Daughter of Fire

by Irina Tweedie

  because I really don’t know what it is, but it feels like God; it has a numinous quality about it, a kind of awe… but really it is very simple: the human being is just taken over and that’s that. That is all there is to it… I am with Him, so intimately near, felt like mad this morning, possessed by Him. It was absolute glory. Drinking my coffee in my tiny kitchen, I had the idea that all I have to do now is to wash my body, to feed it, to do my daily jobs… and this is really all I have to do: the rest He will do. I am His thing, and the clue lies in the small remark he made the other evening:

  “Don’t worry if what you say is right or not; it is not you who says it.” And if what I say is not correct? Yes, the answer came, it can happen; the human instrument is not perfect. Then either you will be made to correct it, or it will be corrected by events-at any rate it will be all right in the end. Or it can also be true that what you say will be just the thing for this moment and the person for whom it is meant.

  Mistakes like this do not matter… I am not the doer here; this is the clue. Pride will go-everything will go, if one can keep this fixed in one’s consciousness….

  How good the coffee tasted, sweet and strong. My washing swayed gently on the line drawn across my small courtyard. The strong smell of woodsmoke I love so much came drifting from the main bungalow of Mrs. Ghose. And my heart was burning… life was so good.

  But I have proof that I am not quite yet there: I still want, am still hurt. Help me, You merciful, You generous, You infinitely almighty .. . help me for the sake of Your Love… the feeling of Belonging… such a glory… composed of non-being and stillness. Stupid old thing: do learn the lesson he is trying to teach you for so many months. Don’t desire even to talk to him—only if he wishes to do so.

  Never mind you bursting with vibrations… by absolute obedience to the will of the Guru, you are learning to obey the Will of God.

  18th December

  LOGICALLY, BY NECESSITY OF THINGS, this state must lead to the realization of God. Nearer and nearer is He to me, and Guru Maharaj is closer. Realization cannot be a very long way off, this also I know.

  IT WILL BE SOON. One part of me is somewhere, in a different kind of time. At the beginning I kept losing this state when I concentrated on doing the everyday things. Now it is practically permanent. And if I lose it, I pray and I pray till I get it back. It is a difficult state, because it is so fluid. I seem to stand on water-all is movement; all flows from under my feet. As soon as I get hold of an idea, or an understanding… as soon as I grasp it and say: here it is, it is like that!… I see that it is completely different! So many things go on beyond the mind and come to the surface of conscious thinking only be reflection, and a distorted one in the bargain. It can be described only in contradictions: it is a state of perfect peace, but the vibrations are such that sometimes it seems to me that my head will blow off in the next moment…. Worries on the plane of matter are relative; how can it be otherwise? But there is such longing which is much worse than any worry. And love is like a huge, single, white flame rising as high as the sky and beyond….

  On the other hand, everything goes on as usual. The usual people.

  The usual talk. He is a bit better, but he is coughing all the time, and it hurts me each time he does it, as if I were doing it. Somewhere he is so near to me… somewhere, deep down… but where? Sitting there this morning, once he looked at me for a few seconds, and I knew it was a special message for me… but what, I did not fathom-and I had to close my eyes quickly .. . it was like piercing me with a ray of light right in my heart: You gave me Him, I was thinking. What can I give you in return? Nothing! Nothing at all! Except my aspiration, my devotion, my effort. If I would say: I will love you forever, even this love is not mine: you gave it to me. It is truly a GIFT, and everything ends there; one can say no more.

  The most wonderful part is that it is such a natural state .. . our natural Home, the birthright of all human beings. Our heritage. Of everyone of us. But we don’t know it until someone in his infinite kindness tears away, or rather burns away a few koshas (veils) from our deluded eyes so that we can see….

  The mind does not give trouble, not even a little. It must be in the real state of Real Attention, quoting Guruji’s own expression. And, I am not going to God, but being blown to Him, a small straw in the strong breeze….

  19th December

  MAN CANNOT REMAKE HIMSELF without suffering. For he is both the marble and the sculptor (Alexis Carrell, Man the Unknown).

  There are whiffs of happiness from time to time, but not always, not 100%, because there is too much longing.

  He created the greatest intimacy, without being in the least intimate. On the physical plane I do not form part of his living, nor am I even admitted into the intimacy of his family, nor is there any confidence or even exceptional kindness on his part. He is cold and aloof most of the time.

  The moments of happiness, when they come, have a special quality-so light, so out of this world; they have no relationship either to my surroundings, my mood, or to what I am doing.

  How I hate everybody…. Recently after I prayed for help, I thought there was less hatred. It was like a secret brotherhood somewhere, deep down, where I cannot reach it. Hidden somewhere, very deep. Glimpses of it far away. But I lost it soon. And now again I hate more than ever. It is very disturbing to be so full of hatred.

  In the evening he came out looking absolutely wonderful, more slender after his last illness. He had the new golfer on, the one which I gave him. He walked up and down with it on the brick elevation very deliberately, too deliberately—I knew he wanted me to see that he was wearing it. Only too well I knew that perhaps tomorrow he will give it either to his son-in-law or somebody else and will go about in his old one, so worn out and so old that his wife refuses even to darn the holes in it… it would be a waste of work… no use. I tried, but it is of no avail. I cannot give him anything; he will give it away.

  In the meantime he walked up and down with elastic step. Then he sat down on the chair. I began to reflect how it is that in everybody it shows when they have been ill, especially when they have lost so much weight. But not him, God bless him… he looks more wonderful after each illness—a sort of spiritual, transparent look about him… thin, emaciated, ascetic.

  Prof. Batnagar translated a couplet for me: “Go to the places when the wine is drunk, drink there day and night.

  At any moment someone addicted to drink may give you to taste

  the very dregs, the remainder of the wine on the bottom of the glass.”

  I knew it was for me, the answer to my wondering yesterday, if the statement I wrote down was not too bold, that the state I am experiencing now will lead to realization of God… it cannot be far away. Here seems to be the answer; I was quite to the point. At any moment, someone may give you the dregs….

  This morning I asked Mr. Chowdrie if he had noticed how Guru Maharaj is training me: he never chats with me as he does with others on politics or other topics. I get hints only, and he only then talks to me when he himself gets a hint from his Superiors. A preferential V.I.P. treatment. I laughed at the idea of getting a V.I.P. treatment, seems ridiculous, seeing how I am treated by him… a funny idea.

  He said to me later that Guru’s English is not perfect; something is missing. So he does it in this way: by giving direct knowledge.

  “It is rather a high state,” he said. “Knowledge of the mind is one thing, of the heart another thing, and the Knowledge of the Soul is still another. This kind of training is called the Shakti Path in Sanskrit.”

  Guru Maharaj came outside looking fine in his new dark blue overcoat he had made last year. Told him thatthe first thought when I woke up this morning about 3 a.m. was a sense of despair because I am still full of the self. I think I brought it through into the physical brain from the experiences in the night when we are out of the body.

  Probably I complained to him about the self being still so big. He smiled and said that now
I understand myself and am helping in the right direction. The first thought which comes into the brain just on awakening is called in the Yoga Sutras, “the thought of truth.”

  He confirmed that the couplet was for me. I was amused this morning to watch how he did the work of the Shaitan, and he knows it. “Yes, yes,” he laughed-by putting the irritating vibration on me. I never discovered what it really was, but there is a kind of slow vibration—I call it the brain-washing vibration-which produces intense irritation, and sometimes induces me to speak out all the poison which is in my mind. This time the mind did not give trouble, but I was afraid it would, and I was in near despair for a short while.

  Then I remembered that I was not alone anymore, so I prayed. The situation was much better now than in the previous months, when I was quite alone, no help anywhere in sight, and he was acting as my worst enemy. He laughed and closed his eyes.

  So I prayed and prayed and got Him back again, not completely though… but the mind did not trouble me. Then he began to talk to Chowdrie, and so kind, so tender was his expression. How it always changed when he was alone with me; he would look bored and hard and annoyed. I was telling him what Chowdrie told me about Karmas; after all I must have good Samskaras if I am so interested and stick it out. The Guru, so he said, will not waste his powers on someone who is not worthy. Whether one is worthy is determined by Samskaras, etc. He gave me a few stony answers, some very good ones:

  “You cannot go to a high state when you stick to your beliefs; let them go.” He seemed to be annoyed. It is strange and interesting how he can look so tender and so beautiful when he talks to others, even to those who don’t matter to him at all, like occasional visitors. And to me… it causes intense frustration to be treated so hard. Yes, I know it is infinitely more valuabie to get all the knowledge via the Shakti path. What is speech, explanations, after all? They are still on the level of the mind. But sometimes a kind word is so precious.

  Frustrations, frustrations, no end of them. I offer it all to You, You Merciful, You Absolutely Almighty… all the pain, all the frustrations, for the sake of this Love. One day no pain will remain because there will be nobody left to be hurt. Told him that when Prof. Batnagar had said: “Then all the knowledge will come back, and you will become yourself again,” I answered: “I hope that there should be nobody left at all-it would be better.”

  “No, no, Prof. Batnagar has much deep Sufi knowledge; he knows what he is talking about,” he said. “The self will be back, but it will be an illumined self, nm the same as you have now. It will be, plus the Knowledge of the Soul. There can be no life without the selfhow could you exist?”

  I understood.

  42 The Great Separation

  20th December, 1962

  As SOON AS I WOKE UP this morning, the mind did rather funny things: when my eyes were closed, it was as if lights were jumping up and down, and there was much restlessness of thoughts. It looked as if there would be trouble. There was. Hatred was much increased—a dark, killing hatred, and I hated myself as well: the fool I am, ugly and old. Remembered all the frustrations I was subjected to since I was here. How I never could speak to him for days on end, and if I could, I had to wait till everybody else had finished, and everybody could interrupt me, but I was not allowed to interrupt anybody, and so on.

  When I was at his place, exactly the same thing happened once more. People were there all talking-all these men I hated so much.

  For hours they were discussing, or he was talking, and it never had an end. As soon as I came in and sat down, he gave me a quick inquiring look, and by the expression of his eyes I knew that he was aware, of course, that there was trouble. I kept crying from time to time and was wondering if I would be able to speak to him at all. But the talk went on. Tasseldar came. When he went at last, I told him about our talk with Chowdrie.

  “Always the same thing: like an insect in the mud.” His expression was full of profound disgust. “The same thing again and again: Karmas .. Phoo! again you repeat it! Will you never stop?” I cried in sheer frustration. He flicked his hand as if to say, it is all hopeless with you, and went out. I wept silently. He came back and began to pull on a clean pillow case on his pillow.

  “Please do understand; there is so much misunderstanding between us: all I wanted to imply is that the fact of Karmas does not bother me anymore—I am finished with it!

  He shook the pillow in the air noisily, not listening. Here he goes, he does not even try to understand. Even if I have the chance to speak, there are always misunderstandings. He sat down in the big chair, and I told him what my troubles really are-too many vibrations, too much love, too much of everything….

  “It is not love,” he interrupted me; “if there is trouble, there is no love. Love is joy always…. ” And he closed his eyes blissfully.

  “Love is joy, peace, happiness-they are really the same thing. It only seems different. And if there is trouble, love is far away.”

  “But how can you say that!” I exclaimed. “Love is such punishment, such an intense sorrow! Since I have been here, I have known joy so seldom!”

  “You don’t know what love is. This is not love when there are adverse thoughts, when the mind, when the self is stronger than love. Why don’t you ask your mind if it wants to be stronger than love? Why it does it? Make it understand.”

  “But I am trying,” I said desperate; “what more can I do? How can I go beyond the enchanted circle?”

  “One day, you too will go beyond the mind,” he said very thoughtfully. “If the mind, if the self play up, they are masters; they are stronger. If the wave of love lessens, the mind takes over; it attacks.”

  “What to do? To pray?”

  “Pray, try to convince the mind.” He went into a short Samadhi.

  “But I am going, that’s why it is so difficult. I look at you as a hungry person looks at food, because I know that it will not be for long ….

  “This is good that it should be so, but separation must be separation-it is necessary.” He looked out the window with this mysterious tender smile I knew so well. The green of the foliage was reflected in his eyes, was like a greenish shadow on his skin.

  “It is not forever; you will come back.”

  “But will I have the money to do so? And if not, I will never see you alive again-this is my fear!”

  “Oh the mind, the mind, all these ideas; all you know is to worry about money! Money comes and goes. He looks after it; He is the Real Manager. Who knows what will be tomorrow? When Majnun loved Leila, he was wandering in the forest repeating her name. He was beautiful and she was ugly. Leila means night. She was black.

  People told her that he loves her so much and wanders in the forest like mad, so she asked for some parts of his flesh! When told this he said: “Take it! Take what you want!” When told, she said: “He does not love me!” After long years, again the question was repeated, and he took a knife and cut pieces of his flesh, threw it on a plate-‘take them to her.’ Then Leila knew that he loved her truly.”

  “Only now I understood the story… you told it before. But the meaning was never clear to me.” I began to weep bitterly; everything seemed to be too difficult. Nothing seemed to remain, no belief, no mind, nothing….

  “But why do you say that nothing remains?” I looked at him. “If the mind still gives trouble, how can you say it is not here; itdid not remain?”

  “But how to get rid of the self?” I asked near complete despair.

  “It is not a question of one day or two. It will go eventually. If one is so lucky that love is created in one’s heart, when one is so fortunate that the self goes and the mind does not give trouble, this in itself can be called the Goal. What is the Goal? For a thousand years you can go on, and it recedes. What has been done for you is not usual; people sit here for twenty years and we don’t even notice them…. “

  “In a way it would be easier; I resigned myself to sit here for years, but things are done so quickly for me; eve
ry day something happens… vibrations, crises, moments of knowledge, separation… and everything is so fluid. I seem to stay on water; all is in movement; nothing seems to remain, nothing to grasp. It is as though you would walk quickly up a stony path dragging me behind you with bleeding feet… a very difficult state…. “

  “This is not bad, quite good,” he smiled his strange smile. “Still, you should not complain. There can be no nearness when the mind is there. How many people reach the Goal at all? Training is not given like this as you want it to be. The year has so many days, and all the days will be all right, but once the mind will rebel. For long spells you are all right, but then… it all comes back. I like those people who never doubt once they are in.”

  “But you are an exception—how can you compare yourself with anybody? There is nobody like you! You never doubted, but who is like that?” I exclaimed, and began to cry bitterly.

  “You can go home,” he said, and I went.

  Cried in the evening sitting there. So kind, so friendly, so full of love he was talking to Chowdrie. Chowdrie was in Dhyana and did not even listen to him. What a waste of energy and time, I was thinking to talk for hours on philosophy to people who don’t listen or don’t understand. Many who come here are not intelligent enough to understand what it is all about… and to me—who is supposed to write about it, who notes down every word, every single word by his own order, and it will be put to good use—to me not a word. Seemed ridiculous… unjust… and I wept silently. He did not stay for very long. When Chowdrie was about to leave, he stood up and said to me that I also can go. Thank you very much for the permission, I thought bitterly, and very quickly I went before everybody else began to file out. Cried in bed for a very long time.

  Bitter thoughts filled the restless, resentful mind. Fell asleep, woke up in the night… useless to protest. I am wasting my time. Surely he will not miss the opportunity to make the best of the situation and endeavor to get me a bit more down….