Monday, October 21, 2013
Golden Quote from Paramhansa Yogananda.
"Let not anyone else know how deeply you feel for the Lord. The Master of the Universe knows of your love; don’t display it before others, or you may lose it."
— Paramahansa Yogananda, Man’s Eternal Quest, Why Waste Time! God Is the Joy you Seek
GOD'S POWER IS REALIZED WHEN OUR EFFORTS ARE NO LONGER HELPFUL
D.: We are trying to stop thoughts. Gandhiji also says that thought is
an obstacle to God’s guidance. So it is the natural state. Though
natural, yet how difficult to realise. They say that sadhanas are
necessary and also that they are obstacles. We get confused.
M.: Sadhanas are needed so long as one has not realised it. They are for
putting an end to obstacles. Finally there comes a stage when a person
feels helpless notwithstanding the sadhanas. He is unable to pursue the
much-cherished sadhana also. It is then that God’s Power is realised.
The Self reveals itself.
D.: If the state is natural, why does it not overcome the unnatural phases and assert itself over the rest?
M.: Is there anything besides that? Does anyone see anything besides
the Self? One is always aware of the Self. So It is always Itself.
Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi no 647
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
People try to find happiness in drink, sex, and money, but.................................
People
try to find happiness in drink, sex, and money, but the pages of
history are filled with tales of their disillusionment. The time I have
spent in prayer has made my life unimaginably fruitful. A thousand
bottles of wine could not produce the joy it has given me. In that joy
is the conscious guidance of God's wisdom. When you are attuned with Him
in this way, even though you unwittingly do wrong it will be righted by
the Lord's omniscient direction; if you make a poor judgement it will
be corrected by Him.
Paramahansa Yogananda
Ramana to Papaji: "I am with you wherever you are"
From David Godman's quite recent book The Fire of Freedom:
Papaji: There had been a lot of trouble in the Punjab, and most of my
family were still living there. Since I had not been reading any
newspapers, I didn't even know what was going on there.
One of the devotees told the Maharshi that my family was stuck on the
wrong side of the new international boundary between Pakistan and India,
and when he heard this the Maharshi advised me to go home and look
after them.
I didn't want to go because I had completely fallen
in love with the Maharshi. I felt that I couldn't live without seeing
his form.
We were walking on the hill together when this conversation was taking place.
'Sir,' I said, 'before I came to meet you I had a wife, children,
brothers, sisters and parents. Now that I have met you, all these people
have become a dream. I am not attached to anyone any more, except you.'
The Maharshi replied by saying, 'If you want to call it a dream, why
are you afraid of it? If you can see that it is a dream, then you can
transact your dream business with these dream people.'
I could
see the logic of what he was saying but I didn't want to leave because I
had become infatuated with his form and presence.
'I am
completely attached to your form,' I said. 'That's the only relationship
I have left. I am so physically attached to you. I cannot leave, even
for a few hours. When the doors of your hall are open, I am inside,
staring at you. When they are closed, I am camped outside your window,
hoping to catch a glimpse of you. During the night I sleep on your front
veranda because I can't bear to be any further away from you. I am
absent for about one hour a day, eating or going to the bathroom. The
rest of the time I am here with you. How can I leave?"
He
looked at me and said, 'I am with you wherever you are'. These are the
words I remember him saying. I immediately understood what he was
saying. The 'I am' that the Maharshi spoke of, referring to himself, was
my own Self as well, so how could I ever be away from it?
I
could not argue any more. I prostrated before him, walked around him
three times, prostrated again, collected some of the dust from under his
feet and put it in my pocket. I went back to my home town, picked up my
family and took them all to the safety of India on the last train that
left Pakistan. After that I never had a chance to go back to
Ramanasramam because my family were destitute refugees. I had to support
them all by working here in Lucknow. I didn't need to go back because I
understood that 'I am with you wherever you are' means that my Master
is always inside me, as my own Self.
Question: I have just one simple question. Why did you pick up the dust from under the Maharshi's feet?
Papaji: Gratitude. It was an expression of my absolute, unconditional gratitude.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Self-remembering means you must have a double-arrowed arrow, one side of it showing to me, another side showing to you. A double-arrowed arrow is smriti – self-remembrance. - Osho.
You don’t remember
yourself. You may remember millions of things, but you go on continuously
forgetting yourself, that
you are. Gurdjieff had a technique. He got it from Patanjali. And, in fact, all
techniques come from Patanjali. He is the past Master of techniques. smriti,
remembrance – self-remembering –
whatsoever you do. You are walking: remember deep down that ”I am walking, I
am.” Don’t be lost in walking. Walking is there – the movement, the activity –
and the inner center is there, just aware, watching, witnessing.
You need not repeat it in
the mind, ”I am walking.” If you repeat, that is not remembrance. You have to
be non-verbally aware that ”I am walking, I am eating, I am talking, I am
listening.” Whatsoever you do, the ”I” inside should not be forgotten; it
should remain. It is not self-consciousness. It is consciousness of the self.
Self-consciousness is ego; consciousness of the self is asmita – purity, just
being aware that ”I am.”
Ordinarily, your
consciousness is arrowed towards the object. You look at me: your whole
consciousness is moving
towards me like an arrow. But you are arrowed towards me.
Self-remembering means
you must have a double-arrowed arrow, one side of it showing to me, another side
showing to you. A double-arrowed arrow is smriti – self-remembrance.
Very difficult, because
it is easy to remember the object and forget yourself. The opposite is also
easy – to remember
yourself and forget the object. Both are easy; that’s why those who are in the market,
in the world, and those who are in the monastery, out of the world, are the
same. Both are single-arrowed. In the market they are looking at the things,
objects. In the monastery they are looking at themselves.
smriti is neither in the
market nor in the monastery. smriti is a phenomenon of self-remembering,
when subject and object
both are together in consciousness. That is the most difficult thing in the world.
Even if you can attain for a single moment, a split moment, you will have the
glimpse of satori immediately. Immediately you have moved out of the body,
somewhere else.
Try it. But, remember, if
you don’t have trust it will become a tension. These are the problems
involved. It will become
such a tension you can go mad, because it is a very tense state. That’s why it
is difficult to remember both – the object and the subject, the outer and the
inner. To remember both is very, very arduous. If there is trust, that trust
will bring the tension down because trust is love. It will soothe you; it will
be a soothing force around you. Otherwise the tension can become so much, you
will not be able to sleep. You will not be able to be at peace any moment
because it will be a constant problem. And you will be just in anxiety
continuously.
That’s why we can do one:
that’s easy. Go to the monastery, close your eyes, remember yourself, forget
the world. But what you are doing? You have simply reversed the whole process,
nothing else. No change. Or, forget these monasteries and these temples and
these Masters, and be in the world, enjoy the world. That too is easy. The
difficult thing is to be conscious of the both. And when you are conscious of
the both and the energy is simultaneously aware, arrowed in the diametrically
opposite dimensions, there is a transcendence. You simply become the third: you
become the witness of both. And when the third
enters, first you try to see the object and yourself. But if you try to see both, by and by, by and
by, you feel something is happening within you – because you are becoming a
third: you are between the two, the object and the subject. You are neither the
object nor the subject now.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
THIS POWER WILL ALWAYS CARRY YOU, IF YOU ALLOW IT
I
recall when I first saw a picture of Ramana Maharshi in my teens and I
had to go to India to see him. I had no idea, why? I didn't have the
funds. A couple of months later my aunt died and left me fourteen
thousand dollars. And I left my family and went to India. I don't know
why.
And it has been like this all of my life. So I've learnt to surrender my wants, my desires, my ego, to the power that knows the way. And this power will always carry you on a stream of blessedness to your highest good, if you allow it. But you hove to become humble and you have to let go of fear. You do this by this the methods we teach, through self-enquiry and becoming the witness.
People ask me, when I see peace, what do I mean? I don’t have to see peace where it’s peaceful. I feel and see peace in every situation. Whatever there appears to be going on, there is peace. Just as in the center of a hurricane, there is a peaceful circle, total stillness at the center of a hurricane. The same is true in the center of a tornado, in the cyclone. There is a Center of Peace. We are all that Center. The true peace is YOU.
And it has been like this all of my life. So I've learnt to surrender my wants, my desires, my ego, to the power that knows the way. And this power will always carry you on a stream of blessedness to your highest good, if you allow it. But you hove to become humble and you have to let go of fear. You do this by this the methods we teach, through self-enquiry and becoming the witness.
People ask me, when I see peace, what do I mean? I don’t have to see peace where it’s peaceful. I feel and see peace in every situation. Whatever there appears to be going on, there is peace. Just as in the center of a hurricane, there is a peaceful circle, total stillness at the center of a hurricane. The same is true in the center of a tornado, in the cyclone. There is a Center of Peace. We are all that Center. The true peace is YOU.
I replied: "I don't want either of those things. I can't avoid disease as long as I have a body. May I never forget you: that is all I want. Be with me wherever I go."
Paramhansa Ramakrishna's disciple Swami Subodhananda
Swami
Subodhananda left for a pilgrimage in the Himalayas. He visited the
holy shrines of Kedarnath and Badrinath. While he was practising
austerities in Hardwar, the following incident occurred:
I had
been suffering from fever for two months. I was so weak that I could not
lift my water pot to pour water into my mouth. One night when I went
near the water pot to quench my thirst, I fell down on the floor
unconscious. When I regained consciousness, my feelings were hurt and I
cried: "Master, I am suffering terribly. There is none to look after me.
You didn't give me sufficient strength even to drink a glass of water
by myself." Thinking thus I fell asleep. Then I saw [in a dream or
vision] the Master stroking my body with his hand, and he said: "Why are
you anxious? Don't you see I am always near you? What do you want -
attendants or money?" I replied: "I don't want either of those things. I
can't avoid disease as long as I have a body. May I never forget you: that is all I want. Be with me wherever I go."
Early in the morning I heard a voice from outside, "Swami, please open
the door." I got up and opened the door. A young monk told me: "Please
tell me what you need. I shall beg food for you." I said to him, "I
don't want anything." When I asked how he knew about me, he said that he
had arrived there a couple of days earlier to perform a religious rite
at the Brahmakunda. The previous night Mother Durga had appeared to him
in a vision and said, "You will get more virtue by serving that sick
monk in the cottage than by performing this religious rite." So early in
the morning he came to my cottage and realized that his vision was
true. Tears trickled from my eyes. I controlled myself and asked the
young monk to let me live alone.
On the same day another monk
received fifty rupees by money order. He came to me and said: "You are
suffering from fever. You need food and medicine. Please use this
money." I declined his offer.
Early the next morning the young
monk came again and told me that at night Mother Durga had exhorted him
to serve me as before. Then I told him politely that I really didn't
need any service and that perhaps Mother Durga had asked him to serve
someone else. The young' monk left. Then I prayed to the Master: "Please
don't tempt me anymore. I am glad that you have crushed my pique." The
young monk also came on the third day, but never again.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Thursday, October 10, 2013
A small thing which is directly useful in the Master's work is far better worth doing than a large thing which the world would call good. - Alcyone
Try to see what is worth doing: and remember that you must not judge by the size of the thing.
A small thing which is directly useful in the Master's work is far better worth doing than a large thing which the world would call good.
You must distinguish not only the useful from the useless, but the more useful from the less useful.
To feed the poor is a good and noble and useful work; yet to feed their souls is nobler and more useful than to feed their bodies.
Any rich man can feed the body, but only those who know can feed the soul. If you know, it is your duty to help others to know.
A small thing which is directly useful in the Master's work is far better worth doing than a large thing which the world would call good.
You must distinguish not only the useful from the useless, but the more useful from the less useful.
To feed the poor is a good and noble and useful work; yet to feed their souls is nobler and more useful than to feed their bodies.
Any rich man can feed the body, but only those who know can feed the soul. If you know, it is your duty to help others to know.
Never admit that you live by the power of food and not by the power of God!
Yogananda (Mukunda) blessed to be nurtured under Beautiful Masters
“Mukunda, I see your father is regularly sending you money. Please return it to him; you require none here. A second injunction for your discipline concerns food. Even when you feel hunger, don't mention it.”
Whether famishment gleamed in my eye, I knew not. That I was hungry, I knew only too well. The invariable hour for the first hermitage meal was twelve noon. I had been accustomed in my own home to a large breakfast at nine o'clock.
The three−hour gap became daily more interminable. Gone were the Calcutta years when I could rebuke the cook for a ten−minute delay. Now I tried to control my appetite; one day I undertook a twenty−four hour fast. With double zest I awaited the following midday.
“Dyanandaji's train is late; we are not going to eat until he arrives.” Jitendra brought me this devastating news. As gesture of welcome to the swami, who had been absent for two weeks, many delicacies were in readiness. An appetizing aroma filled the air. Nothing else offering, what else could be swallowed except pride over yesterday's achievement of a fast?
“Lord hasten the train!” The Heavenly Provider, I thought, was hardly included in the interdiction with which Dyananda had silenced me. Divine Attention was elsewhere, however; the plodding clock covered the hours. Darkness was descending as our leader entered the door. My greeting was one of unfeigned joy.
“Dyanandaji will bathe and meditate before we can serve food.” Jitendra approached me again as a bird of ill omen.
I was in near−collapse. My young stomach, new to deprivation, protested with gnawing vigor. Pictures I had seen of famine victims passed wraithlike before me.
“The next Benares death from starvation is due at once in this hermitage,” I thought. Impending doom averted at nine o'clock. Ambrosial summons! In memory that meal is vivid as one of life's perfect hours.
Intense absorption yet permitted me to observe that Dyananda ate absent−mindedly. He was apparently above my gross pleasures.
“Swamiji, weren't you hungry?” Happily surfeited, I was alone with the leader in his study.
“O yes! I have spent the last four days without food or drink. I never eat on trains, filled with the heterogenous vibrations of worldly people. Strictly I observe the SHASTRIC rules for monks of my particular order.
“Certain problems of our organizational work lie on my mind. Tonight at home I neglected my dinner. What's the hurry? Tomorrow I'll make it a point to have a proper meal.” He laughed merrily.
Shame spread within me like a suffocation. But the past day of my torture was not easily forgotten; I ventured a further remark.
“Swamiji, I am puzzled. Following your instruction, suppose I never asked for food, and nobody gives me
any. I should starve to death.”
“Die then!” This alarming counsel split the air. “Die if you must Mukunda! Never admit that you live by the power of food and not by the power of God! He who has created every form of nourishment, He who has bestowed appetite, will certainly see that His devotee is sustained! Do not imagine that rice maintains you, or that money or men support you! Could they aid if the Lord withdraws your life−breath? They are His indirect instruments merely. Is it by any skill of yours that food digests in your stomach? Use the sword of your discrimination, Mukunda! Cut through the chains of agency and perceive the Single Cause!”
I found his incisive words entering some deep marrow. Gone was an age−old delusion by which bodily imperatives outwit the soul. There and then I tasted the Spirit's all−sufficiency. In how many strange cities, in my later life of ceaseless travel, did occasion arise to prove the serviceability of this lesson in a Benares hermitage!

“Mukunda, I see your father is regularly sending you money. Please return it to him; you require none here. A second injunction for your discipline concerns food. Even when you feel hunger, don't mention it.”
Whether famishment gleamed in my eye, I knew not. That I was hungry, I knew only too well. The invariable hour for the first hermitage meal was twelve noon. I had been accustomed in my own home to a large breakfast at nine o'clock.
The three−hour gap became daily more interminable. Gone were the Calcutta years when I could rebuke the cook for a ten−minute delay. Now I tried to control my appetite; one day I undertook a twenty−four hour fast. With double zest I awaited the following midday.
“Dyanandaji's train is late; we are not going to eat until he arrives.” Jitendra brought me this devastating news. As gesture of welcome to the swami, who had been absent for two weeks, many delicacies were in readiness. An appetizing aroma filled the air. Nothing else offering, what else could be swallowed except pride over yesterday's achievement of a fast?
“Lord hasten the train!” The Heavenly Provider, I thought, was hardly included in the interdiction with which Dyananda had silenced me. Divine Attention was elsewhere, however; the plodding clock covered the hours. Darkness was descending as our leader entered the door. My greeting was one of unfeigned joy.
“Dyanandaji will bathe and meditate before we can serve food.” Jitendra approached me again as a bird of ill omen.
I was in near−collapse. My young stomach, new to deprivation, protested with gnawing vigor. Pictures I had seen of famine victims passed wraithlike before me.
“The next Benares death from starvation is due at once in this hermitage,” I thought. Impending doom averted at nine o'clock. Ambrosial summons! In memory that meal is vivid as one of life's perfect hours.
Intense absorption yet permitted me to observe that Dyananda ate absent−mindedly. He was apparently above my gross pleasures.
“Swamiji, weren't you hungry?” Happily surfeited, I was alone with the leader in his study.
“O yes! I have spent the last four days without food or drink. I never eat on trains, filled with the heterogenous vibrations of worldly people. Strictly I observe the SHASTRIC rules for monks of my particular order.
“Certain problems of our organizational work lie on my mind. Tonight at home I neglected my dinner. What's the hurry? Tomorrow I'll make it a point to have a proper meal.” He laughed merrily.
Shame spread within me like a suffocation. But the past day of my torture was not easily forgotten; I ventured a further remark.
“Swamiji, I am puzzled. Following your instruction, suppose I never asked for food, and nobody gives me
any. I should starve to death.”
“Die then!” This alarming counsel split the air. “Die if you must Mukunda! Never admit that you live by the power of food and not by the power of God! He who has created every form of nourishment, He who has bestowed appetite, will certainly see that His devotee is sustained! Do not imagine that rice maintains you, or that money or men support you! Could they aid if the Lord withdraws your life−breath? They are His indirect instruments merely. Is it by any skill of yours that food digests in your stomach? Use the sword of your discrimination, Mukunda! Cut through the chains of agency and perceive the Single Cause!”
I found his incisive words entering some deep marrow. Gone was an age−old delusion by which bodily imperatives outwit the soul. There and then I tasted the Spirit's all−sufficiency. In how many strange cities, in my later life of ceaseless travel, did occasion arise to prove the serviceability of this lesson in a Benares hermitage!
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Oh. What did you say...........Your wife doesn't cook food properly.......Ok.........Lets listen to what Bhagavan has to say.
A Bhakta shares :
When
I was writing to you yesterday about eating popcorn with boiled rice, I
was reminded of another incident. Echamma’s cooking was never very
good; it would not contain vegetables and spices in proper proportions.
To Bhagavan her devotion was more tasty than her preparations and so he
never complained, but some who could not relish the food casually
hinted at this now and then while Bhagavan was cutting vegetables in the
kitchen in the early morning hours. After hearing their complaints
repeatedly Bhagavan said, “I don’t know. If you do not like the food you
need not eat it. I find it quite good and I shall continue to do so.”
Sometime back, she was sending food for about a week or ten days
through someone else because perhaps she was out of town or not quite
well. The cooks one day forgot to serve the food sent by her and
completed serving all other items of food cooked in the Ashram. Bhagavan
who would usually beckon to others to start eating and would himself
commence doing so, sat silently that day with his left hand under the
chin, and his right hand on the leaf. The people there sitting in front
began to look at one another and those in the kitchen, or wondering and
enquiring in whispers about the possible reason.
Suddenly they
remembered that the food sent by Echamma had not been served and, when
they served it saying, “Oh, we have forgotten,” he gave the formal
signal to the others to eat and he too commenced eating the food. It is
usual for him to eat with greater relish the raw groundnuts offered to
him by a devotee than the highly seasoned sweets and puddings offered by
rich people, just as Lord Krishna ate with relish the beaten rice
handed over to him by Kuchela.
Letters from Sri Ramanasramam
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
What we are concerned about is that whatever you eat, should be as far away from you as possible in the evolutionary scheme of things. - Sadhguru.
Questioner: Sadhguru, can you
tell us what kind of food we are supposed to eat? Why are meat and meat
products not considered the right kind of food for people on the spiritual
path, and how is
seafood different? If this is
just about killing or violence – isn’t a plant also life?
Sadhguru: This is not just
about violence. We know life is violent. The question
is just, will you conduct violence only to the extent
that is necessary or will you overdo it? No one can
live here without violence. Every breath is
violence. Whether you cut a carrot, an apple, a
chicken, or a goat – it is violence. Whether it is an ant,
a cockroach, or a goat – for every life form, its
life is the most precious thing on the planet. You may
think, “Just a goat’s life.” A goat never thinks so.
See with how much pride it walks. It thinks it is
the most important life on the planet. Just like you.
In the yogic culture, we call
the different life
forms jeevarasi. One heap of
life – different levels
of evolution. Different levels
of sensitivity. What
we are concerned about is that
whatever you eat
should be as far away from you
as possible in the
evolutionary scheme of things.
Plants are furthest
away. If you have to eat an
animal, we say it must
be in the water, because that
is the first form of
animal life. If you want to
look at it in terms of
stationary life and moving
life, among the moving
life, fish are the furthest
away from us, so we say
it is okay. You don’t eat a
mammal because it is
very close to you.
If you think that if you eat a
goat, you will
become healthier, why don’t you
eat a human
being? Maybe you will become
even healthier.
What is the problem in eating
another human
being? It is that they are so
much like us. A
certain life form is more complex only because of a certain volume of memory. Suppose we bring back your ancestors. If we
raise the previous 10 generations, out of these
maybe 150 to 500 people, at least 25 people may
look startlingly alike, because the memory
continues.
In the human system, the memory
is more intricate
than in any other life form. As
life evolved, the
memory became more complex, and
the structure
of the system became more
sophisticated. If you
eat an animal or any creature
that is closer to you,
which has its own very complex
memory, do what
you want – you cannot digest
it. If you eat a plant,
you can digest almost 100% of
it – you eliminate
its memory and impose it with
your memory.
Your body started with two
cells. Two cells of
memory multiplied into all this
– still maintaining the same characteristics. But
if you go on eating food that has more complex
memory, your ability to superimpose your memory on
it becomes less and less, the closer it is to
you. You may think a goat’s life is nothing, but
that is not true in terms of life. It is so much like
you. If you cut open a goat, you will see its
digestive system, its liver, and its kidneys are very
similar to yours.
Your body is just an
accumulation of the food
that you have eaten. If you
want to impress your
samskara on the food that you
have eaten and
make it yours, the complexity
of the memory in
the food should be minimal. The
more complex it
gets, the more you lose your
characteristics. The
inherent qualities that have
flown through you,
25,000 years of culture will go
waste on you if you
eat food that has a complex
memory structure.
The idea of creating a culture
and a civilization is
so that it can be transmitted
from one generation
to the next. Transmission is
not only in the
school room. It happens in the
genes. There are
substantial studies to prove
this today. We
have always been saying this is
your samskara.
Samskara means a distilled
essence of civilization
flowing through you without
being taught. You
can see this from one person to
another person.
Even if you expose two people
to the same kind
of external influences, still
one person is different
to the other. This is because
of samskara. Your
ability to let this inherent
quality flow through
you will become minimal if you
eat food with
complex memory structure.
Mahavir said this 2600 years
ago – if you eat the
flesh of an animal, you will
slowly become like
an animal. This does not mean
if you eat goat
today, tomorrow you will look
like a goat. Over a period of time, the kind of
food that you consume will create a kind of memory
distraction in your system. If you eat food with
minimal memory, your body, your memory
structure, and your genes easily imprint themselves
on that and make it “you.” If you eat complex
memory and you reproduce, the next generation
will be confused, because the imprint of memory
on them will not happen as clearly as it would
have happened if you ate food with less
complexity of memory.
If you consume animals that
have emotions
and thoughts like human beings,
it is close to
cannibalism. This is not a
religious or moral issue.
It is an existential and
scientific issue, a profound
understanding of how the system
works. If you
consume meat or any food with
complex memory
and strong emotions, you will
slowly lose your
fundamental characteristics of being human.
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