Monday, December 25, 2023

The Harper

 

In his Masnavi, Rumi tells the story of the harper. The harper was a musician with a beautiful voice, “sweet as that of the angel Israfil.” He was, therefore, very successful and sought after by many to perform at feasts, festivals, and all manner of special occasions. But over time and with age, his voice lost its charm, and no one would employ him.

In despair and hoping for relief, he went to the burial grounds to play his harp for God. When he finished playing, he fell asleep and had a dream that he was in heaven. At the same time a divine voice spoke to the Khalifa Omar.[1]

The voice told Omar to go to the burial ground where he would find an old man and to assist him. Omar went to the burial ground, found the old man, and gave him money promising that he would always have more when it was needed. With that, the old man cast away his harp, saying that it had diverted him from God, and expressed great contrition for his past sins.

But Omar corrected him, telling him that his worldly journey was now over and that he should not give way to contrition for the past as he had now entered into the state of ecstasy and intoxication of union with God, and in this exalted state regard to past and future should be swept away.

At this point the story ends, but not really, and another begins, the story of Mustafa. This is very common to the Masnavi. Rumi often enters correctives in the form of tangents, deflections, and contradictions. I believe this is because Rumi is sensitive to the fact that when truth is conveyed through a form, like a story or a parable or a discourse, etc., it becomes as if set in stone and over time becomes its own opposite.

It is also not uncommon to encounter in Rumi’s writing the technique of a story within a story. Who was Mustafa? It’s a common name in the Islamic world. It means the chosen one, and here it is in reference to the Prophet Muhammad and the night of his marriage to Safiyya. But Rumi is not speaking about worldly marriage for here, the bride is God, and the wedding night signifies Mustafa’s union with God. Likening this union to a blissful sleep, Mustafa’s morning prayers were put off till noon, and this brings up the question of fault, both Mustafa’s putting off of his prayers and Rumi’s for referring to God as a bride.

Rumi tells us as much when he says, “Impute it not as a fault if I call Him, ‘Bride,” to which the Beloved replies, “Speak on, tis fault only to him who sees faults. But how can the Pure Hidden Spirit notice faults? Faults seem so only to ignorant creatures, but not in the sight of the Lord of Benignity.”

Then, returning to the story of the Prophet, Rumi explains that God ‘sees’ differently than a common person and what appears a fault to man may be something quite different to God.

How can the Pure Hidden Spirit notice faults? Faults (may) seem so to ignorant creatures, but not in the sight of the Lord of Benignity. Blasphemy even may be wisdom in the Creator’s sight.”

Then quoting the sages, Rumi closes with, “’The bodies of the righteous are as pure souls.’ Their words, their actions, their praises, are all as a pure soul without spot or blemish.”

But the discussion is not yet finished, and this is where Rumi returns to the story of the harper, beautifully connecting it with the discussion of the Prophet’s wedding night and Rumi’s fault.

Remember how in the beginning, the Khalifa Omar, responding to the divine voice that spoke to him, relieved the harper of all his worldly difficulties and plunged him into the ultimate dream state of union with God? Awaking from the dream, the harper was filled with contrition for his past sins, but Omar reminded him that he was now free of his former self and that the past no longer existed for him.

“But Omar corrected him, telling him that his worldly journey was now over and that he should not give way to contrition for the past as he had now entered into the state of ecstasy and intoxication of union with God, and in this exalted state regard to past and future should be swept away.”

But apparently, the harper is unable or unwilling to comply with Omar’s correction and is unable or unwilling to give up his contrition. Now, in part two of the Harper’s Tale, Omar reminds him that “Past and future are what veil God from our sight. Burn up both of them with fire!” I’m reminded of a statement by Gurdjieff that the most difficult thing for a man to give up is his own suffering…

What follows is some of the most beautiful writing I have discovered in the Masnavi. Upon seeing the harper’s contrition as an act of ego that keeps him from union with God, Omar’s says,

“This wailing of yours shows that you are still in a state of sobriety which savors of memories past; past and future are what veil God from our sight, burn up both of them with fire.”

“While circumambulating the house you are a stranger, but when you enter the house, you are at home.”

“Oh, you who seek to be contrite for the past, how will you be contrite for this contrition?”

For those who are unfamiliar with Rumi, the Masnavi is divided into six different books—each with its own prologue. Thie prologue in Book I is the famous story of the reed flute and its complaints and lamentations for being pulled as a reed from it home in the reed bed.  

This plaint of the flute is fire, not air. Let him who lacks this fire be accounted dead! Tis the fire of love that inspires the flute, tis the ferment of love that possesses the wine.”

Rumi is speaking about the journey of the soul’s consciousness from unconsciousness to illusory consciousness, and from illusory consciousness to consciousness of Self. The state of illusory consciousness is what we call creation, the dream state of the soul in which the reed experiences having been pulled from the reed bed –the state of unconscious God.[2]

Now, in the Harper’s tale, speaking of the Harper’s inability to relinquish identification with the sense of otherness from God—from Self—Rumi revives the story of the reed flute.

How long will you be partitioned by these segments (of past and future) as a reed? So long as a reed has partitions, it is not privy to secrets, nor can it sing in response to lip and breathing.”

I believe that Omar is referring to a particular state of the soul in illusion when he reminds the harper that he must give up his identification with his former reed state and embrace his reed-flute state so that he may fully sing the song of the Soul. This state of the soul, this limbo, this junction, is something akin to what Gurdjieff use to call ‘sitting between two chairs.’ Sitting between two chairs is a very uncomfortable state. 

I have personally observed that this state manifests on the level of ordinary human consciousness in the expression of objective conscience. Objective conscience is the response to objective morality. Objective morality is the same as objective Truth. This conscience, this morality, is beyond and untouched by social mores and cultural distinction. It is not amenable to any form of outer coercion or convincing. This conscience, this morality, never argues, it just states the truth. But at times, for some individuals, it can be pushed so far down beneath the surface of awareness that the individual is barely aware of it. The purpose of this avoidance of conscience is the avoidance of pain. Conscience is often quite painful to the self, but not to the Self, and the Self being God, ultimately and always eventually breaks free and one becomes aware of choice.   

This state of sitting between two chairs manifests at the higher levels of human subtle and mental consciousness as well. It reaches its summit in what Meher Baba describes as the sixth plane of consciousness. The sixth plane is the final stage of consciousness before the ultimate state of God Realization—the seventh plane. Here, the individual consciousness sees God everywhere and in everything and yet does not see itself as God. This is the expression of duality at the highest level, the highest state of sitting between two chairs. Can you imagine? As Kabir said, “Until you experience it, it is not true.” And as impossible as it is to describe that state, how much more impossible would it be to describe the state of Union with God? Rumi concludes the story of the harper this way,

The heart of the harper was emancipated, and he was freed from weeping and rejoicing. His old life died, and he was regenerated, and amazement fell upon him for he was exalted above earth and heaven, an uplifting of the heart surpassing all uplifting. I cannot describe it—if you can, speak on.

“Ecstasy and words beyond all ecstatic words; Immersion in the Lord of Glory! Immersion from which there was no extrication—as it were identification with the Very Ocean.”

 



[1] Omar was Khalifa approximately in the 14th-15th Century. The title Khalifa has many meanings, but at the time it signified a divine leader—a Master).

 

[2] Another example of this same story is told in the Cole Porter song, Begin the Beguine.


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Saturday, November 04, 2023

Bhagavad Gita and a Time of War

 

I feel that it is important to repost this blog at this time. War again raises its terrible head. Again, people take sides, people discuss, people argue. And it’s been going on for thousands of years.
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 takes place in a time of war. Is there something we can all learn from it?

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

Dwapara was a great age; a time when Divine Knowledge pervaded the fabric of everyday life and the attributes of lucidity and purity found expression in all human endeavors. Lucidity and purity are expressions of Sattva Guna. In the Vedic teaching there are three gunas, Tama, Raja, and Sattva, that color the expression of all gross, subtle, and mental energies—and the highest of these three gunas among the trinity is Sattva Guna. Sattva Guna leads to the state of Gunateeta, described by Upasani Maharaj, as “the state devoid and beyond the Gunas,” i.e. God- Realization.

In the beginning of Dwarpara Yuga, life was guided by the manifestation of Divine Knowledge, and the ascendancy of Sattva Guna over Tama Guna and Raja Guna. But by the end of Dwarpara Yuga, life fell under the shadow of Tama Guna —the expression of ignorance and dark cruelty—and the shadow of Raja Guna—the expression of the unbridled pursuit of worldly pleasures and possessions. Consequently, as the next age of Kali Yuga dawned, the ability to think, speak, and act truthfully was in decline and life became growingly selfish and deceitful.

Mahabharata means great family—the great family of humanity, but as the shadow grew longer, and Dwarpara Yuga inevitably turned to Kali Yuga, 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 Sattva 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 war would only bring suffering and death to all, he froze 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 replied, “How can I start this war and bring death upon all of these people?” And so it came to pass, that right there and then, between the two armies poised for war, Krishna taught Arjuna the Great Teachings known 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 encompassed, ever all itself — thus is the Soul declared!” – Krishna

Krishna is speaking from His direct experience of illusion and reality. These bodies of ours, these bodies we cherish so deeply, exist only in the illusion and delusion of a great dream. It is the dream of us and others. Our joys and sorrows, successes and failures, births and deaths all seem so real— until we wake up.

But 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? This was Arjuna’s question—our question.

In the conversation that follows, Krishna speaks to Arjuna about the life of action and the contemplative life of meditation. He extols the virtues and shortcomings of both, saying; “Live in action! Labor! Make thine acts thy piety…” while also counselling; “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:

“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 Christ’s words to 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 Sattva, Raja, and Tama Gunas.

In the fourteenth chapter of the Bhagavad Gita Krishna says, “Sattva, 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 Sattva by purity living unsullied and enlightened, binds the sinless Soul to happiness and truth; while 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.

“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,” (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 does he live? What is the way that leads him safe beyond the Threefold Modes?”

Krishna responds; “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 signs!’

“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.

“This deathless Yoga (these teachings), this deep union, I taught to Vivaswata, the Lord of Light.”

 There is great significance in this statement by Krishna because Vivaswata is a name associated with the Sun. So, Krishna is saying that indeed He has been around for a long ling 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? He asks;


“How shall I comprehend this thing You say, ‘From the beginning it was I who taught…?’”

To this Krishna responds revealing the nature of Divine Incarnation—the Avatar—the Christ—the Messiah—the Ancient One who comes again and again, in different guises and different forms ;

“Manifold the renewals of My birth have been, Arjuna! And of thy births, too! But Mine I know, and yours you know 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.”

It 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 all 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—reveal His Godhood.

“If this can be, if I may bear the sight, make Yourself visible…show me your very Self, the Eternal God!”

 And Krishna obliges His beloved devotee.

“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!”

Krishna then tells Arjuna that what he wishes to see cannot be seen with earthly eyes, “therefore I give to you other eyes, new light! Now look! This is my glory, unveiled to mortal sight.”

And right there, on the battlefield, between the two armies poised for war, Krishna reveals to Arjuna His Universal Form.

I find it interesting that in the story, when Krishna reveals His Universal Form to Arjuna, it is Sanjaya, who narrates the story. Sanjaya is Dhritarashtra’s advisor. Dhritarashtra is the blind king who has fathered the Kauravas warriors.

Sanjaya tells Dhritarashtra that Krishna is now displaying to Arjuna all of the splendor, wonder, and dread of His Almighty-head.

“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…”

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.

 Try to imagine that all of creation is less than even a speck when compared to the Subtle World with all its powers and experiences, heaven and hell, angels and gods, and all divine beings; and that the Subtle World is less than even a speck when compared to the  Mental World, the abode of Archangels and real Saints—the world of Mind itself.

 Try to imagine all these three worlds 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 two armies of the Pandavas and the Kauravas poised and ready for war.

Arjuna exclaims; “You fashion men and then devour them all, one with another, great and small alike! The creatures who you fashion you then take within your flaming jaws—lapping them up!

 “Lord God! Your 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 it is that You appear so? Tell me, who You are who feasts upon the dead!?”

 Seeing within Krishna Universal Form the aspect of Shiva—The Destroyer—reignites Arjuna’s ambivalence regarding the war and his role in it. Krishna responds thusly;

“Arise Arjuna! Destroy your foes! (It is) by me they fall—not you! The stroke of death is dealt them now, even as they show thus gallantly. Arjuna, you are My instrument and it is I who bid them perish! You will only be the slayer of 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 the familiarity of a Divine Presence, to forget that He is not like we; or as Meher Baba reminded us on more than one occasion, “I come down and laugh and play with you—but never forget, I am God!”

Arjuna says, “For you are All! And if in anger now, You should remember I did think You my friend, speaking with easy speech, as men use each to each, and did call You ‘Prince,’ yet never comprehending Your hidden majesty, Your might, and Your majesty; and 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, did do You the most Holy, wrong, then forgive me for that witless sin!”

 Arjuna then asks Krishna to show him once again His personal form—His human form:

 “Now I know that you are Father of all below, of all above, and of all worlds within, as so with all reverence I ask Your grace, as father to a son, as friend to friend, as one who loves to his lover, turn your face in gentleness and mercy upon me on and show me once more Your visage that I know and let me once again behold the form I loved most of all, my Charioteer, in Krishna’s kind disguise.”

To his request Krishna replies, “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!”

“Then 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.”—Sanjaya

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.

“Yes, it was wonderful and terrible to view Me as you did, dear Prince—to see me as the gods see me! Yet not by study of the sacred texts, nor from sacrifice, nor penance, nor gift-giving, nor with prayer shall any so behold Me as you have seen Me!

 “Only by fullest service, perfect faith, and uttermost surrender am I known and seen and entered into, Indian Prince! Who does their all for Me: who finds Me in all, adores Me always—and  loves all that I have made, and loves Me as an end in itself, that person  Arjuna, comes to Me!”  

 There are numerous 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.

 Krishna then goes on to make a distinction between worship of the personal and the impersonal states of God, “Whoever serve Me as I show Myself, constantly true, in full devotion fixed, those hold I very holy. But those who serve and worship Me as The One, Invisible, 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 path (of service and devotion to the Impersonal State of God) is most difficult to tread. It is an invisible path that can scarce be trod by man.

 “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 and all the Perfect Masters are always, as I have learned, pragmatists. These Perfect Ones never stand on ceremony, are always adaptable to every situation, and are always here for us only. The Avatar never gives up on us, never gives up on anyone or anything.  

“But if your thought droops from such height; if you find that you are unable to remember me constantly in your body and soul, do not despair!

 “Instead give me service! Seek to reach Me by worshiping Me with steadfast will.

 “But if you cannot do that, them do your work for Me, toil in works pleasing to me! For he who labors right for Love of Me shall in the end attain!

 “And if even in this your heart fails, then bring Me your failure! Find refuge in Me! Let go of failure or success — the fruits of labor— renouncing even hope itself for Me, then come with humble heart, for, though knowledge is greater than diligence, yet worship is better than knowing, and renouncing better still, for near to renouncing — very near — dwells Eternal Peace.”

I find it 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?

 “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, 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 turns to Arjuna and once again counsels him to fight. This war was inevitable and even the Avatar could not stop it. The forces of destiny had been fixed; there was no way out.

 Could not God Himself stop a war? 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.”

 Stopping the war would destroy the game—His game. And what is His game? It is 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 act; how he should hold himself.

 “Do all you do for Me! Renounce for Me! Sacrifice heart and will and mind for Me! In faith of Me all dangers you will vanquish by My grace. But, if instead you trust to yourself, forgetting Me, then you will perish!

 And then Krishna reveals to Arjuna that, in fact, Arjuna has no power to stop the war either—that Arjuna has no power to not fight. Thinking that he does, is just another delusion.

 “If this day, relying on yourself, you say, ‘I will not fight!’ vain will your resolution prove, for the qualities of your 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 who dance to My tune. Trust Me, your Master, and come to Me for your nourishment and your relief. Oh prince of men, only then, by My grace, will you 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.

“Arjuna, you are precious to Me! Hear My last words; I tell this to you for your comfort. Give Me your heart! Adore Me! Serve Me! Cling to Me in faith and love and reverence; and I promise that you shall come to Me! For you are sweet to Me.

 “So let go of those archaic rites and writs of duty! Fly to Me alone! Make Me your refuge, and I will free your soul of all of its sins. Be of good cheer!”

 As Meher Baba said, “Don’t worry, be happy!”

In the Bhagavad Gita Krishna is saying 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—the Ancient One—the Godman.

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 story of the Avatar—the Ancient One—the Godman. 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 begin to ask you who you are? “Well, I’m named Michael; I’m a musician, and 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 and what God in human form means?

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.

“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.”God Speaks, page 159

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:

“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 is set in a period of time roughly five-thousand years ago and was communicated for thousands of years through the long tradition of oral transmission. This great epic was only later written down in Sanskrit—approximately 1700 years ago— and English translations began to emerge a mere hundred years ago or less.

 The question arises; are the words uttered by God immune to the ravages of time? Or in the words of the legendary Sufi Saint Mullah Nasredin, is what we have here, “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. “I am 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.

Over the next several days, friends of the friends of the friends come to his door asking for soup and the Mullah continues to add more and more water to the soup.

 This isn’t soup!” states the seventh guest, “this 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 told Arjuna?

“You see Me as Time who kills, Time who brings all doom; the Slayer Time come hither to consume.”

So apparently, even the acts of eternal God are not exempt from the effects of time once He has released them into the world. 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 and had to endure the choking dust, the stench of rotting corpses, unable to even see where He was going. It was the warrior sitting above the driver who directed the driver 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.”

 And He does it again and again, sacrifices again and again for all time and All Times by taking a human birth and living among us to help each of us in our journeyless journey to God.

 Why does He do this? Is that not another way?

 There was once a king who asked his spiritual advisor why God comes again and again. The advisor parried the king’s question by saying that it was such a beautiful day, why not first have a special holiday on the king's royal barge.

 And so, the king gathered a huge retinue of soldiers and family, and they departed on the barge. Far from shore, the waters became very turbulent, and the mighty barge began to rock and sway. In the middle of this tumult the advisor picked up the king’s youngest son and through him overboard.

 The king immediately jumped into the water to save his son.

 As soon as they were safely onboard the waters became calm again and the king turned angrily to his advisor. What was the meaning of his cruel act? The advisor calmly replied, “You asked me why God has to come again and again. You could have ordered your soldiers to save your son, but you jumped into the waters first—because of love.”

                                                                                                                              ©copyright, Michael Kovitz,7.27.2010 

 

 

                                                                                                                                      

 

 

 

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Wednesday, September 06, 2023

The Quest for Happiness

I sent this quote to a friend the other day. I felt that it was totally in keeping with the teaching of the Perfect Masters and Meher Baba. “But the whole point is to get pleasure and be able to keep it. Whoever can do this has nothing to learn. But the way to it is lies through suffering.” – G.I. Gurdjieff

My friend replied that he read it and shared it with his wife. He said that she would replace the word pleasure with joy. I too was somewhat ambivalent about Gurdjieff’s use of the word pleasure, though I understood that he was speaking at a particular time to a particular group of people. I asked my friend if he thought that the word happiness might be a good substitute. He replied that happiness was very consistent with Meher Baba’s teachings.

But whether we call it pleasure, joy, happiness, bliss, peace, etc., can we agree that if we look deep inside ourselves for the goal and motivator of the actions of our lives, that it is in fact the quest for this pleasure, joy, happiness, bliss, peace happiness?

I find everything in Gurdjieff’s statement significant. First, the qualification, “and to be able to keep it.” This is significant because it has been my experience that in life, nothing stays the same for very long. Moments of happiness, joy, bliss, etc. are fleeting, as are the moments of suffering that often follow.

There is a story I heard from Christopher Freemantle about the great King Solomon (a Perfect Master). People would come to him with their problems. He would listen but say nothing. He just sat there listening while slowly turning an ornate gold and jewel-encrusted ring around his finger.

There was one man who had come to him many times with his problems. They were indeed serious and weighty problems. As usual, King Solomon said nothing, just sat there turning the ring. One day the man could take the Master’s silence no longer and complained. Hearing the complaint King Solomon removed the ring from his finger and passed it to the man. Inside the ring was engraved, “This too shall pass.” This too shall pass, this too shall pass, this too shall pass…

In life, in the world, everything passes, everything changes, and every stick has two ends. Every stick has two ends—that’s another saying I heard attributed to Gurdjieff. It speaks to illusion’s reality of duality. At the other end of the stick of pleasure is pain, at the other end of the stick of attraction is repulsion, at the other end of the stick of wealth is poverty, etc. You can’t pick up just one end of the stick without picking up the whole stick. You always get the whole stick.

Perhaps we begin by trying—to take one end without the other. This can go on for many many lifetimes, but eventually we realize it is impossible. So then we may attempt to do away with the stick altogether, to not pick up the stick in the first place. This is the road of austerity—denial, but the problem is that denial id just one end of a stick, and always on the opposite end of the stick is indulgence. We can go through many lifetimes like this, going back and forth between denial and indulgence. It’s like a pendulum. But the pendulum itself is subject to the law of duality, and that which moves will eventually become still, though this may take hundreds of lifetimes. And this is just an example of one pendulum…

At some point, however, one begins to understand that they are trapped and cannot do without help. One might begin to take religion more seriously or seek out help through therapy, spiritual teachings, spiritual teachers, etc. Perhaps one learns about and is encouraged to try the technique called non-identification or non-attachment. In other words, to not try to do away with the stick, but to pick it up and yet remain unattached to the experiences of either of its ends. This can work, but it is extremely difficult, and virtually impossible without help, and even with real help, it too, can take many lifetimes.

And so, we see the significance of the words, and be able to keep it. To be able to keep anything implies a transcendence over duality itself. Once we have achieved this then it follows that one has nothing to learn.

But Gurdjieff said that the way to it lies through suffering. Why suffering? And is not pleasure on the other end of the same stick whose end is suffering? And therefore, does not suffering itself continue to embroil one more and more in duality? So why suffering?

Meher Baba put it this way, if you are having a wonderful dream and wake up, you want to go back to sleep and recapture that dream, but if the dream is unpleasant, you only feel relief that it’s over and have no interest in revisiting it.

Meher Baba and all the Perfect Masters I have studied are very consistent on this point, life as we experience is a dream—the dream state of God. It is all illusion and delusion and however real it appears to us to be, it is not real. Yet, it is a necessary stage that the soul must experience on its journey from its deep sleep to its real, fully awake, I am God State.

If life was always pleasant, enjoyable, etc. there would be no impetus to awaken. Meher Baba explained it this way, he said that a growing dissatisfaction with life and all its dualities, both unpleasant and pleasant, combined with a growing interest and eventually all-consuming love for God is the dynamic mechanism of this awakening.

Gurdjieff used this analogy. You live in this beautiful house with many rooms on many stories. Those rooms contain unbelievable experiences of beauty and bliss. But you chose to live in the basement—the dark dank basement—and have all but forgotten even the existence of the other stories and rooms. Instead, you busy yourself making efforts to find the most pleasant places in the basement to pass your time fighting and arguing with others about meaningless things. Gurdjieff concluded by saying that the only way out of the basement is to ally oneself with someone who found their way out of the basement and is willing to show you the way.

What is the basement? It is gross consciousness—consciousness of what we call the physical universe and all its physical forms from galaxies to subatomic particles. Gross consciousness sees only the gross expressions of subtle energies and the mental projections of thoughts and feelings and desires. It sees only the outside.

What are the upper stories and rooms? They are the seven planes of higher consciousness: the first three being the planes of subtle consciousness—of energy. The innumerable powers, experiences, and possibilities of this story—this subtle world—constitute the various rooms on that story.

What is the next story—world of consciousness—beyond the subtle? It is called the Mental World and it is consists of two planes—rooms—the first being the plane wherein lies mastery of thoughts and the second being the plane wherein lies the mastery over all feelings, emotions, and desires.

Beyond this Mental World is the Seventh Plane, the plane of God Realization/Self-Realization. It is the end of the soul’s journey. It is the fully awake state of the soul. It is eternal, infinite, and the abode of all Knowledge, Power, and Bliss.

Those whose consciousness is of the subtle sphere can help others to reach that sphere, but they cannot help others to achieve states beyond their own station. Likewise, those whose consciousness is of the higher mental sphere can help others to reach that sphere, but they cannot help others to achieve the states beyond their station. Finally, to achieve the Goal, it is necessary to enlist the help of one who has themselves achieved the Goal—a Perfect Master.

The evolution of consciousness proceeds through association and disassociation of the soul with all the lower gross forms from stone to man. Throughout this journey, suffering is experienced. With the achievement of the human form the process of reincarnation begins. In this process, human forms, male and female, black and white, weak and strong, rich and poor, etc., etc., are experienced, discarded, and then replaced in an effort to free the consciousness of the soul from its identifications with these very forms.

Throughout this phase of the journey the experience of suffering continues. And even when the consciousness of the soul enters involution and experiences the various planes, suffering in first a subtle form and then in a mental form continues. Suffering is there throughout the entire journey of the consciousness throughout the entire dream state of the soul—what we call creation consciousness.

But what exactly is the nature of this suffering? It’s a complex thing, for there are many different forms of suffering, and not all of them are necessary! This is the important thing. Not all suffering is necessary!

But the whole point is to get pleasure and be able to keep it. Whoever can do this has nothing to learn. But the way to it is lies through suffering.” – G.I. Gurdjieff

That’s how we started this topic. In the dream state of creation, duality manifesting itself through constant change is the king, and so the ability to keep anything would be quite an accomplishment. Gurdjieff as well as the Masters are all in agreement that suffering is essential to achieve constancy, but as was discussed, there are many kinds of suffering and not all of them are necessary. In fact, almost all suffering is unnecessary and almost all suffering is unwanted. So then, why do we go on and on suffering and suffering? Gurdjieff often said, “The most difficult thing for a man to give up is his suffering.” What an irony; what a contradiction!

In 1979, I was talking to Adi K. Irani in his little office in the Avatar Meher Baba Trust Compound in Ahmednagar, India. He was saying that we are all traveling on a train that would bring us to the Goal, but we are not driving the train. All that is necessary for us to do is to stay on the train and bide our time in a pleasant and helpful way. But sometimes, Adi said, we might be enticed to get off the train. He said that Meher Baba would let us get off the train, but also, in His Infinite Mercy, He would always allow us to get back on the train. I suggested that though getting off the train was, in fact, unnecessary, once that option was taken, we would have to shift from calling it unnecessary to calling it an unnecessary necessity. Adi seemed to like that.

Leaving the train in search of pleasure always leads to suffering, and this suffering is unnecessary, but the wisdom gained from countless experiences of getting on and off the train eventually leads one to learn to stay on the train and not be lured off by the false hopes of desires. What is the most unnecessary suffering of all? My experience tells me it is worrying. Worrying is the most unnecessary suffering of all. I recall the old saying, “a coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero only one.”

 Of course, staying on the train also has its share of suffering, but this suffering is necessary.

So, what is suffering? Suffering can be physical, suffering can be mental, and suffering can be emotional. None are pleasant, and if we are honest with ourselves, none are really welcome—at least for most mere mortals. As Adi used to say, “A kiss and a kick from Meher Baba are one and the same, but I still prefer the kiss.” Don’t we all?

Now, it may seem from the way I’m talking that I actually understand what it is I’m saying, and perhaps at some level I do—understand the why and the what of suffering, its necessity, and its unnecessary necessity, and maybe most importantly, that it is all just an illusion—a dream. I can even tell myself—remind myself—of this in the midst of my own suffering.

But if this is true and I’ve learned the lesson, then why do I keep suffering; why do I need to keep suffering? So, I must be missing something, for as Hafez said, “He never tries His slave in vain.” Then what is it that I’m missing? I believe that the answer is simply this, all my understanding, all my knowledge of suffering, is limited to that section of mind that controls thinking and thoughts. The other section of mind, the domain of feeling, emotion, desires, etc., does not know the truth that the thinking section of mind knows, and it is for this knowing by the feeling section of mind that suffering continues to be essential.

But like any remedy to be effective, it must be the right remedy—in this case, the right suffering and this is where the Master comes in. The Master, being Infinitely knowing, sees into every corner of the soul’s cloak of illusion and knows what the exact prescription is that will free the soul from its cloak of illusion.

There is a story about a disciple who is telling his Master about a friend he says is very spiritual. He reads spiritual books, meditates, and is seen to do good. The Master says, “Oh he sounds very spiritual, but then, gesturing with one hand he says, “but let me grab him by the throat and throw him up against the wall,” while with his other hand he makes a fist and gestures as if he is about to punch the man in the face, and says, “then we will see how spiritual the man really is!”

I know the story sounds a little crude, but the point is clear, head knowledge is fine, but it’s not enough. We need to know with the whole of ourselves and this is where life comes in. It is life that can take us to the door, but at the door one’s progress comes to a halt and the help of the Master becomes essential. It is the Master who can pull us through the door to the Goal.

Gurdjieff often evoked the analogy of a carriage, a horse, and a coachman.

 “A man as a whole with all his separately concentrated and functioning localizations, that is to say, his formed and independently educated ‘personalities,’ is almost exactly comparable to that organization for conveying a passenger, which consists of a carriage, a horse, and a coachman.” All and Everything – Beelzebub’s Tales to his Grandson, page 1192

 

In this analogy, the carriage represents the physical body, the horse represents the organization of human feeling, and the driver represents the whole totality of the manifestations of human mentation—what is generally described as thinking.

It is precisely the training of the horse that is the work of the Master. The horse cannot be trained with the same methods that work for the driver. The Master works with and through life to train the horse and for this, some suffering is necessary. But suffering, in and of itself, is never the point and unnecessary suffering, by its very nature, is never necessary. The Master works to eliminate unnecessary suffering and through the Master’s Love and Compassion, helps support the wayfarer through the trial and tribulations of the necessary suffering. The Master is always Infinitely Merciful and Eternally Benevolent.

In fact, from the very beginning of the soul’s journey of consciousness, from its earliest associations with pre-human forms—all the way back to and before the stone form, the Master is working. The Master is always working, but mostly, behind the curtain. Only at certain times, and this is generally when the soul is reaching the end of its journey, does the Master appear to the soul in order to establishes a personal relationship. This personal relationship is necessary to guide and energize the final steps of the soul’s journey. The acceptance of the Master’s help by the wayfarer is the critical factor, for this acceptance represents the acceptance of Reality by Illusion—the giving up of Illusion’s hold on the soul’s consciousness as limited and separate from Reality—from God—from Self.

 

You are like a stream that flows through all of time seeking union with


the sea. Nearing journey’s end, the stream flows into a vast desert and


is trapped in the sands. Weakening more and more, it struggles


on, but finds its way blocked by great mountains. Hopeless


and helpless, its life ebbing into the sands, the stream cries out,


‘Oh help me Lord!’ and is answered by the voice of the wind.


‘I am the wind; you must give yourself to me. In my arms I will carry


you over the mountains as a cloud and as rain you will merge with the sea.’

 

‘But I will die!’



‘You will not die! Only your dream of yourself as stream will end.

Besides, where is your choice?

A stream you can no longer be.

Give yourself to me or be lost to the sands forever’.

And so, totally helpless and without hope, exhausted beyond belief, the


stream gave itself into the arms of the wind and was carried as a


cloud beyond the mountain’s peaks. The cloud drifted over the sea


where seeing itself reflected in the water below, began to weep.


‘I await you. Come,’ welcomed the sea.

And the cloud released itself as tears of joy   


and fell as rain into the sea.


‘We are not we, but one,’ spoke the golden sea and the stream, being stream no more, heard the voice and recognized it as its own.”  – From The Voice of the Stream, a poetic rendering by Michael Kovitz of a Sufi story

 

                                                                                                     © copyright Michael Kovitz 2023


 


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