- Michael Johnson
Pantomime: The telling of a story without words, by means of
movements, gestures, and facial expressions.
Sounds nondual to me.
Funny how I was just thinking today, what would a nondual
"society" be like, no working to make money, no
repsonsibilities because somebody says so, all contributing
for the common good.... one of the first words that came up
was "communist", but then I thought of Star Trek !!?? they
are all equal, and serve for the common good.
Well, I'd bet a future society will become more
"nondualist" will work more towards the common "good".
May all be happy. - What is happiness? May all be without
disease. - What is disease? May all share in well-being.
What is well-being? What is misery? Peace is working
towards understanding that these things are what we make
I have misery at work, because I just can't let go of the
happiness that my TV gives me?
I have misery because I might have hunger if I leave the
misery of my work.
I have disease because I have misery.
What do I have if I have nothing? It just seems that things
work out. When you have life you have everything that IS.
When life goes... it's only a matter of time.
Don't sweat the small stuff!
Sometimes, going beyond the veil, getting to reality
requires first seeing deep and varied perpectives. The
"constance of reality" seems to glare out more strongly
through marked variation in perspective and heavy activity.
I don't mean like heavy physical activity, but more like
heavy emotional / concptual activity.
The "constance of reality" is such a solid grounding point,
even when pain really hurts when things are just going too
well. It's like it helps one to know what's "really going
On another list, they are answering the question: "Is life
This was one of the answers:
I don't believe there are any types of dreams in our life
awake. To me, dreams are just those things that we think
are happening, but are not really happening, while we
Paraphrasing Helen Keller:
"How is it possible, one should ask, to walk around "in
life" and not see that "I" cannot be?"
You have misery because you don't know that you are not
hungry now. (or that you are, but lunch is in a few
minutes, or that you are but you feel afraid to ask for
lunch, or because you are full, but won't feed your
neighbor, or....) Ram Dass asked (repeatedly) his guru how
to become enlightened, and Nareem (sweet Nareem) replied
"feed people." It's not that complex. If people starve, it
is because other people failed to find enlightenment and
act. (no play, just "Act I On" or "I act on" for those who
use modern syntax...)
You have misery because you took your eye off the ease, and
thought you might have misplaced it. Close your eyes and
remember it, and the severed ease will join up again, and
if your body dies during this process, laugh and laugh and
laugh, from your deep and eternal knowing that you cannot
be severed, you cannot be in disease, you cannot be
anything but what you are, which is here. (now). Shit,
people, this is NOT SO HARD. It is fine as it is, and you
are IT. I know nothing you don't know, so quit this
bullshit and BE. These word are thoughts, but they point to
you, so be you, and don't worry about thinking any more. It
doesn't end, it just starts making sense...
Greg:If you can, choose an unbroken stream of only the
happiest, most blissful, most liberating thoughts and
beliefs every time. Be happy always! Try it!!
Gloria: Yes, now we are getting somewhere! It isn't so much
*what* your beliefs are, as a matter of *what* you do with
them. I can use a belief in karma and determinism to become
peaceful and happy or to justify my passivity and never
The author of this article, Sri C. R. Rajamani, presented
the following talk at the April 25th Aradhana program at
Arunachla Ashrama in New York City. He and his wife are
visiting their son, Dr. C. R. Ramakrishna, of Stony Brook,
I HAVE been a devotee of Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharishi for
over 55 years. I was in my early twenties when I first had
His darshan. The event is still fresh in my memory not
because I was at that age so mature, which I was not, but
because of a very remarkable incident I saw on that
I went to the Ashrama in the early forties when the Second
World War was at its peak and our own independence movement
was also at its maximum intensity. I am not certain about
the date or the month of my visit; it may have been
December or January. I remember the season was quite cool.
The summit of the Holy Arunachala was shrouded in dense
mist and clouds. The morning air was crisp and pleasant.
It was in the original small hall, that is remembered by
the early devotees with justifiable fondness, that I first
saw Sri Bhagavan seated on a raised platform. A cast-iron
charcoal brazier was radiating a comfortable warmth, and a
pleasing aroma of the incense thrown into it at regular
intervals was pervading the entire hall. About thirty
people, comprised of men, women and a few young boys were
seated on the floor facing Sri Bhagavan. None spoke or even
whispered between themselves. What struck me was, no one
showed even an inclination to talk. Some were meditating
with closed eyes. The silence was definitely not an imposed
Sri Bhagavan, his body luminous like burnished gold, was
sparsely clad in his usual kaupinam and a small towel
across his chest. He appeared to be occasionally dozing off
and had to steady his head often. He frequently stretched
his palms over the fire and massaged his long fingers. In
spite of his apparent dozing, his eyes did not look drowsy.
On the contrary, they were extraordinarily bright and
alert. He was not looking at anybody in particular, nor
were his eyes roaming about the hall in idle curiosity.
Although my first impression was not a very uplifting one,
I felt I was in the presence of an extremely affable person
with a lot of natural grace, at perfect ease and without
any pretension whatsoever. I was, however, aware of an
effortless peace in the hall.
I saw a white-skinned boy, a foreigner, of about ten years
sitting a couple of feet to my left. Next to him was a
white man, presumably his father. Further to my left,
beyond the central aisle, was a white woman, whom I thought
was the boy's mother. I then saw Sri Bhagavan's eyes alight
on the boy for a brief minute. I thought it was just a
casual look. The boy was all the time looking at Sri
Bhagavan with a sort of fixation, as if on the verge of
asking a question. But, no! He broke into tears. A cascade
of tears came gushing out of his eyes. They were not tears
of pain, for his face was radiant with joy. In temples, I
have seen adults shedding tears in ecstasy, and had myself
experienced that type of joyous outpouring on hearing a
beautiful hymn or a moving melody, but I had never seen a
ten-year-old boy from a far-off land exhibiting this type
of beautiful expression in an extremely quiet and serene
atmosphere. I could see that Sri Bhagavan's glance, though
only resting on him for a brief moment, had opened in the
boy's heart a veritable reservoir of pure joy.
I did not feel a remorse for my lack of receptivity that I
ought to have felt. But I felt most fortunate to see a boy
not even half my age showing such an alert sensitivity. The
flat feeling I had experienced earlier was washed away by
the joyous tears of another; I really felt blessed in an
indirect way. Direct or indirect, blessing is blessing.
Whenever I recall this incident, it creates a feeling of
being very near to something truly Divine. Of course, I
have had my own share of Sri Bhagavan's grace in my later
years. I have also had some ever-fresh visions which I dare
not devalue as creations of a fevered imagination for they
have strengthened my faith in Sri Bhagavan. Some of them
occurred decades after Sri Bhagavan's Mahanirvana. They
have been firm confirmations of his continued Presence and
reassurances of his immortal words, "They say I am going!
Where can I go? I am always here!"
Now, returning to that first day at the Ashrama, I learned
that the boy had come along with his parents, both of them
Theosophists. The Theosophical Society's world convention
is usually held at their international headquarters at
Adyar, Madras in December-January. Some of the people from
foreign countries choose to visit Sri Ramanasramam at that
time. The boy's parents arranged a trip to Tiruvannamalai,
but he stoutly refused to go with them, as he was not in
tune with conditions in India which can never be adequate
when compared with the posh amenities of his native
Australia. However, he changed his mind at the last moment
and did make the trip. Within an hour of his face-to-face
meeting with Sri Bhagavan, his mental barriers were reduced
to nothingness. He shed tears for quite some time and later
said to his mother, "I am so happy. I don't want to leave
his presence. I want to be always with him!" His mother was
most upset. She pleaded with Sri Bhagavan, "Swami, please
release my son! He is our only child. We will be miserable
without him." Sri Bhagavan smiled at her and said, "Release
him? I am not keeping him tied up. He is a mature soul. A
mere spark has ignited his spiritual fire." So, that casual
look was a spark of tremendous power. Turning to the boy,
He said, "Go with your parents. I will always be with you."
He spoke in Tamil throughout, but the boy understood him
fully. He bowed to Sri Bhagavan and reluctantly left with
his parents, immensely rich with the newly-found spiritual
I came upon this website unintentionally.
Besides the artwork for the book cover...which is
beautiful....I celebrate this book's offering a subtle and
alluring introduction to nonduality.
I liked this in particular:
"Prayer is a state in which we are receptive to Truth
without conscious thought."
Andrew Macnab contributes:
This is an excerpt from the speech Freeman Dyson made
accepting the Templeton prize for progress in religion
earlier this year, it fits in with recent discussions;
"The universe shows evidence of the operations of mind on
three levels. The first level is elementary physical
processes, as we see them when we study atoms in the
laboratory. The second level is our direct human experience
of our own consciousness. The third level is the universe
as a whole. Atoms in the laboratory are weird stuff,
behaving like active agents rather than inert substances.
They make unpredictable choices between alternative
possibilities according to laws of quantum mechanics. It
appears that mind, as manifested by the capacity to make
choices, is to some extent inherent in every atom. The
universe as a whole is also weird, with laws of nature that
make it hospitable to the growth of mind. I do not make any
clear distinction between mind and God. God is what mind
becomes when it has passed beyond the scale of our
comprehension. God may be either a world-soul or a
collection of world-souls. So I am thinking that atoms and
humans and God may have minds that differ in degree but not
in kind. We stand, in a manner of speaking, midway between
the unpredictability of atoms and the unpredictability of
God. Atoms are small pieces of our mental apparatus, and we
are small pieces of God's mental apparatus. Our minds may
receive inputs equally from atoms and from God. This view
of our place in the cosmos may not be true, but it is
compatible with the active nature of atoms as revealed in
the experiments of modern physics. I don't say that this
personal theology is supported or proved by scientific
evidence. I only say that it is consistent with scientific
The whole speech is here-
Macrocosm and microcosm, within and without, all the same.
Greg: The spontaneity is the causeless arising of
appearances from silence. Free will, like you say, carries
the notion of causality, like "I caused this." It's related
to the desire to control things for one's self and in the
world. The person wants to be the cause. But this is never
so. If we had to describe these things in the language of
cause and effect, the person is never the cause, but always
Xan contributes: "If anything other than God appears to
you, it's the effect of His illusion; and if all other than
God vanished from sight, it's the effect of His awakening
you to what is real."
We are the Nonduality Generation.