Author Topic: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:  (Read 11573 times)

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #30 on: September 21, 2013, 01:54:46 PM »


continues...

But how to divorce oneself from the age old tyranny of thoughts?  I remember that the Maharshi has never suggested that
I should attempt to force the stoppage of thinking.  'Trace the thought to its place of origin', is His reiterated counsel, 'watch
for the real Self to reveal itself, and then your thoughts will die of their own accord.'  So feeling, that I have found the birthplace
of thinking, I let go of the powerfully positive attitude which has brought my attention to this point, and surrender myself
to complete passivity, yet still keeping an intently watchful as a snake of its prey.

This poised condition reigns until I discover the correctness of the Sage's prophecy.  The waves of thought naturally begin to
diminish.  The workings of logical rational sense drops towards zero point.  The strangest sensation I have experienced till now
grips me.  Time seems to reel dizzily as the antennae of my rapidly growing intuition begin to reach out into the unknown.  The
reports of my bodily senses are no longer heard, felt, remembered. I know that at any moment I shall be standing OUTSIDE
things, on the very edge of the world's secret.

Finally it happens. Thought extinguished like a snuffed candle. The intellect withdraws into its real ground, that is, consciousness
working unhindered by thoughts.  I perceive what I have suspected for sometime, and what the Maharshi has confidently affirmed,
that the mind takes its rise in a transcendental source.  The brain has passed into a state of complete suspension as it does in deep
sleep, yet there is not the slightest loss of consciousness.  I remain perfectly calm and fully aware of who I am and what is
occurring.  Yet my sense of awareness has been drawn out of the narrow confines of the separate personality.  It has turned into
something sublimely all embracing.  Self still exists, but it is a changed, radiant Self. For something that is far superior to the unimportant
personality which WAS I, some deeper, diviner being rises into consciousness and BECOMES ME.  With it arrives an amazing new
sense of absolute freedom, for thought is like a loom-shuttle which is always going to and fro, and to be freed from its tyrranical
motion is to step out of the prison into open air.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.                   

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #31 on: September 22, 2013, 01:22:46 PM »

continues....

I find myself outside the rim of world consciousness.  The planet, which has so far harbored me, disappears.  I am in the
midst of an ocean of blazing light.  The latter, I feel rather than think, is the primeval stuff out of which the worlds are
created, the first state of matter.  It stretches away into untellable infinite space, incredibly ALIVE.

I touch, as in a flash, the meaning of this mysterious universal drama which is being enacted in space, and then return to
the primal point of being. I, the new I, rest in the lap of the holy bliss.  I have drunk the Platonic Cup of Lethe, so that
yesterday's bitter memories and tomorrow's anxious cares have disappeared completely.  I have attained a divine liberty
and an almost indescribable felicity.  My arms embrace all creation, with profound sympathy, for I understand in the deeper
possible way, that to know all is merely to pardon all, but to love all.  My heart is remolded in rapture.

How shall I record these experiences through which I next pass, when they are too delicate for the touch of my pen?  Yet
the starry truths which I learn may be translated into the language of earth, and will not be a  vain one. So I seek, all too
roughly, to bring back some memorials of the wonderful archaic world which stretches out, untracted and unpathed, behind
the human mind.

***

Man is grandly related, and a greater Being suckled him than his mother.  In his wiser moments he may come to know this.

Once, in the far days of his own past, man took an oath of lofty allegiance and walked, turbaned in divine grandeur with gods.
It today the busy world calls to him with imperious demand and he gives himself up to it, there are those who have not forgotten
his oath and he shall be reminded of it at the appropriate hour.

There is that in man which belongs to an imperishable race. He neglects his true Self almost completely, but his neglect  can
never affect or alter its shining greatness.  He may forget it and entirely go to sleep in the senses, yet on the day when it
stretches forth its hand and touches him, he shall remember who he is and recover his soul.

Man does not put true value upon himself because he has lost the divine sense.  Therefore, he runs after another man's
opinion, when he could find complete certitude more surely, in the spiritually authoritative center of his own being.  The Sphinx
surveys no earthly landscape. Its unflinching gaze is always directed inwards, and the secret of its inscrutable smile is Self
Knowledge.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.               

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #32 on: September 23, 2013, 10:41:52 AM »

continues.....

He who looks within himself and perceives only discontent, frailty and darkness and fear, need not curl his lip in mocking doubt.
Let him look deeper and longer, deeper and longer, until he presently becomes aware of faint token of breath-like indications which
appear when the heart is still.  Let him heed them well, for they will take life and grow into high thoughts that will cross the
threshold of his mind like wandering angels, and these again shall become forerunners of a voice which will come later --
the voice of a hidden, recondite and mysterious being who inhabits his center, who is own ancient Self.

The divine nature reveals itself anew in every human life, but if a man walks indifferently by, then the revelation is as seed on
stony ground.  No one is excluded from this divine consciousness; it is man who excludes himself.  Men make formal and pretentious
inquiry into the meaning and mystery of life, when all the while each bird perched upon a green bough, each child holding its fond
\mother's hand, has solved the riddle and carries the answer in its face.  That Life, which brought you birth, O Man, is nobler and
greater than you farthest thought.  Believe in its beneficent intention towards you and obey its subtle injunctions whispered to
your heart in half - felt intuitions.

The man who thinks he may live as freely as his unconsidered desires prompt him and yet not carry the burden of an eventual
reckoning, is binding his life to a hollow dream.  Whoever sins against his fellows or against himself pronounces his own sentence
thereby.  He may hide his sins from the sight of others, but he cannot hide them from the all recording eyes of the god.  Justice
still rules the world with inexorable weight, although its operations are often unseen and though it is not always to be found in
stone built courts of law.  Whoever escapes from paying the legal penalties of earth can never escape from paying the just
penalties which gods impose. Nemesis -- remorseless and implacable -- holds such a man in jeopardy every hour.   

continues....

Arunachala Siva.
                         

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #33 on: September 24, 2013, 02:24:07 PM »

continues....

Those who have been held under the bitter waters of sorrow, those who have moved through shadowed years in the mist of
tears, will be somewhat readier to receive the truth, which life is ever silently voicing.  If they can perceive nothing else, they
can perceive the tragic transience which attends the smiles of fortune.  Those who refuse to be deluded by their brighter hours
will not suffer so greatly from their darker ones.  There is no life that is not made up of the warp of pleasure and the woof of
suffering.  Therefore, no man can afford to walk with proud and pontifical air.  He who does so takes his perambulation at a grave
peril.  For humility is the only befitting robe to wear in the presence of the unseen gods, who may remove in a few days what has
been acquired during many years.  The fate of all things moves in cycles and only the thoughtless observer can fail to note this
fact. Even in the universe, it may be seen that every perihelion is succeeded by an aphelion.  So in the life and fortunes of man,
the flood of prosperity may be succeeded by the ebb of privation, health may be a fickle guest, while love may come only to wander
again.  But when the night of protracted agony dies, the dawn of new found wisdom glimmers.  The last lesson of these things
is that the eternal refuge in man, unnoticed and unsought as it may be, must come from what it was once, -- his solace, or
disappointment and suffering will periodically conspire to drive him in upon it.  No man is so lucky that the gods permit him to avoid
these two great tutors of the race.

A man may feel safe, protected secure, only when he discovers that the radiant wings of sublimity enfold him.  While he persists
in remaining unillumined, his best inventions shall become his worst impediments, and everything that draws him closer to the
material frame of things shall become another knot he must later untie.  For he is inseparably allied to his ancient past, he stands
always in the presence of his inner divinity and cannot shake it off.  Let him, then, not remain unwitting of this fact but deliver himself,
his worldly cares and secret burdens, into the beautiful care of his better self (Self)  and it shall not fail him. Let him do this, if he
would live with gracious peace and die with fearless dignity.

He who has once seen his real Self will never again hate another.  There is no sin greater than hatred, no sorrow worse than
the legacy of lands splashed with blood, which it inevitably bestows, no result more certain than that it will recoil on those who
send it forth.  Though  none can hope to pass beyond their sight, the gods themselves stand unseen as silent witnesses of man's
lawful handiwork.  A moaning word lies in woe all around them, yet sublime peace is close at hand for all.  Weary men, tried by
sorrow and torn by doubts, stumble and grope their way through the darkened streets of life, yet a great light beats down upon
the paving stones before them.  Hate will pass from the world only when man learns to see faces of his fellows, not merely by the
ordinary light of the day, but by the transfiguring light of their divine possibilities.  When he can regard them with the reverence
they deserve as the faces of beings in whose hearts dwells an element akin to that Power which men name God.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.                   

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #34 on: September 25, 2013, 10:57:16 AM »


continues....

All that is truly grand in Nature and inspiringly beautiful in the arts speaks to man of himself.  Where the priest has failed
his people the illumined artist takes up his forgotten message and procures hints of the soul for them.  Whoever can recall
rare moments when beauty made him a dweller amid the eternities should, whenever the world tires him, turn memory into
a spur and seek out the sanctuary within. Thither he should wander for a little peace, a flush of strength and glimmer of light,
confident that the moment he succeeds in touching his true Selfhood he will draw infinite support and find perfect compensation.
Scholars may burrow like moles among the growing piles of modern books and ancient manuscripts which line the walls of the house
of learning but they can learn no deeper secret than this, no higher truth than the supreme truth that the man's very Self is
divine.  The wistful hopes of man may wane as the years pass, but the hope of undying life, the hope of perfect love, and the hope of assured happiness, shall ultimately find a certain fulfillment; for they constitute prophetic instincts of an ineluctable destiny which
can in no way be avoided.

The world looks to ancient prophets for its finest thoughts and cringes before dusty eras for its noblest ethics.  But when a man
receives the august revelation of his own starry nature he is overwhelmed.  All that is worthy in thought and feeling now comes
unsought to his feet.  Inside the cloistral quiet of his mind arise visions not less sacred than those of Hebrew and Arab seers
who reminded their race of its divine source.  By this same auroral light Buddha understood and brought news of Nirvana to men.
And such is the all embracing love which his understanding awakens, that Mary Magdalene wept out her soiled life at the feet
of Jesus.

No dust can ever settle on the grave grandeur of these ancient truths, though they have lain in time since the early days of our
race.  No people has ever existed but has also received imitations of this deepest life which is open to man.  Whoever is ready
to accept them must not only apprehend these truths with his intelligence, until they sparkle among his thoughts like the
stars among the asteroids but must appropriate them with his heart until they inspire him in divine action.


contd.,

Arunachala Siva.                     

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #35 on: September 26, 2013, 11:29:07 AM »

continues....

I return to this mundane sphere impelled by a force which I cannot resist.  By slow unhurried stages, I become aware of my
surroundings. I discover that I am still sitting in the Hall of the Maharshi and that is apparently deserted.  My eyes catch sight
of the hermitage clock and I realize that the inmates must be in the dining room at their evening meal.  And then I become aware
of someone on my left. It is the seventy five year old former station master, who is squatting close beside me on the floor with
his gaze turned  benevolently on me.

'You have been in a spiritual trance for nearly two hours,'  he informs me.  His face, seemed with years and lined with old cares,
breaks into smiles, as though he rejoices in my own happiness.

I endeavor to make some reply, but discover to my astonishment that my power of speech has gone.  Not for almost fifteen
minutes do I recover. Meanwhile, the old man supplements the further statement.

'The Maharshi watched you closely all the time. I believe His thoughts guided you.'

When the Sage returns to the Hall, those who follow Him take up their position for the short interval which precedes the
final retirement for the night.  He raises Himself up on the divan and crosses His legs; then, resting an elbow on the right
thigh, He holds His chin within the upright hand, two fingers covering His cheek.  Our eyes meet across the intervening space
and He continues to look intently at me.

And when the attendant lowers the wicks of the Hall's lamps, following the customary nightly practice, I am struck once again
by the strange lustre in the Maharshi's calm eyes.  They glow like twin stars through the half darkness I remind myself that never
have I met in any man eyes as remarkable as those of this last descendant of India's Rishis.  In so far as the human eyes, can
mirror divine power, it is a fact that the Sage's do that.

contd.,

Arunachala Siva.     
     

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #36 on: September 27, 2013, 10:18:54 AM »


continues....

The heavily scented incense smoke rises in soft spirals the while I watch those eyes that never flicker.  During the forty
minutes which pass so strangely, I say nothing to Him and He says nothing to me.  What use are the words?  We now
understand each other better without them, for in this profound silence, our mind approach a beautiful harmony and in this
optic telepathy I receive a clear unuttered message. Now that I have caught a wonderful and memorable glimpse of the
Maharshi's view point on life, my own inner life has begun to mingle with His.

I fight the oncoming fever, during the two days which follow and manage to keep it at bay.

The old man approaches my hut in the afternoon. 

'Your stay among us draws to an end, my brother,' says he regretfully.  'But you will surely return to us one day?'

'Most surely !' I echo confidently.

When he leaves me I stand at the door and look up at the Hill of Holy Beacon -- Arunachala, the Sacred Red Mountain,
as the people of the countryside prefer to call it.


contd.,

Arunacahala Siva.       

Subramanian.R

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Re: The Maharshi and His Message: Paul Brunton:
« Reply #37 on: September 28, 2013, 11:09:47 AM »

continues....

It has become the colorful background of all my experience.  Always I have but to raise my eyes from whatever I am doing,
whether eating, walking, talking or meditating, and there is its strange flat headed shape confronting me in the open or
through a window.  It is somehow inescapable in this place, but the strange spell it throws over me is more inescapable still.
I begin to wonder whether this queer, solitary peak, has enchanted me.  There is a local tradition that it is entirely hollow and that
in its interior dwell several great spiritual beings who are invisible to mortal gaze, but I disdain the story as a childish legend.  And
yet, this lonely Hill holds me in a powerful thrall, despite the fact, that I have seen others, infinitely more attractive.  This rugged
piece of Nature, with its red laterite boulders tumbled about in disorderly masses and glowing like dull fire, in the sunlight,
possesses a strong personality which emanates a palpable awe creating influence. 

With the fall of dusk, I take my farewells of everyone except the Maharshi.  I feel quietly content because my battle of spiritual
certitude has been won, and because I have won it without sacrificing my dearly held rationalism for a blind credulity.  Yet when
the Maharshi comes to the courtyard with me a little later, my contentment suddenly deserts me.  This man has strangely
conquered me and it deeply affects my feelings to leave Him.  He has grappled me to His own soul with unseen hooks which
are harder than steel, although He has sought me only to restore a man to Himself, to set him free and not to enslave him.
He has taken me into the benign presence of my spiritual Self, and helped me, dull Westerner that I am, to translate a meaningless
term into a living and blissful experience.

I linger over parting, unable to express my profound emotions which move me.  The indigo sky is strewn with stars, which
cluster in countless thousands close over our heads.  The rising moon is a thin crescent disc of sliver light.   On our left the evening
fireflies are making the compound grove radiant, and above them the plumed heads of tall palms stand out in black silhouettes
against the sky. 

My adventure in self metamorphosis is over, but the turning axle of time, will bring me back to this place, I know.  I raise my
palms and close them together in the customary salutation and then mutters a brief good bye.  The Sage smiles and looks at me
fixedly, but says not a word.

One last look towards the Maharshi, one last glimpse by dim lantern light of a tall copper skinned figure with lustrous eyes,
another farewell gesture on my part, a slight wave of his light hand in response, and we part.

I climb into the waiting bullock cart, the driver swishes his whip, the obedient creatures turn out of the courtyard into the
rough pate and then trot briskly away into the jasmine scented tropic night.

Concluded.


Arunachala Siva.