Last night I heard music after seven. For one moment I was thinking that there was some shooting, but then realized that it was fireworks. It must be Divali, the festival of Light. Got up and went outside. It was a dark, still evening. The valleys below looked lovely.
Every house had many lights. Seen from here in the darkness it looked as if the sky full of stars was reflected below. It was a most poetical sight. The sky tremendous, so near, so full of large stars, and many little and big lights below…. Some small fireworks were seen, a bit of a noise and a flash or a small rocket. I walked up and down and stood looking into one or the other valley…. Lovely… People .… My heart was full of tenderness. All my feeling went out to them. They celebrate, have happy hours…. People.
Hours of hope, hours of gladness, of light. And I went to bed doing my Mantra, praying for people, and soon went to sleep and slept well.
13th November
A FRESH WIND IS BLOWING FROM THE GLACIERS this morning. The peaks had some fresh snow. I learned that the Ashram will be closing at the end of December because the roads will be impassable when heavy snow begins to fall. There is also a danger of landslides. So I must make the most of the remaining time. Today it is fresh, it is bracing, it fills one’s being with the joy of living.
Went for a walk after lunch about twelve a.m., up the hill, behind the Ashram. The wind from the glaciers, and the song of the pines were strong and continuous. Cicadas were busy too, filling the forest with their monotonous sound. Seems surprising that some of them at least are still alive at this time of the year. I could see five peaks on the Nepal side which are not seen from the Ashram. Big they were.
Big stuff, I thought. One looked like a rectangular huge rock fallen on one side. The other one was smaller and the furthest to the east was like Nanda Kunti, my glass mountain, only much, much larger and more solid looking. The view was magnificent, and when walking along I had a glimpse in between the pines of the snows. I was filled with wonder each time how big and how near they are. Very old jungle mostly of mountain oaks was around. So old, crooked, full of hollows and holes, and many had all branches hacked off. Large rhododendron trees, branchless practically. Cut off by villagers desperate for firewood in winter. Pity. It must look magnificent in April when they flower. But rhododendrons must make a good firewood; they are all sorely mutilated….
It was a dangerous climb. My large men’s shoes were slipping badly on pine needles. In some places I could hardly get a foothold and had to scrape away the needles with the points of my shoes in order to be able to take a step forward. Sometimes I had to cling to trees or branches of the shrubs, and I was thinking that if I lose a foothold or stumble it could be the end of me. I would fall 100-200 feet, and there were not even many trees to hold onto on the slippery grass slopes mostly covered with pine needles. At one place I could not go further. “I am stuck,” I said aloud, reflecting on what to do.
Could not take a step forward so steep and slippery it was. So, I threw forward my wool jacket I had over my arm and crawled to a safer place on hands and knees. Later on the plateau it was easy. Sat a long time looking at the Ashram so pretty below, a doll’s house, quite small, and the range of the majestic Himalayas. Came back at two p.m.
90 Chorus of Voices
14th November, 1966
WE HAVE A SPELL OF BAD WEATHER, cloudy and cold in the morning. I am praying. Doing jap. And such peace is in me. My heart is glad calling His Name.
15th November
BLUE WERE THE HILLS this morning at sunrise, blue as blue could be…. And above Panchencholi a tiny pink baby cloud stood still.
I am alone, crying for him.
It is a strange thing this Sound of the Silence. About ten I heard again the bark of the barking deer. It sounds lonely, free, defying.
They say, where the barking deer is, there are tigers too. I never saw one. I think they are all exterminated. But leopards do live here. Only I never saw them either. They are night hunters; during the day they are in hiding. I roam so much alone. I rarely saw a monkey or a wild peacock, nothing else in my wanderings in the jungle.
But this Sound of the Silence… I sat still last night listening for a while. How still the nights are in the Himalayan hills. Not a dog was barking. Not a leaf was stirring. And as if from afar comes this sound, a kind of melodious roar on one note, one pitch, far and near, all around. But all around it is very faint, but from afar it is very distinct and loud. Listened to it for quite a while. Then went to bed. Did not sleep well. The sound was there all night; white lights were jumping before my eyes, and from time to time I heard a supersonic whistle in my left ear. I hear it lately very often. Towards the morning wanted to go out to listen to the sound outside. But dogs were barking in the village. When they stopped after a long while (when they begin it can go on for hours), I went outside once more and sat listening. It was a pale colorless dawn. The sound was there even when the cocks began to crow; only gradually as the world began to awake, it ceased.
16th November
WHEN THE SHAFTS OF LIGHT come obliquely from behind the clouds at sunrise, the snows have brownish tints and the hills below them are of all shades of mauves and blues. If I had to paint them I would do it in tender sepias and pinks. Later they become grey and gold with the patches of sunlight on the very tips. And the hills below are shrouded in bluish mist.
In the evening I could not fall asleep, had a kind of indigestion, pain in the stomach and in the bowels. Made myself vomit out all acid and bile. Realized that I had too much fatty food. Cannot digest it. Later, relieved, fell asleep. Dreamed that somebody played beautiful music in the void behind some clouds. How I love piano music when it is so soft and melodious. And I woke up with the sound of magnificent concert—piano music, my ears still ringing with it. What a pity to wake up, I thought. There was a constant supersonic sound, high, so high, not at all unpleasant.
The body was warm, comfortable; it felt good. It is wonderful to awake at the sound of beautiful music, drowned as in a warm bath of love…. I stretched out luxuriously and was deeply happy.
Watching the sun rise I sat for a while outside. This love. My God, what love! All the beauties of this wonderful nature around are very secondary, are just on the edge of consciousness; but deep, deep within there is this love and this is the ONLY REALITY—this love that digs deep into the heart its blazing abyss, this love that enwraps and exalts my whole being and the whole of creation as one. We are one, how very true; if only we could realize it, everything would be so very different. If only…. But how steep is the path that leads to this realization, to this supreme experience. We have to be emptied, made nothing, to be filled with thy divine love, with the purity of thy love, O God! Guruji, now I understand; I was emptied to be filled; I was made nought to be human. A steam-roller went over me and I was the better for it; but what managed to get up afterwards was something very different from the human being who faced you in 1961!
And in bed I was thinking that it does not matter if I stay in with closed eyes or go outside to watch the sunrise…. It is all in me… not outside me. I can be in a cave, in a prison, in eternal darkness, and it would matter little, if I had this glory within for ever….
Was reflecting that this feeling of divinity has no pride in it; it is on the contrary a very humble feeling. It is: I am nothing before Thee.
The body feels as weak as a kitten. The moments of oneness in the night strain it very much. This nearness is something! Too much for the physical frame.
I did all my work. Washed my woollies, sheets, boiled the milk, wrote in my diary. But all this is apart from me, has nothing to do with me, for I am resting somewhere in infinite peace. All the activities are on the outer edge of my perception, and it is not even a sacrifice to do those insignificant things. It is all in Him anyway….
And it is done for Him as an offering.
“Every position, every movement of the body is an act of offering to Thee,” says Kabir.
H
ow very, very true….
17th November
SINCE I HAVE BEEN HERE IN KAUSANI, practically from the very beginning when the states of consciousness began to change considerably, I felt that I am nearing the end of the road. I mean the end of the road to the Real Home. There is nothing else to do. He takes over. When the devotee becomes His, everything ends there.
Sure, I am only at the beginning of this state; there will be unavoidable ups and downs. But this is really the beginning of the end. But how long it will take me to the VERY END, who knows…?
This feeling of belonging to Him, every breath, every pore of the body, every thought, every little bit of me—is wonderful! There is such security in it, such tenderness, and it is Nothingness itself!
18th November
THE ENTIRE SKY was covered with small pinky-orange clouds and they looked very solid as if painted on with a brush.
19th November
I AM VERY BREATHLESS. The bending down, the slightest effort or even a quick movement sends me out of breath, hopelessly. It is such a helpless feeling. I wonder what it could be. Altitude? Hardly, 6000 feet is not very high. Age? Cannot be either; at 60. Something is wrong with my nose. Looks like a touch of sinusitis. Dryness of the mucus, some mucus seeping down from the sinus into the back of my throat. Hay fever? Perhaps. Deodars have been flowering since last month and there are still very many marigolds, though they begin to look a bit tired. The mountains have fresh snow this morning. I did not sleep well. Did jap, prayed, the heart was so full of love for Him. Fell asleep towards the morning but at 6:30 was awake already.
The sun was already in the sky and the snows clear and blue. Missed the sunrise. Never mind… the body felt tired, could hardly get up.
I wonder if it is those states of consciousness, the nearness, the tenderness, the love, the state of my heart Chakra which makes me so breathless. It could be one of these reasons. This tenderness is hard to bear. I feel giddy and the heart is beating and beating; it is as if it were wide open, belonging to Him and completely defenseless. And the feeling of belonging to him is tremendous; I feel like dissolving.
Yesterday afternoon it rained and hailed; the clouds were somber sitting tight on the top of the snows. This spell of bad weather drove off all the tourists, thank God. They were such a restless lot with their noisy children. One had hardly any peace at all. God knows why people must have so many children.
25th November
THE SKY YESTERDAY EVENING AT SUNSET displayed such tints of pastel pink and turquoise as I never saw before. Above Panchencholi it looked absolutely heavenly. And this morning at sunrise it was all sugar-pink sky….
There are only two things in the whole Universe: The Lover and the Beloved. There is He and His Creation. And He loves His Creation. And there is the Soul and its Maker. And the Soul loves its Maker….
26th November
SARALA BEHN TOLD ME that there was a terrific storm in the Himalayas last night. It was howling like thousands of wild animals. But the sky was clear and full of stars. I did not hear anything. Slept soundly.
When I got up at four a.m., there was a sharp, cold breeze from the glaciers; the sky was clear; so I did not even suspect that there was such a storm only a few hours before, until she told me.
The sunrise was insignificant, all in pale yellow chrome tints.
27th November
SAT OUTSIDE FOR A WHILE. The moon is full. It was lovely and very, very still. The nights are mostly completely windstill. Before nine p.m. there was quite a bit of wind on the heights. Not on our hill which is much lower. The pines were singing. Sighing His Name. I listened to them, it was so lovely. But after nine all became silent. The pines and the cypress trees, patches of dark shadows, the snows of ghostly silver. It was about two a.m. I still sat outside. It was cold. At first a car could be clearly heard to go away amongst the hills on the road to Garur. On and off came the sound of the motor as it followed the hairpin bends, sometimes hardly audible, when it disappeared behind the hill, sometimes stronger, humming along. While the car was still audible, the noise gradually dying away fainter and fainter, I could not hear the Sound. Because the Sound is only heard in absolute silence. But when roughly about ten minutes one could not hear the car any longer, I heard loudly and distinctly the usual Sound. For a long time I listened to it. Not a leaf stirred; the dogs were asleep in the village. And the Sound was coming from afar, the usual melodious roar, and all around me, supersonically ringing, enveloping me in it. Like magic were the patterns of light and shade under the pines opposite my door on the path, and bright and full was the moon. Its light shone through the feathery foliage of Cosmos, making strange patterns on the soil. The snows looked ghostly and forbidding.
Later there was like a suspicion of a breeze coming from the direction of the snows. Not a wind, just a cold touch, like an icy breath, on my left cheek, as I was sitting facing the east. An icy touch which made my cheek prickle. I prayed so much. And went to bed praying. Thy Will be done, always…. It is such a bliss to do Thy Will only. To have no will of my own. I don’t want to do anything else till the end of my days….
28th November
AND THE MOON ROSE FULL, looking like a transparent white disc in the turquoise infinitude above the snows which were still coral pink after sunset. I sat on my doorstep. All was still. The Sound was there as always. Those still, romantic nights. Silence and the snows, ghostly patches of light and shade on the garden path, the moon shining through the pine branches. Not a Sound. Except that One…. And that ONE is beating in my heart. I am one with Him.
And that ONE is taking me deeper and deeper, somewhere….
29th November
LAST EVENING SOMEBODY WAS PLAYING the flute down below the village, shortly before sunset. And the sun was reflecting in the windows of the Lakshmi Ashram, high up on the opposite hill….
The sun reflected in the windows of a building always filled me with a strange, unearthly joy. Like a memory of some dreams, where all is grey and suddenly this sparkling, blinding light, reflecting the sun, represents hope and promise, though it is hurting the eyes. Listened to the flute, looked at the light, basking in this joy, so light, so incredibly lovely, so subtle….
The sunset was once more of the seven colors. And I looked at it upside down and went to Patel and the Swami who was with him to do likewise. So they too looked at the mountains head down, and Patel was delighted how the colors seemed sharper, more clear this way.
I woke up this morning with this quiet joy. This wonderful lightness. All is HE. He is all; there is nothing else, and the song in the heart goes on and on. This Longing for something intangible, unattainable, is it fulfilled?
And it is a glorious day. The mountains are silver and deepest azure in the shade amongst the crags. The hills are clear; every tree is visible, bluish and deep green they are in the distance. It is rather chilly and my heart is dancing and dancing its dance with gladness to Him…. Oh, I know, loneliness will come again, for many days on end, there will be desperate longing, such a dark solitude, and the heart will be breaking with longing. I know it will be… but now it is not. Now is peace, a special peace, full of silent, deep gladness .. .. And what is more, it seems eternal, lasting forever, never ending, though my mind knows very well that it might end tomorrow, no, perhaps even in the next hour….
Yes, it is a special joy. Tremendously deep, welling up from such depths which cannot be fathomed or ever explored. It is dynamic, full of hidden, incredible energy, but it is very, very still… like the eternal stillness of the Absolute. I imagine this eternal stillness, complete, unending, must be like this.
What a bliss is the smell of marigolds. Actually, I think they cause me some trouble; I have symptoms of hay fever. The garden is still full of them and chrysanthemums are all out. Many varieties are very unusual. I have never seen them anywhere before; first they are snow white and have an uncombed look; then later they turn crimson, then mauve; the colors begin to appear at first in
the center petals and then turn completely crimson all over; and when they are faded, they are blue.
1st December
I AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR JAP. I SIMPLY MUST do it uninterruptedly all day long. There was a storm in the night. It woke me up when the wind began to press against the bungalow. I don’t know if it came from the direction of the snows or from the south. It lasted for about half an hour. And it ended as abruptly as it began. For a while the pines sang on the heights all around, but soon they stopped too. And this time I could hear the Sound in spite of the wind and the song of the pines.
2nd December
SOMETHING WOKE ME UP at about 2 a.m. I put on the winter coat and went out. The moon was in the waning stage. All was silent. A little icy breeze came from the glaciers which were in the shade silhouetted against the silvery sky. I stood only for a few minutes outside. It was too cold to sit. I knew now what did awake me: the Sound was different. For a while I could not make out what it was. It sounded like a chorus of voices, very high pitched, so high that no human voice could be like that. Strange voices, rising and falling, monotonous, as if composed of air, of the wind, of the atmosphere itself. Very beautiful, this chant. Human voices don’t sound like that, not even from afar. But I was not sure…. Perhaps they were human voices after all distorted by the distance. No, they were not.
From where? All the valleys were in darkness, everything was asleep.
And the sound came definitely from the direction of the snows. I listened fascinated… what could it be? It was uncanny, it was great.
I went inside. Was freezing. In the room it sounded faintly, mingled with the usual distant roar.
3rd December
WROTE MANY LETTERS, all Christmas greetings. Will post them this morning. Cried last night, could not fall asleep for a long, long time….
Daughter of Fire Page 97
