Ramana Maharshi/Arthur Osborne

[Guest guest]

Hope you enjoy the reading.

Harsha

AS I SAW HIM - 9

By Arthur Osborne

In December of 1941, Arthur Osborne, a university lecturer in Siam,

was imprisoned by the Japanese. After three and a half long years,

the Japanese were defeated and he was released. He then traveled to

India and settled near Sri Ramanasramam, where his wife and children

were waiting for him.

He had heard of Ramana Maharshi, read his teachings and seen pictures

of him, but doubts remained whether the Maharshi was an actual Guru

who actively guided seekers to salvation. It wasn't long before this

doubt was cleared. He ultimately founded the ashram journal, The

Mountain Path, and left a unparalleled legacy of literature on the

Maharshi and his teachings.

Let us follow him as he tells how his heart and mind were joined to

the silent Sage of the holy Arunachala Mountain.

I ENTERED THE ASHRAM hall on the morning of my arrival, before

Bhagavan had returned from his daily walk on the hill. I was a little

awed to find how small it was and how close to him I should be

sitting; I had expected something grander and less intimate. And then

he entered and, to my surprise, there was no great impression;

certainly far less than his photographs had made. Just a

white-haired, very gracious man, walking a little stiffly from

rheumatism and with a slight stoop. As soon as he had eased himself

on to the couch he smiled to me and then turned to those around and

to my young son and said: "So Adam's prayer has been answered; his

Daddy has come back safely." I felt his kindliness, but no more. I

appreciated that it was for my sake that he had spoken English, since

Adam knew Tamil.

During the weeks that followed he was constantly gracious to me and

the strain of nerves and mind gradually relaxed but there was still

no dynamic contact until the evening of Karthikai when, each year, a

beacon is lit on the summit of Arunachala.

There were huge crowds for the festival and we were sitting in the

courtyard outside the hall. Bhagavan was reclining on his couch and I

was sitting in the front row before it. He sat up, facing me, and his

narrowed eyes pierced into me penetrating, intimate, with an

intensity I cannot describe. It was as though they said: "You have

been told; why have you not realized?" And then quietness, a depth of

peace, an indescribable lightness and happiness.

Thereafter love for Bhagavan began to grow in my heart and I felt his

power and beauty. Next morning, for the first time, sitting before

him in the hall, I tried to follow his teaching by using the vichara,

'Who am I?'. I thought it was I who had decided. I did not at first

realize that it was the initiation by look that had vitalized me and

changed my attitude of mind. Indeed, I had heard only vaguely of this

initiation and paid little heed to what I had heard. Only later did I

learn that other devotees also had had such an experience and that

with them also it had marked the beginning of active sadhana under

Bhagavan's guidance.

My love and devotion to Bhagavan deepened. I became aware of the

enormous grace of his presence. Even outwardly he was gracious to me,

smiling when I entered the hall, signing to me to sit where he could

watch me in meditation. His face was like the face of water, always

changing and yet always the same. He would be laughing and talking,

and then he would turn graciously to a small child or hand a nut to a

squirrel that hopped on to his couch from the window, or his radiant,

wide-open eyes would shine with love upon some devotee who had just

arrived or was taking leave. And then, in silence, a moment later,

his face would be rock-like, eternal in its grandeur.

He was unperturbed whatever happened; the majesty of his countenance

was inexpressible; and yet it is no less true that he was swift and

spontaneous in response and that his face was the most human, the

most living, one had ever seen. He attained Realization without

learning and never displayed erudition, and yet he made himself

better versed in the scriptures than the pundits who came to him for

elucidations. He was all compassion, and yet his countenance might

appear immovable, like stone. He was all love, and yet for weeks

together he might not favor a devotee with a single look or smile. He

replied to all graciously, and yet many trembled and feared to speak

to him. His features were not good and yet the most beautiful face

looked trivial beside him. He often appeared scarcely to notice

devotees, and yet his guidance was as unremitting then as it is now.

One day a sudden vivid reminder awoke in me: "The link with Formless

Being? But he is the Formless Being!" And I began to apprehend the

meaning of his Jnana and to understand why devotees addressed him

simply as 'Bhagavan', which is a word meaning God. The vichara, the

constant 'Who am I?', began to evoke an awareness of the Self as

Bhagavan outwardly and also simultaneously of the Self within.

Bhagavan sought to free us from psychic as well as physical desires,

and he therefore disapproved of all freakishness and eccentricity and

of all interest in visions and desire for powers. He liked his

devotees to behave in a normal and sane way, for he was guiding us

towards the ultimate Reality where perceptions and powers which men

call "higher" or "miraculous" are as illusory as those they call

"physical". A visitor once related how his Guru died and was buried

and then, three years later, returned in tangible bodily form to give

instructions. Bhagavan sat unheeding. It was as though he had not

heard. The bell rang for lunch and he rose to leave the hall. Only at

the doorway he turned and quoted:

"Though a man can enter ever so many bodies, does it mean that he has found his true Home?"

I observed that he shunned theoretical explanations and kept turning

the questioner to practical considerations of sadhana, of the path to

be followed. He never encouraged any to give up life in the world. He

explained that it would only be exchanging the thought "I am a

householder" for the thought "I am a sannyasin." Whereas what is

necessary is to reject the thought "I am the doer" completely and

remember only "I am"; and this can be done by the means of the

vichara as well in the city as in the jungle. It is only inwardly

that a man can leave the world by leaving the ego-sense; it is only

inwardly that he can withdraw into solitude by abiding in the

universal solitude of the heart, which is solitude only because there

are no others, however many forms the Self may assume.

Daily I sat in the hall before him. I asked no questions for the

theory had long been understood. I spoke to him only very

occasionally, about some personal matter. But the silent guidance was

continuous, strong and subtle. It may seem strange to modern minds,

but the Guru taught in silence. This did not mean that he was

unwilling to explain when asked; indeed, he would answer sincere

questions fully; what it meant was that the real teaching was not the

explanation but the silent influence, the alchemy worked in the heart.

 

I strove constantly by way of the vichara according to his

instructions. Having a strong sense of duty or obligation, I still

continued, side by side with it, to use other forms of sadhana which

I had undertaken before coming to Bhagavan, even though I now found

them burdensome and unhelpful. Finally I told Bhagavan of my

predicament and asked whether I could abandon them. He assented,

explaining that all other methods only lead up to the vichara.

Early in 1948 constant physical proximity had ceased to be necessary

and professional work had become urgently necessary. Work was found

in Madras. Thereafter I went to Tiruvannamalai only for weekends and

holidays, and each visit was revitalizing.

I was there at the time of one of the operations that Bhagavan

suffered and had darshan immediately after it, and the graciousness

of his reception melted the heart and awoke remorse to think how

great was the reward for so little effort made.

Toward the end, Bhagavan was aged far more than his years. He looked

more like ninety than seventy. In one who had a strong constitution,

who had scarcely known sickness except for the rheumatism of his last

years, and who was impervious to grief of worry, anxiety, hope or

regret, this would appear incredible; but it was the burden of his

compassion. "He who taketh upon himself the sins of the world."

Devotees came and sat before him, burdened with sorrows, tormented

with doubts, darkened with impurities, and, as they sat, felt

themselves free and lightened. How many have come and sat there

weighed down with the grief of failure or bereavement, and the light

of his eyes has dissolved their pain until they have felt a wave of

peace flood their heart. How many have come primed with questions

which seemed to them all-important and which their thought and

reading has failed to solve; it might be in desperate hope or as a

challenge that they brought the questions, but as they sat there the

questioning mind itself was brought to tranquility and the questions

faded out, no longer needing to be asked. And then, if they opened

their hearts, a deeper understanding was implanted there. Those who

sought refuge in him felt the burden of their karma lifted; and it

was he who bore the burden.

I was there that fateful April night of the body's death and felt a

calm beneath the grief and a wonder at the fortitude Bhagavan had

implanted in his devotees to bear their loss. Gradually one after

another began to discover in his heart the truth that Bhagavan had

not gone away but, as he promised, is still here.

Since that day his presence in the heart has been more vital, the

outpouring of his Grace more abundant, his support more powerful. I

have been to Tiruvannamalai since then also, and the Grace that

emanates from the tomb is the Grace of the living Ramana.

I have not given a clear picture of the man who was Ramana, but how

can one portray the universal? What impressed one was his complete

unself-consciousness like that of a little child, his Divinity and

intense humanity.

We shall not see the Divine Grace in human form or the love shining in

his eyes, but in our hearts he is with us and will not leave us. His

Grace continues to be poured out, not only on those who knew the

miracle of his bodily form, but on all who turn to him in their

hearts, now as before.

>From Ramana-Arunachala by Arthur Osborne

[Guest guest]

, "Harsha" <harsha-hkl@h...> wrote:

> Hope you enjoy the reading.

> Harsha

 

Dearest Harshaji,

 

This story is one that I enjoyed so much that I shared it often with

my friends who had an interest. I have the copy still, that you

posted many months ago. Thank you for this wonderful story again. I

always visualize Sri Ramana's hands and am filled with tenderness. I

visualize Sri Bhagavan's eyes, and am filled with love.

 

With Love,

Mazie

>

> AS I SAW HIM - 9

>

> By Arthur Osborne

>

> In December of 1941, Arthur Osborne, a university lecturer in

Siam, was

> imprisoned by the Japanese. After three and a half long years, the

Japanese

> were defeated and he was released. He then traveled to India and

settled

> near Sri Ramanasramam, where his wife and children were waiting for

him.

>

> He had heard of Ramana Maharshi, read his teachings and seen

pictures of

> him, but doubts remained whether the Maharshi was an actual Guru who

> actively guided seekers to salvation. It wasn't long before this

doubt was

> cleared. He ultimately founded the ashram journal, The Mountain

Path, and

> left a unparalleled legacy of literature on the Maharshi and his

teachings.

>

> Let us follow him as he tells how his heart and mind were joined

to the

> silent Sage of the holy Arunachala Mountain.

>

> I ENTERED THE ASHRAM hall on the morning of my arrival, before

Bhagavan

> had returned from his daily walk on the hill. I was a little awed

to find

> how small it was and how close to him I should be sitting; I had

expected

> something grander and less intimate. And then he entered and, to my

> surprise, there was no great impression; certainly far less than his

> photographs had made. Just a white-haired, very gracious man,

walking a

> little stiffly from rheumatism and with a slight stoop. As soon as

he had

> eased himself on to the couch he smiled to me and then turned to

those

> around and to my young son and said: "So Adam's prayer has been

answered;

> his Daddy has come back safely." I felt his kindliness, but no

more. I

> appreciated that it was for my sake that he had spoken English,

since Adam

> knew Tamil.

>

> During the weeks that followed he was constantly gracious to me

and the

> strain of nerves and mind gradually relaxed but there was still no

dynamic

> contact until the evening of Karthikai when, each year, a beacon is

lit on

> the summit of Arunachala.

>

> There were huge crowds for the festival and we were sitting in the

> courtyard outside the hall. Bhagavan was reclining on his couch and

I was

> sitting in the front row before it. He sat up, facing me, and his

narrowed

> eyes pierced into me penetrating, intimate, with an intensity I

cannot

> describe. It was as though they said: "You have been told; why have

you not

> realized?" And then quietness, a depth of peace, an indescribable

lightness

> and happiness.

>

> Thereafter love for Bhagavan began to grow in my heart and I felt

his

> power and beauty. Next morning, for the first time, sitting before

him in

> the hall, I tried to follow his teaching by using the vichara, 'Who

am I?'.

> I thought it was I who had decided. I did not at first realize that

it was

> the initiation by look that had vitalized me and changed my

attitude of

> mind. Indeed, I had heard only vaguely of this initiation and paid

little

> heed to what I had heard. Only later did I learn that other

devotees also

> had had such an experience and that with them also it had marked the

> beginning of active sadhana under Bhagavan's guidance.

>

> My love and devotion to Bhagavan deepened. I became aware of the

enormous

> grace of his presence. Even outwardly he was gracious to me,

smiling when I

> entered the hall, signing to me to sit where he could watch me in

> meditation. His face was like the face of water, always changing

and yet

> always the same. He would be laughing and talking, and then he

would turn

> graciously to a small child or hand a nut to a squirrel that hopped

on to

> his couch from the window, or his radiant, wide-open eyes would

shine with

> love upon some devotee who had just arrived or was taking leave.

And then,

> in silence, a moment later, his face would be rock-like, eternal in

its

> grandeur.

>

> He was unperturbed whatever happened; the majesty of his

countenance was

> inexpressible; and yet it is no less true that he was swift and

spontaneous

> in response and that his face was the most human, the most living,

one had

> ever seen. He attained Realization without learning and never

displayed

> erudition, and yet he made himself better versed in the scriptures

than the

> pundits who came to him for elucidations. He was all compassion,

and yet his

> countenance might appear immovable, like stone. He was all love,

and yet for

> weeks together he might not favor a devotee with a single look or

smile. He

> replied to all graciously, and yet many trembled and feared to

speak to him.

> His features were not good and yet the most beautiful face looked

trivial

> beside him. He often appeared scarcely to notice devotees, and yet

his

> guidance was as unremitting then as it is now.

>

> One day a sudden vivid reminder awoke in me: "The link with

Formless

> Being? But he is the Formless Being!" And I began to apprehend the

meaning

> of his Jnana and to understand why devotees addressed him simply as

> 'Bhagavan', which is a word meaning God. The vichara, the

constant 'Who am

> I?', began to evoke an awareness of the Self as Bhagavan outwardly

and also

> simultaneously of the Self within.

>

> Bhagavan sought to free us from psychic as well as physical

desires, and

> he therefore disapproved of all freakishness and eccentricity and

of all

> interest in visions and desire for powers. He liked his devotees to

behave

> in a normal and sane way, for he was guiding us towards the

ultimate Reality

> where perceptions and powers which men call "higher"

or "miraculous" are as

> illusory as those they call "physical". A visitor once related how

his Guru

> died and was buried and then, three years later, returned in

tangible bodily

> form to give instructions. Bhagavan sat unheeding. It was as though

he had

> not heard. The bell rang for lunch and he rose to leave the hall.

Only at

> the doorway he turned and quoted:

>

> "Though a man can enter ever so many bodies, does it mean that he

has

> found his true Home?"

>

> I observed that he shunned theoretical explanations and kept

turning the

> questioner to practical considerations of sadhana, of the path to be

> followed. He never encouraged any to give up life in the world. He

explained

> that it would only be exchanging the thought "I am a householder"

for the

> thought "I am a sannyasin." Whereas what is necessary is to reject

the

> thought "I am the doer" completely and remember only "I am"; and

this can be

> done by the means of the vichara as well in the city as in the

jungle. It is

> only inwardly that a man can leave the world by leaving the ego-

sense; it is

> only inwardly that he can withdraw into solitude by abiding in the

universal

> solitude of the heart, which is solitude only because there are no

others,

> however many forms the Self may assume.

>

> Daily I sat in the hall before him. I asked no questions for the

theory

> had long been understood. I spoke to him only very occasionally,

about some

> personal matter. But the silent guidance was continuous, strong and

subtle.

> It may seem strange to modern minds, but the Guru taught in

silence. This

> did not mean that he was unwilling to explain when asked; indeed,

he would

> answer sincere questions fully; what it meant was that the real

teaching was

> not the explanation but the silent influence, the alchemy worked in

the

> heart.

>

> I strove constantly by way of the vichara according to his

instructions.

> Having a strong sense of duty or obligation, I still continued,

side by side

> with it, to use other forms of sadhana which I had undertaken

before coming

> to Bhagavan, even though I now found them burdensome and unhelpful.

Finally

> I told Bhagavan of my predicament and asked whether I could abandon

them. He

> assented, explaining that all other methods only lead up to the

vichara.

>

> Early in 1948 constant physical proximity had ceased to be

necessary and

> professional work had become urgently necessary. Work was found in

Madras.

> Thereafter I went to Tiruvannamalai only for weekends and holidays,

and each

> visit was revitalizing.

>

> I was there at the time of one of the operations that Bhagavan

suffered

> and had darshan immediately after it, and the graciousness of his

reception

> melted the heart and awoke remorse to think how great was the

reward for so

> little effort made.

>

> Toward the end, Bhagavan was aged far more than his years. He

looked more

> like ninety than seventy. In one who had a strong constitution, who

had

> scarcely known sickness except for the rheumatism of his last

years, and who

> was impervious to grief of worry, anxiety, hope or regret, this

would appear

> incredible; but it was the burden of his compassion. "He who taketh

upon

> himself the sins of the world."

>

> Devotees came and sat before him, burdened with sorrows,

tormented with

> doubts, darkened with impurities, and, as they sat, felt themselves

free and

> lightened. How many have come and sat there weighed down with the

grief of

> failure or bereavement, and the light of his eyes has dissolved

their pain

> until they have felt a wave of peace flood their heart. How many

have come

> primed with questions which seemed to them all-important and which

their

> thought and reading has failed to solve; it might be in desperate

hope or as

> a challenge that they brought the questions, but as they sat there

the

> questioning mind itself was brought to tranquility and the

questions faded

> out, no longer needing to be asked. And then, if they opened their

hearts, a

> deeper understanding was implanted there. Those who sought refuge

in him

> felt the burden of their karma lifted; and it was he who bore the

burden.

>

> I was there that fateful April night of the body's death and felt

a calm

> beneath the grief and a wonder at the fortitude Bhagavan had

implanted in

> his devotees to bear their loss. Gradually one after another began

to

> discover in his heart the truth that Bhagavan had not gone away

but, as he

> promised, is still here.

>

> Since that day his presence in the heart has been more vital, the

> outpouring of his Grace more abundant, his support more powerful. I

have

> been to Tiruvannamalai since then also, and the Grace that emanates

from the

> tomb is the Grace of the living Ramana.

>

> I have not given a clear picture of the man who was Ramana, but

how can

> one portray the universal? What impressed one was his complete

> unself-consciousness like that of a little child, his Divinity and

intense

> humanity.

>

> We shall not see the Divine Grace in human form or the love

shining in his

> eyes, but in our hearts he is with us and will not leave us. His

Grace

> continues to be poured out, not only on those who knew the miracle

of his

> bodily form, but on all who turn to him in their hearts, now as

before.

>

> From Ramana-Arunachala by Arthur Osborne

[Guest guest]

 

sraddha54 [sraddha54]

S

, "Harsha" <harsha-hkl@h...> wrote:

> Hope you enjoy the reading.

> Harsha

 

Dearest Harshaji,

 

This story is one that I enjoyed so much that I shared it often with

my friends who had an interest. I have the copy still, that you

posted many months ago. Thank you for this wonderful story again. I

always visualize Sri Ramana's hands and am filled with tenderness. I

visualize Sri Bhagavan's eyes, and am filled with love.

 

With Love,

Mazie

 

Thanks Mazieji!

 

I love the Ramana stories and repeat them every so often. Did you read the

Annamalai Swami story I sent right afterwards? I love the part where Sri

Ramana says to Yogi Ramiah while he is speaking about Annamalai, "We have to

give him freedom!"

 

Later Sri Ramana is play acting that he is stoned and demonstrates how

stoned people behave and gives Annamalai Swami a hug for 2 minutes during

which Annamalai Swami loses consciousness. Soon after Annamalai Swami takes

leave of Ramana Ashram and lives like a recluse meditator nearby. Annamalai

Swami never entered Ramana Ashram after that and used to see Sri Ramana only

when the Sage took his walk outside the Ashram. That story always brings

tears to my eyes.

 

Love

Harsha

[Guest guest]

, "Harsha" <harsha-hkl@h...> wrote:

>

> sraddha54@h... [sraddha54@h...]

> S

> , "Harsha" <harsha-hkl@h...> wrote:

> > Hope you enjoy the reading.

> > Harsha

>

> Dearest Harshaji,

>

> This story is one that I enjoyed so much that I shared it often with

> my friends who had an interest. I have the copy still, that you

> posted many months ago. Thank you for this wonderful story again. I

> always visualize Sri Ramana's hands and am filled with tenderness. I

> visualize Sri Bhagavan's eyes, and am filled with love.

>

> With Love,

> Mazie

>

> Thanks Mazieji!

>

> I love the Ramana stories and repeat them every so often. Did you

read the Annamalai Swami story I sent right afterwards? I love the

part where Sri Ramana says to Yogi Ramiah while he is speaking about

Annamalai, "We have to give him freedom!"

>

> Later Sri Ramana is play acting that he is stoned and demonstrates

how stoned people behave and gives Annamalai Swami a hug for 2

minutes during which Annamalai Swami loses consciousness. Soon after

Annamalai Swami takes leave of Ramana Ashram and lives like a recluse

meditator nearby. Annamalai Swami never entered Ramana Ashram after

that and used to see Sri Ramana only when the Sage took his walk

outside the Ashram. That story always brings tears to my eyes.

>

> Love

> Harsha

 

Dearest Harshaji,

 

Yes, the story was wonderful and so touching about Annamali Swami.

It moved me deeply. My heart ached with longing and joy when Sri

Ramana said "We have to give him freedom." Sri Daya Mataji told us a

story about when she was living at the Ashram in Encinitas, CA.

Master, Sri Yoganandaji, was writing his book, "Autobiography of a

Yogi." Sri Daya Mata and her sister Sri Ananda Mata, were typing and

transcribing Master's notes til all hours. Master could work

tirelessly with no sleep. He slept very little. Sri Daya Mata was

thinking how much she loved Master, how glad she was to be with him,

by his side. After a while, Master started giving Sri Daya Mata no

end of lectures. He rebuked her for quite some time. She

thought, "Now, he wants me to learn something." She went out to the

bluff overlooking Swami's beach and sat under a lone palm, her heart

just aching at having displeased Master. (Of course, he wasn't REALLY

displeased). She had the determination, she said, of Lord Buddha when

he sat under the Bodhi tree. She said this: "Beneath this banyan

bough, I take the sacred vow, let derma, bones, body dissolve, until

the mystery of life I solve, from beneath this tree, I shall never be

free!" And she meditated late, long, and deeply. And of course she

got her answer. He was trying to turn her adoration, her devotion

towards God. He did not want her to lose her devotion at his feet. He

knew she was developing this attachment. At the very moment when

she "understood," Sister Gyanamata came out and said, "Oh, there you

are dear. Master wants to speak to you." As Sri Daya Mata entered the

hermitage, there was her beloved Gurudeva. He said to her, "Now you

understand."

 

With Love,

Mazie