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| Arunachala Mountain |
When all knowledge fades into oblivion
When the curtains of faith are drawn to look beyond
When the essence of existence is defined by consciousness
I am here, and now, at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai.
Srinivasan stared up at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai and contemplated over his spiritual journey realizing that he had been so blind, so theoretical, so completely stubborn all these days. It had been such a struggle despite all the accumulated knowledge. He had read many books, he had researched well, he had taken to changing his lifestyle into a real, though provoking journey laced with ritual. He now sat in front of the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai wondering why he had missed the point for so long.
He stared on, the gentle clouds covered its peak, like a silent glowing halo that danced around its pinnacle. It was so beautiful and so breath taking and he kept staring at its majestic presence in the otherwise flat landscape. It had been theory till today, that this mountain was the Kailash of the south. These words rang in his mind as he took a deep breath, what did these words really mean?
Like the great Kailash of the north, that doesn’t allow any person to set foot on itself, this great mountain too has many myths that surround it. Considered to be the very form of Lingodbhava, this mountain gave Srinivas the feeling of the self. These moments while he stared at this majestic piece of natural art were all about him, all about his life energy as the breath he took in consciously and the stark view of the mountain in an otherwise silent afternoon. Nothing else really mattered.
All that he had read, all that he had assumed he had achieved, all that he had considered to be part of a supreme thought, were now only ways to get there. Each way, be it tantra, yoga, or ritual, embedded this truth very subtly into their methodologies. Srinivasa realized it was not any one route that would help him in his journey; it was a combination of all of them. And now he was here, he, his mind and his body present together, having kept aside all these prescriptions to salvation he had come across so far. It was only him, and the mountain, and the rest of his life was put to silence for a few moments of complete consciousness.
His problems slowly faded away, his activities slowly died in his thoughts, his memories faded into oblivion and his worries didn’t exist anymore, he was one with the peak, he was a part of this mountain, egoless, selfless, bodiless... just consciousness.
His body was the home; his breath was the passage as he felt the energy rising in and out of it. He was an entity, a drop of consciousness that felt imprisoned within these walls. With every breath, he felt the tingle in his muscles, the gentle movement of air through his lungs and the cool feeling at his throat that lasted even longer with every oncoming breath. He prayed in his mind, to all the great beings who rested at this peak, to all the siddhas who has lived and worshiped here, to come down and bless him in their own silent way.
The great mountain of Thiruvannamalai now represented a composite geometry of the great Lord Shiva himself, every peak on itself represented a gateway to inner truth guarded by cosmic dwarapalas who make their presence felt only when one is conscious enough to tune into them. This peak, with its undulating surface, rocky slopes and lush green vegetation, in its form somewhere appeared like a stone cold rishi always in meditation, seated in padmasana, with his jatas falling over the pinnacle of his being. His body was this form, his breath was the ever living energy that surrounds this mountain, his consciousness was the living reality; the swayambhu linga that grew over this ground to now stand here, stark in this pale countryside.
Srinivasa looked up at the mountain and felt, he was such a miserable example of the same great truth. He was pure consciousness that had lost its way, he was the atma linga that had not realized its potential and he was the very same atman that lay deep, dormant asleep still within his bodily home. Breath and consciousness were his only weapons to fight the great battle of silence in his head and bring him remotely closer to his inner self.
To the great mountain of silent truth, to the ever present consciousness he was blind to, Srinivasan bowed down and prayed in all reverence, hoping to achieve something during his lifetime.
When the curtains of faith are drawn to look beyond
When the essence of existence is defined by consciousness
I am here, and now, at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai.
Srinivasan stared up at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai and contemplated over his spiritual journey realizing that he had been so blind, so theoretical, so completely stubborn all these days. It had been such a struggle despite all the accumulated knowledge. He had read many books, he had researched well, he had taken to changing his lifestyle into a real, though provoking journey laced with ritual. He now sat in front of the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai wondering why he had missed the point for so long.
He stared on, the gentle clouds covered its peak, like a silent glowing halo that danced around its pinnacle. It was so beautiful and so breath taking and he kept staring at its majestic presence in the otherwise flat landscape. It had been theory till today, that this mountain was the Kailash of the south. These words rang in his mind as he took a deep breath, what did these words really mean?
Like the great Kailash of the north, that doesn’t allow any person to set foot on itself, this great mountain too has many myths that surround it. Considered to be the very form of Lingodbhava, this mountain gave Srinivas the feeling of the self. These moments while he stared at this majestic piece of natural art were all about him, all about his life energy as the breath he took in consciously and the stark view of the mountain in an otherwise silent afternoon. Nothing else really mattered.
All that he had read, all that he had assumed he had achieved, all that he had considered to be part of a supreme thought, were now only ways to get there. Each way, be it tantra, yoga, or ritual, embedded this truth very subtly into their methodologies. Srinivasa realized it was not any one route that would help him in his journey; it was a combination of all of them. And now he was here, he, his mind and his body present together, having kept aside all these prescriptions to salvation he had come across so far. It was only him, and the mountain, and the rest of his life was put to silence for a few moments of complete consciousness.
His problems slowly faded away, his activities slowly died in his thoughts, his memories faded into oblivion and his worries didn’t exist anymore, he was one with the peak, he was a part of this mountain, egoless, selfless, bodiless... just consciousness.
His body was the home; his breath was the passage as he felt the energy rising in and out of it. He was an entity, a drop of consciousness that felt imprisoned within these walls. With every breath, he felt the tingle in his muscles, the gentle movement of air through his lungs and the cool feeling at his throat that lasted even longer with every oncoming breath. He prayed in his mind, to all the great beings who rested at this peak, to all the siddhas who has lived and worshiped here, to come down and bless him in their own silent way.
The great mountain of Thiruvannamalai now represented a composite geometry of the great Lord Shiva himself, every peak on itself represented a gateway to inner truth guarded by cosmic dwarapalas who make their presence felt only when one is conscious enough to tune into them. This peak, with its undulating surface, rocky slopes and lush green vegetation, in its form somewhere appeared like a stone cold rishi always in meditation, seated in padmasana, with his jatas falling over the pinnacle of his being. His body was this form, his breath was the ever living energy that surrounds this mountain, his consciousness was the living reality; the swayambhu linga that grew over this ground to now stand here, stark in this pale countryside.
Srinivasa looked up at the mountain and felt, he was such a miserable example of the same great truth. He was pure consciousness that had lost its way, he was the atma linga that had not realized its potential and he was the very same atman that lay deep, dormant asleep still within his bodily home. Breath and consciousness were his only weapons to fight the great battle of silence in his head and bring him remotely closer to his inner self.
To the great mountain of silent truth, to the ever present consciousness he was blind to, Srinivasan bowed down and prayed in all reverence, hoping to achieve something during his lifetime.
Photo courtesy: http://davidgodman.org/asaints/powerofa1.shtml
