Soul is different from body

MASTER: “As long as there is the body, one should take care of it. But I find that the body is quite separate from the Self. When a man rids himself entirely of his love for ‘woman and gold’, then he clearly perceives that the body is one thing and the Self another.

When the milk inside the coconut is all dried up, then the kernel becomes separated from the shell; you feel the kernel rattling inside when you shake the coconut. Or it is just like a sword and its sheath. The sword is one thing and the sheath is another.

“Therefore I cannot speak much to the Divine Mother about the illness of the body.”

GIRISH (to the devotees): “Pundit Shashadhar said to him [meaning the Master]: ‘Please bring your mind to bear on the body during samādhi. That will cure your illness.’ And he, the Master, saw in a vision that the body was nothing but a loose mass of flesh and bones.”

MASTER: “Once, a long time ago, I was very ill. I was sitting in the Kāli temple. I felt like praying to the Divine Mother to cure my illness, but couldn’t do so directly in my own name.

I said to Her, ‘Mother, Hriday asks me to tell You about my illness.’ I could not proceed any farther. At once there flashed into my mind the Museum of the Asiatic Society, and a human skeleton strung together with wire. I said to Her, ‘Please tighten the wire of my body like that, so that I may go about singing Your name and glories.’ It is impossible for me to ask for occult powers.

“At first Hriday asked me-I was then under his control-to pray to the Mother for powers. I went to the temple. In a vision I saw a widow thirty or thirty-five years old, covered with filth. It was revealed to me that occult powers are like that filth. I became angry with Hriday because he had asked me to pray for powers.”

Ramtaran began to sing:

Behold my vina, my dearly beloved, My lute of sweetest tone; If tenderly you play on it, The strings will waken, at your touch, To rarest melodies. Tune it neither low nor high,And from it in a hundred streams The sweetest sound will flow; But over-slack the strings are mute, And over-stretched they snap in twain.

DOCTOR (to Girish): “Is it an original song?”

GIRISH: “No, it is an adaptation from Edwin Arnold.”

Ramtaran sang from the play, The Life of Buddha: We moan for rest, alas! but rest can never find; We know not whence we come, nor where we float away. Time and again we tread this round of smiles and tears; In vain we pine to know whither our pathway leads,

And why we play this empty play.

We sleep, although awake, as if by a spell bewitched; Will darkness never break into the light of dawn? As restless as the wind, life moves unceasingly: We know not who we are, nor whence it is we come; We know not why we come, nor where it is we drift; Sharp woes dart forth on every side.

How many drift about, now gay, now drowned in tears! One moment they exist; the next they are no more. We know not why we come, nor what our deeds have been, Nor, in our bygone lives, how well we played our parts; Like water in a stream, we cannot stay at rest;

Onward we flow for evermore. Burst Thou our slumber’s bars, O Thou that art awake! How long must we remain enmeshed in fruitless dreams? Are you indeed awake? Then do not longer sleep! Thick on you lies the gloom fraught with a million woes. Raise, dreamer, from your dream, and slumber not again! Shine forth, O Shining One, and with Thy shafts of light Slay Thou the blinding dark! Our only Saviour Thou!

We seek deliverance at Thy feet. As Sri Ramakrishna listened to the song, he went into samādhi. Ramtaran sang again: Blow, storm! Rage and roar! . . . When the song was over, Sri Ramakrishna said to the singer: “What is this? Why this decoction of bitter neem-leaves after the rice pudding? The moment you sang, Shineforth, O Shining One, and with Thy shafts of light; Slay Thou the blinding dark!, I had a vision of the Sun. As He arose, the darkness vanished, and all men took refuge at His feet.”

Ramtaran sang again:

O Mother, Saviour of the helpless, Thou the Slayer of sin! In Thee do the three Gunās dwell-sattva, rajas, and tamas. Thou dost create the world: Thou dost sustain it and destroy it; Binding Thyself with attributes, Thou yet transcendest them; For Thou, O Mother, art the All.

Kāli Thou art, and Tara, and Thou the Ultimate Prakriti; Thou art the Fish, the Turtle, the Boar, and all other Avatars Earth, water, air, and fire art Thou, and Thou the sky, O Mother of the Absolute!

The Samkhya, Patanjala, Mimamsaka, and Nyaya For ever seek to fathom Thee and know Thine inmost nature; Vedānta and Vaiseshika are searching after Thee; But none of them has found Thee out. Though free of limitations, beginningless and without end, Yet for Thy loving bhaktas’ sake Thou wearest varying forms. The terrors of this world Thou dost remove, and Thou dost dwell Alike in present, past, and future.

Thou dost appear with form, to him who loves Thee as a Person; Thou art the Absolute, to him who worships formless Truth. Some there are who speak alone of the resplendent Brahman; Even this, O Blissful Mother, is nothing else but Thee! Each man, according to his measure, makes his image of the Truth, Calling it the Highest Brahman.

Beyond this does Turiya shine, the Indescribable: O Mother of all things, who dost pervade the universe, Everyone of these art Thou!

Then he sang: Dear friend, my religion and piety have come to an end: No more can I worship Mother Syama; my mind defies control. Oh, shame upon me! Bitter shame! I try to meditate on the Mother with sword in hand, Wearing Her garland of human heads; But it is always the Dark One, wearing His garland of wildwood - flowers And holding the flute to His tempting lips, That shines before my eyes.

I think of the Mother with Her three eyes, but alas! I see Him alone with the arching eyes, and I forget all else! Oh, shame upon me! Bitter shame! I try to offer fragrant flowers at the Mother’s feet,

But the ravishing thought of His graceful form unsettles my helpless mind,

And all my meditations meant for the Naked One are drawn away

By the sight of His yellow scarf. Sri Ramakrishna was in an ecstatic mood, as he listened to the song. The musician sang again:

O Mother, who has offered these red hibiscus flowers at Thy feet?

I beg of Thee, O Mother, place one or two upon my head. Then I shall cry aloud to Thee, “Oh, Mother! Mother!” And I shall dance around Thee and clap my hands for joy, And Thou wilt look at me and laugh, and tie the flowers in my hair.

The singing was over. Many of the devotees were in a rapturous mood. There was a deep silence in the room.