that which is formless, His real being and inner nature, His soul.  to my
surprise the effort meets with almost instantaneous success and the picture disappears again, leaving me with nothing more than
a strongly felt sense of His intimate presence.

The mental questionings which have marked most of my earlier meditations have lately begun to cease.  I have repeatedly
interrogated my consciousness of physical, emotional and mental sensations in turn, but, dissatisfied in the quest of the Self,
have eventually left them all.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva. 

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #29 on: September 20, 2013, 01:53:48 PM »

Continues....

I have then applied the attention of consciousness to its own center, striving to become aware of its place of origin.  Now comes
the supreme moment.  In that concentration of stillness, the mind withdrawn into itself, one's familiar world begins to fade off
into shadowy vagueness.  One is apparently environed for a while by sheer nothingness, having arrived at a kind of mental blank
wall.  And one has to be as intense as possible to maintain one's fixed attention. But how hard to leave the lazy dalliance of our
surface life and draw the mind to a pin-point of concentration !

Tonight, I flash swiftly to this point, with barely a skirmish against the continuous sequence of thoughts which usually play the
prelude to its arrival.  Some new and powerful force comes into dynamic action within my inner world and bears me inwards
with resistless speed.  The first great battle is over, almost without a stroke, and a pleasurable, happy, easeful feeling succeeds
its high tension.

In the next stage I stand apart from the intellect, conscious that it is thinking, but warned by an intuitive voice that it is merely
an instrument.  I watch these thoughts, with a weird detachment.  The power to think, which has hitherto been a matter for
merely ordinary pride, now becomes a thing from which to escape, for I perceive with startling clarity that I have been its unconscious
captive.  There follows the sudden desire to stand outside the intellect and just BE.  I want to dive into a place deeper than thought.
I want to know what it will feel like to deliver myself from the constant bondage of brain, but to do so with all my attention awake
and alert

It is strange enough to be able to stand aside and watch the very action of the brain as though it were someone else's and
to see how thoughts take their rise and then die. But it is stranger still to realize intuitively that one is about to penetrate into
the mysteries which hide in the innermost recess of man's soul.   I feel like some Columbus about to land on an uncharted
continent.  A perfectly controlled and subdued anticipation quietly thrills me.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.