adreamgodus

Om Shanti

 

There is a beautiful story related

to the life of Sage Vyasa and his

disciple Jainini.

 

Jainini was a great scholar and a

sincere disciple of Vyasa, but he

took pride in his own intellectual

knowledge.

 

One day Vyasa was dictating on a

scripture and Jainini was taking

notes. Vyasa composed a verse

making the point,

 

valavad indriya gramam panditan apakarshanti—

"the senses are so powerful that the man

of knowledge also sometimes commits mistakes."

 

Upon hearing this, Jainini thought,

 

"It is not possible. If a person is a man

of knowledge,how can he be overpowered

with the temptation of the senses?

Rather, he will overcome them."

 

With this thought, he modified the verse

to say,

 

valavad indriya gramam panditan-apakarshanti—

 

"Even if the senses are powerful, the man

of knowledge is free from mistakes."

 

Omniscient Vyasa did not impart anything.

He wanted to teach his disciple in a different way the truth of life.

 

That afternoon, Vyasa told Jainini that

he must go for some urgent work to a

distant place and it might happen that

he would be absent for several days.

 

He entrusted Jainini to take care of

the sacrificial fire. Then Vyasa left.

 

That evening after prayer, Jainini

retired to the room of the sacrificial

fire to meditate.

 

There was a storm and rain outside and

very strong wind. Jainini heard someone knocking at the door. He opened the door

and saw a pretty, young lady. He inquired what he could do for her.

 

She said, "I am on the way to my village, but because of the rain and storm I

cannot go. Can you please give me shelter for the night?"

 

Jainini, out of hospitality allowed her to come inside and spend the night in the

cottage.

 

The young lady said that it was not good

for a brahmachari (celibate) to be in the same room at night. So, Jainini went out

and tried to sleep outside.

 

Now, the play of delusion started.

Jainini sat silently, but his mind was running toward this youthful lady and

her beauty.

 

He thought to himself, "it would be good

to spend the lonely night conversing with her. So he knocked on the door and told

her that it was cold outside and it would

be nice to be inside.

 

She protested, but Jaimini forced his way inside. He tried to talk with her and was constantly looking at her, which she did

not like.

 

Slowly his senses were growing powerful and clouding his conscience. He went close to

her and touched her and told her to be together for a while, for fun and pleasure.

 

She said, "You are a brahmachari, you

should not think like this. It is not good." Being blinded with passion, he touched her feet and asked for her approval.

 

She at last agreed with the condition that he should kneel down like a horse and she would sit on his back and he should make seven rounds, near the sacrificial fire. Then he could have her.

 

Jaimini agreed.

 

While Jaimini was trying to walk like

an animal with the lady sitting on his

back, she started murmuring the verse

that Vyasa dictating in the morning which

Jaimini had modified, "Even if the senses

are powerful,a man of knowledge does not commit mistake."

 

When Jaimini heard this, he realized his

own weakness. He stood up to leave her,

but her two big arms clasped him and held him.

 

They were not the tempting arms of

the maiden, but the arms of his

loving guru Vyasa.

 

Thus Vyasa taught his disciple the

truth of life and how to be always

careful and watchful in every step of

life.

 

from:

humaneliberation@

sheryogi@

Om Shanti

 

Om Shanti

 

 

"I have no desire for wealth

or name or fame or enjoyments,

they are dust unto me....

 

I want to help my brethren.

 

I have not the 'tact to earn money',

bless the Lord....

 

What reason is there for me to conform

to the vagaries of the world around me

and not obey the voice of Truth within?

 

The mind is still weak;

 

it sometimes mechanically clutches at

earthly help....But I am not afraid....

Fear is the greatest sin, my religion teaches..."

 

-Swami Vivekananda

 

Om Shanti

 

Om Shanti

 

Sorry, but, i don't concure. Stores are not spamming, how silly to say. In fact, who

ever hear of a story told only One time?

 

Therefore, Dear, you message given is not understood.

 

I took note of the link and saw many

wonderful stories in another location

of which i will copy to yet another

location. So thank you.

 

If you are worried about a post that

is applied to different domains-then

you are in the wrong place to find

fault as many of the posts are

presented this way.

 

For me, it is wonderful for then i

can check the many articles of

which there was not prior knowledge.

There are literally thousands of posts

here of some merit and it is nice when

we have a guiding post!

 

However, i do think that hiding being

'guest' names is more similar to

spamming-the product in this

case being as fear!

 

The first gate, i dare say!

 

Om shanti

 

Om Shanti

 

Seven Jars

by

Sri Ramakrishna

 

 

A barber, who was passing under

a haunted tree heard a voice say,

 

"will you accept seven jars full

of gold?"

 

The barber looked around, but

could see no one. The offer of

seven jars of gold, however,

roused his cupidity and he

cried aloud,

 

"yes, I shall accept the seven jars."

 

At once came the reply.

 

"Go home, I have carried the jars

to your house."

 

The barber ran home in hot haste

to verify the truth of his strange

announcement. And when he entered

the house, he saw the jars before

him.

 

He opened them and found them

all full of gold, except the

last one which was only half-full.

 

A strong desire now arouse in the

mind of the barber to fill the

seventh jar also; for without it

his happiness was incomplete.

 

He therefore converted all his

ornaments into gold coins and

put them into the jar;

 

but the mysterious vessel was

as before. So one day he

requested the king to increase

his pay, saying his income was

not sufficient to maintain him

self on. Now the barber was

a favourite of the king, and

as soon as the request was made

the king doubled his pay.

 

All this pay he save and put into

the jar, but the greed jar showed

no signs of filling. At last he

began to live by begging from door

to door, and his professional income

and the income from begging all went

into the insatiable cavity of the

mysterious jar.

 

Months passed, and the condition of

the miserable and miserly barber

grew worse every day. Seeing his

sad plight, the king asked him

one day,

 

"hello! When your pay was half of

what you now get, you were happy,

cheerful and contented; but with

double the pay, I see your morose,

careworn and dejected. What is the

matter with you? Have you got

'the seven jars'?"

 

The barber was taken aback by this

question and replied,

 

"Your Majesty, who has informed you of this?"

 

the king said,

 

"Don't you know that these are the signs

of the person to whom the Yaksha consigns

the seven jars.

 

He offered me also the same jars, but

I asked him whether his money might be

spent or was merely to be hoarded.

 

No sooner had I asked this question

then the Yaksha ran away without any

reply.

 

Don't you know that no one can spend

that money? It only brings with it the

desire of hoarding.

 

Go at once and return the money."

 

The barber was brought to his senses

by this advice, and he went to the

haunted tree and said,

 

"Take back your gold, O Yaksha."

The Yaksha replied, "All right."

 

When the barber returned home, he

found that the seven jars had vanished

and mysteriously as they were brought in,

and with it also had vanished his life-long

savings.

 

Such is the state of some men in the

Kingdom of Heaven. Those who do not

understand the difference between

what is real expenditure and what

is real income, lose all they have.

 

Om Shanti

Om Shanti...

 

The Serpent and a Sage

by Sri Ramakrishna

 

A serpent dwelt in a certain locality.

No one dared to pass by that way, for

whoever did so was instantaneously

bitten to death by that serpent.

 

Once a holy man passed by. As usual

the serpent pursued that sage with

a view of biting him, but when it

approached the holy man, it lost all

its ferocity and was over-powered

by his gentleness.

 

Seeing the snake, the holy man said,

Well, friend, do you want to bite me?

The snake was abashed and made no reply.

 

At this the sage said again,

Hearken, friend, do not injure

anyone in future.

 

The snake bowed and nodded assent.

 

After the sage had gone his own way,

the snake entered its hole, and

 

thenceforth began to live a life of

innocence and purity without even

wishing to harm anyone.

 

In a few days the snake had lost all

its venom and was no more dangerous,

and so people began to tease it.

 

Some pelted stones at it and others

dragged it mercilessly by the tail.

Thus there was no end to its troubles.

 

Fortunately, sometime after, the sage

again passed that way seeing the bruised

and battered condition of the poor snake,

was very much moved to pity and inquired

about the cause of its distress.

 

At this the snake replied. Sir, I have

been reduced to this state, because I

have not been injuring anyone since I

received your instruction. But alas!

 

They are so merciless! The sage

smilingly said Dear friend, I only

advised you not to bite anyone, but

I never asked you not to hiss and

frighten others.

 

Although you should not bite any

creature, still you should keep

every one at a considerable

distance from you by "hissing".

 

Similarly, if you live in the world,

make yourself feared and respected.

Do not injure, but do not at the same

time let others injure you.

 

Om Shanti

 

Om Shanti...

 

Dear Debbie,

 

If you must apologize, then do so

to your God. Or someone better

than this simple sadhaka.

 

My attempts to add a little of the

experience and knowledge i have gained

from this area of issues related to

isms-has Now been transferred to

the topic of Debbie's feelings-

a nice display of them, i should say.

 

I did note the subtle hint of anger

that was of interest to me-

 

Now that was honest! And, it felt

good-matching my own! Great!

 

So now, you threaten to just

Sit and read the posts so as to

not offend?

 

-dear, you have NOT been reading

the posts-this is why you have my

various responses.

 

You are misreading my posts and

coming up with a bunch of poppy-cock

that is very disappointing. To boot,

you have a few well wishers-too!

 

Not bad!

 

There were attempts to take a volatile

topic from the shadows so as to take

another look at the issues.

 

But, what happens is that we

have Debbie's bruised ego to

tend to...

 

Dear Debbie, do hold down the topic

now with how you are different and

can not understand how the world

is so bad with this 'race' issue.

 

Maybe your feelings from the heart

will make it all better! After all,

people have been hearning about

feelings for a long time now-maybe

one more from the heart sermon will

do us good!

 

In the mean time, I'm off this topic now.

Back to my poems and parables!-

 

shikha!

Om Shanti...

 

It is nice what you have said-and

true in many ways...

 

WE have forgotten who and what we

are..and in chasing the image our

fear-

 

you have said it.

 

i liked your post, thank you.

Om Shanti...

 

We are speaking of Gunas?

 

Now, what is the esoteric meaning

of the Vedic verse?

 

your sister in spirit.

 

Om Shanti...

 

Dear Debbie,

 

Unfortunately, it seems that

you have missed the primary

message of my post.

 

it happens. Most likely, i have committed

the same.

 

More so, the post was also presented to

others as an informative insight into

academic research into the issues related

to isms. The Color consciousness here

was one target of my post...and was not

only directed towards you.

 

But, i have not asked you to quote

from the Scriptures and in fact,

have not myself-so why are you saying

this?

 

Dear, when we speak there are two

features that operate at the same

time:

 

what we Intend and what is Perceived.

 

Now, one can operate from the stereotype

and speak expected words from this zone

of behavior or one can operate so as

to shake loose a few of the cultural

and mental traps that are part of an

expected response.

 

For many, the expected is more pleasing

and it thus granted higher 'status'.

 

This is all good and well, for folks

that are Not ready for shaking the foundations of thought. But, for

folks that are ready to seek deeper

in to the causes of what and why it

happens-well,

 

only the unexpected, as far as i am

able to understand it, is the key.

 

Your response, was the expected one.

sorry, but, your classic response

has created disappointment in me.

 

You claim that saying you are white

means nothing, then i ask, why do you

use it?

 

Honesty, is the issue here. You

call people Indians, and then claim

a color for yourself.

 

Why not say variations of brown for

most of the Indians and then, maybe

white would have fit in better. Why

the difference? All of this is said

in service and not to be harsh.

 

You have been in this club long enough

to note the issues that are linked with color-all of the talk about Lord Krishna's

color, etc.

 

This color issue is one of the major

hurdles of modern peoples...

 

And it hurts me to see so many

beautiful people feel less because

of a silly emphasis on color.

From too dark to to white-it

all is the same issue!

 

re: "Sometimes people try so hard to hate

someone because of how they look, where

theylive, what they wear, color of skin,

etc...the list can go on and on, that

they do not stop to see the goodness that

lies within."

 

*If you know this, then why do you add

to the problem?

 

Step out and be free-free from Both

the plus and minus of what this form

of identification entails.

 

I too was raised in a home that honored

the worlds peoples and cultures, yet,

even there, issues related to color

took seed to some degree.

 

From relatives, society, the school,

the media etc....

 

You have ignored altogether the whole

issue related to power and external influences that was in my post.

 

This was more important

that how you perceive you are...

 

For, the world is a pollutant to

our heart-sad but very true.

 

re: ,but we can not let that hinder us in our journey. I feel we are in this world all together and many of us are search-ing for our own path to God and how we can better serve Him

 

OR Serve HER. I worship MahaKaliji.

 

Of course we can not let this silly

world hinder us. We must recognize

it's lure and then use it to help

us to locate and note our own demons.

 

For example, your manner in speaking

and presentation is bringing up a

few of those pockets of pain...this

is good for it allows me another

opportunity to grow...and maybe a few

'others' that have had similar pain..

This is good and i Thank you.

 

However, Dear, remember this, even if,

it is painful....that:

 

Many of the world's peoples did open

up their hearts to God [via missionaries]

and in the process lost their lands,

their children, and their freedom.

No matter that all of this is Maya-

as this whole issue is contained,

therein.

 

Do try to remember this legacy of the

"White" world. Then and Now-this time,

it is called a war against terrorism,

for example.

 

So, when you ponder the use of this

word to describe you, remember ALL

that it carries. And, then what i

am saying will be understood better.

 

More so, i am not blaming you or anyone

for what has happened in the world as

a result of aggression from any culture

or people-so no need to defend or feel

responsible--these are not going to

bring growth and Love to our world.

 

The Only way is trough Honest Dialogue

and methods to create change through

personal example.

 

The world is tired of talk. We need

Champions of Character...those that

seek, as i have noted you have done

in other posts, to bring Peace and

Love to a world that honours Hate

and war.

 

Only Love-imperfect at first, but,

it shall grow into something out of

this world into Perfect Prema [love].

 

I would like to quote Swami Vivekananda:

 

"I will compare truth to a corrosive substance of infinite power.

 

It burns its way in wherever it falls

-in soft substance at once, hard granite slowly, but it must.

 

What is writ is writ. I am so, so sorry, that I cannot make myself 'sweet' and

accommodating to every black falsehood.

 

But I cannot. I have suffered for it all

my life, but I cannot."

 

Dear Debbie, we are what we say, and to disown our words will not take away the

meaning beneath the form.

 

Now, my words are harsh--and, perhaps,

this is me and my way. Your words are

presently sweet, perhaps, this is you

and your way.

 

No matter. WE are here and are looking

towards the horizon-and with that look,

dear, we will meet the Sun of Truth!

 

Love, shikha

 

 

 

Om Shanti

 

Dearest Debbie, dear, thank you for

taking the time to respond to my

post...

 

I would like to point out a few

issues related to 'isms'-that is,

not just issues realated to 'race'

[truly a vile word]. But, issues

realted to all categories of how

we gage the world's peoples.

 

Note, dear, that any ism is not

an isolated event, but, a host of

'events' that appear to assist the

perceiver AND the perceived into

a 'game of isms'-the skirmish [be it

subtle or overt] and the reaction

to this event.

 

These are the issues by which one must observe any ism or as you prefer,

race issues.

 

One, if i may, note that you refer to

your self as "white"-WE ARE NOT COLORS

like paints in a box. I hate this

method of viewing the beauty of human

glory and hope in time to wash all of

this programming from my mind.

 

But, if we are to be colors, dear, then

may i be so bold s to say, that most

likely you would really be pink...?

 

Now sit back and note the reasons for

saying this...

 

Two, the Family may begin the issues

related to race, but, society takes

what threads that are woven into

the early childhood knots and weaves

a blanket that begins to smother the

true victim of any "ism."

 

Three, if we take a look around and

note the REAL issue related to any ism

-the issue being Power. Who has it and

how to maintain it. This 'power' becomes

a tool by which to exert privilege which

once tasted is very hard to share with

the totality. Why, i am not sure.

Memory is one vibrant feature here,

smile.

 

This is rather a pointed way to look

at this issue..for it is very complex

and goes beyond loving families and

a few fast friends. I wish it were

so easy. It is not. At least, to

me, that is.

 

Isms relate to how we relate to ALL

people. The beggar on the street,

the physically challenged person

in our community, the elderly, the

poor, the rich, the ugly, the pretty,

the smart, the not smart, the male,

the not male, the this or that and

all in between.

 

It is about our attitudes of a group

that allows one to feel privilege or

superior than another, Or, even less

than another group , too. A very

subtle method of reacting to our world.

A world created from building blocks

that we may not even note as they

are hidden within the very foundation

of our thought processes.

 

Processes that are beneath thought and

again, i say, the value of meditation.

 

Not to mention the karmic issues related

to our clan and collective consciousness.

 

 

It is my belief, that the vast majority

of persons born in the world today have

deep issues related to 'color' and

economic politics which are encouraged

via the Educational, the Economic, especially the Media systems and all

'other' Institutional systems which

endeavor to insure that those in power remain. Even being a parent is a form

of ism, to some degree.

 

I could go on and on-but what point is there..for all of these systems are

only reflections of Maya and have

meaning only in terms of how we allow

them to help or hinder our Liberation.

 

It seems, that the issue is power as

this is the magic of life and death

in terms of manifested energy and

form.

 

As sadhakas or spiritual seekers, we

are engaged in how to relate to power

every time we meditate and chant our

mantra and bow to the Beloved.

 

Yet, the wise sadhaka knows that

true power is Within and the rest

well, this lesson is an ongoing

process.

 

Now, the reason that i called you

'pink' is for you to ponder issues

related to power...

 

White is a power word and hence,

it becomes a cultural marker in

speech of which i shall not go

into detail here. How did it feel

to be called Pink instead of white?

 

It has been noted how many of the

persons of European Heritage

notate this descriptive [ie, white]-why?

 

The issues of "race" are deeper than

a mere loving family and a few fast

friends that are 'different'. Whole

societies are built upon issues related

to race or national origin or caste

or language group, or tribe, ect -

But, this was said before, i think in

earlier posts.

 

All words that describe in terms of

"they" or "them' are profane-may we

all understand this deeply. It is a

hard lesson, i am coming to learn

daily.

 

Society defines us thus-yet, we must

attempt to define ourselves differently-

We must become free from the these c

hains of nama rupa!

 

In a media such as this cyber temple,

our words should be our calling card-

..for this is the core of our mind

that also reflects our character more

than any jail-house image could.

Yet, these, too, are Mother Maya-

quite a fix, i dare say.

 

So, what color are we?

So, what country are we?

So, what path are we?

So, what are we, any way?

 

How about the color and county

and path of Love...

 

A rainbow of colors and flavors

and scents andsongs and textures...

 

wow, i love that!

 

Can't we All just be a tattered

and love worn rug, of peace

and love.

 

So, Dear Debbieji, a dear

Child of Divine LIGHT- i praise that

temple of Love within your

heart's core!

 

with love, sister,

your sister is spirit.

Om Shanti...

 

I love all of this! We are all seeking

to understand in words that which can

only be felt!

 

We are so marvelous-here is a thought:

 

Which is Maya?

 

The Glove, the Hand, or that That which

comprises the Hand?

 

Each finger of the glove notes it's

separateness and will attempt to show

how much it understands of it's unique

position on Handhood. Please smile here.

 

The Hand, it may look at the fingers

and think how quaint, but, not see, that

it does the same in comparrison with

the rest of the body.

 

And, so it goes all the way down to the

cells that must differentiate so as to

be a hand in the first place.

 

Now, these cells may consult each DNA

to find confrimation of what they are

to do and be, but, then, we come to

the next question:

 

Do we say that the DNA/RNA-are these

Brahman.

 

We note how we are so attached to our

ideals and our point of view-look

at how i need to add my two rupies/cents

worth!

 

The question: WHY?

 

Why take the time and effort to

show our perspective?

 

Is it really sharing?

 

well?

 

What difference will it make to

know if we are this or that?

 

When we find these insights that

illumine our mind from time to time

does it really help us in mukti?

 

It seems to, at the time. Later?

well, we can each judge this one.

 

Look at the whole dance-why do we do it?

 

If we feel that we have to show another

we have become trapped in Maya. How

clever She--hos lovely with Her Charms-

 

catching her darlings as they attempt so

speak about Truth!

 

We should all be smiling at the mazes

of mad.

 

Or Mayavada as our Ram has said-i am aries

so i like your name, smile.

 

So that gloved hand, what is Not Maya?

 

From this question, we may come to

something interesting.

 

What are we Not?

 

I love this one.

 

Sorry that i dont have alot of quotes

then get lost inside of me and come

out in waves of ignorance. smile.

 

Now, on a serious note:

 

i love all of our being jiva's-such

effort and such care and, yes, such

love for truth! may we unveil it!

 

 

 

Quote:

 

If there is nothing other than the one nondual indivisible Brahman. Where is the question

of jivas and illusion (bondage)? What is the root cause of bondage? Who perceives it?

How did this perception

come about?

 

Why would the completely nondual Brahman

who is full of bliss and lacking nothing

put itself within bondage (i.e. allow perception of avidya) in the form of jiva?

 

End Quote.

 

Let Shiva tread where angles dare!

 

This was a question that had troubled me

and one day i happened to come across

Sri Shankara's Viveka Chudamani.

 

Where Maya and Brahman [sat] Both exists

as we see Radha and Krishna or Shiva and

Shakti. This is a given and i am sure

not the question.

 

We must ask this question, however:

 

Is Maya, bondage?

 

Now, note, that as we have different

Paths to Truth, there is this subtle

feeling that our Truth is more True

that the other's truth.

 

Hence, the bondage. Bondage to the

concept of One truth for All or

several Truths for each.

 

Here is the separation. And, even in

the question of 'questions' we find

what you have asked: Who perceives?

 

Maya does.

 

Correct? smile.

 

Then, if Maya is the perceiver of that

which can not perceive then we ask

is Truth itself True or that which

perceives Truth, True?

 

Brahman is Truth because it is All. Thus,

by All standards it is true. As a Swamiji,

dear Indus, we may say, You are the vessel

of truth, but, this truth is not verified

until a devotee perceives this Truth in

you-the Devotee as jiva, is Maya.

 

Yet, to see we need a mirror. Thus we

then understand what we already know.

 

We may know we have a face, etc., but,

the mirror allows us to understand

it via the illusion of separation.

 

The root cause, by this reasoning, is so as

to Understand what we Know.

 

Knowing we can walk is nothing until we

take the steps. We fall and then we

continue to walk. Assuming we are

going somewhere, when, in truth, what

we need requires stationary methods-

but, until we walk, how will we know.

 

Look how this jiva speaks what the Swami

already knows. It is really quite lovely

this garden of life.

 

Bliss, as to the last question, is not

enough. We need more as humans, thus

we may note the creator. We need to

understand..this is the purpose, i believe,

of The Path-to understand all of the

aspects of Sat...the full glory, be it

Deva Krishna or Devi Kali.

 

We may ponder this urge to learn-in

all segments of all society-instinct

really is enough, but, we wanted to

expand and understand-the urge of

the Great One--a vast Parent to

observe the little ones develop into

segments of selfhood.

 

Why?

 

Past understanding, i know not. Possibly,

if you will stop ignoring me, you will

answer.

 

it was fun to try. And for all of the

cynics out there-some of us have to take

a swirl, too. Just consider yourselves the

pioneers.

 

much love!

Om Shanti..

 

Thank you dear heart, for, the

lovely asasana on Mukti and it's

many aspects...

 

But, were we not saying the same

thing?

 

I am lost, please exlpain further

so that this mind may understand

more.

 

I love how much we care and love

and hope that each ray of light

finds its merry way home.

 

your sister in spirit,

shikha

 

Om Shanti

 

 

Here lies the ocean of peace,

Helmsman, launch the boat.

You will always be the comrade.

 

Take, O take him to your heart.

In the path of the Infinite

will shine the "Dhruba-tara". (North Star)

 

Giver of freedom, your forgiveness,

your mercy

will be wealth inexhaustible

in the eternal journey.

 

May the mortal bonds perish,

May the vast universe

take him in its arms,

 

And may he know in his fearless heart

The great unknown.

 

From Sesh Lekha,

translation: Amiya Chakravarty

 

Om Shanti

Om Shanti

 

As Devotees of God Absolute, no

matter the title or Path we take

to Truth, it is best to remember..

 

God is All. God is All. God is All.

 

It does not matter if God is called

Lord Krishna or Guru...what is

important is the nature of 'your'

Love.

 

Prema is devoid of cages-all features

of Maya.

 

Listen to the Song, Dear Hearts, and

worry not about the Singer...

 

"I have enjoyed direct and interrupted

knowledge [of] young men and women

who long for God from childhood for

God-realization and who do not rely

upon the conventional world for any

satisfaction are simply Divine Reality,

intensely manifested through the

exalted form.

 

They are God nakedly longing for

God, free from the veils of

separation and duality...

 

It is just God longing for God.

This is the supreme mystery-

the Divine Play as humanity,

the 'naralila', totally unveiled

and free from the slightest

state of duality...

 

Constantly and even desperately

I would used to question companions,

or anyone who would listen,

about why my love for this particular

young man had become so intense....

 

...from the standpoint of ancient scriptures,

...that someone of the plane of God-vision

..can not enjoy ordinary levels of

sensory mental consciousness without

being in the companionship of pure-hearted

loves of Truth, persons whose instincts have

been sanctified.

 

The Very sight of such true lovers

gives the one established in God-consciousness

a thrill of delight and allows for peacefulness

of spirit...

 

Sri Paramahamasa Ramakrishna

 

[page 83-84,

Great Swan,

Meeting with Ramakrishna

by Lex Hixon]

 

Om Shanti

Om Shanti...

 

If interested in learning about

my specifc path, please visit

my heart...

 

Tantrik_Divinity-an_Introduction/

 

Here is the essence of introductory

Tantra in a simple format that shares

the many treads of our Path's purpose:

 

The path as the key to the final Truth,

the ultimate Goal.

 

The goal, not the method is of central

focus. For indeed, Dear Hearts, we

are One, One, Om...

 

 

 

Om Shanti

Om Shanti...

 

Dear Vsdprasad, well, dear,

now you're on the spot!

 

How about sharing a few of those

childhood stories with our

members? We wait with bated

breaths....

 

Here is another story...

 

--The Little Musk deer--

 

In India, there is a beautiful tale

about the Little Musk Deer, who in

seeking the Divine, goes on a special

spiritual search...

 

One day, it has been said, a little musk deer went to his granny musk deer. He was very puzzled. "Granny", he said,

 

"I smell a haunting fragrance.

What is it? Where is it coming from?"

 

"Why don't you go and smell the animals

in the forest to see if it comes from

them," said the Granny.

 

So the musk deer went to the lion,

smelled the lion, and said, "No it's

not the lion".

 

Then he went to the tiger and said,

"Oh no, it is definitely not from the tiger."

 

Then the monkey, the bear, the fish,

the elephant: one by one, he went to

all of the animals in the forest.

 

Finally, quite baffled, returning to

Granny, the Little Deer said,

 

"I have been to every animal in the

forest,and none of them has this perfume."

 

Granny just smiled wisely and said, here, smell your own paw."

 

The little musk deer lifed his paw, gave it a sniff, and let out a cry of joy.

 

It comes from me?

It comes form me!

It comes form me.

 

Dear Ones, always, we must remember,

the magic:

 

That Divinity is Within!

 

Om Shanti

 

 

Om Shanti..

 

Dear Bhaktajoy, i have enjoyed looking

at the link provided..thank you!

 

Here is a another story, may it be

enjoyed...

 

--The Humble Clay Pot--

 

A water bearer in India had two large

pots, each hung on each side of a pole

which he carried across his neck.

 

One of the pots had a crack in it, while

the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion at the end

of the long walk back.

 

For two good years this happened on a

daily basis with the water bearer

delivering one and one half pots of

water to his master's house.

 

Of course, the perfect pot was proud

of its accomplishments, perfect to the

end for which it was made. But, the

poor cracked pot was ashamed of its

own imperfection and one day spoke to

the water bearer at the stream in which

the water was gathered.

 

The pot said, "I am from the clay of

the river, maybe, to this very river

I should return so that you can have

a more perfect pot to carry the water".

 

The water bearer, in compassion, seeing

the shame of the cracked pot said,

 

"Friend, when we go back to the master's house today, look amongst the beautiful flowers along the path".

 

As they traveled along the road, the

cracked pot saw the beautiful flowers blooming along with dancing butterflies.

An aroma of sweet divinity from the

many flowers that grew there enveloped

the air.

 

The pot was indeed overjoyed. Yet, as

they arrived to the master's house the

pot was again sad, as it noted that half

of it's water had again spilt out.

 

On the way back, the bearer pointed out

a section of barren ground and then told

the pot this story...

 

When I saw that you were cracked I planted seeds, so as to take advantage of the water that spilt along the way

 

...and for these two years you, with the water that fell from your cracks, have created this beautiful garden that

otherwise would not be.

 

When the pot thought of the blessing

that had occurred due to these supposed flaws it smiled deeply.

 

To think that the cracks actually created

a blessing in another life.

 

**What may seem as a weakness, may, in truth, be our greatest strength.

 

--this story is from the web, but, has been embellished a little by me.

 

Om Shanti

 

 

 

 

 

 

Om Shanti...

 

It was nice to know that you

enjoyed this story...please

add a story too, then, in this

way...we may allow for a true

garden of beauty to bloom...

 

blooms for many seasons!

 

Om Shanti

Om Shanti

 

SELF-SURRENDER

 

Once a brahmin priest worshipped the Lord with many different kinds of flowers.

 

Then he asked, "Lord! Do you want any other flower now?

 

Are you satisfied now?" The priest was

proud that he had done something big, that he had given the Lord everything.

 

The Lord said, "There is one more flower."

 

"What flower is that," asked the priest.

 

"Manasa pushpa (mind-flower)," said the Lord.

 

"Where can I find that," asks the priest.

 

"Right here," says the Lord.

 

He meant the flower that is the heart. Without knowing this, the priest

wandered all over looking for

manasa pushpa, all due to the lack

of sraddha (devotion).

 

After running around for a long time, he came back exhausted and fell at the Lord's feet and said with great sadness,

 

"Lord, I could not get manasa pushpa anywhere; please be satisfied with this!

 

I have only my heart to give you!" The Lord

replied,

 

"This is the manasa pushpa I asked for!

What I want is the flower of purity and love. Without that, even if you spend millions and do puja for a hundred

births, you will not get My presence

for even a second.

The attitude of surrender is the bridge

that brings you close to Me. You have

not put up that bridge. I am waiting

near you for that."

 

-a story from Vinatta Kumar's collection

of Hindu stories

Om Shanti

 

Om Shanti

 

The Story of Jatila

 

 

In a village in India there was once a little boy

whose name was Jatila.

 

Jatila's mother was a widow and there was no

one to help her. She earned a little money by

spinning yarn. She and Jatila always had just

enough to eat, but they were very poor.

 

Every day Jatila's mother prayed to Sri

Krishna. She asked him to help her to look

after her little boy because she wanted him to

grow up into a strong and good man.

 

When Jatila was old enough his mother sent

him to school. The school was far away in the

next village and to get there Jatila had to walk

through a forest.

 

The tall trees in the forest made the footpath

very dark, and Jatila felt afraid.

 

Some of the trees had long low branches that

looked like arms trying to catch him. Other

trees had creepers growing on them, and the

stems of the creepers looked like huge snakes.

 

I wish I had someone with me,' Jatila thought

to himself.

 

'It wouldn't be so bad if I had someone to talk

to.'

 

But Jatila was alone, so he hurried on and

reached the school as quickly as he could.

 

Jatila was happy at school. He liked the

teacher and during playtime he had some fun

with the other boys.

 

When school was over, however, and it was

time to go home, Jatila suddenly remembered

that he would again have to walk through the

forest.

 

It was much worse this time. The forest was

darker than ever and there were strange

shadows everywhere. There were those arms,

always trying to catch him! And there were

those things, like snakes climbing up the

trunks of the trees.

 

Jatila began to run. He ran and ran all the way

through the forest and did not stop until he

reached home.

 

As soon as he saw his mother, Jatila' began to

cry.

 

'What has happened?' asked his mother. And

'she took him on her lap to comfort him.

 

'Did the teacher scold you?'

 

'Oh, no, Ma,' replied Jatila. 'I was happy at

school. But it's the forest, Ma. It's such a long

way through the forest, and I'm all alone, so 1

feel afraid.'

 

'But there's nothing to be afraid of in the

forest,' said his mother. 'You'll soon get used

to it.'

 

'No, Ma,' said Jatila. 'I feel very frightened.

Please send someone with me.'

 

'But who can I send, Jatila?' replied his

mother. 'There is no one who can go with

you.'

 

Jatila's mother closed her eyes and seemed to

be thinking very hard. Suddenly she opened

them again and her face lit up with a smile.

 

'Of course!' she cried. 'How silly of me to

forget. There is your big brother in the forest.

He will go with you and take care of you.'

 

Jatila was astonished.

 

'Big brother?' he said. 'Have 1 got a big

brother, Ma?'

 

'Yes, child,' she said. 'His name is

Madhusudan.'

 

'But where is he, Ma?' asked Jatila. 'Why

doesn't he live here with us ?'

 

'He lives in the forest,' his mother answered.

'He looks after the cows there. But if you call

to him tomorrow on your way to school, 1

am sure he will leave his cows and walk with

you through the forest.'

 

Jatila was very happy. Now. instead of feeling

afraid of the forest he was longing for the

next day to come so that he could run quickly

to the forest and see his big brother there.

 

Early the next morning Jatila said good-bye to

his mother and went off to school.

 

His mother stood at the door of her cottage

watching him as he hurried eagerly towards

the forest.

 

'Oh, Madhusudan,' she prayed, 'please take

care of my little boy.'

 

As soon as Jatila entered the forest he stood

still.

 

'Oh, big brother Madhusudan,' he called.

'Please come and walk with me through the

forest.'

 

Jatila waited and listened, but no one

answered, and no one came.

 

'He must be a long way off,' thought Jatila. 'I'll

call louder.' So again he called, as loud as he

could, but still no one came.

 

'I know he is here in the forest,' Jatila said to

himself, 'and 1 know he will come because

Ma said he would.'

 

Again and again Jatila called to his big

brother, but still no one came.

 

Jatila began to cry.

 

'Ma said you would come,' he sobbed.

'Where are you?'

 

At that moment Jatila heard the sound of a

flute.. Such sweet music he had never heard.

 

The music came closer and closer, and then at

last Jatila saw a boy coming towards him

down the forest path.

 

He was a most handsome boy. On his head he

wore a crown, bright and beautiful, with a

peacock's feather in it. He was playing the

flute, and he seemed to shine with happiness.

 

Jatila joyfully ran to the handsome boy.

 

'Are you Madhusudan, my big brother?' he

asked. 'Ma said that if I called to you, you

would leave your cows and walk with me

through the forest. I have to go to school,

you see.'

 

'Yes, I am your big brother,' replied the boy.

'Come along,' I'll walk with you through the

forest.'

 

Jatila walked. with his big brother and told

him about his life at home and how glad he

was that he was now big enough to go to

school. He quite forgot how frightened he had

felt the day before.

 

When they came to the end of the forest path,

Madhusudan stopped.

 

'I shall go back now,' he said.

 

'But will you walk with.me again in the

evening?' Jatila asked. 'I shall feel very

frightened if you don't come.'

 

'Oh, yes,' replied Madhusudan.

'Just call to me and I'll come to you.'

 

Every morning and every evening as soon as

he reached the forest Jatila called to his big

brother. And always his big brother came and

walked with him. Jatila talked to him happily

about his mother and about everything that

happened at school, and Madhusudan listened

and sometimes played his flute.

 

One evening on his way home from school,

Jatila told his big brother about a feast they

were going to have at school. The teacher had

said that every child must bring something to

the feast.

 

'And tomorrow,' Jatila explained, 'I shall have

to say what I am going to take.'

 

'Well, what are you going to take?' asked

Madhusudan.

 

'I don't know,' replied Jatila. 'We are very

poor, you see. Perhaps I won't be able to take

anything.'

 

'Ask Ma about it,' Madhusudan said.

'She will know what to do.'

 

When Jatila asked his mother what he would

be able to take to the feast, she looked very

sad.

 

'I have nothing to give you, Jatila,' she said.

'And I have no money, so I cannot buy

anything either. Why don't you ask your big

brother about it ?'

 

'He told me to ask you about it,' Jatila replied.

'He said you would know what to do.'

 

His mother smiled.

 

'Did he?' she said. 'Very well. Tell him that I

depend upon him.'

 

The next morning on his way to school, Jatila

explained to his big brother that his mother

was so poor to send anything to the feast.

 

'She said she depended upon you,' Jatila

added.

 

'All right,' Madhusudan replied laughing, 'tell

your teacher that you will bring curds to the

feast. And tell him that you will bring enough

for everyone.'

 

Jatila laughed.

 

'It will have to be a very big pot of curds

then,' he said, 'because there will be about

twenty of us.'

 

The day of the feast came and Jatila ran

happily to meet his big brother in the forest.

He was eagerly looking forward to taking that

big pot of curds to school.

 

His big brother came walking down the forest

path as usual, and he brought with him a pot

of curds.

 

'Give this to your teacher,' he said as he gave

it to Jatila.

 

Jatila took the pot but he looked at it sadly. It

was not a big pot at all. It was a very small

pot. There would be curds only for about six

people, he thought.

 

Madhusudan looked at Jatila 's sad face.

 

'Give it to your teacher,' he said. 'It will be

enough.'

 

When Jatila's teacher saw the small pot of

curds he was very angry.

 

'You promised to bring curds for everyone,'

he said, 'so I did not arrange for any more.

What is the use of this small pot of curds

when there are so many of us ? You have

spoiled the feast, Jatila.' The small pot of

curds was placed on one side. The feast was

nearly over when the teacher remembered it.

 

'We should not waste the curds,' he said. 'A

few children may have some. Jatila, bring the

pot of curds.'

 

Jatila took the pot and gave some curds to

three or four children. Then he noticed

something very strange. As he took curds out

of the pot it filled up again. So he walked

down the two rows of children and put plenty

of curds on each child's leaf-plate.

 

The teacher watched Jatila in amazement.

 

'Jatila,' he cried, 'you have given curds to

everyone. Howe did you do that? I thought

you brought only one small pot of curds.'

 

'Yes, sir.' Jatila replied. 'This is the pot. But

look, it is still full.'

 

'Impossible!' cried the teacher. 'where did you

get this pot of curds form? Tell me at once.?

 

'Sir,' said Jatila, 'my big brother gave it to me.'

 

'Your big brother? I didn't know you had a

big brother,' the teacher said.

 

'I didn't know either,' replied Jatila, 'until I

began to come to school. He walks with me

through the forest, you see.'

 

'But where does he live? What is his name?'

asked the teacher, feeling greatly puzzled.

 

Jatila then told his teacher all about

Madhusudhan - What he did, what he looked

like, and how sweetly he could play the flute.

 

'Jatila,' said the teacher, 'I would like to see

this big brother of yours. Can I go with You

to meet. him?'

 

Oh, yes, of course,' replied Jatila eagerly.

'Come with me to the forest this evening. I

have only to call him and he comes to me.

 

When it was time for Jatila to go home, his

teacher went with him to the forest.

 

Jatila called as usual to Madhusudan, but he

did not come. Again and again Jatila called,

but still he did not come.

 

'I think, Jatila,' said the teacher, 'that you have

not been speaking the truth. You have no big

brother who lives in the forest.' Jatila began to

cry.

 

'It is true. It is true,' he wept. 'I have a big

brother, I tell you. His name is Madhusudan.

He gave me the curds.'

 

'Where is he, then?' said the teacher.

 

'Oh, big brother Madhusudan,' called Jatila

loudly. 'You must come to me now. You

must. If you don't, my teacher will never

believe that 1 have spoken the truth.'

 

At that moment Jatila heard the sound of a

flute.

 

'There'!' he cried, 'He is coming! See how

beautifully he plays the flute.'

 

The teacher listened to the flute and eagerly

looked around for the player. But still

Madhusudan did not come.

 

Instead, a beautiful voice spoke from

somewhere among the trees of the forest.

 

'Jatila,' said the voice, 'it will be a long

time yet before your teacher is able to see me.

 

You have seen me, Jatila, because of your mother.

She is pure and good and full of faith. She

begged me to take care of you in the forest

and that is why 1 came to walk with you

every day. You have seen me because your

mother had faith in me and because you had

faith in your mother.'

 

Then, at last, Jatila understood. His big

brother who lived in the forest really was

Madhusudan.

 

Om Shanti

 

from the web

 

 

 

Om Shanti

 

Please accept my apology for a public

format...email/private mails are not

available.

 

I would like to post a few of your

informative posts in my club-the

titles of which will requested

and credit will given to the author.

 

Please let me know-my email address or

private mail in on file.

 

Thank you,

shikha

 

<font color="blue">

Om Shanti....

 

"He gave me a song of pearls,

 

each bead a majestic moment that

cascaded upon

 

this quivering heart...

 

and there, his very hand..

 

took that gift apart!

 

 

Leaving tears were joy had shown

 

a prayer of purity unadorned-

 

 

A barren and desolate shrine

 

of sweet melodies for the magic

 

of his methods in a tangle of stars

 

 

A space held in temples of electronic bars...

 

Speaking of love he quoted many it seems

 

but these words, not from his heart,

no, not even his dreams...

 

only words gathered as clouds

of the Mind's sky

 

pretty puffs of vanity that drift by...

 

 

How foolish to belive in a world long gone

 

a magical moment lost in song...

 

words not equal to this task so dear...

 

 

Only the lover that is sincere..

 

would know the riddle of this melody...

 

sung without words and thus,

unheard by many, it seems...

 

a song of Love as God

in brilliant majesty!"

 

-shikha, 2002-

 

for each of you, my dears

 

Om Shanti

 

</font color>

 

Part IV

 

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

Over towered Camelot;

 

Down she came and found a boat

Beneath a willow left afloat,

And round about the prow she wrote

The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse,

Like some bold seër in a trance

Seeing all his own mischance--

With a glassy countenance

Did she look to Camelot.

And at the closing of the day

She loosed the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white

That loosely flew to left and right--

The leaves upon her falling light--

Through the noises of the night

She floated down to Camelot:

And as the boat-head wound along

 

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her singing her last song,

The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,

Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her blood was frozen slowly,

And her eyes were darkened wholly,

Turned to towered Camelot.

 

For ere she reached upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden-wall and gallery,

A gleaming shape she floated by,

Dead-pale between the houses high,

Silent into Camelot.

 

Out upon the wharfs they came,

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

And round the prow they read her name,

The Lady of Shalott.

 

Who is this? and what is here?

And in the lighted palace near

Died the sound of royal cheer;

And they crossed themselves for fear,

 

All the knights at Camelot:

But Lancelot mused a little space;

He said, "She has a lovely face;

God in his mercy lend her grace,

 

The Lady of Shalott."

 

 

Om Shanti

 

The Lady of Shalott

by

Lord Alfred Tennyson

 

Part III

 

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling through the leaves,

 

And flamed upon the brazen greaves

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

 

A red-cross knight for ever neeled

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glittered free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down to Camelot:

 

And from his blazoned baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burned like one burning flame together,

 

As he rode down to Camelot.

As often through the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

 

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;

 

On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flowed

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down to Camelot.

 

From the bank and from the river

He flashed into the crystal mirror,

"Tirra lirra," by the river

Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,

She made three paces through the room,

She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

 

She looked down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

 

The mirror cracked from side to side;

"The curse is come upon me," cried

The Lady of Shalott.

 

Om Shanti