Arthur Osborne - Sri Ramana Maharshi [10]

[Guest guest]

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Self-enquiry is, of course, not a new method. Being the

most direct method, it must be the oldest. In ancient times,

however, it was a path for the recluse striving in silence and

solitude; but in more recent ages diminishing spirituality has

caused it to be little used. What Bhagavan did was to restore it

as a method that can be used in the conditions of the modern

world. Its independence of doctrine and ritual, in fact its

primordiality, already made it potentially universal; and

Bhagavan further adapted it by combining it with karma-marga,

that is with progress through activity. Not only did he not expect

his followers to renounce the world, but also when they asked

his sanction to do so, he refused.

 

“Why do you think you are a householder? The similar

thought that you are a hermit will haunt you if you go forth as

one. Whether you continue in the household or renounce it

and go to live in the forest, your mind haunts you. The ego is

the source of thought. It creates the body and the world and

makes you think you are a householder. If you renounce, it

will only substitute the thought of renunciation for that of

family, and the environment of the forest for that of the

household. The mental obstacles are always there for you. They

even increase greatly in the new surroundings. Change of

environment is no help. The one obstacle is the mind, and

this must be overcome whether in the home or in the forest.

If you can do it in the forest, why not in the home? So why

change the environment? Your efforts can be made even now,

whatever the environment.”

 

And when asked whether it is possible to experience

samadhi or spiritual awareness while working he replied: “It is

the feeling ‘I work’ that is the hindrance. Ask yourself ‘Who

works?’ Remember who you are. Then the work will not bind

you; it will go on automatically.”

 

Similarly, he did not insist on celibacy. Indeed, in

traditional Hindu society all householders are married; only

the sadhu, the world-renouncer, is a celibate; and it was this

outer renunciation which he discouraged. Inner detachment

is the real renunciation.

Sometimes he gave the example of the actor on the stage,

playing a certain part as the author has written it, although

knowing that he is not really that person; sometimes of a bank

cashier who pays out thousands coolly and efficiently, knowing

that it is not his money that he is paying.

 

The usual way is to devote a certain time to meditation

daily, for instance in the early morning and the evening, and

for the rest of the time to try and remember during the activities

of the day. At first this remembering is mainly a mental and

moral discipline — ‘who is flattered by this attention, pleased

by this letter, slighted by so-and-so’s action? Who am I?’ After

some practise, however, it takes a deeper tone, becoming an

extension of the more potent meditation.

 

Few of Bhagavan’s devotees lived permanently at

Tiruvannamalai. It was (and still is) more usual to live in the

world, engaged in some business or profession, and pay only

occasional visits, to re-charge the batteries, so to speak.

Although Bhagavan spoke and wrote mostly of Selfenquiry,

that is, of the ‘Path of Knowledge’, he recognised also

the path of love and devotion among his followers. To some

who took this path he has made the tremendous statement:

“Submit to me and I will strike down the mind,” or: “Only

keep quiet and I will do the rest.” But it is not easy to submit or

to keep the mind quiet.

 

These different paths are not mutually exclusive in practise,

although they might theoretically appear to be.

To return to my story.

Throughout the years of our separation my wife never

doubted Bhagavan’s guidance. She had complete faith in him.

When I joined her after the war and suggested showing him a

photo of Martin’s guru and telling him that this was our guru,

she was horrified. “But you can’t possibly do that!” she exclaimed.

“How could you tell Bhagavan that somebody else is our guru?”

“But he himself is not a guru,” I protested with crude logic,

repeating what I had been told.

“But you can’t possibly do that!” she repeated. “It would

be a terrible thing to do.”

And I didn’t.

 

Nevertheless, despite her complete reliance on Bhagavan,

she continued the exercises into which we had been initiated

and never found it necessary to write to Martin about the change

of allegiance. For someone as indifferent as she was to the theory

of initiation and guru, and who, moreover, until coming to

Bhagavan, and been so half-hearted about the whole matter,

such behaviour was quite natural; but could I do the same?

I soon found that I could not continue the practises into

which I had been initiated and which represented a different

and less direct path. They became a terrible drag and burden

on me. I forced myself to continue them for some time out of a

sense of duty and then asked Bhagavan’s permission to drop

them. He gave it, saying: “Yes, all other methods lead up to

Self-enquiry.”

 

There was never any question of becoming a Hindu, which

(even supposing it were possible) would have meant taking on

myself a new burden of formalities.

 

I felt therefore an obligation to inform the guru through

whom, even though indirectly, the exercises had been prescribed,

since it was in effect a change of allegiance. There was also the

question of correcting Guenon’s mistake. Not only did I owe that

to him, since it was he who had brought me forth from a life of

ignorance to quest for the Goal, and thereby indirectly to Bhagavan,

but there was the consideration of all the others who were inspired

by him to seek a path and yet, by this mistake of his, might find the

path blocked by his ‘no road’ sign, as I had so nearly done.

 

It must be remembered that Guenon was strongly opposed

to modern empirical methods of thinking, instead of which he

advocated the traditional method of understanding the basic

principles and applying them to actual circumstances. He usually

did this successfully, but I have already mentioned instances in

which this was not the case, by applying principles in too doctrinaire

a manner. It now transpired that his mistaken denial of Bhagavan

as a Guru had more serious implications because it was likely to

have graver practical repercussions on those seeking guidance.

Initiation had always been transmitted through strictly orthodox

channels and in a formal manner; Bhagavan’s initiation and

guidance was not formal and did not follow the orthodoxy of any

religion; therefore, he argued, it did not exist. It did not occur to

him that since most of the orthodox channels had dried up, and

the waters of life which they formerly conveyed had become

inaccessible to almost all mankind, the Divine Grace might have

opened a new path in accordance with the needs of the age. He

often referred to such a phenomenon, to the outpouring of Grace

being channelled in a new way to suit the conditions of a different

age or community, but he did not admit or perceive that this had

happened in his own age also. Of course, what he ought to have

done before issuing such a grave denial was to come and verify for

himself, but, as with his rejection of Buddhism, this was just what

he would not do, as it smacked of empiricism.

 

I decided that I should write a letter to Martin to be shown

to his guru and Guenon, explaining that Bhagavan was a Guru

and did give initiation and guidance.

However, there was one great impediment to this. As I

have already stated, one of Guenon’s enthusiasts had been to

Tiruvannamalai and, failing to understand the silent initiation

and guidance, had reported back that there was none and that

Bhagavan was not a Guru.

 

Could I expect Guenon to take my word against his,

especially when his confirmed Guenon’s theory and mine refuted

it? It seemed most unlikely. I therefore wrote a letter containing

the definite statement that Bhagavan was a Guru and did give

initiation and guidance and showed it to Bhagavan, asking his

permission to send it. Although he did not normally give any

affirmation in this matter, I hoped that, in view of the

importance of the case, he would make an exception, He did.

He read the letter through carefully, handed it back and said:

“Yes, send it.” I sent the letter to Martin with a postscript

explaining this.

 

Bhagavan himself never wrote letters; therefore a letter

sent with his express authorisation could be taken as a message

from him. The last chapter of Guenon’s Man and His Becoming

According to Vedanta showed that he understood what was

meant by the Jivan-Mukta, the Divine Man fully Self-realized.

Now he would be receiving a personal message from one. I

hoped that he would accept it and not make himself like those

who had denied Christ because he did not come in the form

they had expected.

 

taken from

Arthur Osborne's My Life & Quest