Some More Portraits of Ramana

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Self enquiry, the being here, is a particle which leads to God;  the God particle in the higgs bosen affair.  The particle is an open question.

What about the alone, the just-now?

The Life in and out is everyone’s;  nothing stands alone.  The out and in of this is beauty.    Loneliness and its concomitant death anxiety, is fantasy, an imaginary tower block.  Silence opens every conceivable companionship, like an infinite school of fish in the sea.  Keeping still, the shoal appears.  It is a cloud of fish, the waters, or the swooping serpentine patterns of starlings over Rome.   The silence is alignment with the dancer’s grace.  The soul with Siva bends and sways the meadow grass – the sara-grass of Vedic Mantras:  pulses of fire.   Touch lightly:  this feeling is every where.

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In his Guru Mantra Commentary, the seer Ganapati Muni discusses the mantra saravanabhava, whose vibration is:  “One who is born from the forest of Sara”.   Sara is a kind of grass.   The story goes that the seed of Rudra, placed in the stalk of grass, became Kumara, Skanda – the mythical hinterland of Ramana.   The Veda says;  “he put his image in every form … he made out of the grass, special faggots and nourished all around the fire of Yama, Kala, Time.   He expanded and increased that which stood in the sky as the fire of Time.  Time is not different from sound.  The sound resonates subtly in the sky and cultures everything.”

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Ramana as Skanda in The Sacred India Tarot

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TO RAMANA, A SON OF SHIVA (I)

Your flower uplifts
and in my cup,
the pestle pounds
sweet seed.

Your pools of dark fire
drink eyes to eye;
and rippling, tipple and
spill sweet rivers …

and as the neck
of milky swan,
so rises and falls the wave
to my breast – drink wisdom …

and as the serpent’s
sharp tongue
uncoils, float
your soft speech, free!

From Footfalls of Melody Unsounded, 1992

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TO A SON OF SHIVA (II)

Into my mortar cup
your pestle grinds.

Dying, I am born.
The cook rises at dawn
with the recipe “nam yar ?”*

No grain is wasted.
Squirrels and monkeys gather them.
Skandashram’s scullery fills with song!

Each nut case hard, dim, brittle
to you brought,
is the art,

and red, golden, green flavour,
pappadom, crushed ginger,
cumin and wild rose,
sing in the cup;

beloved deliverer, pound
my fragrance!

No captured entity strives
in your hand which captivates.

Your lotus eyes
strike down the harvest of
my skanda-lizing stalks.

From Footfalls of Melody Unsounded 1992

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Those who, as food for Siva, pour
their minds into the sacred fire
of pure awareness, and dare worship
and blend in Siva’s form, attain
his own auspicious formlessness.

 Muruganar  Garland of Guru’s Sayings

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He that sees the Lord
in the Temple, the living body,
by seeking within, can alone find Him,
the Infinite

in the temple of the universe
having become the endless eye.

 Muruganar/L.Sharma  Guru Ramana Vachana Mala

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Ramana with newspaper and Ti-Puss

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Ramana with Cow Lakshmi

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Mouni Sadhu arrives to Lunch

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Ramana & Devotee

 

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Path in North Mimms, near London

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My adventure invites fellow travellers.  I am a poet, an artist and a seer.  I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.  

I write, illustrate, design and print my books.   Watch this space.

 

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