Showing posts with label lingodhbhava. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lingodhbhava. Show all posts

9.14.2010

Consciousness at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai


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.

Photo courtesy: http://davidgodman.org/asaints/powerofa1.shtml

4.20.2009

Bhava, an emotional language of divine Love

Along the stone walls Srinivasan walked, trying to listen to the sound reverberating within them. People busily rushed ahead of him, pushing him aside trying to catch that quick glimpse of the Lord. They walk out just as fast as they stepped in and he wondered whether they ever even cast an eye with reverence on this beautiful form of the Lord, for if they did that, they wouldnt even want to come out of this sacred earthly home.

Srinivasan now made his way towards Lord Shiva's shrine. The place, a mundane temple with a mundane idol with mundane people on a mundane day, there was nothing special about it and yet he felt something different. He had been here before, he knew every form of every God in here and yet the ambience within seemed to welcome him, a little different and yet special welcome that he seemed to have longed for.

He stepped in, catching the first glimpse of the Lord seated on his throne, his earthly peetha within the sanctum. His heart melted, and his eyes welled up with tears though he couldn't understand why he felt such emotion. The fire within the sanctum looked pure, the Lord looked simple yet divine in his attire and the air inside felt still.

He stared at the lamp lights dance graciously around the Lord, he thought hard looking at the fire...

The fire burns gentle as a lamp light for the Lord
The fire burns hard as it eats into flesh turning it to ash

The water, pure and crystal clear bathes the Lord
This same water consumes the ashes of man to deliver him to heaven

The air is here still and fragrant with floral offerings and incense
The same air is a grim reminder of death as the pyre burns

The earth holds the shakti of these earthly shrines
The same earth gives a bed for the burning departed soul

The ethereal presence of the Lord in his home here is felt so strong
The same ethereal state is so hard to achieve.

Srinivasan looked up as the priest held up the arti within. The flames lit up the glowing face of the Lord, among the flowers and vilva that decked his form. Srinivasan's heart was heavy with emotion, for he didnt know how to perceive the Lord anymore. This was strange love, love that made him suffer, love that made him ache to leave his earthly self and want to be ever present at the Lord's feet.

Srinivasan had had mixed emotions towards the Lord, he harboured various feelings towards the Lord and each expression of love made the Lord play various roles deep within his emotions. He felt Santa Bhava, where he was the eternal child, in the lap of the Lord who loved him and protected him as his very own. He felt he had been cursed to now live with this limited consciousness so far away from his divine father.

Srinivasan felt like a willing slave, the eternal servant who wished he could bathe and decorate all those present within the sanctum of the Lord. He wished he could live within, in the temple lighting the lamps, singing hymns to the Lord, bathing his various forms, the Trimurti, Kala Bhairava, Devi, Lingodhbhava, the 63 Nayanars, Ganesha, and the numerous Shiva Lingas that dotted the heavenly precinct. He craved to perform alankara, to drape the Lord in silks and flowers and sing to him in devotion as he decorated him. What enormous pleasure he would get to just clothe the Lord in his sacred garments and be his faithful servant. He felt a deep sense of Dasya Bhava as he humbly folded his hands in front of the Lord.

Srinivasan had felt Sakhya bhava, at rare moments when he had mentally demanded the Lord's attention as his closest friend whose help he needed. He had called His name to help him in his moments of distress. He called to the Lord, looking for him in desperation as he helplessly faced his circumstances. His heart was overwhelmed with the experience he had felt when the Lord listened and gave him the solution in the most unusual way possible. He whispered in his thoughts leaving Srinivasan awestruck that such experiences are even possible.

But most of all he felt love, pure love. The type of love that made him want to live every day with enthusiasm because he felt that Lord Shiva was always with him. He felt it in the events that unfolded in the day, he felt it in the way people reacted towards him, he felt it in the air that surrounded him, Lord Shiva was always there. His faith towards Lord Shiva was unshakable, his love for the lord was undying and his attitude towards the lord was one of protection and loving care. He felt the sweetness in the experience, he felt beauty in his presence and the thought of the Lord next to him made him divinely estatic. This was madhurya bhava. Eternal love, eternal bliss where the Lord occupied every thought in his mind.

Srinivasan walked around the shrine, circumambulating it and adouring every form of the Lord he crossed. He looked up with reverence and respect towards every saint present in there wondering whether he would ever reach that state.

He walked up to Nataraja, he had never seen someone so handsome, so charming, so graceful and yet so peaceful. His heart yarned for the Lord, Nataraja, Oh how he wished he could step onto that stage and dance with him, witness the grace of Ananda Tandava, be a part of the grand Shiva family that resides here within these walls.

Srinivasan's heart ached as he moved away from Nataraja, for he felt Nataraja looked straight at him, he felt the charm envelop him, he felt the presence awaken him like a dialog that seemed to rise within himself, between them as they stared at each other. He was numb with bliss, he was overwhelmed with love, he was sinking into a pool of ecstacy. Such love had never overpowered his emotions, such love had never made his feet weak, such love had never made him swoon so much. This was honey sweet, this was beyond words, this was paradise on earth, this was beyond the maya of mundane life... this was consciousness.

Photo courtesy:
Flickr Photo stream: shrirang k