Showing posts with label Nothing Ever Happened. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nothing Ever Happened. Show all posts

Monday, September 1, 2008

Glimpses of the Self

I started to reply to Broken Yogi’s description of an experience he had had, and then decided to make a separate post of it. This is what he said:
I have had exactly one such experience in my life, back when I was a teenager. It occurred during my first meeting with the teacher who was to be my Guru for many years thereafter. I came into a small room with him, very nervous, waiting I thought for the “big moment”. I kept chastising myself for being so crassly craving of having “something happen”, but before I could control myself he was looking me right in the eye, and it was as if he could see everything I was doing. I felt caught red-handed, and I could hear his inner voice speaking to me, saying, “Well, here we are. I’m looking at you, and you’re looking at me, and nothing is happening.” I felt crushed, but then all of a sudden he repeated the words “Nothing is happening!” and it was as if I was suddenly slapped in the face. I saw instantly that nothing was happening, that the universe wasn’t happening, that there was nothing happening anywhere, at any time, in any place. The only thing that was real was the Guru, and I was in eternal relationship with the Guru.

Now, the reason I ask the question is that of course that moment of insight didn’t amount to permanent realization in my case - far from it. I remained the same idiot afterward that I was beforehand. So I was wondering what is different about such experiences of “nothing happening” from the real thing. Is it merely a matter of it being permanent, or is it altogether different. I know Papaji has said that there is no genuine experience of realisation prior to realization, so I was wondering what is different, experientially.
First of all, I must say that this sounds like a wonderful experience. I suspect a few readers were thinking to themselves, ‘I wish something like that would happen to me’.

I think quite a few people on the spiritual path have a brief epiphany in which they suddenly become aware, directly, of what is ‘real’ and what is not. The ‘what is not’ turns out to be everything they formerly regarded as ‘real’. As Broken Yogi remarked, Papaji used to say that if an experience comes and goes, it is not an experience of the Self because the Self never comes and goes. However, you could turn that around and say, ‘Since it is mind that comes and goes, when mind is temporarily absent, one gets a glimpse of the underlying Self’. Such experiences may be mediated through a still-existing latent ‘I’-thought, but even so, they are always impressive when they happen.

There is an interesting account by Kunju Swami that sheds some light on this phenomenon. Like Broken Yogi, he had had a wonderful experience in the presence of his Guru, but subsequently lost it. This is his description of what happened:

Because the plague had driven away most of the inhabitants of the town [of Tiruvannamalai], visitors to Sri Bhagavan were very few. I was therefore left alone with Sri Bhagavan for much of the time. While we were together he often used to look at me, and as he did so, I became aware that his eyes had a strange brilliance and fascination in them. Whenever I looked into his eyes for any length of time I saw a bright effulgence. I could not say from where it came but it had the effect of making me forget everything. It was not like sleep for I was fully aware. I was also filled with a strange peace and bliss. After each experience I would come back to my normal physical state with a shudder. This occurred again and again on each of the eighteen days that I stayed with Sri Bhagavan. I was like someone intoxicated. I was absolutely indifferent to everything, had no curiosity to see anything, no desires whatsoever. Whatever activities I did, I did them all in a very mechanical way. So long as I stayed in the presence of Sri Bhagavan, I continued to have these experiences of peace and bliss. Because of the greatness of the presence of Sri Bhagavan I was able to experience the tranquil state of abiding firmly in the Heart.

After experiencing this state for some days the thought occurred to me, ‘Here, in order to join in all the daily routines, I have to interrupt my meditative state. Now that I have this firm experience I could remain uninterruptedly in continuous meditation for days if I stayed at home.’ Furthermore, I felt that it was a sin to eat food from the Guru without doing any service to him in return.

When I conveyed my thoughts to Ramakrishna Swami, I found that he was in complete agreement with me. We informed Sri Bhagavan of our decision and went back to our homes in Kerala. We had decided in advance that when we reached home we would meditate in seclusion, observe silence and be immersed in samadhi. We also decided neither to speak to anyone nor to meet each other.

When I reached home I found that my parents, who had been in a very agitated state because they had no idea where I had gone, were extremely happy to see me. Ramakrishna and I stuck to our resolution by staying in our respective homes and observing silence. My parents did not mind the silence, or anything else that I did. They were quite content merely to have me at home.

As the days passed the meditative state experienced in Sri Bhagavan’s presence steadily declined. I slowly became my old restless self. I did not have any new experiences, nor could I get into samadhi. Only then did I realise how ignorant I had been. I was greatly shaken by this disappointment, but I could not reveal to anyone what had happened. Then, one night, while I was dwelling on my disappointment, Ramakrishna Swami came to my place and revealed that his experience had been the same as mine. We both felt ashamed of our foolishness that led us to believe that we had achieved in a few days the state that aspirants of ancient days attained only after many years of striving in the immediate presence of great sages. By losing the state we had formerly experienced, we also realised fully the greatness of Sri Bhagavan’s presence. Feeling that it would be pointless for us to stay any longer at home, we decided that our only hope was to take refuge in Sri Bhagavan at Tiruvannamalai…

One day, [some time after my return,] while I was doing some work for Sri Bhagavan, I asked him why the experiences I had felt in his presence during my first visit had not continued after my return to Kerala but instead had steadily declined and finally ceased. By way of a reply Sri Bhagavan asked me to read verses eighty-three to ninety-three of Kaivalya Navaneeta, part one, telling me that the answer to my question could be found in those verses. The verses are as follows:

83

On hearing this [instruction from the Master] the disciple, loyal to the instructions of the Master, discarded the five sheaths and the blank [mind], realised the Self as ‘I am Brahman’, went beyond that and remained as perfect being.

84

At the glance of the Master, who was grace incarnate, the worthy disciple sank into the ocean of bliss and merged as the undivided whole, as pure consciousness, free from the body, the organs and all else, with mind made perfect so that he became the true Self, unaware while awake.

85

After the blessed disciple had remained in that state for a long time, his mind gently turned outwards. Then he saw his glorious Master before him. His eyes were filled with tears of joy. He was full of love and fell at the feet of the Master. He rose up, went round the Master with folded hands and spoke to him:

86

‘Lord, you are the reality remaining as my inmost Self, ruling me during all my countless incarnations! Glory to you who have put on an external form in order to instruct me! I do not see how I can repay your grace for having liberated me. Glory! Glory to your holy feet!’

87

The Master beamed on him as he spoke, drew him near and said very lovingly, ‘To stay fixed in the Self, without the three kinds of obstacles obstructing your experience, is the highest return you can render me.’

88

‘My Lord! Can such realisation as has transcended the dual perception of “You” and “I”, and found the Self to be entire and all pervading, fail me at any time?’ The Master replied, ‘The truth that “I am Brahman” is realised from the scriptures or by the grace of the Master, but it cannot be firm in the face of obstruction.

89

‘Ignorance, uncertainty and wrong knowledge are obstacles resulting from long-standing habits in the innumerable incarnations of the past which cause trouble [and make] the fruits of realisation slip away. Therefore root them out by hearing the truth, reasoning and meditation [sravana, manana, nididhyasana].

90

‘Defective realisation will not put an end to bondage. Therefore, devote yourself to hearing the truth, reasoning and meditation and root out ignorance, uncertainty and wrong knowledge.

91

‘Ignorance veils the truth that the Self is Brahman and shows forth multiplicity instead. Uncertainty is the confusion resulting from lack of firm faith in the words of the Master. The illusion that the evanescent world is a reality and that the body is the self is wrong knowledge. So say the sages.

92

‘Hearing the truth is to revert the mind repeatedly to the teaching: “That thou art”. Reasoning is rational investigation of the meaning of the text, as already heard. Meditation is one-pointedness of mind.

93

‘If every day you do these, you will surely gain liberation. The practice must be kept up so long as the sense of knower and knowledge persists. No effort is necessary thereafter. Remaining as pure, eternal consciousness, untainted like the ether and thus liberated while alive, one will live forever as That, after being disembodied also.’

Sri Bhagavan then summarised the verses and explained their meaning to me. During the course of his explanation he remarked, ‘The experience [of the Self] can occur in the presence of the Guru, but it may not last. Doubts will rise again and again and in order to clear them, the disciple should continue to study, think and practise. Sravana, manana and nididhyasana should be done until the distinction between knower, known and knowing no longer arises.’

After Sri Bhagavan had explained all this to me I decided to stay always in his presence and to carry out the practices he prescribed. (The Power of the Presence, part two, pp. 8-13)

* * *

Sravana, manana and nididhyasana comprise the traditional vedantic route to knowledge. Sravana is listening to the Guru’s words, manana is contemplating them and convincing oneself that they are true, and nididhyasana is the practice that results in the direct experience of what they indicate. The implication of Bhagavan’s response to Kunju Swami is that while the presence or power of the Guru may bring about temporary abidance in the Heart, such an experience may not remain firm unless it is followed by contemplating the truth of the Guru’s words and ultimately experiencing them as one’s own reality.
Question: … it is said that Guru kataksham [the glance of the Guru] is like [an elephant] seeing a lion in its dream.

Bhagavan: That is true. If an elephant sees a lion in its dream, it wakes up startled and will not sleep again that day for fear that the lion might appear again in a dream. In the same way in a man’s life, which is also akin to a dream, it is not Guru kataksham alone, but also sravana, manana, nididhyasana etc. that are akin to the sight of a lion in a dream. As they go on getting these dreams they wake up, and again go to bed and by efflux of time they may some day get a lion’s dream called Guru kataksham in an intense manner. They get startled and obtain jnana. Then there will be no more dreams and they will not only be wakeful at all times but will not give room for any dreams of life but will remain alert until that true and real knowledge is obtained. These lion’s dreams are unavoidable and must be experienced. (Letters from Sri Ramanasramam, 18th May, 1947)

While I was in Lucknow I was surprised to hear Papaji, who generally did not advocate these traditional forms of practice, give this same advice to a visitor. However, when I questioned him about his remarks later, he began his reply by saying that if one has a direct but temporary experience of the Self, it is more useful and effective to find a true teacher who can help one establish oneself firmly in that state:


David: A couple of months ago a boy came up to you in satsang to tell you about an experience of emptiness he had had when he was ten years old. The experience later wore off. Later that morning, as you were reading the Panchadasi, you read out a verse that stated that one should do sravana, manana and nididhyasana if one wanted to become stabilised in the truth. You stopped and said to the boy, ‘You should have done this when you were ten. If you had done this, the experience would not have left you.’

Papaji: When you get this kind of experience, you should not reactivate the mind by thinking about the truth. If you want it to stick, you should go to a true teacher who has established himself in the truth. Such a teacher will not tell you to do anything else. He will tell you, ‘You don’t have to hear anything from anyone else. There is nothing more you need to do. Stay where you are and be as you are.’

This boy didn’t know what the experience was, nor did he have a competent teacher who could evaluate it for him.

The same thing happened to me when I was six years old. I had a direct experience, but no one was there to tell me, ‘This is the truth. You don’t need anything else.’

Instead, everyone told me, ‘The peace you enjoyed in that state came because of Krishna. If you start worshipping him, he will appear before you and make you happy.

I was already happy but somehow these uninformed people made me do sadhana because they thought that I needed new experiences. Because I had no one who could say with authority, ‘You need nothing else. Stay as you are,’ I ended up spending years looking for external gods.

There has been no change in my understanding, my experience and my conviction since I was six years old. From the age of six till now, when I am over eighty years old, there has been no change, but this truth, this understanding, was not fully revealed to me until I met the Maharshi. This is the role of the true teacher: to show you and tell you that you are already That, and to do it in such an authoritative way that you never doubt his words. Over the last few months I have been reading out books by some of the great teachers of the past. Again and again they say, ‘You are That. You are Brahman. This alone is the truth.’

All the teachers are saying this because they want their students to have the firm conviction that this is the truth, that this is who they truly are. This is the function of the true teacher: to remove your doubt that you are not Brahman and by doing so to allow you to see who you really are. (Nothing Ever Happened, vol. 3, pp. 388-89)
Although Papaji began his reply by appearing to disparage the traditional practices of manana, sravana and nididhyasana, in the second half of his reply he is clearly advocating them since he says that one should go to a true Guru, listen to him proclaim ‘You are That’, and then abide in that state which is being pointed out by the words.

I showed the Kaivalya Navaneeta verses that Bhagavan recommended to Kunju Swami to Papaji and asked him what he thought of the advice they contained. He replied:

Papaji: The disciple should come to the Guru with an open heart. If he does, one word will be enough. But if he doesn’t, you have to give out instructions like these. Somehow the student has to generate a conviction that the Guru’s words are true. (Nothing Ever Happened, vol. 3, p. 391)

Papaji then read out all the verses, commenting on a few of them. At the end of verse 89 he remarked:
Papaji: This is the advice one has to give to those who do not yet have the conviction that they are Brahman. They are advised to stay on with the Guru till the end of their life. There should be no problem with this. What else can you do with this life? You have already gone through millions of incarnations. In those lives you have already done everything that it is possible to do in a body, but you haven’t found out the cause of all these births, and you haven’t found out how to end them. This is something very new for you. Why don’t you stay and get this liberating knowledge? (Nothing Ever Happened, vol. 3, p. 394)
When Papaji had reached the end of the Kaivalya Navaneeta verses, I posed the following questions:
David: After showing these verses to Kunju Swami, the Maharshi said that the practice of sravana, manana and nididhyasana in the Guru’s presence was the most effective way to stabilise in the experience of the Self and eradicate the ignorance, uncertainty and wrong knowledge which might rise to cover it up. Do you approve of this prescription?

Papaji: Yes, I do agree. What he says is what I am also saying here. So I do approve of his prescription.

David: Can an experience of this kind be stabilised by any kind of effort, or does effort cause it to go?

Papaji: It should happen by itself if you listen intently to the teacher, but if it doesn’t happen, then you need absolute effort. Not 50% but 101%. Whatever the teacher says, you have to abide by it. You must not forget anything he says.

He will tell you, ‘You are Atman, you are Brahman, you are Truth Itself’. You must believe him. You must have an unshakeable conviction that his words are true. Until you have that conviction, stay on. Don’t leave till you have it.

This intense determination to succeed is the effort. Don’t give it up. If it doesn’t happen in this life, keep it up in the next life, and the next and the next. One day you have to get it. (Nothing Ever Happened, vol. 3, pp. 396-7)
The phenomenon of gaining and losing experiences of the Self also came up in an interview that Papaji had with Rama Crowell, a Canadian devotee. It includes some interesting advice on how to maintain such experiences:
Rama: Many people come to you, receive this teaching and get a glimpse of it through a direct experience. But the glimpse disappears, maybe because they are not fit to hold on to that teaching. These people then get disappointed.

Papaji: Yes, yes, they get a glimpse of it here, and then they go away fully satisfied to the West. But they come back saying they have lost it on the way.

There was one girl from Vancouver who told me a story like this. There is also a boy here now who said the same thing.

I told the girl, ‘You lost it because you always tried to maintain it. You tried to keep it, therefore you lost it. It is not your father’s property. It is not something that you can keep. Now you have come for a second time.

‘You have had a glimpse. Don’t try to hold on to it. Don’t try to maintain it. It came. Now let it go. It’s not your possession. It’s not an object to be possessed. A glimpse is a glimpse.’

Rama: Would it not be more helpful to equip such a person with the means of holding on to the experience?

Papaji: The best way of equipping oneself is to give up the intention of holding. (Nothing Ever Happened, vol. 3, pp. 389-90)
By claiming the experience – ‘I’ am enlightened – and by holding onto it as something that one ‘has’, one allows the individual ‘I’ to rise again. When this happens, the experience fades and becomes nothing more than a pleasant memory.

While I was in Lucknow I met many people who had had waking up experiences or brief glimpses of the Self while they were attending satsang with Papaji, but in almost all cases they seemed to wear off in the days and weeks that followed. While the Guru’s presence was the key catalyst in making the experience happen, what caused it to go away were the vasanas that had not been destroyed by the experience. This is what Papaji told me when I spoke to him in 1992:

Many people have had temporary glimpses of the Self. Sometimes it happens spontaneously, and it is not uncommon for it to happen in the presence of a realised Master. After these temporary glimpses, the experience goes away because there are still thoughts and latent desires which have not been extinguished. The Self will only accept, consume and totally destroy a mind that is totally free from vasanas. (Nothing Ever Happened, vol. 3, p. 405)
The Lucknow satsangs were characterised by large numbers of people claiming ‘enlightenment’. What is far less well known is that Papaji distinguished between ‘enlightenment’, which he seemed to regard as an experience of the Self that could be lost if it was not guarded properly, and the sahaja state, which was permanent and irreversible. I tried to get to grips with this distinction in the following dialogue that I had with Papaji, but, like many other people who tried to talk to him about this, the results were not entirely satisfactory. I have included a few explanatory comments of my own in italics and in brackets after some of the replies.

David: Three days ago I received a copy of a letter which you wrote to a couple in 1991. You were congratulating them on having waking-up experiences. In your letter you wrote: ‘You have won enlightenment. Now you have to go beyond on the raft of this enlightenment to the unmanifest supreme, turiyatita sahaja samadhi. This can be vaguely translated into English as “spontaneous natural state”.’

Papaji: Turiyatita sahaja samadhi actually cannot be translated into any other language. This is a Sanskrit term which has no equivalent in English. Waking, dreaming and sleeping are the first three states that we all know and experience. ‘Turiya’ means ‘the fourth’. It is the state which underlies and supports the three states of waking, dreaming and sleeping. Beyond this is turiyatita, which means ‘beyond the fourth’. It has no name because it cannot be named. We can call it the transcendent state, or we can loosely translate it as the ‘spontaneous, natural state’. Very few people discover this state. Kabir, Ravidas and Sukdev found it, but very few others know this state directly. Kabir was a weaver, Ravidas was a shoemaker, and Janaka was a king. They had different roles in life, but their state was the same.

What are the indications of this state? In the sahaja state there is no planning. There is no feeling, ‘I have got to do this,’ or ‘I have not got to do that’. Whatever comes is finished and then forgotten. It is not stored in the memory.

David: I would like to ask you some questions about the two states. What is the difference between enlightenment and the state beyond it, which you call sahaja sthiti?

Papaji: Enlightenment is connected with the word ‘light’, which is the opposite of dark. It is seen as the light which banishes darkness. If a man thinks that he is in spiritual darkness, he strives for the light that will banish that darkness. He meditates, he chants the name of God and does tapas until finally this state of enlightenment is revealed to him. Before, he was in darkness; now, through his efforts, he has found the light that banishes the darkness. Before he attained the state of enlightenment, he was in a state of ignorance. This means that enlightenment came at some later time and was not there before. If it was not present before and only appeared later, it is in time, and whatever exists in time is not permanent. At some later time it will disappear. This state which is won by effort will sooner or later disappear. It is not the natural or sahaja state, which is there all the time, and which needs no effort to reveal itself. This is the difference between them. One is attained in time by effort, and is not permanent; the other is there all the time, naturally and effortlessly.

Everyone is in this natural state whether one is aware of it or not. It is only arrogance that prevents one from being aware of it. Everyone thinks, ‘I have done this’, ‘I must do that’. ‘This is mine; that is his.’ Claiming ownership of things that are not yours is arrogance; taking responsibility for things you have not done is arrogance. The man who lives in sahaja sthiti does not live and behave like this. He knows that everything is going on naturally by itself. He claims nothing as his own, not even his thoughts.

When I speak and read, the eyes help me to read and the tongue helps me to speak. The words I speak come out of the mouth, but the tongue itself is not speaking. Where do these words ultimately come from? Nobody thinks about the answer to this question. If the eyes of a dead person are open, that body can’t read, and it can’t speak. So who or what is responsible for sending the light to the eyes to see, and for sending the sound which ends up as talking? Go back and see the source from which everything comes. If you know that source, you will know what this sahaja sthiti is. Everything else is ego. When there is the feeling ‘I am looking’ or ‘I am feeling,’ or ‘I am behaving,’ there is mind, there is ego, and the natural state is covered up. Everything, including this whole world, arises from that source. When you know that source by being that source, then and only then can you say that you are in sahaja sthiti.

[Papaji’s claim here that everything except sahaja sthiti is a state of the ego is an interesting one. This would necessarily include enlightenment experiences or direct experiences of the Self that come and go. Bhagavan endorsed this to some extent when he discussed the sahaja state with S. S. Cohen:

S. S. Cohen: In the ‘Talks’ section of Sat Darshana Bhashya, the ‘I-I’ is referred to as the Absolute Consciousness, yet Bhagavan once told me that any realisation before sahaja nirvikalpa is intellectual… Is the ‘I-I’ consciousness Self-realisation?

Bhagavan: It is a prelude to it: when it becomes permanent, sahaja, it is Self-realisation, liberation. (Guru Ramana, 1974 ed. pp. 81-3)
The context of Bhagavan’s discussion with S. S. Cohen was the distinctions between kevala nirvikalpa samadhi, the ‘I-I’ consciousness and the sahaja state. When he said that all states and experiences prior to the sahaja state were intellectual, Bhagavan seemed to include kevala nirvikalpa samadhi and the ‘I-I’ consciousness in this ‘intellectual’ category.

In the responses to the ‘Ajata posting there was some discussion about whether temporary experiences of the Self could be classed as ‘ajata’, whether an experience of the Self is necessarily an experience of ajata, and so on. If these temporary experiences are, as Bhagavan seems to be saying here, just very subtle states of mind, then I would say that these experiences are not ‘ajata’. For me (and you are all welcome to disagree on this) the experience of ajata cannot be a mediated one. There cannot be a valid ajata experience if it is mediated through a ‘created’ and imaginary entity.


Now back to my discussion with Papaji:]

David: You advised the couple to go from the state of enlightenment to the sahaja state. How is it possible to progress from the former to the latter? Does it happen automatically? Does it happen in all cases, most cases, or only a few? If it only happens in some cases, what prevents the rest from moving on to this final state? If it cannot be done by effort or practice, can it be done merely by attending satsang?

Papaji: It cannot be attained by any effort or practice, nor can it be attained merely by attending satsang. Many people attend this satsang, some for years at a time. But who among then can stand up and honestly proclaim, ‘I am in sahaja sthiti’?

The sahaja state can never come through effort or practice. It cannot be attained because it is there all the time. It neither comes, nor does it go. If you simply keep quiet and let things happen by themselves, you will find that it is that which is present all the time. You are never away from it or apart from it. Whatever is done is done by the supreme power which moves all things. Without that supreme power I could not even lift my hand. The problems start when you think, ‘I am lifting my hand’. Don’t bring in this egotistic idea at all. Let this supreme power take charge of all your activities, and be aware that it is this supreme power alone that is doing them. Don’t ever have the idea that nothing can happen unless you decide to make it happen. This is the kind of relationship that you have to have with this supreme power which is always there. Bow down before that power because she is supreme. Without her the sun could not rise in the morning, nor the moon at night. Nothing can function without this power, but no one is aware of this.

David: You sometimes say that the state of enlightenment is a diamond which must be guarded, protected, and not thrown away. It seems that the diamond of enlightenment can be thrown away, but the sahaja sthiti can never be lost or discarded. Is this correct? If the mind and the individual self have ceased to function in the state of enlightenment, who is there left to guard the experience or throw it away?

Papaji: You can neither retain nor reject the sahaja sthiti because it does not belong to you. It is not yours to lose or dispose of. Nothing belongs to you. When nothing is yours, you have nothing to lose or throw away. If something comes to you, you can keep it, but don’t have the idea that it belongs to you. And when it goes, don’t cry over it. A beautiful thing may come and go, but if the idea of ownership or attachment is not there, neither its coming nor its going will matter to you. In the sahaja sthiti nothing is claimed or rejected. Because these notions are not there, there is never any feeling of gain or loss. It is the ego that keeps accounts of what is gained and what is lost.

Have no thought of gaining or losing; have no thought of ownership; have no notions about time. When all these have gone, there is sahaja sthiti.

David: The following words come from a verse in Tripura Rahasya. Do you have any comments on it?

The glimpse of jnana gained by one whose mind is crowded with dense vasanas accumulated in the past incarnations does not suffice to override one’s deep-rooted ignorance. Such a one is obliged to practise samadhi in successive births for effective and final realisation.
Papaji: The mind of a busy man will be crowded with thoughts. Occasionally, though, he may experience a small gap between the end of one thought and the beginning of the next. If that glimpse comes, it will attract him; it will show him happiness. But it will only be a fleeting glimpse because the vasanas will soon find another way to grab his attention and interest…

[The verse says] ‘Such a one is obliged to practise samadhi in successive births for effective and final realisation’. That is what all the scriptures say: if a man has not completed his work in this life, he has to be reborn in better circumstances in his next life so that he can finish his work or fulfil his desires. I don’t believe this any more. I don’t accept it. Birth, death and rebirth are just ideas created by the mind. Bondage and liberation are just ideas you create to keep yourself busy. Get rid of the idea that birth, death, rebirth, bondage and liberation are real. They are not. They are nothing more than ideas. There are no gods, no demons and no heavens. No one exists; nothing exists. That is the truth. The mind can think about so many things. Why can’t it think about this fundamental truth instead? Nothing ever existed. This, ultimately, is the only truth. Whatever else you read in the scriptures comes from a different perspective, a relative perspective which assumes the reality of ideas such as birth, death, bondage, and so on. I will tell you the bare truth: there is no birth and there is no death, there is no creator and there is no creation. This is now my conviction, my experience.

David: What about your own case? In your last life you went into samadhi many times, but you didn’t attain liberation because your pending vasanas were too strong for you. You still had an unfulfilled desire, so you had to be born again. This is exactly what this verse in Tripura Rahasya is describing.

[On a few occasions Papaji narrated stories of his last life as a yogi who had an ashram on the Tungabadra River, near Sringeri in southern Karnataka. Guided by a dream or a vision, he found his old ashram on one of his South India trips. He said that his samadhi shrine had been washed away by the river, but a temple containing a black Krishna statue that he had installed himself was still there.

During this life he went into samadhi many times, once so deeply that his devotees thought he was dead. One ‘devotee’ decided to check by chipping a hole in the top of his head with a machete. This blow was the actual cause of his death. During that life he had an unfulfilled sexual desire for one of the girls who picked coconuts in his ashram. In his next and final life this girl became his wife.]

Papaji: Yes, this all happened because I listened to the people who talked like this. I listened to the saints, I listened to the elders, I read the books. All these sources told me that I would be reborn if I didn’t attain enlightenment. Because I believed all this, that belief manifested. In that dream world I made for myself out of all my ideas and beliefs, I took another birth. Nowadays I don’t listen to anyone or believe anything anyone tells me. Because I know the truth that nothing has ever happened, I don’t need to listen to or believe in stories like this any more.

David: It seems that the enlightenment state can, by the Guru’s grace, come to anyone at any time, but the final sahaja state only comes to those in whom there are no more pending desires. Do you agree or disagree?

Papaji: ‘The final sahaja state only comes to those in whom there are no more pending desires.’ Do I agree or disagree? [long pause]

[Laughing] I absolutely one hundred percent agree with you. Whenever there is a desire, you are bound. The desire will manifest in front of you, or you yourself will be manifested as that desire…. When there are desires, desires manifest and there is no liberation. Everything and everyone you see around you are manifestations of your desires. When you have no desires, you don’t see anything at all. Try it now and see for yourself. Stop the mind and its desires and see if there is anything left to see.

When there is a desire, the eyes start working and they start seeing things, which become objects of desire. The seer and the seer are maintained by the desire of one for the other. When the desires are not there, there is no seer and nothing to be seen. If there is no desire, you can’t see, you can’t hear, you can’t smell, you can’t taste. Try it, just for a fraction of a second. Let your mind be absolutely absent just for a second and see what happens to all the objects of desire that you used to think were real. This one second will give you happiness and love. It is bliss, perfection, happiness, enlightenment, wisdom. Call it by any name that appeals to you.

Actually, this love, this bliss, has no name at all. It is just emptiness of mind. Nothing is there any more. We arose from emptiness and sooner or later we will return to that emptiness. In the interval between them we think, have desires and suffer the consequences of them. But don’t think, ‘I came from emptiness and sooner or later I will return to that emptiness and be happy’. That will not solve the problem of your present suffering. Instead, have the conviction, ‘I am in emptiness right now. Emptiness is my nature.’ This conviction will be enough to give you bliss, love and freedom. (Nothing Ever Happened, vol. 3, pp. 406-414)

* * *

To complete this post on ‘Glimpses of the Self’ I will give the descriptions of the Self that Saradamma gave prior to her realisation, along with Lakshmana Swamy’s comments on them. The exchanges are from No Mind – I am the Self, pp. 170-72:

She [Saradamma] was still able to talk and Swamy, thinking that her realisation was near, placed a small tape-recorder near her to record her words. Sarada spoke in short, quiet sentences, with frequent pauses as she was overwhelmed by the bliss of the Self.

I have no body. I have no ‘I’. I am not the body. How I am talking I do not know. Some power is talking through me.

Swamy asked her if she was looking and she replied:
Even though I am looking, I am not looking. Where is the ‘I’ to look. When the mind enters the Heart there is no ‘I’ to tell that there is no ‘I’. My ‘I’ is dead.
Swamy then asked her how she was feeling.
My whole body is filled with peace and bliss. I cannot describe it. Everything is filled with peace. The Self is pulling me towards it and I am not able to open my eyes. The whole body is weak.
Swamy remarked, “It is like an elephant entering a weak hut. The hut cannot stand the strain. Is it beyond time and death?”
It is beyond time and death as there is no mind. As the ‘I’ is dead I don’t wish to eat anymore. I am not able to eat. However tasty the food, I cannot eat. I have no desire to eat. Everything is filled with peace and bliss. I am content with my realisation. I have recognised my own Self, so I am content.
Swamy then told her that her ‘I’ was not yet dead and that she had not yet reached the final state. Sarada replied:
As the ‘I’ is dead there is no you.
“Have you no mother or father?” asked Swamy.
No father, no mother, no world. Everything is peace and bliss. Why do I have to eat when there is no ‘I’? The body is inert, it cannot eat. A corpse will not eat. It is like that because the ‘I’ is dead. As I cannot eat, I cannot talk. Who is talking I do not know.
“Then who is talking?” asked Swamy. Sarada remained silent and so Swamy answered his own question. “The Self is talking.” Sarada continued:
Even though I am seeing, I am not seeing. Even though I am talking I am not talking. Whatever I do I am not doing it because the ‘I’ is dead. I have no body. All the nerves are filled with peace and bliss. All is Brahman. All is bliss. In the veins instead of blood, love and bliss are flowing. A great power has entered into me.
Three months before Swamy had told Sarada, “Even though I sleep I am not sleeping”. Sarada remembered this, repeated Swamy’s words and said that she was finally able to understand what he had meant. Sarada continued to talk:
I have no thought of doing anything. I have no fear of death. Before, I feared death, but not anymore. I don’t care about death. I have nothing more to do. I shall give up the body.
Swamy asked her to stay but Sarada answered:
What is death to die now? The body is inert, how can it die? My ‘I’ is dead, what is there left to die? Why then fear death? Swamy then reminded her again that her ‘I’ was not dead and that she was not yet in the final sahaja state.
Swamy then stopped the tape we were listening to and talked a little about the state that Sarada was experiencing when she spoke these words.

“Anyone whose mind completely subsides into the Heart for a short time can talk like an enlightened person. Their experience of the Self is the same as that of a realised person. However, their ‘I’-thought is not dead and it is likely to re-emerge at any time. Such an experience is not the final state because it is not permanent.”

He then played the final portion of Sarada’s comments on her experience.

I am everywhere. I am not the body. I have no body so I have no fear. I am immobile. Whatever I may do I am immobile. I am shining as the Self. Everything is a great void [maha-sunya]. How can I describe the Self in words? It is neither light nor dark. No one can describe what it is. In the past, present and future no one can describe what it is. It is difficult to describe. Self is Self, that is all.

* * *

The final realisation, the definitive extinction of the ‘I’-thought, happened a few minutes after this final comment when Saradamma put her head on Lakshmana Swamy’s feet. Her comments, and Lakshmana Swamy’s remarks on them, are highly interesting in that they indicate it is possible to have what appears to be a full experience of the Self, even though the ‘I’-thought has not been fully extinguished. Saradamma herself was convinced that she had realised the Self, and her description of its characteristics are definitely from the standpoint of the jnani, but Lakshmana Swamy could see that the experience was a temporary one. A few years later Lakshmana Swamy spoke about this phenomenon during one of his morning darshans:


The ‘I’-thought can hide in the Heart for long periods without being destroyed. People in whom this happens are experiencing the Self, but they are not fully realised. They can talk about the Self from their own direct experience of it, and they can even sometimes be a conduit for the power of the Self. If you look at the eyes of such a person, there is no ‘I’ or mind functioning there. The jnani can easily see the ‘I’ or the mind of ordinary people by looking at their eyes, but with these people there is no ‘I’ visible there. However, if you look into the Heart, you can see their ‘I’-thought hiding there, latent and waiting to re-emerge. This state is not liberation because when the body dies, the undestroyed ‘I’-thought will take a new form and identify with a new body.

It is the job of the Guru to find the latent ‘I’ hiding in the Heart and destroy it there through the power of the Self. For Self-realisation to occur, the ‘I’ must die, rather than lie hidden out of sight. When this happens the Self shines in the Heart. This is the true and final state of Self-realisation.
We didn’t have computers in those days, but the hidden ‘I’-thought in the Heart sounds a bit like having a dangerous virus quarantined somewhere on the hard drive. It can still cause trouble if it gets out, but if it is properly contained, it will not be able to make its presence felt in any way.

That concludes today’s offering. I will address another point that Broken Yogi made in my next post.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

The Power to Enlighten

Apologies for my lengthy absence. Other activities have been demanding my attention over the last week or so.

Today’s topic is, ‘Why is it that some jnanis have the power to enlighten devotees, while others don’t? And how do those who have that power go about transmitting it to those who deserve it?’

It is a subject that has intermittently intrigued me over the years but I have not come to any definite conclusion since the people whose authority I respect – Ramana Maharshi and those direct disciples I have associated with and written about – have either not commented on these specific points, or they have come to differing conclusions.

I will start by giving two extracts from a dialogue that Annamalai Swami had with one of his visitors:

Question: Are there differences in the degree of realisation of the Self? For example, Ramana was widely acclaimed as a Sadguru. Is your understanding the same as Ramana’s?

Annamalai Swami: You see a big lamp before you. Your own lamp is unlit. So you bring your lamp to the lamp which is already burning. And when you go away from that lamp, you have your own lamp, your own light. Wherever you go, from that point on, the light is with you. The state of jnana is the same for all. Anyone who realises the Self is in the same state of peace, which is beyond the mind.

Though the experience of the Self is the same in all cases, it is true that some jnanis end up helping a lot of people, whereas others, who are equally enlightened, may help fewer people. Some jnanis do not teach at all. They live ordinary lives and are rarely, if ever, recognised for what they really are.

Water can be in a well or it can be in a lake. It is the same water, but one source can quench more thirsts than the other. A small lamp can light up a room, whereas a big one can light up a whole street. Bhagavan was one of those big, blazing lights that could light up a huge area. He guided and brought light to many people.

Question: Swamiji is saying that some jnanis are big lamps and that others are small. Do the small lamps become bigger, or do they always remain the same?

Annamalai Swami: Whichever light you go to, the light is always the same. This business of the lamps is just an example. What I am trying to say is, only a few people have the capacity to guide a large number of people towards the truth. Realising the truth is one thing, but guiding others towards it is something else. All jnanis are not equally capable when it comes to guiding others. (Annamalai Swami Final Talks, pp. 44-5, 2006 ed.)

Question: I read somewhere that Bhagavan said that jnanis have the power to link the individual mind to the supreme Self.

Annamalai Swami: Yes. A big ship can carry many people to the other side of the ocean, and a small ship can carry only a few people.

Question: And some jnanis don’t carry anyone at all.

Annamalai Swami: These jnanis who don’t have disciples don’t appear to be helping anyone, but their power, the power of their realisation, is having a beneficial effect on all beings. It is true, though, that some jnanis pass away without teaching anyone directly. Lakshmi the cow and Bhagavan’s mother are examples of this. (Annamalai Swami Final Talks, p. 48)


* * *

When I wrote my post ‘Who were you Ramana?’ some of the responses I received tried to make the case that some jnanis were superior to others simply because they attracted more disciples, lived saintly lives, enlightened some of their devotees, and so on. I took the position that Annamalai Swami confirms here: that all jnanis were equal in their jnana. However, it is true, as Annamalai Swami notes in these replies, that some have the power to enlighten, whereas others do not. This is not related to their state of abiding as the Self, since jnana is the same for all. Some other factor is involved.

In 1993 Papaji made the following remarks about J. Krishnamurti. The first paragraph is Papaji’s words. The subsequent two are my comments on them, taken from Nothing Ever Happened, volume two, p. 230:

I listened to Krishnamurti while I was in Switzerland. I liked him very much because I could find no fault in him. I am a hard person to satisfy but I will say that he was, no doubt, an enlightened man. But something was missing. The power to transmit that enlightenment to others was not there.

Papaji’s assessment, though it seems to be harsh, was shared by Krishnamurti himself. In a book commemorating his birth centenary Evelyne Blau, a long time associate of his, wrote: ‘For fifty years he had taught, spoken and travelled all over the world. Why was not a single person transformed? He [Krishnamurti] was certainly concerned with this problem.’

As Krishnamurti lay dying in California, a tape recorder was running to record his final words. Shortly before he died he said, ‘Where did I go wrong? No one got it?’

Apologies to those of you who are Krishnamurti fans, but I think his own words on this topic are hard to refute.

So far as I am aware Bhagavan never gave any explanation as to why some jnanis have the power to enlighten while others don’t. I called up Venkatasubramanian, my Tamil collaborator, while I was writing this piece to see if he could remember any such quotes, but he drew a blank as well. If there are any such references, I would love to see them posted in the ‘responses’ section.

With no guidelines from Bhagavan on this subject, I will review the ideas of what three of his devotees (Annamalai Swami, Lakshmana Swamy and Papaji) had to say. The first theory comes from Annamalai Swami:

Question: Does Swami understand Jesus Christ to be a jnani like so many other jnanis, or was he something more than that?

Annamalai Swami: If the ego is destroyed, only non-dual consciousness remains. There is no higher or lower in that state.

You cannot say that one jnani is in a different state from another. You cannot say that Jesus Christ is better than Bhagavan, or vice versa. There is no higher state than that of the jnani, and there is no jnani who is superior to any other jnani.

Although the inner state of all jnanis is the same, their outer activities differ because each of them has a different destiny to fulfill. Some will be teachers and some will not.

If there is water in a glass it will quench the thirst of one man; if there is water in a big pot, it may quench the thirst of thirty of forty people; if there is water in a well, it can quench the thirst of all the people in a village or a town. Some spiritual aspirants have done tapas only for their own realisation. After realisation they may be able to help a few people. But some jnanis have done prolonged tapas not only for their own realisation, but also to help liberate others. The jnanis who have done this kind of tapas become world famous masters and have many followers. (Living by the Words of Bhagavan, p. 310)


* * *

Since jnanis never do anything for a reason or for any particular goal, and since they see no one as different from themselves, or unenlightened, I am assuming that Annamalai Swami is referring to tapas done prior to the moment of realisation. His idea seems to be that tapas done with a strong desire that its fruits should benefit others results in a jnani who has the power and capacity to help and enlighten others. I am also assuming that this tapas can be spread over more than one lifetime. If one wants to include Bhagavan in a theory of this sort, then one would have to say that his tapas was done in some other incarnation.

More than twenty years ago I was sitting with Lakshmana Swamy on the lower slopes of Arunachala. We were speaking about the same topic. This is a summary of what I remember him saying that day:

‘If one sits quietly after realisation, a great power is accumulated. The longer one sits quietly, the stronger the power. This is the power that the Gurus use to enlighten others. You cannot make a choice to sit quietly or not sit quietly. That is just part of your destiny. If it is your destiny to sit quietly for years after your realisation, then that power will be available to help others later on.’

This is a somewhat different proposition from Annamalai Swami’s. There is no desire to help others; no tapas is done for the benefit of others. If there is a destined long period of quiet, Self-absorption, a reservoir of power will accumulate which can benefit devotees later on.

Bhagavan spent most of his first decade at Arunachala intensely absorbed in an inner Self-abidance that made it difficult or even impossible for him to extrovert his attention and lead a normal life in the world. Was this the source, or one of the sources, of his great power? I have no idea, but I do know from Bhagavan’s own comments that the power of the Self in him was so strong, it made his body shake and tremble. We are all familiar with Bhagavan’s comments that having the power of the Self in the body is like having an elephant entering a weak hut:

Annamalai Swami: Sometimes Self-realisation makes the body very weak. Bhagavan’s body used to shake a lot. When he was asked about this, he would sometimes say, ‘If an elephant enters a weak hut, what will happen to the body?’ The elephant was Self-realisation and the weak hut was his body. (Living by the Words of Bhagavan, p. 269)

Most of us have seen the film of Bhagavan with his head shaking as if he had a mild case of Parkinson’s disease. It wasn’t any kind of disease; it was simply the Self agitating the body. The slight oscillations of the head were there for most of the time, but whenever Bhagavan went into an inner Self-abidance in which he would be unaware of his body or the world, all the shaking would stop. The same thing would happen when he was transmitting power to a particular devotee, or just radiating it in general to people in his vicinity. T. M. P. Mahadevan has recorded the following observation:

Even when I first saw the Master [in 1928], his head had begun to nod. The shaking head seemed to me to be saying ‘neti’, ‘neti’ (not this, not this). And, all of a sudden the nodding would stop, the vision of the Master would become fixed, and the spirit of silence would envelop everyone present. (Philosophy of Existence, section three, Ramana experience)

Kunju Swami has also noted (sorry, can’t remember the exact reference) that Bhagavan’s use of a walking stick was not just for helping out his rheumatic knees: he apparently couldn’t balance very well when he was standing still. The walking stick gave him a tripod-like stability when he had to stop to speak to someone. This was probably another manifestation of the ‘elephant in the weak hut’.

If Bhagavan could mitigate the shaking of his body and lessen the effects of the ‘elephant’ by looking at devotees and transmitting power and grace to them why didn’t he do it more often and give his body a rest? Lakshmana Swamy gives his answer to this rather selfish question in the following interesting remarks:

Lakshmana Swamy: Although the power and grace of the Self are infinite, the Guru must use his body to transmit this power. The body could not stand the strain of giving so much grace to many people in such a short time. The body would weaken and die within a very short period. Instead of weakening his body by wasting his power on all the immature devotees who come to see him, the Guru saves his power and his health by only transmitting large amounts of grace to the good devotees who deserve it. [But] if the devotee’s mind is ready, the grace will automatically start to flow.

Ramana Maharshi used to give darshan to hundreds of people every day, but most of these people only received a brief glance or a smile. He was not transmitting power to most of these people.

When he was once asked if he would tour India and give darshan to all the thousands of devotees who could not come to Tiruvannamalai, he replied, ‘I cannot give darshan to everyone’. I don’t know what he meant by this. He may have been saying that it was physically impossible for him to meet all the thousands of people who wanted to see him, but he may also have been implying that it would have been too much of a strain on his body to give so much power and grace in such a short time. (No Mind – I am the Self, pp. 74-5)


* * *

So, there is a ‘damned if you do and damned if you don’t’ element to this: if the ‘power to enlighten’ builds up in the body, it becomes the elephant charging around in the weak hut, causing health problems; if it is transmitted outwards in large amounts, it also causes problems within the body. In the Gurus I have met and talked to, there always seems to be more power available than outlets through which it can be usefully and safely directed, and that means it stays in the body. Lakshmana Swamy told me once that having all this power made the body quite weak since it wasn’t designed to process these energies all the time. Just as thin wires cannot take a heavy electric current, it would seem that the nervous system of the body is ill-equipped to deal with major and continuous flows of sakti.

There is a third option that I briefly alluded to when I mentioned that Bhagavan would cease shaking his head when he went into samadhi. This seemed to ‘ground’ the energy in some way and, as Krishnamurti Iyer reported, instead of having a deleterious effect on his body, it was actually good for Bhagavan’s health:

N. R. Krishnamurti Iyer: It is clear that Bhagavan, out of his infinite mercy and grace, cures even the fatal diseases of his devotees. Does not Bhagavan’s body suffer on that account?

Bhagavan: (speaking in English) Yes and no.

N. R. Krishnamurti Iyer: Please, Bhagavan, explain in more detail.

Bhagavan: The mukta purusha [liberated being] does not need his body once he has realised the Self. However, so long as he stays alive, he has the power to drain off devotees’ illnesses into his own body. That is why his body suffers for the time being. That is what is meant by the answer ‘yes’.

If he retires into the solitude of a quiet corner and remains in kevala nirvikalpa samadhi, completely oblivious of the body-world complex, the disease received in the body gets dissipated. When he returns to his body consciousness the body is cured and restored to its original health. The duration of that samadhi should be in adequate proportion to the seriousness of the disease concerned.

Sri Sankara Bhagavatpada, who attained Self-realisation at a very young age with a very healthy and strong body, was engaged in ceaseless activity in the state of sahaja samadhi. Out of his infinite mercy he gave relief to hosts of suffering people who came to him with all sorts of serious diseases. He was continuously active, day and night, and never cared to recoup his health by retiring into the solitude of kevala nirvikalpa samadhi. As a result he gave up his body while he was in his early thirties. (The Power of the Presence, part one, pp. 172-3)


* * *

In The Power of the Presence I added the following three paragraphs of my own as a footnote to this story:

In the period that Bhagavan lived in Skandashram he went into a deep samadhi almost every day, usually during the daily evening chanting of Aksharamanamalai. He would be so deeply immersed in this state, the devotees would find it difficult to rouse him for the evening meal. In Enadu Ninaivugal Kunju Swami has related how devotees would shake him and blow a conch in his ear to bring him back to normal. When Bhagavan moved down the hill to Sri Ramanasramam, the frequency of these samadhis decreased, and devotees who were in regular contact with him at the end of the 1920s have reported that such instances were down to about two a week. In the 1930s they occurred more rarely. In the last fifteen years of his life such samadhis are not reported, though there are frequent mentions of Bhagavan going into a state of deep absorption in the Self. At these times he would sit with open unblinking eyes, utterly immobile.

Up till the mid-1930s Bhagavan appeared to be in vigorous, robust health. In film footage taken in 1935, the earliest available, he looks his age (mid-fifties) and appears to be in a good physical state. In films taken at the end of his life his body looks crippled and feeble, and he appears to be a man who is well into his eighties, rather than a man approaching seventy.

In the light of what Bhagavan told Krishnamurti Iyer in this conversation, it is tempting to relate Bhagavan’s good physical condition prior to 1935 to the samadhis that he regularly went into. However, it should also be remembered that visitors and devotees came to him in far fewer numbers during this period. It is possible that his accelerated aging between 1935 and 1950 was due to the far greater numbers of people he had to deal with every day.

One should also remember that this third course (going into samadhi) is not an ‘option’ for a jnani who wants to process energies of this kind. The jnani’s body has a prarabdha that may or may not include going into samadhi; it is not something the jnani himself can choose to do or avoid doing.

I should now like to introduce Papaji to this survey of opinions on ‘the power to enlighten’. At the beginning of this post I gave two quotations from Annamalai Swami and Lakshmana Swami that listed their differing views on how jnanis accumulated the power to become Gurus. Papaji did not subscribe to either of these viewpoints. He maintained that jnanis do not become Gurus with the power to enlighten by doing tapas that includes a desire to help others (Annamalai Swami) or by sitting quietly after realisation and accumulating a store of power that can be used to help devotees (Lakshmana Swamy). Papaji instead maintained that if the Self wants a jnani to become a Guru, it gives him the necessary power and authority to do the job. That power does not have to be earned by prior tapas. I had a dialogue with Papaji on this subject in the early 1990s. I knew that Papaji felt that Gurus are given power and authority by the Self, so I played ‘devil’s advocate’ by suggesting to him more than once that Gurus had to learn how to enlighten people by trial and error. I took this position because I wanted to introduce several incidents from Bhagavan’s own life into the conversation since it might be possible to interpret them in such a light. The following very interesting dialogue ensued:

David: Based on what I have read about Sri Ramana Maharshi, and based on what little I know about your own teaching career, it seems to me that one learns to be a Guru by trial and error. That is to say, enlightenment may be there, the power to wake others up may be there, but the effective use of this power requires some practice and experience. Do you agree?

Papaji: No, I don’t. A Guru does not need to practise. Gurus are born with the ability to teach. Take … Krishna, for example. He was sent to school at the age of six to be taught by his Guru, but his Guru soon discovered that Krishna already knew all the things that he wanted to teach him. In this case the creator of the universe arranged for all the necessary knowledge to be implanted into Krishna’s brain. It is said that the goddesses of knowledge, prosperity and physical energy gave him everything he needed. He didn’t need to learn how to be a teacher, or practise his teachings skills. All the necessary knowledge and skill were there within in him, right from the beginning.

If you are destined to be a Guru, the Self automatically bestows on you all the necessary knowledge and power. It doesn’t send you to school to learn these things; it gives them to you directly…. So I don’t agree that one has to learn or practise anything in order to be a Guru.

Practice is for other professions. If you want to be a political leader, for example, you attach yourself to some political leader and learn all the tricks of the trade from him. But this kind of apprenticeship is not necessary for Gurus.

David: I thought that you would say something like this. Since you feel that Gurus don’t need to practise their art, I want to tell you a few incidents from Sri Ramana Maharshi’s life that seem to indicate the contrary. Perhaps you could comment on them. Shortly after his enlightenment, when he was still sixteen years old, Sri Ramana was sitting quietly at home with his eyes closed. A school friend asked him what he was doing, and he replied, ‘Meditating’.

The friend asked, ‘Can you show me how to do it?’ and Sri Ramana replied, ‘Yes. Sit down, close your eyes and I will show you.’ When the boy had closed his eyes, Sri Ramana put the blunt end of a pencil on his friend’s forehead, between the eyes, and pressed lightly for a few seconds. The boy was suddenly engulfed by a wave of fear and panic.


He jumped up and shouted, ‘You’re trying to kill me! I felt that I was dying! Don’t ever do that to me again!’

Sri Ramana had tried to give him an experience of the Self, but because of the boy’s immaturity, he only induced fear and panic instead. At sixteen years of age Sri Ramana clearly had an instinctive knowledge of how to wake people up, but lacking experience in its use, he didn’t know how much power he could safely transmit. This is one possible interpretation. What’s yours?

Papaji: You say that this is a case of immaturity. I agree, but the immaturity was in the boy who wanted the experience, not in the Maharshi. The Maharshi had the power to enlighten others at this young age, thus proving that the power is innate and not learned, but he couldn’t use it effectively because this boy had too many doubts and fears in his mind. The Maharshi never had any doubts or fears when the Self gave him that direct experience when he was the same age as this boy. The Self revealed itself to him, and he had absolute trust in that revelation. He didn’t doubt it, fear it, or try to escape from it. He surrendered to it and fully accepted it. That showed his spiritual maturity. His school friend, though, showed his unreadiness and his immaturity by panicking and running away from the same experience.

Though the Maharshi showed that he had the power to enlighten even at the age of sixteen, he had not yet assumed the role of Sadguru. That came later when he moved to Arunachala. Arunachala, his own Sadguru, then empowered him and gave him the grace to be a Sadguru in his own right.

David: The next incident I want to tell you is a very well-known one. It took place nineteen years later, in 1915. Sri Ramana’s attendant, Palaniswami, was dying and Bhagavan was trying to give him enlightenment before he died, or at the moment of his death. He put one hand on his head and the other on Palaniswami’s Heart-centre and kept them there until he thought that the individual self had been extinguished. Then, thinking that Palaniswami had realised the Self, he took away his hands. A few seconds later the ‘I’-thought reappeared, left the body through the eyes and, according to Sri Ramana, took rebirth in one of the deva realms.

In this case too there seems to have been a misjudgment of the amount of power that was transmitted. However, Bhagavan learned from the experience. When he tried the same technique on his mother while she was dying six years later, he kept his hands in place for a much longer period.

Afterwards he remarked, ‘I thought that she was liberated but, remembering what had happened in Palaniswami’s case, I kept my hands there for a few minutes longer’.

Doesn’t this story, and Bhagavan’s own comments on it, indicate that Bhagavan learned how to use this technique effectively by trial and error? Didn’t his inexperience with Palaniswami cause him to make a mistake with Palaniswami, and didn’t his failure in this particular case give him the experience to enlighten his mother a few years later?

Papaji: I don’t think that there was a misjudgment or a mistake in this case either. It was not the fault of the Maharshi that Palaniswami failed to realise the Self in his dying moments. I would say instead that the jivatma [individual self] of Palaniswami would not admit any interference from the Maharshi because it was not yet ready for enlightenment. For freedom one needs the grace of the Paramatman [Supreme Self]. And if the jivatman is not worthy, the Paramatman will not bestow that grace. Palaniswami had, by faithfully serving a Sadguru, earned enough merit to go to some heavenly world, but he had not earned the ultimate liberating grace of the Paramatman. That is why the Maharshi could not succeed with him.

On a superficial level it might look as if a mistake was made, but the Paramatman never makes mistakes. If the worthiness is there, freedom automatically comes. If it is not there, no amount of interference by the Guru can bring it about….

The Maharshi was one of those rare beings who, by grace, could transmit complete liberation to others. His mother and the cow Lakshmi received this ultimate gift of grace, as did others both known and unknown. (Nothing Ever Happened, volume three, pp. 351-356)

* * *

The next aspect of this intriguing subject that I want to discuss is: ‘How does the Guru choose whom to direct his power at, and does not the act of choosing suitable targets imply some kind of sankalpa in the Guru?’ First, I will give three explanations from Lakshmana Swamy:

Lakshmana Swamy: Why did Ramakrishna love Vivekananda more than any of his other devotees? If the jnani sees only the Self everywhere, how can he appear to treat one devotee differently from another? The same thing happened at Ramanasramam when Ramana Maharshi was alive. In the late 1940s many people noticed that Sri Ramana appeared to give G. V. Subbaramayya more love and grace than anyone else. How can this be so?

It is true that the jnani sees the Self in all devotees, but when he looks into a devotee’s eyes he also sees the devotee’s mind. If the jnani sees that there is great devotion or a pure mind free from thoughts, then the love and grace will start to flow towards that particular devotee. Not all devotees have reached the same stage of development, and so the love and grace are not equally distributed. Because of this the jnani may ignore some people and shower his grace on others. The same grace is available for all, but it cannot be given until the devotee starts to surrender his mind to the Self.

Very advanced devotees who have reached the effortless thought-free state do not even have to go to the jnani. The jnani will come and sit at their feet and give them enough grace to realise the Self. Such is the power of self-surrender. (No Mind – I am the Self, pp. 77-8)

Lakshmana Swamy: The Self or the Guru is an infinite ocean of grace. Ramana Maharshi has said that if you approach this ocean with a cup, you can only take away a cupful; if you come with a bucket, you can only take away a bucketful. The amount of grace which one receives is proportional to the degree to which one surrenders. If you surrender completely, then you will receive enough grace to realise the Self.

When the Guru looks into a devotee’s eyes, he is looking into the devotee’s mind to see how far it is humbling and surrendering itself to the Self. If the Guru sees that the devotee’s mind is quiet and humble, then the grace will automatically flow. (No Mind – I am the Self, p. 74)

Question: Does the grace of the Guru flow automatically or does the Guru exercise some control over who receives it and who does not?

Lakshmana Swamy: Grace is always flowing from the form of the Guru. If your mind is quiet you will automatically receive it. But if a Guru sees that a particular devotee is full of devotion or free from thoughts, he may respond to the devotee’s state of mind by increasing the flow of grace towards him. So you can say that grace is always flowing, but that sometimes the flow is increased because the Guru is deliberately projecting it. (No Mind – I am the Self, p. 61)


* * *

These explanations, and other similar ones, indicate that the ‘picking and choosing’ are not arbitrary, nor do they indicate that the Guru has a personal preference for one devotee over another. The flows of grace – seemingly directed in one direction but not another – are actually natural and automatic responses to the states of mind of the people who have entered the Guru’s presence, either mentally or physically. Annamalai Swami, speaking about his own experiences of being in Bhagavan’s presence, came to similar conclusions:

Annamalai Swami: If you enter a dark place with a lamp, light falls on everyone who is near you. You don’t have to tell people, ‘I have a light,’ because they will all be aware of its presence. In the presence of a jnani like Bhagavan the spiritual darkness of devotees is put to flight by the radiant light of jnana. In Bhagavan’s case this light cleaned and calmed the minds of those who were near him. When mature devotees basked in this light, they sometimes had an experience of the Self. The radiation of this spiritual power was Bhagavan’s mauna diksha [initiation through silence]. He radiated this power quite effortlessly. It was not done by an act of volition; it was a natural consequence of his realisation. Bhagavan didn’t need to speak about the Self. He was the Self, and he radiated its power all the time. Those who were receptive to this power needed no verbal explanations from Bhagavan. The spoken teachings were only for those who were not able to tune into his silent radiation. (Living by the Words of Bhagavan, p. 335)

* * *

I spoke to Papaji about these occasions when the Guru seems deliberately to choose to give a devotee a transmission of grace. Though he often appeared to do this himself, he dismissed the suggestion that there was any partiality or personal preference involved:

David: I want to ask you a few questions about sankalpa [will, intention, volition]. Ramana Maharshi often said that the Guru, like the sun, has no sankalpa. That he shines equally on all. That those who are ready for realisation get it, and those who are not do not. According to this explanation, the Guru does not pick and choose the recipients of his grace, he simply radiates it indiscriminately, and those who are mature enough benefit from it. This is a very simple and satisfying explanation, but it only seems to be half the truth … When [T. K. Sundaresa Iyer] wrote … ‘Grace is flowing over the sentient and the insentient,’ Bhagavan made him change it to ‘Grace is directed…’. You have also said that on many occasions in the past you deliberately tried to give certain people a direct experience of the Self. If the Guru really has no sankalpa, what is the explanation for the occasions when the Guru appears to pick ands choose the recipients of his grace?

Papaji: The Guru never picks out one person to be the recipient of his grace, nor does he reject anyone. When one is ready, one is automatically attracted to the light of the indwelling Atman. The light does not choose: when one is attracted to it, one automatically moves towards it. It is like the moth and the flame. The moth is attracted to the flame by its nature, not by any sankalpa that it has. There is no sankalpa in either the moth or the flame. It is the nature of the flame to burn, and it is nature of the moth to fly towards the light. Each is behaving according to its inherent nature. The candle stays still and burns brightly. It does not call the moth, but the moth flies towards it. The moth offers its form to the light, burns, and becomes the candle itself. (Nothing Ever Happened, volume three, p. 330)

* * *

When I did the editing and page-making for Nothing Ever Happened, I included a facsimile of an entry that Papaji made in his journal in 1983. It seems to summarise his position on this topic very elegantly.

In fact I do nothing to anyone.
Every soul receives what it deserves.
Since I am the source of consciousness,
I allow its desires to be fulfilled.
(Nothing Ever Happened, volume three, p. 336)

It is the experience of just about everyone who has sat with a great Guru that experiences happen, and that they seem very clearly to be instigated and executed by the Guru himself. How then can the Guru say, as Papaji says here: ‘In fact I do nothing to anyone. Every soul receives what it deserves?’

The solution to this apparent paradox – that the Guru says he does nothing yet clearly is giving experiences to the people around him – lies in what Bhagavan called the ‘sannidhi’ or ‘presence’. The Guru himself does nothing, but by abiding steadfastly in the Self, an energy or a presence is created that takes care of the needs and desires of the devotees who approach him. This was well explained by Bhagavan in a reply he gave to Narayana Iyer:

One day when I was sitting by the side of Sri Bhagavan, I felt so miserable that I put the following question to him: ‘Is the sankalpa [wish] of the jnani not capable of warding off the destinies of the devotees?’

Bhagavan smiled and said: ‘Does the jnani have a sankalpa at all? The jivanmukta can have no sankalpas whatsoever. It is just impossible.’

I continued: ‘Then, what is the fate of all of us who pray to you to have grace on us and save us? Will we not be benefited or saved by sitting in front of you or coming to you? What use is there then for family men like me to gain by coming here to you?’

Bhagavan turned graciously to me and said: ‘Just as a trouble (or arrow) that comes to destroy the head goes away carrying with it only the turban, so a person’s bad karma will be considerably reduced while he is in the presence of a jnani. A jnani has no sankalpa but his sannidhi [presence] is the most powerful force. He need not have sankalpa but his presiding presence, the most powerful force, can do wonders, save souls, give peace of mind, even liberation to ripe souls. Your prayers are not answered by him but absorbed by his presence. His presence saves you, wards off the karma and gives you the boons as the case may be, involuntarily. The jnani does save the devotees, but not by sankalpa, which is non-existent in him, only through his presiding presence, sannidhi.’ (The Mountain Path, 1968 p. 236)

This reply has not, so far as I aware, been repeated anywhere else in the Ramana literature. It is undoubtedly a key passage on the nature of the Guru and the way that he functions and helps devotees. I once read out this statement by Bhagavan to Papaji and then asked him about the process by which desires are fulfilled in the Guru’s presence:

David: What about the statement that it is the sannidhi, the presence, that grants liberation, and not the Guru himself? When the Guru appears to wake someone up through a word or a look of grace, who or what is doing the work?

Papaji: … Whenever you go near a saint, whatever desire you have in your mind will be fulfilled. If your desire is for liberation, and if you have that desire in the sannidhi, the presence of the Guru, it has to be fulfilled. But it will only work if you are in the presence of a man who is himself completely desireless. There is nothing that cannot be fulfilled if you are in the presence of a man who himself has no desire.

When I was at Ramanasramam in the 1940s I used to spend hours looking at the Maharshi’s eyes. They would be open and staring, but not focused on anything. Though his eyes were open, they were not seeing anything. Those eyes were completely free of thoughts and desires. The mind is revealed very clearly in the eyes, but in those eyes there was nothing at all to see. In all the hours that I concentrated on those eyes I didn’t once even see a flicker of a thought or a desire. I have not seen utterly desireless eyes like his on any other face. I have seen many great saints during my life, but no one has impressed me as much as the Maharshi did.

If you want freedom, find a man like this who has absolutely no desire, someone who sits unmoving like a mountain. Sit in his presence and see what happens.

You want to know who or what is doing the work when someone gets enlightened in the Guru’s presence. Nobody is doing the work. Enlightenment happens in these circumstances merely because the Guru is abiding in a state of absolute desirelessness. (Nothing Ever Happened, volume three, pp. 337-8)

* * *

Papaji had his own rather amusing variation on this ‘sannidhi takes care of everything’ story. This is how he once explained it to me:
I have a very efficient secretary. I call her ‘Miss Peace’. When people come to satsang, she inspects their minds as they sit there. She finds out what they want or need, and arranges for them to get it. Though she can help anyone with their desires, she is actually looking for pure minds to give herself to. If she finds worthy people, those people experience peace and even become peace itself. She doesn’t bother to tell me what she is doing. She doesn’t need to. She just gets on with her work.
Like a lot of employees, she tries to impress her boss by working hard when I am around. But when I am not there, she tends to slack off a bit. That’s why I have to turn up and sit in Satsang Bhavan [the place where Papaji gave satsang every morning] because if I didn’t come, she wouldn’t do so much. My physical presence is needed there to make her work properly. It doesn’t really matter what I do while I am there because she is actually doing all the work. I can answer questions, give people advice, tell them to do enquiry, or ask them to sing a song. It’s not important what I do. The important thing is that while I sit there, seemingly occupying myself with devotees’ affairs, Miss Peace is actually taking care of all their needs and desires.
This seeming activity that appeared on the substratum of actionless immobility was summed up in an elegantly phrased entry in Papaji’s 15th February 1983 journal: ‘He whose work has ceased with the dawn of knowledge does not find an opportunity to do or say anything, even though in ordinary people’s eyes he is doing work.’

I have not so far quoted much material from Bhagavan himself since he didn’t have a lot to say about the way that the Guru used power to help devotees and bring out their liberation. However, there is one key story in which Bhagavan does explain how the Guru uses his power, and what the limits of that power are. It is T. K. Sundaresa Iyer’s captivating narrative, entitled ‘A Walk to the Lake’, which appears in his memoir At the Feet of Bhagavan. Here is the story in full:

The Samudram Lake at the foot of Arunachala Hill near Sri Ramanasramam is very extensive; neither summer rains nor winter monsoons in Tiruvannamalai fill this lake save once in a way, when it overflows.

Thus it overflowed once long years ago. The sight of it was very grand, and the outflow was as wide as a river. The tank really seemed that day like the ocean of its name (Samudram). Bhagavan told us that it held this name because a certain local ruler had this tank constructed as a miniature sea to give his queen an idea of what a sea would look like; for she had never seen the sea and wished to do so.

People thronged to look at the overflowing lake, and then came to Bhagavan to talk about it. One morning the devotees in the hall expressed to Bhagavan a desire to visit the lake, and he was kind enough, human enough, to accept the suggestion; so we all went for a stroll to see it. The tank bund is about a mile long; we walked about a mile from the ashram to the tank, and then the whole length of the bund. The presence of Bhagavan with us, and his words, were more interesting to us than the brimming tank and the grand view of the wide waters at the foot of holy Arunachala.

Bhagavan talked of many things on that walk with us, but at this distance of time I remember only two topics that interested me.

At one place he pointed out a palmyra tree which had decayed in the embrace of a parasitic banyan tree. Some bird had dropped a banyan seed into the palmyra, and as it began to grow the palmyra became cloven and stunted in its own growth. Drawing our attention to this phenomenon, Bhagavan remarked that this is just what the look of grace from a jnani does. One look into a soul, and the whole tree of past tendencies and prejudices (vasanas), gathered up through long cycles of past births, is burned up and decays away. Then the reality of the Self is experienced. Thus he explained to us the effect of contact with the great and he said the supreme jnana obtained with the touch of the saint can never be won through the study of any number of scriptures, or by any store of good deeds, or by any other spiritual practices and efforts. Later, on return to the ashram, I put this in verse form as below:

A bird drops seed upon a tree and causes its decay. So Guru’s grace rays knowledge into the seeking mind. Replacing ego-shadows with resplendent jnana’s light.

The point of this verse, brought out fully in the Tamil, is that made by Bhagavan himself. The seed of the huge banyan tree, which grows to shelter hundreds, is one of the tiniest and represents unselfish benevolence. The seed of the palmyra which is so large, grows into a tree which can hardly shelter a single man from the sun, and so well represents the selfish ego. Yet this tiny seed can be dropped by a bird in its droppings, and while it grows it can demolish the palmyra tree itself. So the tiny seed of grace can destroy the great tree of egoism.

Then when we actually came to the overflowing outlet at the end of the lake, we all marvelled at its width. We stayed there for some time, and then returned.

On the return walk we happened to pass the sluice at the centre of the bund. Pointing to this, Bhagavan remarked: ‘Look at this small outlet, as compared with the big one at the end! But for this small hole, through which the stream of water trickles, the vast contents of the lake would not be helpful to vegetation. If the bund breaks it will be a regular deluge, and the entire crop will be destroyed. Only if the water be served under proper regulation through this sluice are the plants helped to grow. So too is it with the divine consciousness. Unless the bliss of this consciousness is gifted through the grace of the Guru in controlled outlets, the soul cannot be helped to the destruction of its tendencies of the past; for in this way the Self, abiding as such in its oneness with the divine, is established in the Guru’s state of being. Holding on to its being-consciousness, the work of destroying the past (vasanas) proceeds as and when thoughts arise to push the mind into action. This work becomes possible only in the proximity of the Guru. Hence the Guru is himself like the sluice and irrigates souls with grace from his ocean of kindness, needed so that the Self may abide and the old tendencies be withered away. But if the bund is broken, the full force of the whole lake rushes through and sweeps everything before it. This resembles a practitioner (sadhaka) receiving the full force of divine consciousness without the intervening and mitigating grace of Guru’s sluice; he dies without the benefit of having the tendencies destroyed.’

This idea too I later put down in the form of a Tamil verse to this effect:

Water flowing through a channel carries off great heaps of sand;

So mountain masses of the ego are washed away by grace.


* * *

Before I continue with a few comments on Bhagavan’s remarks, I will add a few pictures and photos to illustrate T. K. Sundaresa Iyer’s narrative. I live quite close to the end of the Samudram dam that Bhagavan walked along in 1931. This is a photo of the overflowing lake that one of my sisters took when she visited me in 2005. In the last eleven years (the time I have been in this neighbourhood) the lake has overflowed three times. Most years the winter rains fill the lake to about half or three-quarters of its capacity.



The trees in the background on the top of the dam are the palmyra trees that Bhagavan spoke about. They are native palm trees that thrive anywhere. Their trunks are used as roof beams. In Living by the Words of Bhagavan Annamalai Swami narrated an incident in which Bhagavan told him to use palmyra beams for his roof, adding that the roof in his own childhood house had been supported by them. The leaves of the palmyra are woven into a kind of thatch and used for roofing; there is also a juice that is secreted by the trunks that is used to make alcoholic drinks. Fermented for a day it turns into ‘toddy’, a beer-like beverage, and distilled it becomes ‘arrack’. The fruits (nongu) are also eaten. There a few stories in the ashram literature of people offering them to Bhagavan.

The next photo is of the banyan tree that Bhagavan pointed out. The Samudram Lake bed, seen to the left of the tree, is currently dry. In most years it starts to fill at the beginning of the winter monsoon season. By March or April it is usually dry again.




The following photo is of the same banyan tree, taken from the bottom of the bole, looking up. You can just make out the trunk of the original palmyra tree (the straight, long, cylindrical object) shooting vertically out of the centre. Its crown is obscured by the higher leaves of the banyan tree. The banyan tree would have been a lot smaller in 1931 when Bhagavan saw it and commented on it. When I first saw this tree about thirty years ago and realised that it must be the tree that Bhagavan commented on, the crown of the palmyra tree was still sticking out of the top of the banyan tree.



Samudram is, as I remarked earlier, currently empty. This is a photo of Arunachala and the dry lake bed I took about three days ago from a rock just next to the sluice gate. We are in the middle of a serious drought at the moment, so much so that water is only coming down the government taps for about an hour a day. The hydo-electric turbines in many of South India's dams have been turned off to save water, so we are not getting much electricity either.



Now I will go back to the ‘power of the Guru’ discussion.

Bhagavan’s statement that the power of the Guru would kill devotees, without enlightening them, if it was unleashed at full strength was echoed in a reply that Lakshmana Swamy once gave:

Many devotees ask, ‘Why can’t you give us all the infinite grace of the Self and give us all Self-realisation? This is not possible because the minds of such people are not pure or humble enough. If a Guru gives a large amount of grace to such people, the shock will kill them. Imagine a car going at top speed. If the car suddenly hits an obstacle and stops, the occupants will all be killed. The mind is like a car; to stop it suddenly is dangerous. Meditation applies the brakes to the mind. Unless he has purified and slowed his mind by meditation, the devotee cannot safely receive the full force of the Guru’s grace. (No Mind – I am the Self, pp. 74-5)

I mentioned the comments Bhagavan made on his walk to Samudram Lake to Papaji. An interesting dialogue ensued:

David: In 1931 Bhagavan was taken to see a local dam that was overflowing at one end… On his way back to the ashram Bhagavan pointed out the sluice gates and commented, ‘The grace of the Guru is like this large lake. If the water is given out in measured quantities, it can irrigate many fields and be of benefit to anyone.’

Then, pointing to the floodwaters, he added, ‘But if it goes out uncontrolled, it only causes destruction. The full force of the Guru’s grace would kill someone who was not ready for it. The body would die, but not the vasanas. The person would have to be born again. So, the Guru regulates the grace and only gives out what can be assimilated and used.’

Papaji: Yes, I agree with all this. The Guru can transmit an enormous amount of power and grace to a devotee, enough to kill the body, but not the latent tendencies in the mind. When the body dies, those pending latent tendencies will manifest in a new form…. There are limits to what a Guru can accomplish. These limits are not in the Self, for the Self is limitless. The power of the Self cannot work on an unreceptive mind. If the soil is not fertile, no amount of rain falling on the ground can make it grow. The rain cannot make crops grow in a barren land.

David: You yourself have experimented with this power and have found its limits. In one of the first conversations I had with you, you remarked, ‘I used to force people to have experiences of the Self, but I don’t do it any more’.

I said, ‘Why not? If you can see that someone is on the brink of getting it, don’t you want to give them a push?’

You replied, ‘I used to think like that, but not any more. I found that although I could give people these experiences, I couldn’t make them stick. When I stopped pushing, the mind just came back again. So now I don’t do it any more. I have come to realise that if the mind is not free from all vasanas, it will always reassert itself later.’

Papaji: Yes, this is true. I used to force some people to have experiences, but I don’t do it any more. I can give this experience to anyone for a short time, but it is not within my power to make the experience stay. One who has been granted this experience by the Guru has to guard it himself till the end of his life.

If one who is not free from vasanas is pushed into having a direct experience, that experience will not stay. The mind of such a person will eventually come back with all its former force.

David: Both you and Ramana Maharshi experimented with various types of transmission. The conversation I just mentioned, in which you said that you used to force people to have experiences, is an example of your own experimentation. My question is, why does the Self need to experiment with different techniques to wake people up? If the individual self vanishes completely after enlightenment, why doesn’t the Self take over and function perfectly, without apparent mistakes and failed experiments.

Papaji: The Self does not have any techniques to wake people up. There are no experiments taking place. From the standpoint of the Self there is no one who has awakened, and no one who is still asleep. I have already said, ‘The Self never makes mistakes because there is nothing with which it can make a mistake’. The Katha Upanishad says:
The Self reveals itself to itself. You cannot attain it by learning, nor by hearing about it from anyone; nor by yoga, not by concentration, not by charity, not by progeny. I reveal myself to him whom I choose.

If there are worthiness and holiness, the Self will reveal itself. If there are not, it will not. Experiments and mistakes belong to the mind, not the Self. (Nothing Ever Happened, volume three, pp. 358-60)

* * *

And that, I think, is the point at which I will stop my ruminations. When I started this blog I said that ‘I propose to use this blog primarily to air my occasional musings on any matters relating to the life and teachings of Ramana Maharshi’. Today was a classic ‘musing’ day in so far as I aired a lot of ideas and opinions, some of which contradicted each other, without coming to any definite conclusions. I welcome any feedback on any of the issues I have raised.