My mind was completely disturbed and was pre-occupied with projecting solutions for problems that were anticipated and imagined.
As I was entering the Ashram, I was blaming myself for the disaster that was totally shattering the life of not only me, but many who were in my closest surroundings. My mind was completely disturbed and was pre-occupied with projecting solutions for problems that were anticipated and imagined. The feeling of rejection as an outcast was extremely painful. Those who would call me a brother were suddenly silent. The friends who were constantly in touch were now quiet and preferred to pretend that they knew nothing of me. I was feeling as though I had reached the lowest ebb in my life. I suppose, it is at such moments of complete desolation does one tends to seek the forces that you had avoided all your life and feel for the benevolence those forces could offer. When everything around me was gradually slipping away and I had nothing else to hold on to, I was ready to grab the only force that remained with me, and surrender. What was once irrational and illogical suddenly became my only hope and solace. The moment I entered the meditation room at the back of the resting place of Maharshi at Ramana Ashram, a sense of calmness began to engulf me. It is a strange, inexplicable feeling. There were no extraordinary physical sensations or any shining light that struck through – it was a sense of calmness that settled my mind and allowed me to unburden myself. As I was seated there with closed eyes, I was slowly beginning to feel the pointlessness of projecting my worries ahead of me and trying to figure out solutions – these worries were all happening in my mind and not in any physical way. The countless possibilities of how things could go wrong and innumerable options and counter options that were being conjured up in the mind to solve those problems were being unraveled as pointless exercises. I was suddenly aware that, it was my eagerness to explain myself (and the inability do just that), the urge to justify my actions, the desperation to regain the trust of those around me and the yearning for acceptance by those whom I had considered close were the factors that were stressing me and bearing me down.
Why was it important to explain myself?
Was it to satisfy my own ego?
Was it so that I could once again be accepted by those who were rejecting me?
Is it important that others should accept me?
Did I want to pretend that I was noble and without fault and it was the fault of others that I am in the state that I am?
Was I feeling angry at those who had trapped me into the situation?
Was I feeling cheated that my plans had not gone according to my wishes?
These were questions that were flashing across my mind. At this point, Ramana Maharshi’s reference to the soul and body was revealing itself in my mind. The impermanence of the body and our preoccupation in feeding its ravenous greed for recognition, as taught by Ramana Maharshi and countless other sages of the past, was suddenly becoming apparent and meaningful. If my body was impermanent but my soul was permanent why was I chasing the things that mattered to my body? Should I not nurture the soul and be at peace with it? As these thoughts ran through, the clutter in my mind was slowly clearing and what I needed to do to take hold of myself was emerging. It was nothing extra-ordinary; just simply stop projecting the problem outwards and agitate my mind to find solutions. Things will happen, and often in the most unexpected way. The way in which things were going to turn out in the future was beyond my control and the only way to deal with them was to confront them at the time they happened. I am unsure whether this kind of debate within yourself could be categorized as a spiritual experience or not. Yet, I was able to clearly think of how I had to handle the future with clarity. For me, the visit to the Ashram had revealed a sound approach to life. Sitting amongst the hundreds of devotees who all went about their own activities, I was beginning to regain my confidence in myself. I had a strong sense of presence there and some divine power was defining how I should move forward.
I am now strongly of the belief that whatever happens in life, happens with a purpose – both good and bad
For thirty odd years, I had been running with an important flare that I was working for and serving the community, the nation and the world at large and feeling with pride that I was achieving things that would characterize me as a “doer of good”! Ultimately, even doing good was contributing to my ego, and in the process had made me sightless that these were opportunities given to me by divine design. I am now strongly of the belief that whatever happens in life, happens with a purpose – both good and bad. When I consciously try to remember the significant events that have happened in my life in the past and the opportunities I have enjoyed, they have all come to fit the missing pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle and prepared me for the tasks and life ahead. The botanical, agricultural, musical, charitable and political experiences; exposure to high-end international diplomacy, world-wide community engagements, interactions with a multitude of cultures across the globe, ground breaking research activities and national level mass communication; devout relationships, unquestioning friendships and selfless guardianships have all embellished my life giving the best one could ever hope for. Even tribulations have helped to hone in my resilience, tolerance, and resolve and give mettle to face the hardest challenges. However, these did not happen by chance – but by design, a universal divine design.
As I was experiencing this personal liberation at the Ashram, I was also curious to check out Arunachala and see how it had changed over the years. A pleasant climb from the ashram to Skandashramam and the Virubaksha cave is a must for everyone who visits Thiruvannamalai. Ramanar, spent 21 years in quietude in these two caves and only came down and settled at the ashram after his mother passed away. The energy in these places is so strong and to sit there and simply absorb the environment is a unique experience. I was fortunate enough to spend a whole day at the Skandashramam and share a meal with the sanyasi there. Whether in these caves or at the Ashram, very little is exchanged in words and everyone goes about with their tasks with minimum communication. The need to explain anything becomes unnecessary as everyone there is at peace with themselves.
One day, together with my dear friend (Jana) and a guide, we climbed to the peak of Arunachala. Although varying accounts were given as to the time, between 2 and 4 hours, it would take to climb to the top, we took it easy and decided to enjoy the journey as much as to enjoy the destination when we got there. It was a tough climb. With virtually no defined path, we had to literally crawl over rocks and stop every 15 – 20 minutes to catch our breath. Every time we thought of giving up, our guide would encourage us to go up the “last stretch” remaining and push us along. Since we had begun our climb before sun light in the morning, most of the way up was misty and it gave a mystical touch to the whole experience. Compared to what it was thirty seven years ago, the hill had a lot more vegetation and it was heartening to see active reforestation effort that was working. The ashram itself had employed people to plant tree seedlings along the path to the caves and water them on a daily basis. Elsewhere, the local forest department had become strict with locals collecting firewood from the hill. Certain paths that were frequented by visitors to the hill had been closed off to prevent accidental fires by campers and reduce traffic that would damage the vegetation. Although I was completely out of touch with my taxonomy, I was pleasantly surprised to see some of the native tree species emerging back on the hill. In addition to the local efforts, some foreigners too had dedicated their time and money to establish nurseries and plant trees on the hill while others were engaged in activities to prevent rubbish dumping on the hill.
As we reached the summit after a four and a half hour hike, the mist was still hanging around and making impossible to see the Thiruvannamalai Township from the top. We came a across a small hut at the top where a sanyasi had lived for sixteen years and only recently gone down to Kanyakumari. The hut was now occupied by local youth who were keeping the place tidy and continuing to offer flowers and prayers at the place where the sanyasi had meditated. As we got to the top, we found the rocky outcrop was completely covered in blackish grease which was drippings from the years of burning of ghee during the Karthigai Theebam festival. A huge cauldron kept at the Annamalai temple at the base of the hill is carried up the hill each year a couple of days before Karthigai Theebam. It takes 16 people and almost 15 hours to carry the cauldron in turns to the top. Together they bring up 4 tons of ghee and sufficient cloth to use as a wick. Once at the top the ghee is mixed with other oils and offerings brought up by devotees on the rock surface and poured into the cauldron. The cauldron is secured on to rings fixed in the rock to make it immobile and ghee is lit at the auspicious time. Once the lighting is over, the cauldron is carried back to the temple for storage. At the time we visited, the image of Shiva’s feet had been drawn at the summit and some flower offering had been laid there by the local youth we met at the sanyasi’s hut. These youth live in villages below but came up each day to carry out their rituals. Just before we began our journey down the youth offered a simple cup of coffee together with Chakkarai Vilvam leaves. Vilvam leaves are sacred for Shiva worship and it is considered to have medicinal properties. Chakkarai Vilvam is a sub-species of Vilvam and grew naturally on the hill.
The climb down was more tiring than the uphill journey as the weak joints were giving up incessantly. As we slowly came down another aspect of the hill, the feeling of having achieved a spiritual journey was overwhelming. Even though the journey to the summit had sapped out every bit of energy in us, we felt a sense of fulfillment that was hard to put in words. Only two weeks prior to that, we had done the Giri Valam (circumambulation of the Hill) around the hill; again a journey of fourteen kilometers that had taken a good six hours in a slow and steady pace. That was together with thousands of pilgrims on the full moon day in December. The climb to the summit was different – the gentle breeze that had swept through the hundreds of medicinal and rare plant species on the hill and the vibrations from the spiritual energy left behind by countless Sidhas and Rishis, who had lived there for thousands of years, were soaking us as we climbed up and down, to physically and spiritually transform our lives forever.
Aum Namo Bhagavate Shri Ramanaya!
Sadhu Kailayar
Ramanalayam, Sri Lanka