If we imagine we are permanently handicapped by adverse karmic conditions and thus incapable of the feats of saints and sages of old, we remember that Bhagavan tells us that wisdom is inherent in every human heart and that the ether is our very own Self. As defilements are dispensed with through surrender, the heart’s innate brightness reveals itself and adverse conditions moderate.

To be in the will of Bhagavan means greeting life’s vexations with non-resistance and freely giving ourselves over to the natural course of things. To be in God’s Will simply means letting go of having to have things be different than what they are.

When we see ourselves pining for something, we know this is a state of non-surrender. Through deep listening and attunement, we discover that the distracting forces of the veils are only born of habit patterns which can be overcome.

We experiment with sitting in Bhagavan’s Old Hall, allowing the addictive dimensions of our preoccupations to reveal themselves. If on such a day following our early morning meditation, we amble a little way up the Hill behind the Ashram at dawn, we may find ourselves stunned by the silence in the air—the stateliness of the trees and the unshakable firmness of the stones—as though Arunachala were apprenticing us in the art of stillness. Here we remember what the sastra says about Lord Rudra as sound and echo, intangible vibration, and the infinitesimal substance of every particle of dust and foam, immanent in verdant trees and the soft green grass, the rustling withered leaves and the silent dead. ^[1]

Here on the slopes of Arunachala, we behold His presence in an immense resonant field, alive and pulsing, each and every thing having its own being, each and everything in intimate contact with everything else.

Our task, it would seem, is figuring out how to harmonise with it all. If wisps of non-surrender arise again, we greet them in an even-tempered way, favouring what is greater than ourselves. In that moment we see that this vast field of knowing called chidakasa is our very own Self, and we recall the name the Sage-poet used when he versified the following appeal on our behalf:

Might I become like the ether and reach Thee, subtle of being, that this tempest of thoughts may end? Might I, thy prey, surrender unto thee and be consumed, and so have peace, O Arunachala! ^[2]  —

To read further, click here.

Footnotes

^[1] The Mountain Path, July 1982, p. 204.

^[2] Aksharamanamalai, §57, 28.