Mira Prabhu's Blog, page 4
August 9, 2018
IN SEARCH OF SECRET INDIA
[image error]Long decades ago, the Englishman Paul Brunton was consumed by a luminous quest: to locate the rishis or holy men that had once made India sparkle with their mystical teachings and pronouncements, and then to relate his discoveries to the West
Brunton was more than just another run-of-the-mill writer-journo in search of sensational material, for his secret yearning was to find an authentic master who would dissolve all his troubling questions and lead him to peace. Against many odds, he traveled across the seas to India in the last years of British colonial rule. I believe it was his pure heart that finally led him to Ramana Maharshi, the entrancing copper-skinned Sage of Arunachala. Interesting to note that, of all the illuminating and bizarre experiences Brunton was privileged to experience during his rather lengthy exploration of this ancient world, it was the radiant and blissful Maharishi who left a lasting imprint on his spirit.
I’ve discovered that years of intervening study and practice can reveal new facets of a book one has already read, and this is what happened to me as I plunged again into this fascinating saga. As before, I was cynically amused by the “white man’s” smug and blinkered view of India. For instance, early in the book, Brunton laughs at the ridiculous notion that great Western nations would bother to hark to the wisdom of meek brown men. (Just consider Trump meeting with Mahatma Gandhi!)
Clearly, despite his own magnetic attraction and respect for the East, Brunton too was a victim of the archaic and insidious idea that all Indians without exception are a credulous, old-fashioned, superstitious and easily-dominated lot. But, in truth, as my mother used to say, India is so rich, vast and variegated that one could spend entire lifetimes trying to figure it out and still manage to touch only its iridescent rim. In my opinion, no sane or open-hearted person can make generalizations about this country or its people, for they range from the highly refined and educated to the illiterate, with every shade in between. As for the arrogant assumption that all Indians are small, meek and brown-skinned, Brunton clearly never met those tall, fair, stalwart and imposing Indians, some with green, gray or blue eyes, who also inhabit this amazingly diverse region.
[image error]The Enlishman’s genuine yearning for spiritual knowledge prevented him from being blown away by the range of incredible fakirs and gurus he met on his travels, many of whom revealed to him marvels of which no ordinary Westerner could dream. Instinctively (more likely from past lives spent in the sub-continent) he knew that there was more to the whole business of enlightenment then what are known as “siddhis” or extrasensory powers. Despite chronic insomnia, a variety of physical illnesses and a thousand other inconveniences, he kept resolutely on, until he met the Shining One who had fused his finite egoic self into his grand and immortal Self, and then stayed on to show us how to accomplish the same incredible goal.
Years ago when I lived in an affluent suburb of Washington DC, an American friend asked me why I wanted to return to India. I mulled over her question and said, you know, when I take my daily forty-five minute evening walk to that fabulous park, there are times when I don’t encounter a single human. That may be because most of the residents here work in the neighboring cities, but still, it feels eerily like a ghost town to me. Sometimes as I walk along that long road a curtain rustles in one of those big houses and I know that I am being peered at from a safe distance. But even when I get to the park, where people are walking their dogs or exercising their own bodies, and except for those predators on the prowl that one encounters everywhere, most are too scared to smile or even make eye contact.
Now, this would never happen in most of India. Yes, there are wealthy secluded areas where it could, but, for the most part, India is bursting with all manner of humans willing to engage with you on all levels, and brimming with energy, color, sound and light. One need never feel disconnected or lonely here.
[image error]Besides, especially for the seeker, all the terrible things that Gautama Buddha warned us are the lot of all human beings—old age, illness and death—are out in the open, and not carefully hidden behind closed doors as often happens in the West; and so it is much easier to digest the fact that, no matter how opulent our lifestyles are, nothing in relative reality can make us permanently happy or peaceful. For me, this is the great teaching of India and why so many foreigners imbued with a true longing for truth are hooked for life when they first come here, despite their initial revulsion for much they encounter.
Greetings from Arunachala, Shiva the Destroyer in the form of a hill of fire and light, who helps us transcend the flawed notion that living the worldly good life can bring us even a millimeter closer to the luminous and blissful Self that we truly are!
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August 4, 2018
Do all this and “it doesn’t matter a damn how well you write” – Somerset Maugham QUOTES FOR WRITERS (and people who like quotes)
If you can tell stories, create characters, devise incidents, and have sincerity and passion, it doesn’t matter a damn how well you write.
Somerset Maugham
August 3, 2018
Trauma, Addiction, and Core Beliefs
August 2nd comes and goes without much fanfare. It’s my dad’s birthday, and every year, I wonder where he sleeps that night. I wonder if he’s safe and warm.
My father, that I recall, had no vices when I was growing up. I think he was a heavy drinker, probably an alcoholic, before I was born. But I don’t remember, to be honest. There’s a term I’ve heard in the last year, “dry drunk,” that refers to a person who exhibits the same behaviors sober that they did drunk. It also, in my understanding, refers to someone who can develop this syndrome because they lack adequate professional support while in recovery.
[W]hile they may have quit drinking, the individual has yet to deal with the emotional baggage that led them to alcohol in the first place.
DRY DRUNK SYNDROME CAN BE OVERCOME; IT SIMPLY REQUIRES A WILLINGNESS TO…
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August 2, 2018
BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD
[image error]You can’t let the old biddy intimidate you like that, my friend said firmly in his gravelly voice. You have to stand up to her and you’re strong enough to do it. You feel weak after all your recent upheavals, I know, but if you lose this battle, you’ll regret it.
I put my cell phone into the pocket of my fleece jacket with a bitter sigh, knowing he was right. The “old biddy” was part-time leader of the incredibly lovely Zendo to which I had fled, many years ago, to escape the blistering heat of Tiruvannamalai. Aware that I did not care for their strict and ritualistic routine of meditation and wished to be left to my own devices to follow Ramana’s Direct Path of Self-Investigation, she had honed in on me like the battle axe that she was, determined to crush me into submission.
Panicking at her bizarre form of attack, which involved waiting until I was seated in the dining hall with friends before rushing forward to berate me in her heavily accented English, I had called my friend to let him know I was not enjoying my experience. But he was not ready to give in to my request that he immediately send a car to transport me all the way back to Tiruvannamalai, and so I had no other option but to fight this demented oppressor.
That afternoon I decided it was time to grapple with the Fear Monster who had plagued me so many times before. I locked myself into my lovely room and dived under the covers. The sky outside my window was overcast and the general atmosphere was one of doom and gloom. Okay then, I whispered as I closed my eyes and allowed myself to feel the clammy fingers of stress clutching at my heart. Let’s have it out, and right now, okay, you big bully?
[image error]I lay quiescent and allowed the ugly feelings to engulf me, determined to find out what was behind them. And sure enough, as the waves of fear did their weird thing, I sank below them and saw their source: ah, so the German woman represented the fear of authority that had been instilled in my right from childhood!
You see, my father was authoritarian to the extreme and his word was law. We were ordered to act in a certain way, and god forbid if we dared to question his orders—the consequences were so dire that all of us obeyed, at least on the surface. And then there were the teachers at school who demanded obedience or else, and all the other oppressors one tends to encounter along the byways of life, including those who disguise their nasty habits so well that one can be fooled for years.
At that instant of clear seeing, I actually felt the hold of the demon start to loosen; then, very slowly, those claws begin to fall away and to disappear. Later I was shocked to learn that the struggle had lasted for a couple of hours. The miracle was that right away I lost my fear of the German woman; she must have sensed that she no longer bothered me because she quickly found another newcomer to bully.
Until the vasanas (karmic trace impressions) that run the egoic system completely burn down, they can return to cause us trouble. And ever since, seven days ago to be precise, when a great big door slammed onto my right foot and crushed my toe, Fear and his sneering minions have been harassing me. There are many reasons for my tremulous feelings, but I won’t bore you with them. But I could not help wondering why this had happened in the first place.
This mini-disaster comes on the heels of other painful events. Just a couple of weeks ago, my dog Kali startled me in the middle of the night and I had slid off my huge bed and fallen to the floor with a heavy thud, hurting my left thigh quite badly. But I was soon back on my feet. This was followed by other mini-crises, and now I had almost broken my toe. What the hell was really going on? I confess I went through a medley of negative emotions including grief, anger and resentment. Why me? And this is the retort I would get: Why not you? You think you are special, eh? Well, get over it!
Yesterday afternoon I gazed upon the gray-green slopes of sacred Arunachala and tears sprang to my eyes. Why do you make me suffer like this? I whispered. The answer came as these words rang in my heart: Be Still And Know That I AM God.”
As all devotees of Ramana are aware, this Biblical line was a favorite with the great sage. What does it mean in the context of Advaita? It is certainly not encouragement to be a lazy bum and to wait for things to happen, no; instead we are meant to pour everything we have into stunning the wild mind into a perfect and brilliant stillness. When this miracle happens, the egoic self dissolves into the Self and one knows for sure that ones true nature is immortal bliss and infinite awareness. Be Still And Know That I AM God, yes, this is the highest goal we seekers of peace can hold before us as we make our way into the core of the Spiritual Heart.
[image error]I don’t deny that I’ve come a long way from the crazy child I was, but there are still miles to go before I burn down that mountain range of karmic predilections that still keep me subject to pleasure and pain, to desire and to fear. My current tendency is to create a comfort zone and to hide in there for as long as possible—which is why the powers that be make sure to crack that zone and shove me willy-nilly back into the world; the idea is, I am convinced, to force me to grow beyond all borders and boundaries.
Greetings from Arunachala, Shiva the Destroyer in the form of a hill of fire and light, who whips us forward despite our protestations, determined to fulfill his vow to destroy all that blocks us from knowing we are joy itself!
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July 26, 2018
YOU HAVE NO SHAME…
[image error]…my mother would say to me sternly whenever I misbehaved, which admittedly was often. I was a curious child and did not believe in the maxim of children should be seen but not heard (a friend turned that around jokingly and said: children should be obscene but not heard!) And so I butted into adult conversations and asked outrageous questions, simply because I wanted to know what made this strange world tick. I also had the “bad” habit of striking up conversations with anyone who took my fancy—total strangers, servants, the old, the young, the rich, the poor, beggars.
“You have no shame,” my puritanical mother would scold again, and I grew so used to hearing this that it no longer had an effect on me. I knew, you see, that I meant no harm but was merely trying to comprehend my world. Unlike many of my friends with progressive parents who had studied abroad, my mother was raised in a small town and believed we should remain securely within our birth matrix lest the wicked world ruin us. I found her constant attempts to shield us extremely irritating, but I also knew for sure that, in her pure and simple way, she was only trying to protect us.
Clearly we were like oil and water; nevertheless she loved and admired not just me, but all her kids. She had been married off against her will at sixteen and was literally forced to have a large family, which was then the norm for affluent segments of society. While she and I definitely had our troubles, today, as I deepen my own journey into the Spiritual Heart via Ramana Maharshi’s Direct Path of Self-Investigation, I find myself utterly grateful for the system of values and ethics she passed on to me.
[image error]When I asked her what she wanted as a birthday gift, she’d murmur that she’d be happy if was “a good girl.” This would make me mad, because I knew that, by no stretch of the imagination, was I “good.” I lied (the only way we could explore the world was to deceive our strict parents so we could slip away from the house to partake of fresh adventures), stole money (although most of my friends had liberal parents who believed in giving them pocket money, mine did not) etcetera, but nevertheless her values still embedded themselves deep within me.
If I borrowed a book or an article, for instance, she would insist that I return it in good shape and on time. Both my father and she showed us by example that we should always keep our word and were strictly against corruption and dishonesty of all kinds. Her heroes, not surprisingly, were great men and women who sacrificed personal gratification for others. She had no love for the tinsel aspects of life, nor for stars and celebrities, and lived a prayerful life. Whoda thunk that this woman I rebelled against so strongly when young would seriously impact me as an adult?
[image error]This post is inspired by my watching a certain wealthy family, who has recently entered the political scene in America, abuse their position by taking as much from over-taxed citizens as they can, while they can. I laugh softly to myself as the bizarre thought flashes that my mother (who has long since passed away) would have had no hesitation informing them that they have no shame.
Greetings from Arunachala, Shiva the Destroyer in the form of a hill of fire and light, who whips us into shape so we can enter the blissful Spiritual Heart and bask in our true nature!
If you’ve enjoyed reading my posts, please also check out my BOOKS and LINKS.
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July 24, 2018
The Quintessential Blog Book
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Post-millennium, I moved permanently from America to India. Here, in the shadow of the sacred hill Arunachala, two decades from the day I conceived the idea and following seven major rewrites, I finished my first novel in the Moksha Trilogy: Whip of the Wild God: A Novel of Tantra in Ancient India.
I then had an outstanding Manhattan literary agent, but the slow grind of conventional publishing frustrated me. Fortunately, the self-publishing industry had just taken off like a space missile; since I had no desire to actively promote my books, I decided to self-publish.
Neither I nor my co-conspirators knew the nuts and bolts of self-publishing; but one is versatile and he uploaded Whip. Now I had to promote it! Since I did not want to hire a promotion agency, my friend designed a blog for me—and so was born the metaphysical and mundane musings of a maverick female scribe.
Over the years, our audience has grown into the thousands, international magazines have published my posts, and my friend’s consistent technical support has allowed me to focus on writing, which I consider my dharma or spiritual calling.
Why link the metaphysical with the mundane? Ah, herein hangs a tale. During my confused early years, I came upon an ancient Eastern teaching known as the Two Great Truths of Absolute and Relative Reality. Through this amazing lens, life finally began to make sense to me. I learned that, for as long as we are governed by duality, we must nurture our fragile egoic selves, even as we deepen our investigation into what the sages inform us is our true nature (sat-chit-ananda in Sanskrit), which translates as pure existence, awareness and bliss—and so we deal righteously with the mundane, even as we explore our vast metaphysical being.
Much water has since flowed under the bridge: Krishna’s Counsel, a contemporary novel set both in south India and Manhattan, followed Whip of the Wild God, and then I completed the third novel in the series which I’d begun long ago in the foothills of the Himalayas: Copper Moon Over Pataliputra, set in the fabulous Mauryan Empire.
With more time on my hands, I began to write a regular morning post for my social media contacts. Several friends asked me to collate these posts into a book, so I put together all my posts beginning from April 2013, wove multiple segments into a single post, arranged them thematically, and inserted brief lead-ins wherever necessary to explain the inspiration for the post.
Posts range from the biographical to the metaphysical, from creative writing to Eastern philosophy, to social and spiritual commentary, poetry and stories of great gurus including ancient luminous beings such as the Rajasthani Princess turned saint Mirabai, and the sage Dattatreya. Some of my favorites are: The Ego Is Not Your Amigo, Two Great Truths of Absolute and Relative Reality, Mahamudra Meditation: Samsara’s Seven Flavors, Serpent Ring & The Magic of Acceptance, Everything Is Beautiful, Advaita Is Not Two, Wall Street Addict in Harlem, Demon of Eclipses & Illusions, Shiva’s Spectacular Gender Divide, Drugs, Guns & Satsangh and The Dirty Little Secret.
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I began my quest for moksha by studying the foundations of hatha yoga philosophy. I then explored the ascetic purity of Zen Buddhism, before diving into rich and colorful Tibetan Buddhism. (I lived for several years in Dharamsala in the foothills of the Himalayas, home of the exiled Tibetans). Disillusioned by the rituals and hierarchical systems of some Tibetan Buddhist groups, I moved on to Santh Math (the Path of the Mystics), before circling back to the luminous teachings of Advaita, specifically to the Direct Path of Self-Investigation as taught by the great sage Ramana Maharshi.
My other main teacher today is Nisargadatta Maharaj, known as the Hammer for his unflinching manner of conveying mystical truths. I’ve studied many spiritual traditions, but make no claims to being a scholar: I write from my heart and express personal sentiments and opinions, which are always flexible and open to refinement.
I owe a great debt to all my teachers, visible and invisible, positive and negative, and to all the scribes, ancient and modern, who have shared their own journeys into the light.
To the three American friends who came to my rescue by helping me to put this book into a form that could be published: Kailasam Berke, Steven Sullivan and Jon McAllister, great thanks! And to the Indian friend who prefers to remain anonymous and did all the work of uploading so quietly and efficiently, my eternal gratitude!
I hope you enjoy these pieces of writing as much as I enjoyed spinning them out!
Namasthe from Arunachala, Shiva the Destroyer in the form of a hill of fire and light, whose sacred vow is to help us on the awesome journey from darkness to light!
Here are the direct links to the book (or you can click on the single link that gives you all my work):
pothi.com (please use this if you live in India – inexpensive and excellent quality!)
https://pothi.com/pothi/book/mira-prabhu-quintessential-blog-book
AMAZON PAPERBACK
AMAZON KINDLE (E-BOOK)
amazon.in
https://www.amazon.in/QUINTESSENTIAL-BLOG-BOOK-METAPHYSICAL-MAVERICK-ebook/dp/B07FL2BN8B/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1532187526&sr=1-1&keywords=the+quintessential+blog+book
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July 21, 2018
A writer needs more than talent to suceed – Julie-Ann Corrigan QUOTES FOR WRITERS (and people who like quotes)
‘It takes ten years or 10,000 hours to write well.’
This is a truism. More than talent, a writer needs patience, hefty skin, and discipline. With these, you will be succesful.
Julie-Ann Corrigan
July 20, 2018
July 19, 2018
INTENSIVE CARE
[image error]Ages ago, lunching with friends in a restaurant with a spectacular view of the Himalayas, a European woman began to boast about how close she was to her guru, and how integral her presence was to his inner circle of devotees. We listened politely, and this encouraged her to rave even more. Suddenly, a friend of mine, a cynical chap who had been around the block several times and appears to have no illusions about anything, interrupted her: ah, so you’re in Intensive Care, he said bluntly. Clearly you need the direct intervention and proximity of a guru, or your ego would completely destroy you.
I burst into giggles at her astounded expression, but while she may have thought he was trying to take her down a notch or two, I knew that as usual he was only speaking his mind and did not intend to deliberately hurt or insult her. Oddly enough, his words continued to resonate with me, because they certainly applied to my own condition.
A singer said this about Van Gogh—that this world was not made for men as beautiful as him. And there’s no denying that the goings-on of our planet can be hard to handle for anyone who is ultra-sensitive to suffering, simply because there are no barriers and empathy rules. Now I was born so sensitive that I would immediately burst into a storm of tears when I encountered a person or animal whose situation awakened my compassion. My mother referred to these mini-breakdowns as “crocodile tears,” not because she was unkind, far from it, but because she did not wish to encourage me in being ridiculously soft and therefore ill-equipped to cope with life’s hard realities.
[image error]A few mornings ago, right out of the blue, a huge wooden door blew shut and almost broke my little toe. The pain was excruciating. I expected it to heal in a day or two, but I’ve been forced to stay home to nurse it, which is pure torture for someone as active as me, and whose threshold for both emotional and physical pain is abysmally low.
I put on my mystical thinking cap and studied my predicament. Why did this happen to me? One answer is that something majorly bad was supposed to happen to me, and instead (perhaps because these days I’m being such a “good girl”), the powers that be reduced that ominous would-be event to an almost-broken toe. (It’s an undeniable fact that I could be lying in a morgue right now, especially since I’m a bit of a speed freak on the highway and Indian truck, bus and lorry drivers are notoriously reckless.) I won’t bore you with the other thoughts that arose in this connection, but I will say that today I have such great faith in Arunachala in whose holy shadow I now reside, that I have no flicker of doubt that there is excellent reason for me to be held hostage at home.
I flashed back to soon after I got to Tiruvannamalai, some eight years ago, when I got drenched for hours while walking on the inner path that circles the mountain. I was in the company of a British friend who is a top-notch hiker. He quickly slipped into a rain jacket, but I was badly affected. There was nowhere to take shelter since we were on the inner path. By the time I got home, hours later, I was already shivering with fever. My friend left for England the next day and I developed a terrible flu and lay shivering in bed. Seventeen days later I was finally well enough to walk outside. I gazed up at Arunachala’s dawn glory and for the first time realized His power. I knew then that it was his fierce grace that had forced me to undergo that intense suffering—to burn away countless layers of ego that were preventing me from entering the Spiritual Heart. (Check out: ARUNACHALA, NOT ABRACADABRA )
This afternoon I gazed out of my living room window at the reassuring bulk of Arunachala. Don’t you think you’ve whipped me enough? I asked, as a wave of self-pity assailed me. Then I hastened to add that I had learned to trust Him, and that He had proven to me, time and time again, that when He heaped pain, disappointments and frustrations on my poor human head, enhanced peace, understanding and joy surely followed. Thank you for placing me in Intensive Care, I murmured gratefully; who knows what would have happened to maverick mini-me out there in the big bad world had you not drawn me into your protective embrace? We humans blindly put our faith in other humans, not realizing perhaps that they are just as limited than we are. Best to surrender to the cosmic powers that have genuine love and concern for our wellbeing.
[image error]One major difference between the mainstreamer and the genuine seeker of inner peace is the view/ attitude we choose to take. This too shall pass—powerful words I use on myself and on others when appropriate. Even this life, I remind myself, is just a tiny speck on an infinite lifeline. In truth we are pure existence, awareness and bliss and have had a million bodies and minds. When life aims yet another kick at our unprotected bottoms, and we go flying yet again into the mud and the slime of samsara, we must never ever give up ,for we live in duality and the tide will definitely turn, especiallly if we are patient and have faith. The trick is to turn our focus to Spirit and ask it humbly to heal all relative ills, and to never ever lose sight of our highest goal, which is permanent freedom from suffering.
Greetings from Arunachala, Shiva the Destroyer in the form of a hill of fire and light, who has no hesitation in whipping those he loves with his mighty psychic whip, but only to lead us to the blissful light of the Self!
If you’ve enjoyed reading my posts, please also check out my BOOKS and LINKS.
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July 16, 2018
Do Not Interfere If Possible
This is not easy for most of us to do – especially if we really care about someone – but it is essential not to interfere once we are firmly on the inner path – great invisible powers are already taking care of the cosmos, whether we can see this or not…thanks, Harsh!
One day, one of the devotees came to Bhagavan Ramana and said in an excited whisper, “Look, Bhagavan! Just look at that man!” Everyone turned to look. We saw a gentleman who was asleep in the meditation hall, swaying back and forth. The devotee who had approached Bhagavan complained, “I have been watching this person for the past few days. He (pretends to meditate) but always sleeps in Bhagavan’s presence.”
Bhagavan looked at the complaining devotee and said, “That man is doing what he came here to do. But what about you? Did you come here just to check on people, and see who is awake and who is asleep and who is meditating? Why don’t you mind your own business?”
Seeing the overzealous devotee rebuked like this, all the others burst out laughing.
Bhagavan did not like it at all when people complained about others. He used to say…
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