God Shots

[Guest guest]

Dear Friends,

"Communication in silence was clearer than

any explanation in words could have been."

~ Walter Keers, about Sri Ramana

Here's something entirely clear and utterly miraculous in speaking in

its silence -- a most exquisite mushroom with a golden-orange bloom

on its blushing like a peach cheek -- God... miraculously lying in a

pine frond woven moment of an earth cradling gift basket, offering

and asking nothing and yet, still giving everything of itself to my

Heart's eyes, Love-struck eyes which see and say today:

"In Christ, I die daily."

More shots of God into the Heart's Ruby-Veined Arm are at this url:

http://www.1heart.us/gallery/album115

Click on slideshow in the upper right hand corner.

Ramana's silent transmission - Walter Keers

(Walter Keers: Light Itself, Blazing Light in: First meetings with Ramana

Maharshi)

"It was Roda MacIver who took me to him a few hours later.

When I saw him from afar, sitting on a chair in the little passage between

his room and the main hall, I started to tremble all over - not because of

nerves or uneasiness, but because of the shock of this confrontation. Here

I was but what on earth could this mean? 'I', this transparent thing - and

there, on that chair, Light Itself, radiant as I have never seen anything

or anyone.

Roda introduced me to him and Bhagavan looked at me. He hardly talked, but

his face, his presence, said: 'So, finally you're here!'

I was invited to sit down amongst a group of men, my back against the wall

opposite him. I looked, and looked, and looked. Long ago I had lost all

faith, all the belief of my childhood years. No God riding the clouds

anymore; no soul. And now, suddenly, here Light Itself, blazing Light,

going through me like X-rays.

Bhagavan seemed at the same time completely unconcerned, looking around,

smiling at the squirrels that ran up and down the trees; exchanging a few

words with his attendants; dozing off now and then for half a minute; then

immediately and fully awake, looking, not at you but into you, casually

like one looks into a street, without effort, but seeing in one glance

right to the other end and taking note of all that happens in one glance;

and then again rubbing his head with his long fingers.

"To me, those first days were the fulfillment of everything I had ever

hoped to find - as a matter of fact, it was much more than that. I knew in

the most lucid, radiant moments of my heart that it would never have been

possible to imagine even a portion of this blazing Presence that radiated

through everything and took me beyond the phenomenal.

On the second or third day, I had to laugh about the absurdity that had

been my life before. Who was I to cultivate a garden full of problems? What

on earth could have given me the impression that I was so important that I

ought to have problems, questions, complicated situation to get out of?

Before I knew it, there I was in the middle of this 'Who-am-I?' sadhana.

But now, in his presence, it was entirely different. In this radiant light

it was so evident that I was not a body, not an ego, that no analysis was

needed. This light swept away my darkness in one stroke."

"Then, after a week or two, an irritation arose in me. I noticed that when

I returned to the little house opposite the Ashram, which belonged to a

Dutch friend, the lucid, blazing state which invariably swept everything

away in Bhagavan's presence, left me; and when questions did come up, I was

quite unable to solve them.

So, after a few days, I became rebellious and decided that I was going to

have it out with Bhagavan.

When I walked in during the afternoon darshan hour, I refused to melt away

in his radiance, strong as ever. I simply refused his blessing, and I may

say that it was difficult to do so. It was, I discovered, as if you were

slapping your own mother in the face. Yet, I decided to be stubborn,

because it was not a heavenly hour I was in search of but lasting

liberation from ignorance.

When I passed in front of him and greeted him, Indian fashion, a quick

smile ran across his face - and that was all. I was already at that moment

perfectly certain that he was aware of the whole situation, but he paid no

attention to it at all. He showered his radiance over all visitors (and

every day there were more, as the news of his impending departure from us

spread rapidly, and many, many people wanted to see him before he passed

away), rubbed his head, looked at the squirrels, dozed off for a moment, or

looked quite indifferently at something or other.

I found a place opposite him under the covered passage that in those years

ran as long the side of the hall, and sat not very far from where he now

find his samadhi. From there I started my bombardment. I fired thoughts at

him with all my might: 'Bhagavan, of what use is all your radiance to me if

I cannot solve my problems the moment I have left you?' That was, more or

less, the theme.

Bhagavan took no notice. So I concentrated on him even more, and with my

thoughts I began to shake him as if he were a fruit tree. I must have an

answer."

"Then, suddenly, he looked at me with a smile of utter amazement.

'What do you want?' The smile asked. And then, with a different expression

on his face: 'You are looking for your glasses, and they are right on your

own nose!'

Suddenly, his eyes emitted light, spat fire, and when he looked at me, his

look went straight into me, physically into my chest. The heart center,

very often felt in his presence, began to get warm, became hot like fire,

and then started to spark as if an electric machine were installed next to

my heart. I sat straight as a needle, my eyes glued to his drilling

fire-look. 'Kill me,' I prayed.

How long this lasted I cannot say. It was an event outside of time and

space. The moment came when my body could no longer stand the strain. It

was as if my chest would explode, and I asked him to let me go.

I had received what I came for. This account of the initiation I received

from Bhagavan is, of course, only a mere indication. In reality, it was a

complete transformation - an Umwertung aller Werte - as Nietsche calls it.

And all this without hearing Bhagavan's voice. Communication in silence was

clearer than any explanation in words could have been."

Love,

Mazie