Grace Is

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A devotee said to Bhagavan: Grace is necessary for the removal of ignorance.

 

Sri Ramana replied: Certainly. But Grace is there all along. Grace is the

Self. All that is necessary is to know its existence..........

>From teachings of Bhagavan Sri Ramana in his own words..........Edited by

Aurthur Osborne.

 

Aurthur Osborne was a great devotee of Sri Ramana and his understanding of

Bhagavan's teachings is unsurpassed. I have posted the following before

about Aurthur Osborne. It is a beautiful and deeply moving account of how he

met Bhagavan and became a devotee. The new members will enjoy reading it

again.

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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