I is a Door

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I is a Door Page 6

by Philip Renard


  “People think that they are jivas. … In fact there are no jivas.”*

  Consequently ‘jiva’ or ‘individual’ is just a temporary way of speaking in order to indicate the restricted form of a body and mind in which you exist, and which is comparable to a house. You are not that.

  Experience Is The Last Object

  The aid rendered by the in-between level of ‘I am’ as a door or medicine, lies in discovering here the root of the mistake, instead of searching for this root within the karmic past of the jiva. Ramana said,

  “The more you rectify your karma, the more it accumulates. Find the root of karma and cut it off.”27

  The root of karma is here, within the present Experience, within the pill. We can continue our past, that is to say our karma, or we now can recognize and acknowledge freedom. This is the point where we can go in either direction – the responsibility is up to us to see what we really want. Abiding here, in Experience Itself, in ‘consciousness’, we can recognize that we won’t have to be underneath the central groove of the pill in the illustration at all, meaning that we are not fated to continue our past. It is vital to notice that this root, this cause or seed actually does not exist. Due to attention to this point, to the recognizing of it, you may discover there is no beginning. What you come across in this recognizing is only emptiness, openness, light – not a ‘something’. Here you can see what is meant in the various traditions by the term ‘illusion’ (maya). Something appears, but the moment you really are looking, there is only seeing. This is what in the beginning of this chapter was called ‘it is mercurial, super-fast’. It begins, now.

  Searching for the beginning already is within the sense of fascination – fascination and identification have then begun already. Nisargadatta said about this:

  “People think I am the cause, but I am not the cause, I am the support. … The world is there spontaneously without any seed; creation is seedless, but the world is full of seeds and procreation is going on daily.”28

  Is it possible to say something truthful about what multiplicity is? The next statement is from one of the Upanishads, which I consider a beautiful answer to this quandary:

  “Taking birth, You have Your faces everywhere.”29

  Nisargadatta also commented on the same theme:

  “The one witness reflects itself in the countless bodies as ‘I am’ [as ‘Experience’]. As long as the bodies, however subtle, last, the ‘I am’ appears as many. Beyond the body there is only the One.”30

  ‘I am’ is one. It is one Object. We may also express it differently, namely, that it is the last object. This last object is the same in everybody. There is no difference whatsoever in ‘I am’ in the variety of individuals. Abiding here, you are already free from fascination. To this one Object point the well-known words:

  “The Guru, God, your own knowledge [‘I am’] – these three are one.”31

  All three are terms for the last Object, within and outside: ‘This’. Y ou would do well in confining yourself to This, whatever ‘This’ may be.* In other words, stay with present Object – present ‘consciousness’ or Experience.

  As long as an object appears, there is a Witness of it – You are That. You yourself are not an object. You are constantly looking from Yourself already now, that is, from Light, your own Luminosity. The ‘Witness’ is not something that exists as such – it does exist only when an object appears. The One turns Itself into a second one. That is ‘I am’, Experience. But as soon as the Witness is recognized in Experience, knowledge (jnana) becomes Understanding (Jnana, or Vijnana). Here the medicine dissolves, as it has been digested. There is no second. No second person or object. ‘This’ turns out to be the same as ‘That’, the undivided Reality. The so-called pill is just a temporary mirror. It only reflects the Light.

  ‘I’ cannot be seen. Thanks to the mirror you see a reflection of ‘I’. That is the aid, so that you can recognize.

  ‘I’ is already and always Light Itself. The Constant Source of all seeing. Via the mirror of ‘I am’ I can see that I am not this reflection – the reflected image of ‘I am’. I am always the luminous seeing as such, Light Itself.

  * See Seeds, p. 42: “This ‘I am-ness’ is there first, isn’t it? – primary. That ‘I’ must be there first before you receive this sickness of samskara.”

  * The many terms depicted on the picture of the pill are indications for a possible way of discrimination between the many terms Nisargadatta used. Many different words are synonyms - and suddenly the same word may mean exactly two opposing things.

  * By using the term Atman for the pill it is possible to emphasize that this is the watershed (which can be ambiguous), that is, the transition from Parama-atman to jiva-atman. So the three levels are: 1. Parama-atman; 2. Atman; 3. jiva-atman. See also Consciousness, p. 102. Atman is the general term with which you can go both directions. It is real and unreal at the same time. Actually this classification is according to Nisargadatta; Ramana did use the word ‘Self’ or ‘Atman’ generally to denote the Reality, the Ultimate.

  * “The sunlight is insentient (jada)”, Ramana says, in Talks, nr. 420.

  * The term ‘causal body’ that has been used in texts of the Advaita tradition (and also by Ramana Maharshi, for instance in Vichara Sangraham and Maharshi’s Gospel), points to the source of all forms, even in its most latent form. In the words of Ramana: “The source is a point without dimensions. It expands as the cosmos on the one hand and as Infinite Bliss on the other. That point is the pivot. From it a single vasana starts, multiplies as the experiencer ‘I’, the experience, and the world.” Talks, nr. 616.

  † The word ‘fascination’ is derived from the Latin fascinare, which means binding together. Related to this is the fasces, a bundle of rods, with an axe bound in along with them; this was the symbol of the fascist party in Italy before and during the Second World War.

  * Talks, nr. 313. An example of the confusing element in the use of the term jiva is in another saying of Ramana: “Therefore the jiva has eternal being” (Talks, nr. 133). If something is described as ‘eternal being’, it is conceived as being a reality. The expression ‘eternal jiva’ does appear also in the Bhagavad Gita, for instance in Part XV, verse 7. That which is real and timeless in a jiva, is not the jiva itself. The term ‘jiva’ is pointing to the temporary shape.

  * Here the word ‘This’ is used specifically, as indication for manifestation as such, in the present experience. A synonym for ‘present form’. See also the footnote on page 22.

  SHORT BIOGRAPHIES

  1. RAMANA MAHARSHI

  Bhagavan Shri Ramana Maharshi was born in the early hours of December 30, 1879 in Tiruchuli, in the southern part of the Madras Presidency (nowadays Tamil Nadu). In the summer of 1896 something happened to him that bestowed a profound realisation of his true nature. Within a sudden mortal fear, which he courageously allowed to be, he discovered a decisiveness about his true identity and with that, the true meaning of the word ‘I’. Later on he described this as:

  “With the death of this body, am ‘I’ dead? Is the body ‘I’? This body is silent and inert. But I feel the full force of my personality and even the sound ‘I’ within myself – apart from the body. … ‘I’ was something very real, the only real thing in that state, and all the conscious activity that was connected with my body was centred on that. The ‘I’ or my ‘Self’ was holding the focus of attention by a powerful fascination, from that time onwards.”1

  One and a half months later he travelled to Arunachala mountain, to which he felt attracted for some time already. He remained there for the rest of his life – to him, the mountain was Shiva himself. He considered it the only place on earth for him to abide. The first years he spent in solitude, often neglecting his bodily needs. He just sat, with his eyes closed.

  As the years passed by people came to him for advice. Some of them brought books, and asked him questions about their content. By reading these books, like Viveka Chudamani,
he discovered that what he had realized corresponded to what was written in these texts, and so he recognized his own realisation as ‘Advaita’.

  In 1922 an ashram sprouted at the foot of the mountain, in Tiruvannamalai: Ramanasramam, still flourishing today. Ramana Maharshi lived there until his death on the 14th of April 1950.

  Many testimonials of meetings with the Maharshi exist. In virtually all stories the emphasis is on a deep silence that was experienced – not always a silence of speech, but a silence and a light that was like irradiating the visitors (for example: “His presence was as a continuous bath of light that pierced into the deepest corners of my mind”2). As a matter of fact, in the testimonials it is stated time and again that Ramana did not teach by instruction but merely by his illuminating presence. Indeed Ramana remained silent very often, sometimes even when someone had asked a question. Nevertheless, wordless silence was not the only thing he offered. He did speak, and sometimes even extensively and in detail. He could, for instance, enthusiastically tell stories about his own past, in which it is striking how many details he could remember.

  Repeatedly he advised against book learning, but at the same time he was a lover of good texts. Near his couch was a revolving bookcase and also against the wall there were bookcases. He liked to read out aloud fragments from devotional scriptures (like from Tevaram, a collection of Tamil verses, and from the songs of eighteenth-century poet Tayumanavar). Often this could move him to tears, sometimes to the point that he could not speak any further. He was often busy making notes with a pencil in a book, and regularly he translated texts. His own language was Tamil; he had a good command of English. He could judge very well whether something was translated correctly, also in other South-Indian languages, like Telugu and Malayalam.

  One striking particular in the life of Ramana Maharshi was the absence of any sexual interest. At least, I have not found any testimonial in which something has been told about a sexually oriented desire or a personal love relationship.

  Ramana did not consider himself a teacher. Only the Self was real to him – ‘teacher’ and ‘disciple’ he considered concepts that are put on top of Reality. In the early years, when the ashram did not exist yet, he attempted several times to escape from the attention of the seekers around him. Ultimately this appeared to be all in vain; people always managed to find him again and in the end he acquiesced. In later years, devotees repeatedly suggested the possibility of travelling through India with a train, organized specifically for that purpose. In this manner all people that were not able to travel to Tiruvannamalai could meet him anyway. But because he only saw the Self, his reply was:

  “What is the use of my going anywhere? I am not able to see anything.”3

  Although the Englishman F.H. Humphreys had visited Ramana as early as 1911 and had written an article about him, it was thanks to the English journalist Paul Brunton who visited him in 1931, that Ramana Maharshi became known in the West. Three years later Brunton published the book A Search in Secret India, in which he described his meetings with the Maharshi in a very impressive way.4 As a result other Western seekers came to visit the ashram, of whom some even stayed for good.

  The ashram in Tiruvannamalai has become a main center of Advaita, which functions as a kind of beacon for seekers from over the world. Quite a few Western devotees are nowadays living around the ashram. Since 1964 the ashram is publishing a magazine, Mountain Path, which offers an influential voice within the contemporary scene of the various non-dualistic teachings of Self-realisation.

  2. ATMANANDA (KRISHNA MENON)

  Shri P. Krishna Menon was born on December 8, 1883 in Peringara, near Tiruvalla in Travancore (in today’s Kerala). After completing a study of law he became a Government Advocate and Inspector and District Superintendent of Police. He once said that in his early life he prayed at length to encounter a Sat-Guru, a Teacher in the true sense of the word. One day in 1919 he met such a teacher, one Swami Yogananda, who lived in Calcutta.5 They met during the course of one night only. Krishna Menon was particularly touched by the utmost humility of this teacher. He later stated: “This paralyzed my ego.”

  Because of this encounter he started a sadhana, which comprised both bhakti and raja yoga as well as pure jnana.

  Later on having become a teacher himself, he would transmit to others only the jnana aspect, and even criticize both the bhakti and raja yoga aspects.6

  In 1923 he came to realize his true nature. He adopted the name Atmananda, given to him by his guru, and began teaching. He continued to work in the Police Department up to 1939. Later on, he once said that a profession within the police or the military offers an ideal foundation for a spiritual sadhana, because such a profession offers in particular the maximum obstacles and temptations.7

  In 1959, May 14, Atmananda died at Trivandrum, the capital of Kerala.

  In the testimonials that exist about meetings with Atmananda, also called Gurunathan, it is striking how lovingly his disciples speak and write about him. Of the teachers discussed in this book, he was the only one that had some sort of commitment with his disciples. True enough he said once:

  “A Guru has no disciples. However, the disciples, so long as they remain disciples, have a Guru.”8

  In spite of this, from many reports it appears that he had a true and intense teacher-disciple relationship with a lot of people.

  Concerning the intimate relationship of man and woman Atmananda also emphasized a mutual commitment. In contrast to Ramana Maharshi, Atmananda was married and a father of three children. Reports about his marriage all state how harmonious it was – it is stated a true example for the students. In the husband-wife relationship Atmananda emphasized that both should be grounded in the non-dual permanent Principle, that precedes man or woman.9 After the decease of his wife Swarupananda in 1953, Atmananda expressed his grief fully. This was interrupted at an instance when an old friend came to visit him. Together they talked and laughed for some time. But directly after the friend had left, Atmananda began to weep and shed tears in profusion as before.10

  Atmananda was used to chew tobacco; a few years he smoked cigarettes. He loved chess; he played with a few of his students. In the report about playing chess it is stated that he even used the game of chess to speed up the spiritual progress of his students.11

  Atmananda’s appearance on pictures can be a bit strict and formal. A testimonial from a sceptical Westerner looks like a confirmation of this impression: “During the several hours that I spent with him, I didn’t see him smile for a moment.”12 But I have the impression that this is a very superficial point of view. All reports from disciples point to his total love and dedication. As a reader of these reports it always strikes me how he stayed totally present in all feelings, without guard or denial, being an example of how we can experience our feelings as an expression of Ultimate Reality.

  Atmananda became known to the West thanks to Lewis Thompson, an English poet who visited him in 1936 for the first time.13 Over the years Atmananda’s style of teaching appeared to be very appealing to Western intellectuals and writers such as Joseph Campbell, Julian Huxley, Paul Brunton and Arthur Koestler.14

  Of the three teachers discussed here, Atmananda was the only one who paid a visit to the West; among others he visited London and Paris in 1950. Of the three teachers he was also the only one who did occasionally use the English language in his teaching.

  One of the ways by which Atmananda’s approach became known in the West was through the book The Nature of Man According to the Vedanta by John Levy. He was an English pupil of Atmananda who had stayed regularly with him. Levy rephrased Atmananda’s specific approach in a somewhat more Western style, yet he did retain Atmananda’s particular and unique way of dealing with logic.15

  I got to know of Atmananda in the Eighties while being a pupil of the late Alexander Smit, a Dutchman who had been a pupil of Atmananda’s pupil Wolter Keers. Alexander gave me a copy of two small books by Atmananda, Atma Darshan and Atma
Nirvriti. These books are Atmananda’s brief summary of his teachings; they have been written in his mother tongue Malayalam and translated into English by himself. For two years Alexander Smit thoroughly dealt with these books in weekly meetings. I am grateful having had the privilege to attend to these meetings; owing to this opportunity I became familiar with Atmananda’s specific approach.

  3. NISARGADATTA MAHARAJ

  Shri Nisargadatta Maharaj was born on the 17th of April 1897 in Bombay.16 This day was celebrated as the birthday of Hanuman, the utterly devoted monkey from the Ramayana who is revered like a deity. For this reason Nisargadatta’s parents gave him the name Maruti, which is one of the names of Hanuman. He grew up in Kandalgaon, a village in the Ratnagiri district, in the South of today’s Maharashtra. In those days he was mainly engaged with tending cattle and running errands. When he reached the age of about eighteen he returned to Bombay. At first he travelled regularly back and forth between the city and the countryside, but from 1920 onwards he stayed in Bombay and started to keep a shop in which he sold bidis, Indian hand made cigarettes.

  In 1933 he met his teacher, Shri Siddharameshwar Maharaj, who belonged to the Nav Nath tradition.17 The form of this tradition as being transmitted originally to Siddharameshwar by his guru Bhausaheb Maharaj, was merely nama japa – repeating the Names of God. After Bhausaheb’s death in 1914 however, Siddharameshwar had replaced this form of endless mantra-meditation by a much faster way: he had discovered what he called ‘the bird’s way’ (in contrast to ‘the ant’s way’ of his guru). He had discovered the direct way. A bird can fly from tree to tree in no time. So Siddharameshwar pointed his disciples, including Maruti, directly to the heart of the matter.

 

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