Spiritual-Teaching.org
Letter # 31 - Memory
Memory is a curious phenomenon. With age my memory is
increasingly vague and I wonder what is in store for me as further
time passes. The days when my body seemed immortal are now over
and with it comes the realisation that most of my dreams are fantasies
with little basis in what we commonly call reality. Memories too fade
as if they never existed. Are we any the lesser for it? One wonders
what exactly is real and constant. If memories dwindle what then is
left? Some fear a meaningless emptiness but for those who diligently
work on their own ignorance and purify their negativity, the newly
open space is an opportunity to rest in pure awareness.
It is said that our inevitable physical and mental decline is not a
smooth one but a series of sudden deteriorations followed by a
stabilisation in the new condition. Last year I was in hospital for four
and half months with a life-threatening condition. The fact I recovered
to some degree and lead a fair normal life is a miracle and for that one
cannot but owe it to the grace of Sri Ramana Maharshi, which was
genuinely felt during that harsh time. There does not seem to be any
other logical explanation especially when at one stage, the doctors
gave up on me in the initial three-week coma. There is the wonder
why it did not happen and what implications it has for the years
ahead. A second chance? Certainly, there is a greater appreciation of
being alive and a renewed determination to pursue the path of Sri
Ramana with whatever time is left. The prospect of death sharpens the
power of purpose.
The loss of swathes of everyday memory in hospital was both a
blessing and an irritation. A blessing because the stress of certain
memories is gone and it is possible to focus on that quiet, insistent but
subtle sense of silence. Without much effort at all, the hours can pass
much like the flow of oil which Sri Ramana described in the Tamil
version of Upadesa Saram (The Essence of Instruction), verse seven.
“…meditating [upon him] without abandoning [our thought of him],
like [the uninterrupted flow of] a river or the falling of ghee, is indeed
[a] superior [manner in which] to meditate….”
It is a paradox that though my memory is poorer for the recent health
crisis, meditating upon the form of Sri Ramana and the challenge of
that previously predictable inconsistency to focus, has become easier.
Like a flow of oil, it remains fixed on that conscious intention without
too much trouble. I have given up being someone involved in the
complexities of the world. Or rather should one say, the world has
given up on me!
In Hindu culture, religion and spirituality, which are all inextricably
entwined, there are four stages to one’s life span. There is
one, brahmacharya, or the student; two, grihastha or the householder
where a person marries and maintains a family; three, vanaprastha, or
retreat from the affairs of the world to semi-retirement; and
four, sannyasa, or complete renunciation and preparation for death
and the transition to a new form, that is, reincarnation, or better still, if
one has diligently explored and understood the chains of action which
bind one to an earthly life sequence, complete release from the cycle
of life and earth.
All of a sudden, I am now semi-retired, at the vanaprastha stage. Who
would have thought! There is the old cliché, man proposes, and God
disposes. It is true. We do not know. Every day is a new revelation
and its course is defined by unknown factors beyond our
comprehension. In one way, we are pawns in a game. In Hindu
scriptures they speak about the concept of lila, or the sport of the gods
or God. At first, it was not possible to take this perspective seriously.
For someone who grew up with a serious Catholic family and
education, it was anathema that God would take our lives so lightly as
a sport in which we were hostages to an end to which we are
congenitally blind. And yet, with age arrives the realisation that we
are not victims but more like possibilities who are given the choice
whether to go with the flow of events and learn from them or rebel
with much like a child’s tantrum. It becomes more and more evident
we do have a choice. If we cannot control events then what is the
alternative? It is surrender, learning from our mistakes and growing
beyond the limited perceptions inculcated by circumstances
surrounding one’s birth and development. There is no point saying
that it is not fair. Of course it is not fair. If it were, we would not be
confronted by our own limitations and as a result, not mature.
One reads or watches documentaries about those who rose to heights
of accomplishment but whose childhood and rise was fraught with
endless obstacles that would have destroyed a less committed person.
What is it that makes the difference? One obvious ability of such
people is a distinct lack of self-pity. When we take those first tentative
steps on the spiritual path, the task ahead seems enormous. We are not
mistaken; luckily it is our ignorance which shelters us from the
enormous ramifications of our situation. If we truly knew what was
ahead many would not even begin. Ahead is a frequent, intense
suffering as the mind and heart is purified. Eventually we see the joys
of the realisations upon the spiritual path cannot be calculated by
ordinary measures. We should not give up hope for we do reach a
certain plateau when we understand that the sacrifices made are
piffling in comparison.
As we meditate upon our master, in this case Bhagavan Sri Ramana
Maharshi, our mind is cleansed by our very act of thinking of him.
There is more. We become motivated by the love we begin to feel as
that mysterious act of grace is showered upon us when we
contemplate him. With time and effort through meditation, we narrow
our range of interests and see that what gives us most satisfaction is
not some ephemeral interruption but a yearning to go deeper and
deeper into our sense of self, our ‘I’. As our love becomes more
concentrated, our minds are freed of negativity.
Though my memory seems to be declining at least in the short term,
in the long run I can see it as a preparation for the next step, that
inevitable jump into the great unknown. Do I fear it? Yes and no.
From the hospital experience death is not to be feared, that it is
normal like a skin being exfoliated; the mysterious power strips us
and cannot be resisted. There is the fear related to the helplessness of
physical and mental incapacity but not the fact of dying. It was
brought home to me at the hospital where for the first three and half
months I lay in a bed unable to perform all the basic functions, let
alone walk, and was totally at the mercy of the kind nurses and
doctors. It was a foretaste of what may happen in years to come. So
yes, in that sense there is fear of the complications of the process but
not death itself which will be a relief. There have been so many acts
of grace, when Sri Ramana trains upon us his attention filled with
unconditional love, that the next step into the unknown is welcomed
with complete trust.
Devotee: Can Advaita be realized by japa of holy names; say Rama, Krishna, etc.?
Sri Ramana Maharshi: Yes.
D.: Is it not a means of an inferior order?
M.: Have you been told to make japa or to discuss its order in the scheme of things?
