THE MAHARSHI 3-4/2002

February 15, 2005

THE MAHARSHI

March/April 2002Vol. 12 - No. 2

Produced & Edited byDennis HartelDr. Anil K. Sharma

My Life and Quest By Arthur Osborne

The following are extracts from the new publication, My Life and Quest, the autobiography of Arthur Osborne. The manuscript for this book was long buried among other writings and recently made available to Sri Ramanasramam for publication by his daughter, Katya Douglas. Copies are now available at Arunachala Ashrama (see page 7).

There is one flank of the mountain where the ascent is sheer, with no pleasure groves to rest in on the way, where, to compensate for this, the path is direct and the crest already visible from the plains below and throughout the ascent. This is the direct path taught by Bhagavan. There are no stages on this path.

It was about 6 o'clock one June morning in 1956 that the first awakening to Reality occurred. I was alone in the room when I awoke and sat up

in bed. I just was - my Self, the beginningless, immutable Self. I had thought 'nothing is changed'. In theory I already understood that it is not anything new; what is eternal cannot be new, what is new cannot be eternal. The only description is what Bhagavan has given: "It is as it is." Only now I experienced it. There was no excitement, no joy or ecstasy, just an immeasurable contentment, the natural state, the wholeness of simple being. There was the thought: 'It is impossible ever to be bored.' The mind seemed like a dark screen that had shut out true consciousness and was now rolled up and pushed away.

I do not know how long this experience lasted. In any case, while it lasted it was timeless and therefore eternal. Imperceptibly the mind closed over again, but less opaque, for a radiant happiness continued. I had my bath and shaved and dressed and then went into the sitting room, where I sat down and I held the newspaper up in front of me as though I was reading it, so that no one would see the radiance. I was too vibrant with happiness really to read. Why did I want to hide the radiance? Why did I not shout and dance with joy?

A person's whole life is a path he treads, leading to the ordained end. If at some point it becomes consciously so, that is the great blessing which makes achievement an envisaged goal.

It is dissatisfaction with the false that leads a man to seek the true. When asked why one should seek Self-realization, Bhagavan has been known to answer: "Who asked you to? If you are satisfied with your present life, stay as you are. But many people become dissatisfied, and when you realize the Self your discontent will vanish."

As I have already explained, outer activity is useful on Bhagavan's path, but it should be aloof activity which keeps the mind working smoothly on the surface while underneath the current of meditation can continue. Emotionally involved activity, on the other hand, is harmful, since it turns the mind outwards, absorbing it in the activity and thereby impeding spiritual progress.

Once Bhagavan has taken up a person, his destiny becomes more purposeful, is speeded up, so to say. From a worldly point of view this may be for good or ill; prosperity may be needed for one's development, adversity for another.

The purpose of meditation is to steady the mind and prevent it jumping and chattering like a monkey by holding it to one thought. If you suspend its activity without the one thought, that is still better. If it becomes too restive the best way of controlling it is either by an act of Self-enquiry, turning steadily to see whether it really exists or not, and what it is that exists, or by an act of faith and submission, resigning yourself to keep still and let the Unknown take charge.

Restricting activity is like trying to kill a tree by picking off the flowers and fruit; attacking the vasanas is like breaking off the branches; Self-enquiry is like uprooting the tree. The worst method is to try to destroy the vasanas by gratifying them. That has the opposite effect, like trying to put a fire out by pouring oil on it.

It is not actions that impede one's sadhana nor spiritual strife, but the vasanas, that is the deep-seated desires or tendencies giving rise to the actions. Indeed sadhana is sometimes represented simply as the elimination of vasanas, since it is these which turn the mind outwards, fling one into unnecessary activity, and drag the consciousness back to rebirth after this life has finished. Aloof or routine activity which does not nourish the vasanas is harmless; only emotional activity is dangerous.

Indeed after coming to Bhagavan I never prayed for anything, except sometimes for greater energy and determination on the quest - and that prayer is part of the quest itself. Not that there is anything against prayer in the sense of request. If a man makes physical and mental efforts to attain his desires it is only sensible to make spiritual efforts also. But the man who follows the direct path of Self-enquiry is striving to dissolve the ego that has the desires, so how can he at the same time pray to gratify them? It would be contradictory, going against his own efforts, however high or unselfish the desires may seem to be. He simply lets things come as they will, asking to whom it is that they come.

Even the path of devotion and submission leaves no place for prayer in the sense of petition if it is wholehearted as Bhagavan demanded. Asking is not submitting. If one is totally submitted to the Will of God, the only prayer that remains is 'Thy Will Be Done'. And since one knows that God's Will is always done, whether one prays for it or not, even that becomes redundant. All one can say is: "I surrender myself to You; do as You like with it." And beyond even that comes the attitude: 'There is nothing to surrender. All this is Yours. I surrender only the false idea I had that it was mine.'

Retirement did not mean a life of hobbies and gentle pottering, but only of a more complete dedication, more constant effort. Indeed it is dangerous for one on the quest to retire from life in the world too early. If the mind is not yet capable of holding day long to the quest, it is better for it to have some surface activity such as professional work. Failing this, it will find relief in some trivialities, daydreaming, imagination or erudition, or fall into some false kind of half-sleep, half-trance; in some way its keenness will be impaired.

The mind is like a mill grinding the thoughts that we constantly feed into it in an unbroken though ever-changing flow. It doesn't care whether grave or trivial so long as it is kept constantly supplied. And at night, in dreams, it chews over the cud of what was supplied to it by day. Nearly all this activity is wasted energy. It prevents concentration and does not really clarify one's mind. And all of it is based on the very assumption one is trying to destroy, of an individual being who decides and acts. So I began instead to suspend thought, refusing to feed anything into the mill, retaining only pure consciousness - and, of course, observation of things happening. The mind was allowed to deal with anything requiring thought as and when it arose, but not prefigure it before it arose or re-enact it after it was finished. I

was surprised how simple and what a relief this was and wondered why I had not started doing it systematically long before; and then it occurred to me that without a good deal of previous meditation it would not have been feasible. Until it has been brought well under control the mind abhors a vacuum.

Therefore what has to be done is to submit, take life as it comes, let things happen, while at the same time striving to wake up from it all. As long as it is taken to be real, the dream cannot be recognised as one and therefore there is no awakening.

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