Fw:Louis Hartz - How I Met The Maharshi

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- viorica weissman

SriArunachala ; RamanaMaharshi ; NamoRamana ; MillionPaths

Thursday, June 13, 2002 9:19 AM

[MillionPaths] Louis Hartz - How I Met The Maharshi

How I Met The MaharshiBy Louis Hartz

www.ramana-maharshi.org

I met Arthur Osborne in an internment camp in Bangkok during the

second world war. At first I had little contact with him because he

was very reserved. After some time, however, I approached him. I had

a craving to understand and asked him point blank what is Truth. What

sticks in my memory is how, sitting beside his bed in the common

dormitory, he said. "I will tell you one truth - Infinity minus X is

a contradiction in terms because by the exclusion of X the first term

ceases to be infinite. You grant that?" Yes, I granted that.

"Well, then," he said, "think of God as Infinity and yourself as X and

try to work it out." When I asked for more explanation he just said:

"Think this over and come tomorrow at this time and tell me what you

make of it."

I returned to my place in the dormitory, which was only some eight or

ten steps distant, and suddenly it flashed upon me that he was right,

that you cannot take anything away from the Infinite, and that I was

not apart from it, only I had not known.

The thought made me so happy that I could hardly wait to speak to him

next day, but I did not like to disturb him earlier.

>From that time onward he started to instruct me and after a few weeks

he showed me a photograph of the Maharshi. There was an urgency in

his voice as he spoke of him and he handled the photograph with

reverence. I began to understand that there was only one 'I' and that

it was in me and was everywhere.

The Maharshi grew so much in my heart that I felt him nearer to me

than my parents or my wife. He lived more vividly in me than any

person I had known. After some time we received permission to write a

Red Cross letter to our families and I used mine to write to the

Maharshi and ask him for guidance.

Then the war ended and I left camp. The desire to enjoy life sprang up in me again,

I was strongly drawn to the spiritual path but even more strongly for

the time being to a worldly life. I wanted to make money, to have

power and fine clothes, to be important. In camp I had eliminated

day-dreaming as far as possible. When I went to bed at night I slept

straight away. But now my nights were often filled with planning and

scheming.

A few years later, when I was in Europe and due to return to Siam on

business, I wrote to Osborne, who was living at Tiruvannamalai, to

suggest that I should break my journey in India and stay there for a

few days. He at once wrote back arranging to meet me and conduct me

there and inviting me to stay at his house.

In Madras we hired a car and drove to Tiruvannamalai. It was an old

car and I felt that I was being slowly roasted in the midday heat.

When I let my eyes rest on the sun-baked scenery or the country folk

sheltering under the wayside trees I saw only the face of the

Maharshi looming up before me. Nothing else registered.

I was terribly scared that the Maharshi would look in my eyes and see

into me. I cursed myself for a fool for coming to this desolate

place, with its heat and discomfort. I don't know what prevented me

turning back; perhaps I was afraid to show Osborne what a coward I

was. The nearer we approached the Ashram the more I shrank from

meeting the Maharshi.

It was nearly dusk when we arrived and he had already retired, but

Osborne went in to see him and asked whether he would see me for a

few moments. I entered the hall and saw an elderly man reclining on a

couch, who gave the impression of great reserve and a certain shyness.

It was not the severe Master or the Guru with the burning eyes that I

had expected. Osborne explained who I was, and his replies were,

monosyllabic and sometimes in Tamil. With a slow movement of the head

he turned to me and held my eyes for a moment. His eyes were like

empty, bottomless pools and at the same time they worked like magic

mirrors, because suddenly I felt at peace as though I had come home

after a long journey.

I can't recall where I slept that night, but I do remember that before

going to bed I sat and talked with a number of people, Indians and

foreigners, at Osborne's place. One of them was a diplomat from some

European country, stationed in China. He talked about seeing spirits

and even conversing with them, and it struck me as funny that anyone

should be interested in such things at a place like this.

Sitting in the hall next day I saw that the Maharshi's smile was

tender and gracious. I not only lost my fears but felt at ease. I had

no questions to ask. Before coming I had prepared a number of

questions that had been worrying me to ask the Maharshi, but now I

couldn't remember them. My doubts had simply evaporated. Questions

seemed unimportant.

I felt that there was nothing strange about the Maharshi. He was just

a man who was himself, whereas all of us were growing away from

ourselves. He was natural; it was we who were not. We call him a

saint or sage, but I felt that to be like him is the inheritance of

everybody; only we throw it away.

There were a lot of people in the hall Indians and foreigners, learned

professors and simple country people. I reminded the Maharshi about

the Red Cross letter I had sent him and he replied that he wanted me

to come and I had come. There was something childlike about him: he

was free and natural and could laugh with the spontaneity that only a

child shows.

A discussion started in the hall and they appealed to the Maharshi to

say who was right. Someone spoke about unity and I objected that the

word implied two to be united and that a better word was Oneness; and

the Maharshi confirmed this. He said that there is only One, and that

One is indivisible. I felt that he meant that the divisions are all

unreal, just as we say rain, ice, water, coffee-water, washing water,

but it is all water.

A group of devotees started singing and I asked the Maharshi what he

felt about it. He laughed and replied that it pleased them to sing

and made them feel peaceful.

Next morning again I sat in the hall. There was a yogi with matted

hair. The diplomat was there, sitting in concentrated thought. I

wondered whether I should imitate him, but I did not feel like

meditating. Suddenly the Maharshi looked at me with great intensity.

His eyes took possession of me. I don't know how long it lasted, but

I felt at ease and happy.

Afterwards a disciple who had been with him for twenty years told me

that this was the silent initiation. I felt that it probably was, but

I wanted to make sure, so in the hall that afternoon I said:

"Bhagavan, I want your initiation.."

And he replied: "You have it already."* ___________________________*

This is the only occasion on which I have ever known the Maharshi

give an express verbal confirmation of having given initiation to

anyone. It will be noted that the request was phrased in such a way

that the confirmation could be given without any statement implying

duality. (Editor)

Knowing myself and feeling anxious about what would happen when I left

his presence, I asked for some sort of reassurance from him, and he

replied very firmly and decisively: "Even if you let go of Bhagavan,

Bhagavan will never let go of you."

There was some whispering and exchange of glances when people heard

that. The diplomat whispered to a Muslim professor who was sitting

beside him and then the latter asked the Maharshi whether this

guarantee applied only to me or to him also. The Maharshi did not

look very pleased but replied briefly: "To all."

Nevertheless, I felt that there was something intensely personal in

it, that it had been a confirmation of the initiation and a direct,

personal guarantee of protection.

Certain it is that, whatever else may have happened, there has been no

day since then when his face or his words have not influenced me.

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[Guest guest]

on 6/13/02 5:52 AM, Gloria Lee at glee (AT) citlink (DOT) net wrote:

How I Met The Maharshi

By Louis Hartz

www.ramana-maharshi.org <http://www.ramana-maharshi.org>

=======

Thank you Gloria....wonder full story.

love,

Shawn