Ramana

[Guest guest]

No form he has, no name, no quality!

Still, there beside the holy Hill he dwells

In human form, known by the comely name of

RAMANA, marked by the primal power of

Love, with moist eyes showering grace for all

To see. The eternal Being whose brightness burns

To I-less nothingness obnoxious me.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sri Muruganar: Sri Ramana Deva Malai, v. 180

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Attachment: (image/jpeg) Bhagavan 1.4b.jpg [not stored]

[Guest guest]

, "jodyrrr" <jodyrrr> wrote:

>One wonders if Sri Muruganar was aware at the time

that the "obnoxious me" had labeled itself thus as

a stratagem of self-preservation.

 

 

 

 

It is not death that most fear, but life.

Life that seems to contradict the promises of

Happiness once intuited in youth's hopefulness.

Life forever isolated from the rest of life.

Life that seems to add up to zero.

Life that feels trapped in the

closed loop of the known, and of

all that seeks to be known.

Life that deteriorates daily,

diminishing inexorably, until

all that is left is the boredom

of drawing another meaningless breath,

teased by the rumor of the Beloved One,

just out of reach - forever

out of reach, apparently unmoved

by the heart pining for that healing Embrace.

For such, death indeed is not feared, but

welcomed, sought, and always found,

only to be usurped by yet another life of

confusion, negative fixation, and self-contempt,

perhaps tantalized by glimpses of the other, joyous

"lucky ones", so seemingly exempt from this life's agony,

and the bitterness becomes a cancer, and dark things

become imaginable, and Blessing seems a fiction,

and Love becomes distrusted, despaired of, and even despised,

and people are avoided, and daylight, and in the middle of the

night there are the inevitable tears, and the secret prayers,

never answered, and the self-loathing feeds upon itself,

and turns on those who cross its path, and the cancer

follows its inevitable course, and then there is the

final gasp, and then the wheel turns once again,

and the horror begins again, and again, and again, until

the struggle finally winds down into a sputtering flame,

and then there are only ashes -

yet from those ashes a spark arises, which

becomes a bonfire, which in turn illuminates an

unimaginably boundless Space, and

this Blaze never ends, for It is all this Life has

ever been about, this Conflagration of all known and

Resurrection into Mystery, and such Mercy

weaves and breathes within our chests right now, and so

this Gesture of our hands as we bow down to This!

 

LoveAlways,

 

b