AMONG THE NOT SO GREAT (2002) Mud with a little gold in it is often more highly prized than gold with a little mud in it. Austin O'Malley Gangadhar— "brother" to all and to whom all were "brother" or "sister". Yet who was he? Do many remember him? Surely some do, when and if an occasion arises and then some have to untangle all those crowded, jumbled threads of the past to bring him back into focus in the present. That done, then what? Let our thoughts dwell a little bit longer on him and see what floats up. Gangadhar was, to all appearances, just a Tamilian gentleman, bearded, long haired (both dark and thick). He wa

IN THE SILENCE (1953) A MEDITATION Gangadhar I.Self-Knowledge is Bliss; the confusion, due to ignorance, is sorrow. II.To comprehend in a deep seated silence the real existent,—as it is,— is the best way to enjoy the happiness and to become free from the misery. III.There is a Reality, wide as the sky, which acts in and through all beings. All are its becoming and manifestation. There is nothing but that. That is all- It manifests at the same time as the One and the many, in and beyond creation, as the moving and the motionless. It is that which has been worshipped as God by the religions. It is not a mere guess or fantasy, but

A LOOK BEHIND   (Some Early Recollections of the Ashram)    mrityunjoy   When I reached Pondicherry, the Ashram was already two and a half years old, and a new disciplined life had come into being under the Mother's direct control and guidance. I heard about it before coming, from friends who had been temporary visitors at the Ashram, and also from a few old associates of Sri Aurobindo who could not adjust themselves to the new conditions in the Ashram. They found it too diffi­cult to change their old ways all at once and turn a new leaf by surrendering themselves to the Mother in a strictly disci­plined external life. It would have proved easy enough for them if it had bee

Paris Blessing We stepped on the cobbled stones Thy feet had pressed And under the shade of trees that watched Thee pass, Through lanes remembering all Thy hands had blessed And the tender recollection of the grass. Treasured moments spent in thoughts of Thee And memories more lasting than the years, A smile that lifted us in dignity To dwell in supramental atmospheres. Thus have we lived again an eternal day, A moment on earth where Thy feet had trod, Traced a line of the supernal Ray And walked upon the avenues of God. Recalling

Earth Renewed Estranged from memory's cell we seek the One Who ever in our fractured hearts we bear. Ever we stray and ever return anew To the ageless quest, hunting the heaven-bird Who sits secure, unknown, serene within. Escaping from reality awhile Vagrant we stray down tired roads of sin And alleys strewn with deeds of infamy. Turning in the deep-etched grooves we've cut As records of our haunted history, Our bodies' lusts, our mind's infirmities, We search for dawns beyond our faint purview. For now is felt the rustle of great wings Beating on this shell of frag

To Amal - In Friendship and Gratitude Soul Behind the Veil January 4, 2000 I caught a fleeting glimpse Of a soul behind the veil. A soft white radiance Beyond all human scale. As in a cocoon it lay Wrapped in splendid peace Dreaming of a distant day When ego's rule would cease. All past lives it knew, Gathered round its core And death and birth walked through Its ever-welcoming door Opening on worlds unknown To man in his outwardness. In the star-fields of God it has grown Through our joy, our pain and duress

Find the Psychic Feb. 27, 2000 When all the mental structures fall And fails the vital life's appeal, A void appears, the nought of all And only emptiness we feel. If somehow we could find within The stillness and the glowing fire Free from error, free from sin Free of all our dark desire, Then might we touch the sacred heart Residing as the psychic being Never again would we depart From the clarity of that inner seeing. All God's labour, all His care To transform our lives is hidden there.

Emissary of the Lord In deep surrounding silence still I lay Drifting from the outward world of sense Where night is lost in splendid rifts of day To sleep, and entered a zone of experience No reason could explain yet scarce refute, Guided by one who knew the realms of birth And life and death and afterlife, as mute I rose to watch my presence here on earth. From the realm of subtle matter, not in trance Nor as images projected on a wall, But living beings I knew at a single glance To be my father, mother, family, all Seated beside me on a parapet fronting the sea. He showed me my life as if on videotape My weaknesses, attac

The Vital Ego's Plaint.htm The Vital Ego's Plaint All my vital energies have gone. I sit alone and watch the weary hours Spill their emptiness on vacant night As earth in sunlight offers golden flowers And morning-song from all her winged delight. A desert dryness sears my surface soul Parching thought and desiccating word While spring unharnessed frolics like a foal Its watchful mother standing closely by. To bear the weight of heavenly embrace Is a torturous time for the difficult "I", Dissolving in a rain of cleansing grace Abandoned to a bright transmuting sky,

If Poetry There Be If poetry there be to rend The bonds of time-bound soul in me Then let it flow and cataracts Come cleansing down and swiftly free The hidden god's felicity. Let the mask be torn, dissolved By falling rain of potent grace That washes all the past's debris And clears the eyes to view a face That I in former births and lives Have grown to love and recognize As guide and mentor, treasury Of deepest truth, inspirer To a vision spirit sole can see, Earth reconciled to divinity.