KING JANAKAS SONG OF UNITY Im full as a mountain lake after summer rain That’s fed the sacred stream and source of holy wisdom, Love. A flame sent by God to ignite His planet from above. The golden glow of heat on burnished plain Gild leaves on this path down pilgrim’s lane, Warming earth, her gritty ochre clay, Water, sea of mercy, so green and grey. Air, the sweet breath of life that’s free from pain, Crystalline beyond any loss or gain. What does it mean to my Master, pure as a turtle dove? This vast empty void, a deep abyss, the precious pearl Of trial that poor pilgrim has to pay. What of scriptures, tracts, gospels and theological books? The Lord’s lurid library of commands and revelation. A crore of scribbling comments with endless emendation, Weighty books which cram the temple nooks and crooks To surfeit cawing like a craw of rooks. What is Self Knowledge, esoteric? Pathology of mind, narcissistic? Even freed from the senses it looks A hotchpotch prepared by the devil’s cooks, To titillate the senses to some novel sensation. So what is freedom, vulgarised by folk-democratic? But my Master who is One is truly aristocratic! What is knowledge of truth, understanding, enlightenment, Ignorance, sleep, alienation, dark delusion, Or folly, dithering in a dream of world illusion? Or freedom from bondage and attachment? Are these questions the prime predicament? What means ego? I though or I conceit Imprisoned by mind one beds in self-deceit, This is mine, a grasping temperament For baubles, attractive but so vehement? But theres Self Awareness to save from confusion, To rescue soul from duality its preordained defeat? I pray for grace and mercy at my Master’s tender feet. I am without a central ‘I-notion’ resident at home, There’s no me to be elated or badly hurt by fear, Pleased, perplexed, precious, pouting, proud, or simply here To feel depressed, anxious but a soul free to roam On inward seascape of bubbles, froth and foam. So where is he who suffers, enjoys, and acts, Who has strong opinions and knows all facts? The rising of thoughts under a cerebral dome, What’s this world? The trinket of an impish gnome? Here and now there’s no fictional person to jeer or leer, For my Master, Fortune’s cards are neatly dealt in stacks, Abidance in the heart, Real Self, theres no need for lofty tracts. Seated in the temple shrine of the spiritual heart Nestling on the dexter side of my heaving breast, Not on the left where the fleshy pump pulses in the chest, Dwells ‘I Am’ which wakens Self to start. Pondering, I question, what is the part I play on life’s stage and what is this world? Who yearns for freedom from this prison where hurled? Oh what is Oneness, truth and wisdom’s art, Into which God shot love’s rose-flowered dart? Whos bound or free as honoured friend and conscious guest? Behind the nervous body-mind and now at last unfurled, Space for a universe to happen in, lustrous and impearled. Deep in my spiritual Heart, I am the One, unborn, Uncaused, deathless, I am, uniquely perfect, new, absolutely free! I ask what is this tempestuous, stormy, troubled sea? Where mind froth foams spuming from dusk to dawn, On the ocean of Self lit by a fiery morn. What is creation, world dissolution? I ponder, and search for some solution. Who and what is seeking? King, bishop, Queen or pawn Sporting on this chequered emerald palace lawn? What is the goal of seeking? Is it peace, freedom, liberty? Who is the bold seeker who craves this final absolution? Has he found an answer? An ultimate resolution! Yes, I am pristine, pure as the driven Himalayan snow, Or pellucid stream pouring from pinnacle’s height, Chaste, flawless, stainless, without blame, blemish and wintry white. I trickle down the mountain valley’s flow, Free! I’m curious, what is there to know? By what dubious method is knowledge gained, To what spurious end when it’s attained? I have no problems here, now or there below, I’ve surmounted grief, all sorrow born of woe, Simply stated, I know whats meant by wrong and right. Our universe by creation, preservation, is maintained By grace of God and his mighty will, all creatures are sustained. Here, awakened now, Im steady and perfectly still. As an adamantine rock in the restless ocean stands, Unmoved by cyclonic gale, tidal wave or shifting sands, What of oppositions, healthy or ill, Pleasure, pain, to heal quickly or to kill Distraction, perturbation, meditation, Reflection, negation, confirmation? Sage welcomes all as God’s almighty will He accepts ‘what is’, as gracious grist to times mill. Gently by grace of God, in mercy he breaks all bondage bonds, In a great paean of praise and total affirmation, He rests with Consciousness, his Self, the great consummation, He has lost the monotonous merry-go-round of thought, The perpetual treadmill of self-opinion and words, Mainly cynicism and lies, the parroting chirp of birds, A poisonous brew so bitterly fraught With the mistaken idea that I ought To cherish the mind as chief, And then be mugged by thought, the villainous thief? So that is the lesson my dear Master brought, Ignore the scorpion stings of concepts wrought With such inner discussion and debate. It’s so absurd, theres consciousness here, A precious gift beyond all belief, he ending of thought, Now theres peace, ultimate joy and relief. I am clarity, bright as a diamond, crystal, lily-white, Growing in a moorland, a purple thistle-bracken field. So what is illusion? To this question I meekly yield. Finite mind can’t understand the infinite field, The magic of Maya is but a slick trick of light. What is this life? A bad dream which appears? A noise to deceive the soundest of ears, An emptiness as the velvet void of night, For witnessing Self the nakedness of clear inward sight. To know what is here and now, Beyond pearl onion peeled. So my Master gently wipes away all sad grief and tears, All is well, unfolding as it should to allay such foolish fears. With not the slightest hint of duality, One without two, Unity, wholeness, existence, holistic, all seamless Without separation, pure consciousness, love, awareness, No division between me and you, Emanating from the Primal Source, who Am I, but That? I am eternal, the same Being as truth and God without a name. At last I know the little ‘me’ who can never do, All that happens is the will of God right through. I rest in the spiritual heart, blissful, benign and blameless, So what is my greater Self to the mighty God of flame? My Master says “Unknown, unique, celebrate His game. For endless striving and effort, what’s the urgent need? Struggling, wrestling against one’s natural way and feeling,, Trained from the cradle to do well, and practice honest dealing, Working hard if you wish to barely feed A family own a home, car and succeed, Ingrained, conditioned, a machine well oiled, Pilgrim’s become half-baked and par-boiled. So my Master to his students does plead, Be still, motiveless when you perform a deed. Forget all those books, aims, efforts, teaching and kneeling, After all the hard years you’ve zealously worked and toiled, Open wide, relax, and never by the world snake be coiled! I have no limits or borders, I am no longer bound, No hedges, fences, verges, remain for spacious me, Nothing arises, I am empty capacity for all to see That all is well, my True Self Ive found! I traced my ‘I thought’ like a hunting hound And knew my primal source the light of day, And now as consciousness I’m free to play. I rest in the heart on a sacred mound Where my naked feet walk on holy ground. I am freedom, enlightenment, joy, bliss and liberty! Nothing ever was, I am God, what more is left to say? This Ashtavakra taught me, his devoted pupil, the true Advaita way! I am That, absolute, unique, ever primeval One As consciousness, love, awareness, effortless bliss, Embraced by the love of God, Blest by His all-gracious kiss. In light of glory, radiant as the sun, I am homogeneous, second to none. What care I now for freedom or liberation? In life or death, gaining Self Realisation? Or for my destiny predisposed to run, Reborn in another womb till kingdom come? And after transmigration, at-one-ment I may miss. My Master halts this baffling mental perturbation. I let go, abiding in my heart of silent adoration. Alan Jacobs
Posted on: Mon, 19 May 2014 06:11:23 +0000
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