Paul Brunton - The Maharshi and His Message #9

[Guest guest]

.....

 

I receive a queer feeling that the Sage dislikes to discuss the

subject of Masters and their methods. Yet my mental pertinacity is

strong enough to override this feeling, and I address a further

question on the matter to him. He turns a stolid face toward the

window, gazes out at the expanse of hilly landscape beyond, and

vouchsafes no answer. I take the hint and drop the subject.

 

" Will the Maharshi express an opinion about the future of the world,

for we are living in critical times? "

 

" Why should you trouble yourself about the future? " demands the

Sage. " You do not even properly know aboutthe present! Take care of

the present; the future will then take care of itself. "

 

Another rebuff! But I do not yield so easily on this occasion,for I

come from a world where the tragedies of life press far more heavily

on people than they do in this peaceful jungle retreat.

 

" Will the world soon enter a new era of friendliness and mutual

help, or will it go down into chaos and war? " I persist.

 

The Maharshi does not seem at all pleased, but neverthelesshe makes a

reply.

 

" There is One who governs the world, and it is His lookout to look

after the world. He who has given life to the world knows how to look

after it also. He bears the burden of this world, not you. "

 

" Yet if one looks around with unprejudiced eyes, it is difficult to

see where this benevolent regard comes in, " I object.

 

The Sage appears to be still less pleased. Yet his answer comes: " As

you are, so is the world. Without understanding yourself, what is the

use of trying to understand the world? This is a question that

seekers after truth need not consider. People waste their energies

over all such questions. First, find out the truth behind yourself;

then you will be in a better position to understand the

truth behind the world, of which yourself is a part. "

 

There is an abrupt pause. An attendant approaches and lights another

incense stick. The Maharshi watches the blue smoke curl its way

upwards and then picks up his manuscript book. He unfolds its pages

and begins to work on it again, thus dismissing me from the field of

his attention. This renewed indifference of his plays like cold water

upon my self-esteem. I sit around for another quarter of an hour, but

I can see that he is in no mood to answer my questions. Feeling that

our conversation is really at an end, I rise from the tiled floor,

place my hands together in farewell, and leave him.

.........................