A Thousand Times (Part 6.)

“Jehan – o kare jehan,
Jumla heech,
Der heech ast,
Hazar bar mun in nukta karda-am tehqiqe.” – Hafez


“A Thousand times I have looked,
And found it to be true,
That the universe and all its affairs,
Are totally nothing into nothing.” – Hafez

“Andy, you said you wanted to experience this truth and I sent you to the movies. If remaining aloof to a movie made you uncomfortable then how much more uncomfortable would it be for you to be in a state detached from the universe.”

“I take your point Baba. Perhaps it would be better if I did not request and just leave it to You to decide what it best for me?”

“Yes Andy, just leave it to Me and I will help you.”

“Yes, that is what I want. I give You the responsibility for my journey. But then I wonder; what is it that I am to do in the meantime?”

“Andy, in the meantime, try to remember and do the following: Think thoughts you would not hesitate to think in My presence; speak words you would not hesitate to speak in My presence; and do actions you would not hesitate to do in My presence.” – Meher Baba

“I will try Baba.”

Baba nodded His head with pleasure and then said the following:

“It is the nature of intelligence to know. To know, intelligence must think. To think, mind is necessary. The projector at the movie theater represents the mind. When it is turned on, it projects images for you to see. But the projector of the mind differs from projector at the theater because not only does it project the movie, it also has the capacity to experience of its own projection. In short, mind projects and mind experiences its own projection—and this is how intelligence becomes conscious—how intelligence realizes its nature to know.”

“But what is the movie Baba? Where does it come from?”

“Andy, the movie comes from the original urge of intelligence to know. Remember, to think is to know and to experience this thinking is to be conscious. But in the beginning, the mind’s ability to think is most limited and consequently the consciousness derived from the experiencing of that thinking is also most limited. Now, what is it that intelligence wishes to know? The answer is itself. But this intelligence of which I speak is Infinite Intelligence—it is God, and the the original urge of God is to know Itself. It is this original urge—this original thought ‘Who am I?’ that starts the mind working—thinking. But, at first, this thinking is most limited and since God is Infinite, the thoughts—the answers—the mind thinks in response to its own question are false. Andy, the self and the universe the mind thinks are nothing in relationship to that everything that God is. Hence Hafez says, ‘… the universe and all its affairs are totally nothing into nothing.’”

(To be continued.)

A Thousand Times (Part 5.)

“Jehan – o kare jehan,
Jumla heech,
Der heech ast,
Hazar bar mun in nukta karda-am tehqiqe.” – Hafez


“A Thousand times I have looked,
And found it to be true,
That the universe and all its affairs,
Are totally nothing into nothing.” – Hafez

“So Andy, what did you think about the movie?”
“Not, much Baba, I was very distracted—and then You got up to leave before the movie was half over.”
“Yes, I left when My work was done. You said you were distracted?”
“Well Baba, You kept distracting me with your fidgeting and requests for this and that—You were like a child.”
“Baba is a name that is used for children as well as respected elders and Masters—we often resemble each other quite a bit.”
“Apparently Baba.”
“But Andy, you could have changed your seat if I was bothering you.”
“I did say distracted Baba, I didn’t say bothered.”
“You are very clever Andy, still you could have changed your seat—why didn’t you?”
“Well Baba, no matter what You do, I’d still rather be with You than anyone or anything—I’d never change my seat.”
“You do know Andy that if I wanted to push you away you would be unable to resist?”
“Yes Baba, I pray You never would.”
“I would push you away only to bring you closer.”
“I know Baba; it is Your game.”
“Yes, it is My game, for in Reality, ‘you and I are not we, but One.’ – (Meher Baba)
“And Baba, I was able to watch the movie without getting absorbed in it.”
“That is the key Andy, remember me always—keep me with you in your mind and heart and you will be able to be in the world, yet not of the world. As Hafez says, the world does not disappear, it is just seen for what it is, ‘nothing into nothing.’”

(To be continued.)

A Thousand Times (Part 4.)

“Jehan – o kare jehan,
Jumla heech,
Der heech ast,
Hazar bar mun in nukta karda-am tehqiqe.” – Hafez


“A Thousand times I have looked,
And found it to be true,
That the universe and all its affairs,
Are totally nothing into nothing.” – Hafez

“So Andy, did you see another movie?”
“Yes, as you requested Baba.”
“And were you able to follow my order—to watch but not become involved with the movie?”
“No Baba, I tried, but then I got lost in the movie.”
“It must have been a very good movie then?” Baba said smiling, “What was it about?”
“Well, it was a romance Baba about two people, lost souls who were always searching for each other, always disappointed with relationships, who somehow found each other and fell in love.”
“And you could remain aloof?”
“No Baba, I tried, but within a few minutes I forgot and became lost in the story.”
“But for a few minutes you tried—you were able to resist? Tell me about that Andy.”
“Well it was very uncomfortable Baba.”
“Uncomfortable? How so?”
“It’s difficult to describe, but I was just sitting there as the images and sounds began, and for a while I just tried to watch—and I became aware of the other people in the theater, and I could see that they were lost in the movie, and I began to experience a deep loneliness—a deep onlyness.”
“They had gone sleep, but for a moment you were awake.”
“It was very uncomfortable Baba.”
“Yet you said before that you wanted to experience the truth of what Hafez said. To experience that truth you have to remain awake in a sleeping world. Are you sure you want that?”
“Well Baba, I’m not sure; is there another way?”
The Master smiled. “Yes,” He said.
“Perhaps if we go to the movie together it will be different. Is there yet another good movie in town?”
“Yes Baba.”
“Good, we will go after lunch.”

(To be continued.)

A Thousand Times (Part 3.)

“Jehan – o kare jehan,
Jumla heech,
Der heech ast,
Hazar bar mun in nukta karda-am tehqiqe.” – Hafez


“A Thousand times I have looked,
And found it to be true,
That the universe and all its affairs,
Are totally nothing into nothing.” – Hafez


… “So, Andy, did you see a movie?”
“Yes Baba, I did as you requested.”
“Was it a good movie?”
“I am no judge, but I did enjoy it.”
“What was it about?”
“Well, Baba, it was about a man who had it all—wealth, health, family, and friends, who then fell on hard times and lost it all.”
“All, he lost it all?”
“Yes Baba, even his wife left him for another man.”
“Such a pity, what happened then?”
“His circumstances began to improve; he began a new life and found happiness.”
“Happiness?”
“Yes Baba, when his circumstances improved, he never forgot the time when he was down and out. It made him a better person.”
“And his story—the movie—affected you?”
“Yes Baba, I laughed and cried.”
“But it was a movie was it not—just images projected on a screen—images of actors playing various roles?”
“Yes.”
“Still you were affected—still you became lost in the show?”
“Yes Baba.”
“Andy, I would like you to go to another movie.”
“Another movie Baba?”
“Yes, I want you to go to another movie but not get lost in it. Just sit there and watch it, but not become absorbed in it—remembering all the time that it is just a movie, images projected on a screen. Can you do it?”
“If you want me to, I will try.”

(To be continued.)

A Thousand Times...(Part 2.)

“Jehan – o kare jehan,
Jumla heech,
Der heech ast,
Hazar bar mun in nukta karda-am tehqiqe.” – Hafez


“A Thousand times I have looked,
And found it to be true,
That the universe and all its affairs,
Are totally nothing into nothing.” – Hafez

Andy approached his Guru.
“Baba, Hafez says that the universe and all its affairs are totally nothing into nothing.”
“Hafez was a Perfect Master. What He said was correct,” He replied.
“It certainly seems real to me Baba.”
“Still what Hafez said is true; Brahma’s creation is a mere pouring from the empty into the void.”
“If it is true, I want to know it.”
“Be careful what you ask for.”
“I want to know,” Andy persisted.
“Well maybe, sometime, but now look around—it is a beautiful day today, is it not?”
“Yes Baba, it is very beautiful today.”
“The sun is shining, the birds are singing; why not forget your question for now?”
“If you say so Baba.”
“Good,” Baba smiled, “then why don’t you go to a movie, I hear there are some very good movies playing in town. Now is not the time for such serious questions.”
“Okay Baba, if you say so, I’ll go and see a movie this afternoon.”

(To be continued.)

A Thousand Times...

“Jehan – o kare jehan,
Jumla heech,
Der heech ast,
Hazar bar mun in nukta karda-am tehqiqe.” – Hafez


“A Thousand times I have looked,
And found it to be true,
That the universe and all its affairs,
Are totally nothing into nothing.” – Hafez

Things Are Not Always What They Seem To Be

I have looked up the word “faith” in various dictionaries and the definitions are quite consistent; “faith” is a confidence or trust in a person, entity, or idea that does not rest on material evidence or logical proof. A common and consistent application of the word is to the existence of and belief in God. The average person does not see God, does not experience God directly, but is confident and trusts that God exists. Some say they see the hand of God working, but this seeing is like inferring the existence of the wind by observing the movement of the leaves on the tree.

But there is another side to “faith” that is not generally recognized or understood. This other side cannot be found in the definitions of dictionaries and thesauruses and yet, without this other side, the first side of faith cannot stand; it this other side of faith that I wish to address in this blog.

“I am called Shri Nazar,” she said. I guess my surprise was quite obvious all over my face.

“Yes, it is unusual for a woman to be addressed as Shri,” she said. “It was my spiritual master who gave me this name.” She smiled, adding, “In the spiritual world, things are not always what they first appear.” – Lovers of Silence; Lovers of Sound – Michael Kovitz

“In the spiritual world, things are not always what they first appear.”

Kabir, the great 15th Century poet and Perfect Master said:

“Lamps burn in every house, O blind ones!, and you cannot see them.

“One day your eyes shall suddenly be opened, and you shall see:
And the fetters of death will fall from you.

“There is nothing to say or to hear,
There is nothing to do:
It is he who is living, yet dead, who shall never die again.

“Because he lives in solitude, therefore the yogi says that His home is far away.
(But), your Lord is near: yet you are climbing the palm-tree to seek Him.

“The Brahman priest goes from house to house and initiates people into faith:
Alas! The true fountain of life is beside you,
Yet you have set up a stone to worship.

“Kabir says: I may never express how sweet my Lord is. Yoga and the telling of beads, virtue and vice—these are naught to Him.”

We always think there is something to say—something to do—something to learn—something to know. But, as Kabir says, when what appears to be so real is seen for what it is, then one becomes living, yet dead, and is never born again...


[One of my readers, Keysunset, left the following comment on Things Are Not Always What They Seem To Be.]

“Just need a little clarification. The quote from Kabir says, ‘There is nothing to say or to hear,
‘There is nothing to do:
‘It is he who is living, yet dead, who shall never die again.’”

“But then you say, ‘But, as Kabir says, when what appears to be so real is seen for what it is, then one becomes living, yet dead, and is never born again.’”

“Is it ‘never die again’ or ‘never born again’? For me, at least, it changes the thought.”

So, to answer her question, it was not my intention to change Kabir’s statement in my paraphrase. It should read; "But, as Kabir says, when what appears to be so real is seen for what it is, then one becomes living, yet dead, and never dies again."

Thank you Keysunset for catching my mistake.

But that said, her comment did make me wonder—I mean the part about it changing the meaning for her. I thought it had something to do with the fact that Keysunset is a Christian, and the concept of ‘born again’ holds tremendous significance to her and her faith. So I asked her about it, and in fact, my assumption was correct, that in her faith, the end, as in the goal, is to be born again into Christ and the Kingdom of Heaven...

I remember the story of Lazarus in the New Testament. Lazarus was dead until Christ walked by and told him, “Lazarus arise!” And Lazarus arose and was ‘born again’ in Him. I recall that Andres Segovia, the great classical guitarist, once referred to that story saying, “from that moment, Lazarus belonged more to Christ then he did to his own mother and father.”

Still, I wonder, what the distinction is between ‘born no more’ and ‘die no more’. The soul is eternal and in eternity there is no birth—no beginning—and if there is no beginning there can be no death—no end. Birth and death only have meaning in life—in illusion.

Additionally, I think the distinction Keysunset makes brings up the difference in belief held by modern Christians and Muslims—that there is only one birth and one death—and the Vedic belief in reincarnation (many births and many deaths).

I love how Meher Baba deals with this distinction in God Speaks:
“…it is made clear that it is God who plays the different roles, real and imaginary. The beginning is God and the end is God; the intermediary stages cannot but be God.

“Maulana Shabistari, in Gulshan-e-Raz says:

‘He returns to the door from which he first came out, although in his journey he went from door to door.’”

G.I Gurdjieff was a spiritual teacher who had a profound impact upon many seekers in the western world. Among many other things, he wrote three series of books, the first of which was under the collective title, An Objectively Impartial Criticism of the Life of Man, or, All and Everything – Beelzebub’s Tales to His Grandson.

The stated objective of his first series was, “To destroy mercilessly, without any compromises whatsoever, in the mentation and feeling of the reader, the beliefs and views, by centuries rooted in him, about everything existing in the world.” –Beelzebub’s Tales to His Grandson.

Chapter XVII is titled The Arch Absurd (According to the Assertion of Beelzebub, Our Sun Neither Lights nor Heats). On page 135 is written, “…that not only does nothing like ‘light,’ ‘darkness,’ ‘heat,’ and so on, come to their planet from their Sun itself, but their supposed ‘source of heat and light’ is itself almost always freezing cold like the ‘hairless-dog’ of our highly esteemed Mulla Nassr Eddin.”

Gurdjieff then goes on to explain, in great detail, that this ‘light’ and ‘heat’ is the result of certain cosmic processes that take place within the individual himself—in other words, that we are the very source of this ‘light’ and ‘heat’ we think is emanating from the Sun.

I found it very interesting, that some years after reading this explanation by Gurdjieff, I read something very similar in the Talks of Upasani Maharaj. Upasani too, asserted that our Sun neither gives ‘heat,’ nor ‘light,’ and went on to explain that the Sun was a phenomenon of great density—something similar to what our science understands as a black hole—and that this density reflects, like a mirror, the ‘light’ of the soul, which is emanating from our very self.

The poet Rumi tells the story of the musk-deer who runs around searching everywhere for the source of the exquisite scent emanating from itself. Yes, in this gross-conscious world, things are not always what they seem to be.

“‘When I speak about the center of the universe, I am not speaking about a physical center because that center does not exist at all. It does not exist because, in reality, the universe does not exist.’

‘Does not exist?’ I said incredulously.

‘Haven’t you ever heard the little song?

‘Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.

“‘There is actually more truth in this little song than is often imagined.’ Mr. Kubadi then went on to explain that the universe is something we, as conscious beings, create by projection—like a movie on a screen. As we watch it, we become more and more engrossed in what we see and forget it is only a movie.

‘In the case of the universe,’ he said, ‘the average person never questions its reality and is never aware they are, in fact, the creator and projector of the movie itself.

‘Of course, this is only an analogy and unlike a traditional movie projector, consciousness projects the universe omni-directionally as concentric spheres from its own center.

‘Consciousness then sees this projection but is not aware of itself as its source and this creates a contradiction of perception it then unconsciously tries to correct. This correction take the form of an attempt to remove itself from the center of its experience by creating for itself a perspective of the projected rather than the projector, or if you will, as the dream rather than the dreamer.

‘Consciousness does this by convincing itself that the curve of the concentric sphere is a straight line or, if you will, a horizon. The end result is consciousness, relieved of the role of creator, begins to identify with its creation and becomes the creature of its own dream.’” – From Silence to Sound – Richard Kyle’s Journey to Musical Competency – by Michael Kovitz (available at eladi-publications.com)

Some twenty years ago, a friend of mine loaned me a library book. It wasn’t a very long book, a short story really, attributed to Lama Yongden and written by Alexandra David-Neel.

The story goes something like this: A disciple returns to the hermitage of his teacher late one night to find his teacher in a state of deep meditation. Wishing not to disturb him, the disciple slips inside the door of the little chapel and trying to fathom the auspicious state of his teacher; himself enters into a state of meditation. In the morning, when he becomes aware of the dawning sun, he opens his eyes, and in the light of day sees that his teacher has not been meditating at all, that he was dead—murdered—and the sacred amulet he always wore had been ripped from his neck. In anger and despair he vows to avenge the death of his teacher and return the sacred amulet.

And so, based on information he ascertained about a young couple from a near-by village who had suddenly gone missing, he sets off on a journey that was to last him many years. He goes from town to town, searching for the couple, looking for more information and more clues. But, he is always unsuccessful and eventually, his mind and health shattered, he is taken into a monastery and shown to a little cell where he is allowed to rest and recover.

After a number of days, he is told that the head of the monastery wishes to see him. But the man is cautious—skeptical—thinking that the head of the monastery wants something from him—maybe information—maybe something more—and he vows to himself to reveal nothing during his interview.

Having imagined that the head of the monastery would use all manner of tricks and ploys to gain information about him and his teacher, he is thrown off his game when the head of the monastery says nothing to him at all. As a result, the man begins to tell his story, and, in the end, reveals everything and more about the murder of his teacher and his own quest to find those responsible and gain back the amulet. The head of the monastery responds by telling the disciple to return to his cell and contemplate the murals on its walls in order to gain insight into, and direction for, his quest.

The man is a little puzzled by this response; he had been staying in the same room for days, but did not remember any murals. Again, he thought he was being tricked—perhaps it was part of a plan to imprison him?

So the man returns to his monastic cell and, indeed, he sees the murals covering the walls. How could he have missed them? With caution and skepticism he begins to examine the murals and to his surprise he sees that the murals are telling the story of his own journey. He sees his teacher and all the places he visited on his quest. Surprise turns to terror when he finally sees himself painted into the mural. Now he knows for sure, there is a plot against him; he will never be allowed to leave the monastery.

He calls out and an attendant responds to his demand to be allowed to leave the monastery immediately. Of course he can leave anytime he wants—there never really was a plot against him.

And so the man leaves the monastery and gives up his quest and returns to his teacher’s hermitage. Arriving late at night, he goes to the little chapel where years before he discovered the murder of his teacher, but when he goes inside, to his amazement, he sees his teacher sitting there in meditation, the amulet around his neck. There had never been a murder or a theft; there never was a plot against him; there never had been any murals—the walls of his monastic cell were white.

The name of the book, The Power of Nothingness.

The Beloved’s message is always different/always the same:

“Nothing is real except God—nothing matters except love for God.” – Meher Baba

In The Garden – by Michael Kovitz (© copyright Michael Kovitz 2002)

“Oh my lover, walk with me
in this garden now at dusk—
the joining time that stands between
the dark of day
and light of night.”

Happy I was to be with Him,
my heart content,
my mind at rest,
and when He took my hand in His,
like dusk joins night with day,
I no longer knew where He did end
or where it was that I began.
Content was I, yet in my mind,
one silly thought could not dismiss.

“What can it be?” He asked,
“that at this moment of communion’s bliss
ensnares your thoughts in reason’s trap?”

“A silly thought.” I shyly said.
His eyes were oceans,
their shores his lids.
“And folly itself I must have to be,
to voice this thought and risk the
moment’s peace.”

His right brow arched—
a mountain’s peak beyond the oceans shore,
while the left hung low and flat,
an endless plane commanding that my
speech go forth.

“It’s really nothing,” I meekly said,
“but if you insist,
it was when you said that day is dark
and night is light-
I could not but wonder
if you had said it right?”

The smallest wisp of cloud appeared upon the ocean vast,
and on the garden’s breeze a ripple of a chill was cast.
Before us lying near the path, a man asleep appeared to me.

“Tell me,” my Beloved spoke,
“asleep or awake do you take him to be?”

“Asleep.” I said.
“His eyes are closed,
snoring sounds rise from his throat.”

“Yet awake he is within his dreams.”
My Companion said to me.
“Within the shadow play that is his mind,
he dreams himself to be,
and takes the image that he sees
to be Reality.”

And so we continued along the path,
joined by hands still clasped,
when soon another man appeared,
and I heard the question that I feared-

“Asleep or awake do you take him to be?”
My Beloved smiled.
“What do you think?”
“Asleep to me is what he seems,
yet perhaps, awake within his dreams?”

Laughter furrowed the sky
above the oceans of his eyes
and without speech conveyed,
“Good try! Is not this garden walk such fun?”

I said,
“To be with You is joy sublime,
but your questions oft disturb my mind.
‘Asleep or awake?’
How can I know such things?
Oh what perplexity
your questions bring.”

“This is true,”
was His reply,
“when you see the point,
but not the line,
while my vision is perfect
and sees beyond time,
the plane and the cube,
the dreams of the mind.”

“Now this man before us that we see
is withdrawn to dreamless sleep.
Within his soul he dwells in peace,
not knowing his self, or dreams,
or this body that we see.”

“But were he to awaken,
without disturbing his sleep,
Eternal Bliss would be his to keep.
Truly awake his real self would be,
no more illusion would he see.”

“My dear, it seems strange,
even to Me,
that every creature goes to sleep,
and in their nightly sojourns
reach the state their souls seek,
only to awaken
with the dawn of each day,
into the dream of life’s illusion,
forgetting self,
forgetting soul,
forgetting bliss,
forgetting all.”

The day had nearly given way,
our garden lost to shadow’s play,
while high above a jeweled lace of stars
did veil evening’s face,
and longing that to Him be wed,
cast beams of light to crown His head.

He stopped and gazed into the sky,
heaven’s clouds began to cry,
tears of rain rolled down His cheek,
I drifted into a silence deep.

Upon a stony seat we sat—we did not speak,
while in my heart my mind took rest on silence’s seat.
The garden’s breeze became my breath
uniting me in love to earth and sky and tree.

And He and me,
that was no more,
we formed one sea without a shore.

“Oh my dear one, try to see,
when you are happy,
I am free,
and by illusion’s powers no longer tied,
to greed and lust, hatred, jealousy, selfishness, and pride.”

The garden walked inside of me,
my body’s breath became its breeze.
Within the silence of my heart my mind did rest,
free from worry, void of quest.

“Things that are Real are given and received in silence.”
He said to me.
“Silence is the abode of Reality.”

We sat as one upon our stony seat
and watched the evening’s curtain close upon the day.
But then, as darkness overtook the light,
again my mind began to play.

“Do not worry,” He said to me,
“from your mind you will be freed,
by love’s power you will be free
to live in Bliss eternally.”

“Await my dear that perfect time
be patience with My game divine,
till I wake you from your waking dream,
to gain at last that Bliss Supreme.”

The beloved, Meher Baba said,

“When love is the presiding genius,
The path to truth is effortless and joyous.”

After my second or third blog entry on the subject, “Things Are Not What They Seem,” a friend told me she was a little confused—she thought that it was going to be a discussion about faith, but I had stopped talking about it. I told her that it was not about faith as much as it was about the requisites for faith. I told her to hang in there and, hopefully, it would all become clear in the end. We shall see…

“Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” – Matthew 19:23-24

So who is a rich man? One interpretation is that a rich man is a person who believes in the world—a person who takes the material to be real, who believes in the infallibility of science and the scientific method. Confronted by the truth of his beliefs—because the reality of the material world and the infallibility of science is, in the end, only a belief; no more, no less—how can the rich man have even an interest—even a curiosity—about things that cannot be seen, or proved, or understood? Where would there be any motivation to seek and enter the kingdom of God?

P.D. Ouspensky was a sincere seeker of truth, a philosopher, a mathematician, and a writer. The story is well documented of how he eventually became a student of G.I. Gurdjieff, and how on their first meeting Gurdjieff, in speaking to Ouspensky about his book, The Fourth Way, told him that if he only understood a tenth of what he had written, that he(Gurdjieff) would come and sit at his feet.

Ouspensky was very fond of talking about the higher dimensions—in fact, around the turn of the twentieth century, the whole subject of higher dimensions was very much the vogue du jour of the intelligentsia of the world. Ouspensky said, imagine a world not of three dimensions but of two, populated by beings, he called them plane beings, who could see all around them but not what was above or below their plane. He said, now pass a striped pole through their plane—what would they see? They would see some phenomenon of shifting changing colors, but could not be aware of the existence of the pole above and below their plane. And so, they would attempt to explain the three-dimensional phenomenon based on their two-dimensional science.

Ouspensky then went on to say that we were in the same situation with regard to our three-dimensional science because it did not, could not, take into consideration the fact that the phenomena we seek to explain is really four-dimensional. What we call time, is our imperfect perception of the fourth dimension. What we come away with is that the rich man—the man of his own three-dimensional world and his three-dimensional science—would never be able to enter the kingdom of God—because to accept the possibility of a four-dimensional world would threaten the entire foundation of who and what he takes himself to be.

We began with “faith” – “a confidence or trust in a person, entity, or idea that does not rest on material evidence or logical proof.” The other side of faith is the sensing that things are not what they seem, that “the sun neither heats nor lights,” that death, and birth, are an illusion of the soul, that God who is not seen is real, while the creation which is seen, is not real.

The Spiritual Paradox – by Meher Baba

“Unless and until ignorance is removed and Knowledge is gained (the Knowledge whereby the divine life is experienced and lived) everything pertaining to the spiritual seems paradoxical — God, whom we do not see, we say is real; and the world, which we do see, we say is unreal. In experience, what exists for us does not really exist; and what does not exist for us, really exists.
We must lose ourselves in order to find ourselves; thus loss itself is gain. We must die to self to live in God; thus death means life. We must become completely void inside to be completely possessed by God; thus complete emptiness means absolute fullness. We must become naked of self-hood by being nothing, so as to be absorbed in the infinity of God; thus nothing means Everything.”

The Planes of Consciousness

So, a friend of mine had some questions about the planes of consciousness. She had been reading the Divine Theme blog, as well as books by Meher Baba, particularly, God Speaks. I knew that intellectually she understood that the higher planes of consciousness were connected to what Meher Baba calls involution, but where they were and what significance they had to a follower of the Avatar was unclear. This is what she wrote to me in an email:

“Well, I think that I’m just trying to get a full intellectual understanding of the whole process that Baba describes, I’m still not all that clear about souls that are in those planes. And do we want to get to those planes?? Or are those planes the part that Baba will take us speedily through? I was hoping that this gross plane is the part that He will speedily take us through since this is getting kinda tiring.

“I just don’t get yet the part about the souls on the subtle and mental planes. And I want to understand it fully.

“And I still think that there must be some difference between someone like you and the average person who is not conscious at all—how could you be on the same plane as say a murderer or rapist?? Is it just that you may have experienced more lifetimes in the gross world and are farther along that way?”

I thought my friend’s questions about the planes of consciousness were interesting and that there might be others too who shared her interest. So, based on the explanations given by Meher Baba, I will attempt an answer based wholly and solely on Meher Baba's explanations, and that I personally have no conscious experience of anything other than the gross plane—the plane of evolution—the plane before the higher planes of consciousness.

“Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream;
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.”

The gross plane of consciousness, and all the higher planes of consciousness, exists as a dream—nothing more than a dream. As such, the gross world—where evolution of consciousness occurs—and the subtle and mental worlds—where involution of conscious occurs— are not real— and when the goal of union with God—God realization—is achieved, the knowledge of this dream becomes self-evident.

Imagine that you are asleep and dreaming. You are dreaming yourself to be a beggar or a king; you are living on the street, or in a palace; you are eating garbage, or succulent meals. But you are not a beggar or a king, and you are not on the street or in a palace, you are asleep in your bed, and your bed can be anywhere. Your dream has no gross physical location, it is within you; it is a state of consciousness—and so are all the higher planes of consciousness, they are within you.

The dream of the gross conscious soul is the gross world and his dream-life is experienced—led—within that world. When that same gross conscious soul enters the higher planes of involution, his experience of the gross world ends, but other gross conscious souls continue to experience his dream as part of their own through their gross conscious eyes. His gross body exists for them, but no longer for himself.

“I’ll let you be in my dream, if I can be in yours.” Bob Dylan – Talking World War Three Blues.

Meher Baba is very clear on this point; involution and the goal of involution—consciousness of the soul of I am God State— is achieved in the gross world in gross bodies. The fact that the consciousness of the soul may not be aware of the gross world or the gross body it is associated with is of no concern.

Meher Baba also makes it very clear that the odyssey of every soul must progress through the higher planes of consciousness on its journey from the gross world and gross consciousness to the consciousness of the I am God State. Individual differences have to do with the degree the soul is conscious of the planes it is progressing through and what its experience of that consciousness is.

This is where one of my friend’s questions comes from, because Meher Baba says that the Avatar takes His lovers and followers through the higher planes blindfolded—veiled. The experience of the planes is very intoxicating, so much so, that one could become enchanted by the experiences—the sights and sounds, the powers; the knowledge; and the bliss. The term used by the Sufis is jazd—one can become jazd—lost—in the experiences.

(Please allow a short digression here to suggest that the moniker attached to the music of Miles and Ellington and Coltrane and Monk etc. is derived from that same Sufi term.)

Remember my friend said, “I was hoping that this gross plane is the part that He will speedily take us through since this is getting kinda tiring.” Tiring, that is an important and accurate observation; for the gross world, with all it planets, stars, solar systems and galaxies; all of its phenomena; all of its life forms and experiences; is in the end, most limited and finite. Our bodies are cramped and confining; no matter how great the pleasure, it is always short-lived and followed by inevitable pain. Satisfaction of desires gives way to more cravings; suffering is the hand-maiden of all gross existence. After millions of lifetimes do not cracks in the veneer of life’s promises begin to show? And it is only when they begin to show, only when we stop buying into life’s promises and invariable disappointments that we begin to ask the right question; is there not anything else beyond this? And it is only when we begin to sincerely ask this question that we begin to travel consciously on the journey to God. Meher Baba puts it so poetically when he says in Bhau Kalchuri’s book, The Nothing and the Everything, “When what one sees has no reality, the inevitable must occur: the consciousness looks within and begins the inner journey, and the Jeevatma (embodied soul) again dreams, but this time, the dream is divine…the Divine Dream of becoming God.”

So once the consciousness of the soul has realized the requisite poverty of the gross consciousness, why would the Avatar, who knows by direct experience, the bliss that awaits us, allow us to then enter the planes of consciousness and spend countless more lifetimes lost in the illusory experiences of the planes?

“It is as difficult for a man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven as it is for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle.” – The New Testament.

And so, I think that the only question left from my friend is whether consciousness accounts for the differences between people. She said, “And I still think that there must be some difference between someone like you and the average person who is not conscious at all—how could you be on the same plane as say a murderer or rapist?? Is it just that you may have experienced more lifetimes in the gross world and are farther along that way?”

There are so many assumptions buried in this question; let’s see if I can ferret out a few themes:

A murderer or a rapist cannot be as far along the spiritual path as a good and moral person.

Meher Baba reminded us, “A saint is bound by a golden chain, a sinner by a spiked one; but the goal is to be free of all chains.”

To a few of his close followers Meher Baba revealed, “With me, no one can live what the world considers a moral life. Here, we are concerned with spirituality, not morals. A spiritual life is not ruled nor bound by any principles. The sanskaras of each one are different, and so the behavior and temperament of everyone are different.

“In a virtuous life, evil is suppressed and good surfaces; but the evil is still there. The bad sanskaras remain and have to be worked out, if not in this life then in the next or the one after. In the spiritual life, both good and bad sanskaras express themselves, and both get nullified. A spiritual life leads one toward naturalness, whereas a virtuous life, in the guise of humility, inflates the ego and perpetuates it! A spiritual life, though, is only led under the guidance and orders of the Avatar or Perfect Master, who knows the pulse of everyone and treats everyone according to his particular malady.

“You do not like Aloba's behavior, but his behavior was quite natural and necessary for him. How can you understand that? People of the world act according to moral standards and socially acceptable behavior, but the Avatar or Perfect Master deals with everyone according to his or her sanskaras. Thus spiritual life is totally different and cannot be judged on the basis of morality, ethics or any principle.”

In my most recent book, SuperVisions – by Dr. Dorothy Mead and Michael Kovitz, eladi-publications.com, we tell a story I first heard from Bhau Kalchuri, one of Meher Baba’s close disciples, of a mass murder’s encounter with a Perfect Master:

“A mass murderer went to a Perfect Master for help. He realized his soul was in grave jeopardy because of all the people he had killed. So he joined a group who had gathered in the presence of a Perfect Master. He was an old and grizzled looking man who wore nothing but a piece of burlap cut from an old gunnysack. Seeing the stranger in their midst, he nonchalantly inquired why he was there.

“The man spoke quite openly and honestly. ‘I am a bad man,’ he said. ‘I have killed many people and I am terrified for my soul. I have heard about you and come begging for your help.’ Of course, all in the group had turned to see the man who was confessing to being a murderer.

“‘Let me get this straight,’ said the Perfect Master, feigning the tone of a scholar or a philosopher. ‘You are a murderer?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘And you have come to me for help for your soul?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘I see. Now tell me, how many people have you killed?’

“‘Ninety-nine,’ the man replied, and all of the people gave a collective gasp.

“‘I see,’ said the Perfect Master. ‘You have killed ninety-nine people, and you want my help for your soul?’ his voice sounding thoughtful and inquiring.

“‘Yes, that is the truth.’

“‘I see. You have killed ninety-nine people. You are sure it is ninety-nine?’

“‘Yes, I am sure,’ said the murderer, who was beginning to wonder at the Perfect Master’s questions.

“‘Ninety-nine and not one hundred,’ the Perfect Master persevered while the murderer grew more impatient.

“‘Yes, I have killed ninety-nine and not one hundred.’

“‘And you are coming to me for my help?’ The man jumped to his feet. He felt the so-called Perfect Master was either crazy or teasing him.

“‘Where are you going?’ asked the Perfect Master in mock surprise.

“‘I feel I have made a mistake in coming here. I don’t believe you are taking me seriously. I am leaving.’

“‘On the contrary,’ replied the Perfect Master, ‘please sit down. I promise I will help you.’ The man sat down again.

“‘Now let me get this straight,’ said the Perfect Master. ‘You are a murderer and you have killed ninety-nine people and you are coming to me for help for your soul?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘And you are sure you have killed ninety-nine people?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘And not one hundred?’ Again the man jumped to his feet.

“‘What are you doing?’ asked the Perfect Master with all the innocence of a child.

“‘I am leaving.’

“‘Please sit down. I promised I would definitely help you,’ said the Perfect Master. The man again sat down.

“‘Now listen carefully to what I tell you. Will you do as I request?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘Very well. Do you see that tree by the road over there?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘This is what I want you to do. I want you to go and sit beneath that tree. You are to stay there; I will see to all your needs. You will have food and protection from the elements. You are just to stay there, but when people pass by on the road, you are to go to them and bless them.’

“‘Bless them?’

“‘Yes bless them; you can say may God’s blessing be upon you—anything like that you wish. Can you do it?’

“‘Yes,’ replied the murderer, who was happy to be given a penance for his sins.

“And so the man began to stay under the tree and bless people when they went by. He stayed there for years—after a while, people even began to think he was some kind of great saint.

“It so happened that one day a messenger on horseback came galloping down the road at top speed. The murderer was out in the road, busy doing his blessings, when the man rode by. Not seeing him coming, the murderer stepped in front of the charging horse, the horse reared up and the rider was thrown into the air. Picking himself off the ground, the rider was absolutely furious.

“‘What the hell are you doing, man?’ he shouted at the murderer. ‘Are you crazy? You fool! I am delivering an important message from the king. See what you’ve done, you piece of shit?’ and he went on like that, railing against the murderer, who himself was getting more and more angry.

“Finally, the murderer could stand the abuse no longer and picked up a large stone and crushed the messenger’s head. Just then, at that very moment, the Perfect Master arrived, said simply ‘One hundred,’ and bestowed upon the murderer the highest state of liberation. The Perfect Master gave him the state of God Realization.”

“Victor, I have absolutely no idea what this story means,” Anne said after a long pause.

“You see, Anne, the messenger was carrying orders from the king for the execution of one hundred innocent people. By killing the messenger—his one hundredth murder—he saved one hundred people. The Perfect Master knew this in the beginning, knew exactly what was necessary to balance the murderer’s actions and liberate him from their consequences.”

Along the spiritual path it is impossible to judge the degree of advancement based on appearances, worldly morality, goodness or badness. Here, from these two quotations, we recognize that the issue is not one of consciousness at all, but the impressions—the sanskaras—that cover consciousness like a shade covers a light bulb.

For the sake of example, consider gross consciousness to be a forty-watt light bulb. When it is turned on it will give a certain amount of light, and by that light we will be able to see the gross world and its paraphernalia. The gross world, with all its paraphernalia, is the projection of our mind and is the creation of our sanskaras which form the shade that covers the bulb. As we look around, we see our projection, but out of ignorance, we assume that what we see is outside of us and independent of us.

We look here, we look there, we look everywhere and our projection seems unlimited, but it is not. We can only see, we can only project, that which can be seen by a forty-watt bulb. To see—to project—more, like the subtle and mental worlds with their planes and heavens, we need a stronger bulb—we need a sixty watt bulb.

The consciousness of the Avatar and Perfect Masters is Infinite and Limitless Light—the Source of all Light, and with that Light they can see the light of all consciousness’s and the impressions of all souls in creation. That is how they can work at another level—freeing souls from the bondage of illusion so that they may recognize the Light of Infinite Consciousness as their own.

“One Light; Light that is One though the lamps be many.” Incredible String Band


“And I still think that there must be some difference between someone like you and the average person who is not conscious at all—how could you be on the same plane as say a murderer or rapist?? Is it just that you may have experienced more lifetimes in the gross world and are farther along that way?”

So onto the remaining assumptions:

“…the average person who is not conscious at all…” What is an average person? Perhaps what is being suggested is a typical worldly person who seems to be disinclined towards anything spiritual. But again, here, looks are deceiving, and apparently very worldly people can really be very spiritually advanced.

Only a real master can look inside a person and see his state and status. Perhaps a person in a previous life led a life of renunciation and austerity—maybe he was a yogi or sincere seeker. He made real efforts, but did not achieve the goal. Upasani Maharaj tells us that when spiritual efforts do not go their full term in a lifetime—do not end in fulfillment—the results of those efforts are transformed into worldly gifts and riches called punya. In other words, that soul, now attached to a worldly life, is experiencing that life in order to balance his previous spiritual life.

Perhaps it is for this reason that, as Upasani Maharaj suggests, with real progress along the spiritual path, the individual is seen to adopt more and more the attitude of live and let live. This attitude springs from the very wisdom of his soul and may, or may not, manifest in any lifetime. The lesson here, I believe, is that the more we are inclined to judge and differentiate others, the further from our dharma (our personal spiritual path) we are.

There was man whom nobody liked. He acted badly, always said and did the wrong thing. Nobody wanted him to be around. A few of Meher Baba’s followers were talking about this man—criticizing him—backbiting. Of course, Meher Baba knew this and called them on it. They openly complained to Baba about the man and how much trouble he was. Meher Baba listened to them and then said, “You fools! You don’t see anything, but I tell you that this man is doing the very best he can with the sanskaras he has in this lifetime. I am very happy with this man.”

It’s like we’re playing cards with someone and can’t see the hand he has been dealt. How can we tell if he is playing a good hand badly or a bad hand well? Hence the wisdom of the attitude, live and let live.

And what about knowledge? Can we infer that the person who answers the questions about the planes of consciousness is more advanced than the person who asks the question? I don’t think so. Knowing and not knowing can be attributed to sanskaras—to the hand one is dealt in a given lifetime. In one lifetime a person asks and another answers. In the next lifetime, the roles are reversed—the teacher becomes the student and the student becomes the teacher. The forces that keep the pendulum swinging are pride and its counterpart envy.

I believe that the following words of Meher Baba should always be remembered in one’s mind and heart:

“Now I want to say a few words about love for God. God is to be loved, and not studied. God is to be loved, and not argued about. God is beyond intellect, so intellect can neither see Him nor understand Him. Only the heart can approach the threshold of the Beloved. Therefore, even the poorest of beings and the most illiterate can all find God within their selves through love. This love demands no riches, no powers, no fame, no learning and no ceremonies. We have to love God as our Beloved, and this love must be so intense that, just as we cannot live without air, we should not be able to live without God—the love of God.”

So this blog began with the questions of my friend:

“Well, I think that I’m just trying to get a full intellectual understanding of the whole process that Baba describes, I’m still not all that clear about souls that are in those planes. And do we want to get to those planes?? Or are those planes the part that Baba will take us speedily through? I was hoping that this gross plane is the part that He will speedily take us through since this is getting kinda tiring.

“I just don’t get yet the part about the souls on the subtle and mental planes. And I want to understand it fully.

“And I still think that there must be some difference between someone like you and the average person who is not conscious at all—how could you be on the same plane as say a murderer or rapist?? Is it just that you may have experienced more lifetimes in the gross world and are farther along that way?”

And after all the answers—answers that can, at best, in the words of Meher Baba, “appease the convulsions of the mind,” we come again to the subject of love and the words of Meher Baba mentioned before, but bearing repeating:

“Now I want to say a few words about love for God. God is to be loved, and not studied. God is to be loved, and not argued about. God is beyond intellect, so intellect can neither see Him nor understand Him. Only the heart can approach the threshold of the Beloved. Therefore, even the poorest of beings and the most illiterate can all find God within their selves through love. This love demands no riches, no powers, no fame, no learning and no ceremonies. We have to love God as our Beloved, and this love must be so intense that, just as we cannot live without air, we should not be able to live without God—the love of God.”

But what about this love—this love of God? How do we get it? How do we “do” it? For myself, I always knew I was unable to love an abstract concept—what is often referred to as impersonal God—and even the representations of personal God, the Avatars and Perfect Masters—even though they inspired me to long for what they had—infinite peace and bliss and wisdom beyond all of man’s knowledge, and yes, even their love—real love, still, because I had never met these incarnations, never stood in their physical presence, never felt their embraces, except in beautiful dreams, still, I always felt, always knew that I was less than a beggar at the table of love, that I was like a dog laying under the table hoping and waiting for a crumb to fall from the table of the masters and their saints and their angels for me to lick up.

And the more I learned, and the more I longed, the more I knew, beyond any doubt, that, for me, the way to love led to the door of a living master—that master who came to me in my dreams, called to me in my sleep of wakefulness, washed my face in my cool tears of longing and my warm tears of remorse.

But how to find that door? And once found, how to enter? Rumi said,

“The mind is a great and a wondrous thing that can lead to the threshold of the King, but like shoes before entering a holy place, must be discarded and left at the door.”

And so my mind, inspired by my heart, searched and searched one path after another and beheld beauties and miracles and experiences, and still I remained a stranger to love. “I know teachings and techniques,” I said to Meher Baba one day while sitting in His tomb shrine in India, “but I don’t know anything about love—and yet You say that the only way to hold on to You is with love. So Baba, if love is the only way, it is up to You to show me that love for I am a beggar at that table.”
And in the years to come He did just that, He showed me that love, not in myself, but in others, shining in their faces, weeping in their hearts—they were mirrors, and when I looked I saw not myself, but my Beloved, and heard these words of Meher Baba;

“To love God in the most practical way is to love our fellow beings. If we feel for others in the same way as we feel for our own dear ones, we love God.

“If, instead of seeing faults in others, we look within ourselves, we are loving God.

“If, instead of robbing others to help ourselves, we rob ourselves to help others, we are loving God.

“If we suffer in the sufferings of others and feel happy in the happiness of others, we are loving God.

“If, instead of worrying over our own misfortunes, we think ourselves more fortunate than many many others, we are loving God.

“If we endure our lot with patience and contentment, accepting it as His Will, we are loving God.

“If we understand and feel that the greatest act of devotion and worship to God is not to hurt or harm any of His beings, we are loving God.

“To love God as He ought to be loved, we must live for God and die for God, knowing that the goal of life is to Love God, and find Him as our own self.”

Lovers of Silence -- Lovers of Sound

Lovers of Silence—Lovers of Sound is an unfinished manuscript, the sequel to my book From Silence to Sound—Richard Kyle’s Journey to Musical Competency (available through my website http://eladi-publications.com/silence-sound.htm).
The person speaking is Mera, one of Mr. Kubadi’s senior students. Lovers of Silence—Lovers of Sound is her story—Mera’s tale.
The ideas expressed in the book are taken from the teachings of the Masters, specifically Avatar Meher Baba and Upasani Maharaj.
What follows is the first chapter of the book. Mera is speaking.

“From my childhood I began to sense that music comes from within—from that silence which is the source of all sound and can be, as my teacher often reminded me, the messenger of that silence. Silence manifests all sound by thinking all sound—by dreaming all sound. When sound remembers it source, then sound becomes the messenger of that silence and can fulfill the promise of its existence. Mr. Kubadi says, “When music becomes the messenger of silence, it has real meaning, but of what value is the messenger without a message?”

Once when I was in India, I had the good fortune to meet a man who was a Nada-Brahma yogi. His way involved working with vibrations, or sound currents, within his body. I was told that microphones were once placed around his body and that sound was detected coming from the area of his spine—even though he was not speaking or singing or playing any kind of instrument at the time.

Our meeting was private, in a little room barely large enough for the two us. He sat on a cot; I sat on the floor. He spoke about the ancient Vedic chants and the necessity for impeccable articulation and pitch for them to have the correct effect. He talked about life and how we had to learn to let it come in and let it go out—“…like food,” he said, “if it gets stuck inside, there is disease.”

When I talked about my music he appeared to listen with his full attention—as much, it seemed, to the sound of my words as to their meaning. The effect on me was interesting—I began to hear my own voice as if it belonged to someone else.

“Kubadi,” he repeated, when I mentioned my teacher’s name, “it is an Indian word; do you know its meaning?” I smiled and shook my head.

“There was once a great saint called Ramadasa who kept with him a kind of armrest called a kubadi. It looked like a heavy short stick with a curved piece on the top—like a crescent. To explain the significance of the kubadi I must first tell you something about the science of breath called pranayama. It is yogic knowledge that respiration is not only essential for life, but is very useful in attaining higher experiences of things related to God. Hatha yogis are seen to control their respiration for this purpose.

“Normally, the breath can be observed to flow sometimes through the left, sometimes through the right, and occasionally through both nostrils simultaneously. The flow of the breath is directly linked to certain states of consciousness. These states are termed the ida, pingala, and sushumna respectively. It is this last state, the sushumna state, that is of interest to the yogis, for if the respiration goes on through both nostrils simultaneously, then one can attain higher subtle knowledge. To attain the sushumna state, many procedures have been laid down for those individuals who are suitably prepared to practice the control of the breath—they are always undertaken in conjunction with certain postures, dietary restrictions, meditation practices, and austerities.

“To take breath through one nostril, retain it for some specific time, and then exhale through the other nostril is one of the important techniques that comprise the science of pranayama. This practice of alternate nostril breathing and retention is practiced to attain the state of sushumna. The study is a bit difficult and requires considerable help and guidance. There is, however, a quicker and simpler method to attain the state.

“In a normal and healthy individual it can be observed that the breath naturally predominates in one nostril and then, every few minutes, changes to the other nostril. To create the state of sushumna it is only necessary to change the rhythm artificially. By simply lying on the side of the active nostril, the breath can be made to change to the other nostril. An even quicker change is accomplished by merely applying pressure to compress the nerves in the armpit on the side of the body of the active nostril.

“It is on this principle that the great saint Ramadasa invented the kubadi. He kept it with him, only revealing its true purpose to a few. It became an emblem of his followers, though I doubt that not more than a few have ever understood the principle of this implement.”

“In fact, my teacher has been a kubadi for me,” I said.

“That is why you are here today—do you understand?”

I nodded.

The yogi raised his index finger to his lips. “Listen.” he said, and closed his eyes. His body became very still—it looked like he had flipped some invisible switch. Thinking that he was meditating, I followed his example and closed my eyes. After a few moments he stopped me.

“What did you hear?” he said.

“Inside or outside?”

“I don’t make a distinction.”

“Inside, I heard my thoughts; outside, there were voices, a motor, and, I think, a cow nearby.”

“Did you hear silence as well?”

“Yes, I was aware of the silence. I love the silence.”

“So the silence doesn’t end with the sound?”

“In a way, the sound makes the silence more apparent.”

I thought I detected that the yogi, in just a fraction of a second, seemed to ponder something.

“Will you go where I tell you?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

With that, the yogi was on his feet and moving out of the room—fast! I scrambled to my feet and chased after him—my state was almost giddy. By the time I caught up with him he was already talking to an Indian woman and man. They both appeared to be about my age. They smiled at me when I approached. “We will take you to Shri Nazar,” the woman said. “It is about an eight hour ride by automobile. I cannot tell you how long you will be staying. When will you be ready to leave?”

“Whenever you are ready to go,” I replied.

“Now?” asked the man.

“Now.”

“We will ready the automobile, while you take some food,” the woman replied. “Come with me.” I followed her to the small enclosed porch I had passed through when I arrived to see the yogi. She indicated a small cot with pillows near the wall.

“Sit and relax. I will bring your food.” A few minutes later a very sweet elderly lady appeared with a large metal plate containing a chapatti, dal with rice, and a dish I knew as palak paneer.

It was a wonderful lunch and by the time I finished my cup of chai the young woman had returned to inform me that the car was now ready for us to depart. I grabbed my backpack from beside the door and we were off.

The car was a small version of an American van. It was air conditioned and quite comfortable. The woman drove, the man sat beside her in the front seat, and I was in the back. As we set out on our journey the man made the introductions. Their names were Anita and Amrit and the yogi, they called him Babaji, had arranged their marriage. They had been married for almost a year.

After skirting the suburbs of Bombay, where the road was choked with traffic and the air was much polluted, we struck out over the western ghats of the Deccan plateau. The view was rugged and mysterious—like the background of Da Vinci’s portrait of Mona Lisa.

Driving in India is a very different affair than driving in the United States. That is to say that regarding degree of difficulty on a scale of one to ten, the United States would most likely rank as a one or two, while India would be a nine. Even an experienced Indian driver has little time to chat or fiddle with a radio because of the constant need to make split second decisions regarding the road, trucks, cars, motorcycles, carts, bicycles, pedestrians, not to mention all the various kinds of animals who share the roads—like cows, goats, dogs and even the occasional elephant or camel.

Our destination was near an ancient site not far from the famous Ellora Caves, called Khuldabad. Named The Valley of the Saints, or Abode of Eternity, Khuldabad contains the graves and tombs of hundreds of real Sufi saints who migrated to the area in the fourteenth century. Though we did not stop at the site itself, just from being in the vicinity, I knew we were on holy ground and sensed a profound energy, mystical and etched in mystery.

Just about a kilometer or two past the dargah of the highly esteemed Sufi saint Muntajib al Din, more commonly known as Zar Zari Zar Baksh, there was a small unmarked dirt road which we followed for about another kilometer to a triangular grouping of three old stone buildings. One building appeared to be a temple; another was a small tomb, and the third, a residence of some sort. Anita stopped the car near the third building and after telling me to wait, got out of the car and approached the building. There was a brief exchange with someone at the door and she returned to the car. She told me that she and Amrit would be leaving, but would be informed and would return for me when it was time for me to go. She indicated a path alongside the building which she directed me to follow and after exchanging a brief hug she got into the car and drove off.

I followed the path to a gate that opened into a most spectacular garden with roses, jasmine and all kinds of flowering plants. There was a fig tree and a pomegranate tree; there were benches and seats arranged along an intricately laid stone path, and wood carvings, like screens, with Middle Eastern geometric designs. I was met by a rather tall Indian woman wearing a traditional Indian sari and head cover. She was followed by two young men carrying a rolled-up oriental carpet and an assortment of brightly colored cushions. The woman spoke to them in Marathi, indicating a small grassy area where they were to arrange the carpet and cushions. Then, speaking to me in English, she asked if I needed anything. I smiled and shook my head and she indicated a place on the carpet for me to sit. She dismissed the men and took a seat facing me. Her movements were very flowing and graceful and there was a refinement and elegance to her features that spoke of an almost ethereal beauty.

“I am called Shri Nazar,” she said. I guess my surprise was quite obvious all over my face.

“Yes, it is unusual for a woman to be addressed as Shri,” she said. “It was my spiritual master who gave me this name.” She smiled, adding, “In the spiritual world, things are not always what they first appear.”

“I understand,” I replied. “My name is Mera Estrel.”

One of the men returned with a tea service and snacks. He poured a cup for Shri Nazar, then one for me and then he turned and left.

“So your journey has led you to me. Do you know why you are here?” The authority in her voice was without pretense or distance. Like my teacher’s voice, it was totally natural and unforced, compelling, yet allowing me the choice as to how to receive it.

“I believe you have something for me,” I replied.

“When you told the yogi that you heard the silence as well as the sound, it was a sign to him that he should send you to me. It wasn’t so much the words you used, or even the idea you expressed, the yogi read your vibrations and knew you were ready to receive what I have to give you.”

“When I spoke to the yogi I heard my own voice in a different way.”

“Yes, it is because the yogi has no physical consciousness at all—of himself or the universe. His consciousness is subtle. He knows himself and the universe to be energy. This is his experience—it is not an idea, or a concept, or a belief for him. Physically conscious individuals see him walking, talking, taking food, like they do, and assume that his consciousness is the same as theirs, but, as I said before, in the spiritual world, things are not always what they first appear.”

Shri Nazar’s words trailed off into a comfortable silence that evoked in me a most unusual state in which the sounds of the garden, and even those of my own breath and thoughts, were experienced in a space, like a void, that was characterized by neither darkness nor light nor substance nor place. In this silence we conversed and drank tea and I spoke about my life and work in music. But at some point something changed and I again began to hear her voice in a different way—like it was coming from inside me—as if it were my own voice. And it was then that Shri Nazar began to speak about the relationship between silence and sound and the states of being and manifestation; and it was then that I knew, without doubt, that to hear this explanation was the purpose for my being there.

How long it lasted, I have no idea, because time ceased to exist in any ordinary way and I experienced her words not so much as thoughts, but like waking dreams made of lucid images and feelings.

“The most original state, beyond all experience and existence, is silence,” she began. “This original silence is immeasurable, beyond comparison, non-dual and eternal. This original silence is beyond all and every action, reaction and inaction. It is the most pristine state—even before the dualistic state of silence and sound. This original silence is so perfect that it is not even disturbed by the awareness of its own silence—by the awareness of itself. Original silence neither knows nor does not know that it even exists—it neither hears nor does not hear itself. Yet it is the nature of original silence to hear, for hearing is the means by which it comes to know itself. But, in its original state, nature is not linked to desire and consequently silence’s knowledge of itself remains unmanifest.

“Now between the original state of silence and the original state of sound lies the nascent state of silence—the state of unmanifest and unrealized possibility. It differs from the original silence only in the fact that it has a relationship to sound—like the surface of the ocean is materially the same as the ocean below the surface, yet by virtue of its relationship to the sky, the surface begins to exhibit different qualities than the ocean below. This nascent state is formed as a result of a most unfathomable act—unfathomable, because it has no inherent cause and is not the manifestation of any effect. This unfathomable act arises neither from destiny nor desire, but purely from whim.

“The qualities inherent to the nascent state—the state of silence’s surface—are the capacity to create sound and the capacity to hear sound. Creation, and the hearing of sound, is the mechanism by which original silence becomes conscious of itself.

“Hearing and consciousness are the same—in the sense that one cannot exist without the other. When silence hears, it is conscious; when silence is conscious, it hears. Now, since the most original silence is infinite, it’s hearing must be infinite to hear it, but in the beginning hearing is not sufficiently developed and thus hearing must be acquired through the process of creating and experiencing sound.”

Shri Nazar then illustrated the situation with an analogy of sleep and waking. She said that as one is gradually drawn away from the deep sleep state, one passes through various levels of dreaming before experiencing the awake state. The dreams of the early dream state are mixed heavily with the deep sleep state, but as the dreams percolate towards the awake state they are mixed more and more with experiences of the awake state.

“At first, you are asleep on your bed and dreaming,” she said, “but you are not at all aware of the room you are in or anything in it, including yourself. Then, as you are drawn closer to the awake state, sensations of the awake state, like light, sound and temperature begin to migrate into your dreams and you begin to experience a transitional state made of elements of both the dream and awake states. You are awake, yet still dreaming, and consequently your first impressions of the awake state, even including your experience of yourself, are vague and shadowy—very limited and finite.

“As I mentioned previously, the capacity to create sound and the capacity to hear sound is inherent in the nascent state, but the difference is that the capacity to create is perfect in the beginning while the capacity to hear is, in the beginning, most limited. Consequently, the first sound that silence hears is most limited—like the most vague and shadowy impressions experienced in the transitional state between dreams and awakening.

“Now, all of creation—all the worlds and everything and everyone in them: the stars, the planets, the sun and the earth, all the creatures of the sea and the sky and the earth, you and I—is nothing other than the original silence in the state of experiencing itself as sound. But since the nature of the original silence is infinite and eternal, then nothing other than or beyond itself exists, and so sound must be an illusion. If sound is an illusion, than we, as sound, do not exist—but we, as silence, do exist. Yet Mera, you feel that you exist—do you not?”

“Yes.”

“But who is having this feeling that you exist? The original silence must hear itself to know that it exists. To hear, to become conscious, original silence produces sound in its imagination, in its dreams, and then imagines that it hears that sound. Through this act of imagining it begins to identify itself with what it is hearing. Do you follow? First is the original state of silence before the rise of the whim to know itself. In this state there is not even the possibility of creating or hearing sound or becoming conscious of itself. The second state—the nascent state—manifests with the manifestation of the whim to know, to hear, itself. It is in this nascent state that the possibility of creating and hearing sound exists—though this creating and hearing is still only a possibility. Now, when this possibility is manifested and sound is created and heard in imagination, a new state — the composite state—is created and experienced.

“It is in this composite third state that the original silence, as you, experiences yourself. The original state is real, the nascent is imaginary, and the composite state is mixture of both reality and imagination. It is this third mixed state, the state of sound in silence and silence as sound that original silence experiences itself as you, as sound, as imagination. Now, to experience itself as silence, silence, in the beginning, imagined sound and so the third state, the composite state, cannot be considered the final state. To experience the final state the third, the composite state of silence and sound, must join with the first state of original silence. But to accomplish this, the sound—the imagination—must be removed, but without losing silence’s capacity to hear. For when sound disappears what is left for silence to hear except itself—except the original silence?”

Shri Nazar adjusted the folds of her sari, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. A most complex expression spread over her face—like one sees on the face of a newborn baby. She lifted her right hand from her lap. It was of good size with graceful tapered fingers; deep lines in her palm were clearly visible. Then she softly brought the tips of her thumb and index finger together, forming the shape of an oval. Without opening her eyes, she continued to speak.

“The first sound that silence imagined and heard in the composite state was stone. The experience was so profound that silence forgot that it was silence and took itself to be stone. The form of stone represents the most limited awake state in the process of silence’s awakening because the stone form is the most limited in its capacity to experience.

“The association of silence with stone lasted quite a long time, but eventually all the experiences silence could gain as stone were exhausted and silence then created and began to experience the next form. The process continued through the eight million four hundred thousand forms of creation, the last one being the human form.

“The process was consistent; first, the original silence imagined a sound, then associated and identified itself with that sound, gaining experience and consciousness through the process, and then, ultimately, after gaining all that could be gained through its association, silence disassociated itself with that form—that sound—and began the cycle anew by imagining the next sound—which was, in fact, the consolidated mold of all the experiences and consciousness gained from its association with the previous sound. All this took place naturally up to the creation of the final sound—the human form.”

Shri Nazar opened her eyes. The subtle way she cocked her head clearly conveyed to me a question. I felt my head lean my body slightly forward in her direction—my closed eyes and smile indicating I had understood.

“Then I will continue,” she said. “Here we use a term to describe the original silence in the process of imagining and experiencing itself as sound. You have no doubt heard it before—jiv-atma. The common understanding is that atma represents the soul and that jiv signifies the embodiment of that soul, or as my own guru used to say so beautifully, ‘a pure, celestial, soul identified with the projections of the mind.’ In fact, we can see from my earlier description that this division into two, the jiv and the atma, is not exactly correct because the division is really into three, though this division also must be understood as a division in imagination only.

“In speaking about the atma, or soul, or God, or the original silence, we must always remember that the original state always remains pristine, aloof, untouched and unaffected in any way. The original state is always non-dual, beyond comparison, and immeasurable. In reality, this atma—this soul— never speaks, or hears, or experiences in any way. It remains always as it always is, beyond the beyond, and it is only in this illusory false composite state that the atma, through the instrument of false mind, imagines itself to be separate and individual and vulnerable in order to acquire the consciousness to know itself as original silence.

“In other words, the ever-silent atma, associating with sound as jiv in the second state must, in the end, lose its identification with the state of jiv while still retaining the consciousness derived through that association in order to consciously merge into its original state of silence. But for this merging to take place, the perfected consciousness must first be purged of the impurities acquired along its journey of sound, or as my own master used to say, ‘How can tainted water be mixed with pure water? How can gold mixed with baser metals be melted into pure gold?’

“The eight million four hundredth sound is called the human form. Achievement of this form signifies that the requisite consciousness has been achieved and that silence, as atma in the second state, is now capable of hearing itself as silence. To do this it must merge with itself but, as I said, it is in a tainted state and must be purified before this merging—this hearing—can be accomplished. Of what does this purification consist of? The answer is that all remaining vestiges of the imagined sound must be removed; but since this sound is imaginary and does not really exist, it is really the dissociation of silence with sound that needs to be accomplished. For silence still believes that it is sound.

“This dissociation of silence with sound takes place in three stages often referred to in the spiritual language as reincarnation and involution of consciousness. During reincarnation, silence continues to create, associate with, and dissociate from a myriad of different sounds that are perceived by it and others as different human forms—sometimes male, sometimes female; sometimes rich, sometimes poor; sometimes strong, sometimes weak… in other words, silence experiencing itself in all possible opposites and dualities. This process of reincarnation occurs at the level of gross sound—sound that is audible to it and others who are journeying through the process of reincarnation. The limit of possible sounds is fixed at eight million four hundred thousand sounds.

“After creating, experiencing, and finally dissociating from all of these sounds, silence loses consciousness of itself as gross sound but then begins to create, experience and dissociate itself from subtle sound. This is the beginning of involution of consciousness. Involution progresses through three stages of subtle sounds: one transitional stage which is half subtle and half mental, and then two stages of mental sounds. These stages are commonly referred to as the higher planes of consciousness and are held in vaunted esteem by individuals who aspire to them. What is important to remember, however, is that all sounds—any sounds—whether they are gross, subtle or mental, are still only imagination, still do not exist, and still are not the reality of original silence.

“To achieve the state of original silence, certain timeless measures have been adopted. In general they consist of the following: training oneself to recognize the true nature of all and every sound as illusion; training oneself to recognize one’s reality as original silence; and associating with one who has already achieved full consciousness of the original silence. What is commonly referred to as the spiritual path comprises the first two methods. The spiritual path is composed of all the known and forgotten yogas, austerities, penances, studies and religions that focus on the impersonal and personal aspects of God.

“But, in this cycle of time, in this yuga, the first two methods are very difficult to practice successfully. The third method, associating with one who has already achieved full consciousness of the original silence, is, in fact, the best and easiest way to achieve the goal.”

Shri Nazar’s words seemed to dissolve into the very silence she had been describing. Without effort I began to experience the gentle rhythm of my breath which seemed to connect me to her and the garden and the sky and beyond.

“Please come to the house with me to rest and have something to eat. Later I will take you to the caves to hear a very special musician.”

Shri Nazar took me by the hand and we walked slowly back to her house.

What is My Life?

What is my life if not the consolidated mold of my most cherished ambitions, my deepest desires, my talents and my flaws? Is it any wonder that I am totally identified with my life?

But I am not my life! I know this with a certainty beyond my experience. I know because I know. Nothing can take this away from me. I have always known.

What is sleep? Sleep is the forgetfulness of life becoming.
What is the awakening? Awakening is consciousness exhumed from life.

In the end, this life will pass—as they all have passed, but in the very end the last will not be followed by the next and all my accomplishments and failures will have been poured from the empty and disappeared into the void. I know this with a certainty beyond my experience. I know because I know. Nothing can take this away from me. I have always known.

What is repentance? Repentance is the respect consciousness pays to life—but this respect is Self-serving and in the very end, it too, will disappear into the void.

There is no escaping life—that is not the point—but to “pay to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and keep for God what is God’s,” that is the way. As a friend once asked, “Are you running your trip, or is it running you?”

In fact, there are two lives. When the first one disappears, the second appears and stands free and unencumbered, at peace and at rest. Love alone exists; Love alone prevails. This I have glimpsed and nothing can take it from me—for, after all, how can nothing be anything to everything?

Bhagavad Gita

(The Bhagavad Gita was originally posted 11/27/10. I am posting it again, complete and in a revised form, because the following post, The Compassion of Impermanence,has a number of references to the Mahabharata the story that supplies the context for the Gita.)

The following excerpts are taken from the Bhagavad-Gita, the teachings of Krishna, which comprise the sixth “book” of the great Indian epic called the Mahabharata. It is much like how the teachings of Christ in the New Testament are found in the context of the Old Testament. The back story is this:

The Mahabharata is set in that transitional time between the end of the Dwarpara Yuga and our own Kali Yuga—somewhere around 5,000 years ago, according to most traditional calculations.

Dwapara was a great age, a time of knowledge and Satvika attributes. (The qualities of Satva Guna are lucidity and purity. Satvika actions have the power to aid one in the pursuit of the ultimate goal, Gunateeta, which is described by Upasani Maharaj, as “the state devoid and beyond the Gunas” i.e. God- Realization. Satva Guna is the golden chain that binds the real saints to this world.)

But Dwarpara also marked the transition between the ascending and descending cycle of the four yugas, and divine intellect, which had been the inheritance of the Krita and Treta Yugas, became lost. Consequently, the ability to think, speak, and act truthfully was also lost and life became growingly deceitful.

Mahabharata means great family—the great family of man, but as Dwarpara approached Kali, the great family had become divided by greed and distrust. It is a long story, but eventually the two sides of the family, the Kauravas and the Pandavas, were arrayed on the battlefield poised for war. Krishna, the Avatar, had done all that He could to avoid the confrontation, but even He could not stem the tide of destiny.

In the great battle, Krishna stood with the Pandavas, who represented the embodiment of Satva Guna, against the Kauravas who embodied Raja and Tama Gunas. In fact, it was Krishna himself who drove the chariot of Arjuna, the Pandava prince and greatest of all warriors, into war.

It fell to the exalted status of Arjuna to throw down the gauntlet that would begin the war. Lord Krishna drove the chariot onto the battlefield between the two opposing sides but Arjuna balked. Seeing the faces of both sides; faces of his brothers and kin, his teachers, and respected elders, and realizing that to start the war would bring suffering and death to all, he became frozen with indecision. Seeing his hesitancy, Krishna asked, “What are you doing? Why do you hesitate? Throw down the gauntlet to begin the war.”

“I cannot!” Arjuna answered back, “How can I start this war and bring death upon all of these people?” And so it came to pass, that right there, between the two armies poised for war, Krishna taught Arjuna the Great Teachings know as the Bhagavad-Gita.

“He who shall say, ‘Lo! I have slain a man!’
He who shall think, ‘Lo! I am slain!’ those both know naught!
Life cannot slay. Life is not slain!
I say to thee, weapons reach not that Life,
Flames burn it not, waters cannot overwhelm it,
Not dry winds wither it.
Unentered, all-arriving, stable, sure, invisible, ineffable,
By word and thought uncompassed, ever all itself — thus is the Soul declared!” – Krishna

Krishna is speaking here from His direct experience of illusion and reality. These bodies of ours, these bodies we cherish so deeply, exist only in illusion. It is like a man who is sound asleep and dreaming. He dreams the dream of himself and others—their joys and sorrows, their successes and failures, their births and deaths—his own births and deaths. It all seems so real— until the man wakes up.
And this leads Arjuna, and us, into a very important question. “So if it is really a dream, yet our experience tells us that it is real, then how should we act in the world—moment by moment, day by day?”

In the conversation that follows, Krishna speaks to Arjuna about the life of action and the life of meditation—the contemplative life. He extols the virtues and shortcomings of both, saying on the one hand “And live in action! Labor! Make thine acts thy piety…” while on the other hand saying, “Yet the right act is less, far less, than the right-thinking mind. Seek refuge in thy soul, have there thy heaven.” And so Arjuna remains confused. He asks Krishna which of these two paths is the better way to attain the Supreme Reality.

Seeing Arjuna’s mind impaled on the horns of this dilemma, Krishna slips between the horns saying that the two paths are, in fact, really one.
Krishna —“Yet these (two paths) are one! By shunning action; nay, and none shall come by mere renouncements unto perfection.”

We have probably all heard the saying, “…to be in the world, but not of the world.” This is quite consistent with what Christ told His disciples, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and save for God what is God’s.” But Arjuna’s questions persist—our questions persist—and in order to explain the why and how of His proclamation, Krishna begins to talk about the three qualities that inform action—namely our friends Satva, Raja, and Tama Gunas.

In the fourteenth chapter of the Bhagavad Gita Krishna says, “Satva, Raja, and Tama—so are named the qualities of Nature—Lucidity, Passion, and Ignorance. The three bind down the changeless Spirit in the changeful flesh, though sweet Satva by purity living unsullied and enlightened, binds the sinless Soul to happiness and truth; and Raja, being kin to appetite and breeding impulse and propensity binds by tie of works the embodied Soul, Oh Kunti’s son! But Tama, begot of Darkness, blinding mortal men, binds down their souls to stupor, sloth, and drowsiness.”

There is a saying, “Good is not God,” another by Meher Baba, “The saint is bound by a golden chain, the sinner by a spiked one—but the goal is to be free of all chains.” From this we can conclude that even too much Satva Guna is a hindrance to attaining the Supreme Reality. This is why Krishna counsels Arjuna that one should rise above all the Gunas.

Krishna —“When, watching life, the living man perceives that the only actors are the Qualities (the Gunas), and knows what rules beyond the Qualities, then he comes to Me! The soul passing forth from the Three Qualities— whereby arises all bodies—overcomes Birth, Death, Sorrow, and Age; and drinketh deep the undying wine of Amrit.” (Amrit literally means Nectar— here meaning the Eternal Bliss of Union with God.)

Of course Arjuna is more than interested at this point, and asks Krishna;
“Oh my Lord! Which be the signs to know him that hath gone past the Three Modes (Gunas)? How liveth he? What way leadeth him safe beyond the Threefold Modes?”

Krishna —“He who with equanimity surveys luster of goodness, strife of passion, sloth of ignorance; without anger, nor wish to change them: who sits a sojourner and stranger in their midst unruffled, standing off, saying serene when troubles break, ‘These be the Qualities!’
“He unto whom—while centered in the Self—grief and joy sound as one word; to whose deep-seeing eyes the clod, the marble, and the gold are one; whose equal heart holds the same gentleness for lovely and unlovely things, firm-set, well-pleased when praised or blamed; satisfied with honor or dishonor; unto friends and unto foes alike in tolerance, detached from undertakings—he is named Surmounter of the Qualities.”

The teachings of the Bhagavad-Gita were not new—even in the time of Krishna.

Krishna —“This deathless Yoga (these teachings), this deep union, I taught to Vivaswata, the Lord of Light.” (The significance here is that Vivaswata is a name associated with the Sun. So, Krishna is saying that indeed He has been around for a long time!) Vivaswata gave it to Manu (his son) who passed it down the line to all My Royal Rishis. Then with years the truth grew dim and perished, noble prince!
Now once again I will declare to you this ancient lore, this mystery supreme—seeing I find you my devotee and friend.”

But Arjuna is puzzled. How can this same being have been around since the beginning of time?

Arjuna —“How shall I comprehend this thing Thou sayest, ‘From the beginning it was I who taught…?’”

Krishna —“Manifold the renewals of My birth have been, Arjuna! And of thy births, too! But Mine I know, and thine thou knowest not, oh Slayer of the Foes! Albeit I be unborn, undying, indestructible, the Lord of all things living; not the less by Maya, by My magic which I stamp on floating Nature-forms, the primal vast—I come, and go, and come. When righteousness declines O Bharata! When Wickedness is strong, I rise, from age to age, and take visible shape, and move a man among men, succoring the good, thrusting the evil back, and setting Virtue on her seat again.”

This is the story of the Avatar, The Ancient One, The Highest of the High, The Christ, The Buddha—His Names are many, His shapes are many—He dons them like we put on clothes appropriate to the situation and the time. And Arjuna believes in the divinity of Krishna and by His teachings his darkness is dispelled but Arjuna still sees Him as a man and so asks Krishna to reveal Himself.

Arjuna —“If this can be, if I may bear the sight, make Thyself visible…show me Thy very Self, the Eternal God!” And Krishna obliges His beloved devotee.
Krishna —“Gaze then Arjuna! I manifest for you those hundred thousand shapes that clothe My Mystery: I show you all my semblances—infinite, rich, divine—My changeful hues, My countless forms, see in this face of Mine…Behold! This is the universe! Look! What is live and dead I gather all in One—in Me! Gaze, as thy lips have said, on God Eternal, Very God! See Me! See what thou prayest!”

And right there, on the battlefield, between the two armies poised for war, Krishna reveals to Arjuna His Universal Form.
After Krishna tells Arjuna that what he wishes to see cannot be seen with earthly eyes, He gives Arjuna a sense divine saying, “Therefore I give to you other eyes, new light! Now look! This is my glory, unveiled to mortal sight.”

It is interesting that what Arjuna sees is narrated by Sanjaya who is Dhritarashtra's advisor. Dhritarashtra is the blind king who is the father of the main characters of the Kauravas. Sanjaya has the power to see events from great distances. It is he who is informing the blind king what is unfolding.
He tells him that Krishna is now displaying to Arjuna all of the splendor, wonder, and dread of His Almighty-head.

Sanjaya —“Out of countless eyes beholding, out of countless mouths commanding countless mystic forms enfolding; in one Form supremely standing, countless radiant glories wearing, countless heavenly weapons bearing, crowned with garlands of star-clusters, robed in garb of woven lusters, breathing from His perfect Presence breaths of every subtle essence of all heavenly odors; shedding blinding brilliance; overspreading—boundless, beautiful—all spaces with His all-regarding faces—so He showed! (and) sore amazed, thrilled, overfilled, dazzled, and dazed, Arjuna knelt, and bowed his head, and clasped his palms and cried, and said…”

Now Arjuna continues the narration. Try to imagine, if you can, what Arjuna sees. He sees the earth, its moon and sun, the solar system; all solar systems that make up our galaxy; all galaxies; the entire creation coming into existence and then being absorbed through Krishna’s Divine Form. Now try to imagine that all of this creation is less than even a speck in relationship to the Subtle World that also issues forth—the Subtle World with all its powers and experiences, heaven and hell, angels and gods and all divine beings; and the Mental World, the abode of Archangels and real Saints—the world of Mind itself—being born and existing and then being absorbed—crushed between the teeth of Krishna’s Divine Form. This is what Arjuna saw while standing on the battlefield between the armies poised and ready for war.

Arjuna —“Thou hast fashioned men, devourest them again, one with another, great and small alike! The creatures whom Thou mak’st, with flaming jaws Thou tak’st, lapping them up! Lord God! Thy terrors strike from end to end of earth, filling life full, from birth to death, with deadly, burning, lurid dead! Ah Vishnu! Make me know why is Thy visage so? Who art Thou, feasting upon Thy dead!?”

There is a misconception in the Western World that Hinduism is a religion that worships many Gods. But one could argue that Hinduism, and the Vedic font from which it springs, is really more an example of a pantheistic monotheism that acknowledges many gods who personify the various aspects or qualities of the One Infinite God.

With regard to Creation, Infinite God plays the role of Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer—Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva (or Mahesh). The Avatar is always the incarnation of Vishnu, the Preserver and Protector of all. I believe this puts Arjuna’s terror and question into perspective, because when Krishna reveals to him His Universal Form, Arjuna sees all of Infinite God’s qualities including that of Shiva. Krishna answers him thusly:

Krishna —“(It is because now) thou sees Me as Time who kills, Time who brings all doom; the Slayer Time come hither to consume. (And I tell you this); excepting thee, all these hosts of hostile chiefs arrayed (the Kauravas), shall not leave the battlefield (alive)!”

Remember that this whole conversation began when Arjuna could not find the will to fight—could not conceive of killing. In the next statement, Krishna advances his argument.

Krishna — “Arise Arjuna! Destroy thy foes! (It is) by me they fall—not thee! The stroke of death is dealt them now, even as they show thus gallantly: My instrument art thou! Tis I who bid them perish! Thou wilt but slay the slain!”

Apparently, Arjuna gets it—gets who Krishna really is—and after praising Him in every way utters, what I think is a very interesting observation—how easy it is when graced with familiarity of a Divine Presence, to forget that He is not like we; or as Meher Baba said on more than one occasion, “I come down and laugh and play with you—but never forget, I am God!”

Arjuna — “…For thou art All! Ah, if in anger now Thou shouldst remember I did think Thee friend, speaking with easy speech, as men use each to each; did call Thee ‘Krishna,’ ‘Prince,’ never comprehending Thy hidden majesty, the might, the awe of Thee; did, in my heedlessness, or in my love, on journey, or in jest, or when we lay at rest, sitting at council, straying in the grove, alone, or in the throng, do Thee, most Holy! Wrong, forgive me for that witless sin! For Thou art, now I know, Father of all below, of all above, of all worlds within… I, in reverence, ask Your grace, as father to a son, as friend to friend, as one who loveth to his lover, turn Thy face in gentleness on me…be merciful, and show once more Thy visage that I know…let me once again behold the form I loved most of all, my Charioteer, in Krishna’s kind disguise.”

Krishna responds saying— “Let trouble shake your heart no more because your eyes have seen My terror and My glory. As before I have been so will I be again for thee; with lightened heart behold!” (At which point the Lord God returns to His familiar form as Krishna).

Sanjaya — “…(and) back again the semblance dear of the well-loved charioteer; peace and joy it did restore, when Prince Arjuna beheld once more, Mighty God’s form and face clothed in Krishna’s gentle grace.”

With Arjuna’s earthly sight and familiar state returned, his heart beats calm, his mind can think, and Krishna tells him of the rarity of his experience.

Krishna — “Yea! It was wonderful and terrible to view as thou did, dear Prince! What the gods dread and continually view! Yet not by Vedas (studying the sacred texts), nor from sacrifice, nor penance, nor gift-giving, nor with prayer shall any so behold, as thou hast seen! Only by fullest service, perfect faith, and uttermost surrender am I known and seen, and entered into, Indian Prince! Who doeth all for Me: who findeth Me in all, adoreth (Me) always; loveth all which I have made, and (loveth) Me as an end in itself, that man, Arjuna! unto Me doth wend.”

There are many paths that lead to God-Realization; but here, in this passage, Krishna reveals the highest path—the path of Love. It is so simple, one needs no special talents or intellect; no diet, or dress, or mode of life, or sacrifice, or practice is necessary—only love for God—only love for the God-Man—the Christ—the Avatar. It is a path so pure, so simple—there is no place at all for the intellect—for the mind. And that is why the mind itself hates it. Because the mind, steeped in arrogance and self-importance, wants to be in charge and run the show.

It is the mind that demands our respect and unquestioning obedience. And here, upon the path of love, the rug is pulled out from under the mind’s feet and it is made to feel unnecessary, even a hindrance. No wonder it rebels.
But Krishna has revealed to Arjuna the Universal or impersonal aspect of God, which leaves Arjuna with a question.

Arjuna—“Lord! Of the men who serve Thee—true in heart—as God revealed (i.e. the personal expression of God as represented by the Avatar [Vishnu] and Perfect-Masters—God-Man and Man-God); and of men who serve, worshiping Thee Unrevealed and Unbodied; (the impersonal expression of God as represented by Brahma and Shiva as well as God in the Beyond and the Beyond the Beyond states) which is the better way of faith and life?”

A very interesting question it seems to me, because I have met people whose nature seems to favor a preference to one path or the other.

Krishna —“Whoever serve Me—as I show Myself—constantly true, in full devotion fixed, those hold I very holy. But (those) who serve, worshipping Me, The One, The Invisible, The Unrevealed, Unnamed, Unthinkable, Uttermost, All-Pervading, Highest—who adore Me thus, mastering their senses, cultivating an impartial mind that looks upon all without distinction, joyful in response to all acts of goodness, these blessed souls come unto Me.

“Yet this is a path most difficult—the travail to reach the Unmanifest. That viewless path shall scarce be trod by My man bearing the flesh! But as for those who live their lives renouncing self for Me, full of Me, fixed to serve only the Highest, night and day musing on Me, who clasps Me with heart and mind, whose soul clings fast to Me!—him will I swiftly lift up from life’s ocean of distress and death, to dwell with Me on High!”

But Krishna is also a pragmatist—the Avatar in any of His incarnations and all Perfect Masters as well—are always, as I have gathered, pragmatists. They don’t stand on ceremony; they are always adaptable to every situation—because they are always here for us only and having everything, have nothing more to gain for themselves. They never give up on us; they never give up on anything; you can never be so bad or sink so low that they will give up on you—because they know, it is their experience, that they and you are one.

Meher Baba put it this way, “You and I are not we, but One.”

So Krishna, recognizing that He has just set the bar rather high offers the following options/yogas:

Krishna — “But if thy thought droops from such height; if thou be’st weak to set body and soul upon Me constantly, despair not! Instead give me service! Seek to reach Me, worshiping with steadfast will, but if thou cannot do that, them do your work for Me, toil in works pleasing to me! For he that laboreth right for Love of Me shall in the end attain! But, if even in this thy heart fails, bring Me thy failure! Find refuge in Me! Let go of failure or success — the fruits of labor— renouncing even hope itself for Me, and with lowliest heart so shalt thou come; for, though knowledge is greater than diligence, yet worship is better than knowing, and renouncing better still, for near to renouncing — very near — dwelleth Eternal Peace.”

It is interesting that in this statement Krishna has made what appears to be the lowest path the highest — the fruit of failure becoming the requisite for renunciation. Is this not an expression of God’s mercy and compassion? Krishna then describes certain types of individuals saying, “…that man I love!” Are these not the true renunciates He has just described?

Krishna — “Who does not hate any living thing, being himself kindly and harmless, compassionate, exempt from arrogance and self-love, unmoved by good or ill, patient, contented, firm in faith, mastering himself, true to his word, always seeking Me heart and soul, vowed unto Me,That man I love!

“Who troubles not his kind, and is not troubled by them; free of wrath, living beyond gladness, grief, or fear, That man I love!

“Who does not chase after his desires, looking here and there with longing, free of sin, serene, well-balanced, unperplexed, working with Me, yet from all works detached, That man I love!

Who fixed in faith on Me, dotes upon none, scorns none; rejoices not and grieves not, letting unperturbed when good or evil manifests or departs, That man I love!

Who keeps an equal heart for friend and foe alike, equally bearing shame and glory; who remains at peace in heat and cold, pleasure and pain; abides without desire and endures praise or calumny with passionless restraint —linked by no ties to earth, steadfast in Me, That man I love!

But most of all I love those happy ones who without effort or awareness live life in single-minded fervid faith and love unseeing, drinking the blessed nectar of my Being!”

And in the end, Krishna once more turns to Arjuna and counsels him to fight. The war would have to happen—even the Avatar could not stop it. The forces of destiny were fixed; there was no way out. There is an old story about a candidate for the priesthood who was being examined by a bishop, and a question regarding God’s omnipotence was asked of the candidate who responded by saying that even God cannot do everything. “And what is it that God cannot do?” asked the Bishop. The candidate answered calmly, “Even God cannot beat the ace of spades with a deuce of clubs.” Of course, to do so, would destroy the game, and if the game itself was destroyed, then the whole question of winning and losing would become mute. For Krishna to stop the war would destroy the game—His game—the game of awakening God to God’s own Reality—His own true Self—our own true Self—our own Divine Reality.

And so it was time for Arjuna to commence and fight the war; but the real question was how he should fight; how he should be; how he should hold himself. To this Krishna responded:

Krishna — “Do all thou dost for me! Renounce for Me! Sacrifice heart and will and mind for Me! In faith of Me all dangers thou shalt vanquish, by My grace. But, if instead you trust to yourself, forgetting Me, then thou can’st help but to perish! If this day, relying on thyself, you say’st, ‘I will not fight!’ vain will thy resolution prove, for the qualities of thy nature spurred by fair illusions will rise within you and prompt you to the very actions you have disavowed and you will be lost. Arjuna, I am the Master that lives in your heart; it is I who pulls the strings and you dance to My tune. Trust Me, thy Master, and take Me for thy succor, oh prince of men, and only then, by My grace, shalt thou gain the uttermost repose, the Eternal Place.”

Then Krishna offers His last words to Arjuna, revealing the unique relationship of God and man and the love that God, in the form of the Avatar, has for each and every one of us—for all of His creation—for each and every state of Himself.

Krishna— “Arjuna, precious thou art to Me; right well beloved! Listen to My last words; I tell thee this for thy comfort. Give Me thy heart! Adore Me! Serve Me! Cling in faith and love and reverence to Me! And I promise that thou shalt come to Me! For thou art sweet to Me. And let go those rites and writ duties! Fly to Me alone! Make Me thy refuge! I will free thy soul from all of its sins. Be of good cheer!” (“Don’t worry, be happy!”—Meher Baba)

So what Krishna is saying is that there are numerous ‘ways’ to reach the Supreme Reality. There is meditation and contemplation; works done with an attitude of renunciation and detachment; living life in the knowledge that “all things shall pass.” But it is also pretty clear that Krishna is saying that of all the ‘ways’, the best and the highest, is to hold on to Him—the Avatar.

Meher Baba wrote/dictated a book called God Speaks. In it He answers many questions about how the process of God Realization works through the dream of creation and the mechanics of evolution, reincarnation, and involution of consciousness. I have read God Speaks many times over the past thirty-five or so years and have come to the conclusion that God Speaks is God’s story; it is Meher Baba’s story—the Avatar’s, the Christ’s, story. In other words He is telling us who He is.

But just imagine the difficulty of the task. Let’s say that you were suddenly to awaken on another world inhabited by beings that have never heard of or seen a human being, or, have even heard of the planet Earth. What would you tell them when they began to ask you who you were? “Well, I’m Michael; I’m a musician, I live on this planet called Earth…”

But that approach wouldn’t work because in all these answers there is an underlying assumption that the beings you are talking to understand what it is to be human. You would have to first explain what it is to be human. That would be a little difficult, no doubt. Now, by extension, how can the Avatar begin to explain to us who He is—that He is God in human form?

The book, God Speaks, is His explanation—His story—and it takes Meher Baba 159 pages of the 201 pages of principle text (2nd Edition), before He even mentions the word Avatar. He is like an artist painting the under-painting, background, and all of the other characters from stone to man to angels and saints, before painting himself into the canvas.

Now, the reason I mention this in these posts about the Bhagavad Gita, is to give you a sense of the story behind what Meher Baba says regarding the Avatar in God Speaks—which is remarkably consistent with Krishna’s teachings in the Bhagavad Gita as well as many of the assertions of Jesus in the Gospels.

Meher Baba, page 159— “Hence, at the end of every cycle, when God manifests on earth in the form of man and reveals His divinity to mankind, He is recognized as the Avatar—the Messiah—the Prophet. The direct descent of God on earth as the Avatar is that independent status of God when God directly becomes man without undergoing or passing through the processes of evolution, reincarnation, and involution of consciousness. Consequently, God directly becomes God-Man, and lives the life of man amongst mankind, realizing His divine status of the Highest of the High, or Ancient One, through these (five) Qutubs or Sadgurus, or Perfect Masters of the time.”

Meher Baba goes on to make the distinction between the Avatar and other God-Realized individuals. Then returning to the unique status of the Avatar He says on page 162:

Meher Baba —“In this manner, infinite God, age after age, throughout all cycles, wills through His infinite mercy to effect His presence amidst mankind by stooping down to human levels in human form, but His physical presence amidst mankind not being apprehended, He is looked upon as an ordinary man of the world. When, however, He asserts His divinity on earth by proclaiming Himself the Avatar of the Age, He is worshiped by some who accept Him as God; and glorified by a few who know Him as God. But it invariably falls to the lot of the rest of humanity to condemn Him while He is physically in their midst…

“The Avatar is always One and the same because God is always One and the same, the eternal, indivisible, infinite One who manifests Himself in the form of man as the Avatar, as the Messiah, as the Prophet, as the Buddha, as the Ancient One,—the Highest of the High. This eternally One and the same Avatar is made to repeat His manifestation from time to time, in different cycles, adopting different names and different human forms, in different places, to reveal Truth in different garbs and different languages, in order to raise humanity from the pit of ignorance and help free it from the bondage of delusions.”

Please remember that the story of the Mahabharata takes place roughly five-thousand years ago, but the actual writing of the story is much more recent—approximately 1700 years ago. Before it was written down in Sanskrit in its final form, the Mahabharata was communicated in the long tradition of oral transmission. Of course, the English renderings are very recent in comparison—going back a mere hundred years or less.

In other words, and in the words of the legendary Sufi Saint Mullah Nasredin, what we have here is the soup of the soup of the soup of the chicken your friend brought. Allow me to digress:

A friend knocks on the Mullah’s door one day. “What do you want?” asked the Mullah. “I’ve brought a chicken for your wife to make into a soup.” So the Mullah invites him in, they sit around while the soup is cooked, and then they eat it.
The next day there is another knock on the door. “Who’s there?” asks the Mullah. “The friend of your friend who brought the chicken,” the man replies. “Can I have some soup?” The Mullah invites him in and goes back to the kitchen. There is only a little soup left, so he adds some water and serves the soup.
This goes on for several days, friends of the friends of the friends coming to his door asking for soup and the Mullah adding more and more water before serving. “This isn’t soup!” states the seventh guest. “It is water!” to which the Mullah replies, “No, it is the soup of the soup of the soup of the soup, etc. etc. of the chicken that your friend of the friend of the friend etc. brought.”

What was it that Krishna said?

“(It is because now) thou sees Me as Time who kills, Time who brings all doom; the Slayer Time come hither to consume.”

And even the actions of eternal God, when He releases them into the world, are not exempt from the effects of time. The point was brought home to me one day while I was sitting in Mandali Hall at Meherazad, India with a number of other pilgrims listening to the stories of Eruch Jessawala, one of Meher Baba’s closest followers. Somehow the subject of the Bhagavad Gita came up—perhaps it was something I said—and Eruch offered the following:

“There are so many paintings of Krishna and Arjuna standing next to each other on a golden jeweled chariot. It is really very beautiful, but brother, those chariots of war were not at all like that. You see, in those days, the war chariots were built in such a way that the driver (Krishna) sat below the warrior (Arjuna) just above the wheels breathing the choking dust, smelling the stinking corpses, unable to even see where He was going, while the warrior above, with his feet on the shoulders of the driver, would direct Him by kicking Him on the shoulders and face. You see, it was the Avatar, Beloved God Himself, who accepted the position of the lowest of the low out of love for His lover. What a sacrifice it is that He makes for us.”