In Praise of Shri Bhagavan: By Alan Adams Jacobs

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In Praise of Shri Bhagavan
by Alan Adams Jacobs

Let’s give thanks to great Lord Ramana,
For his boundless Grace and Jnana teaching;
He grants silent diksha without vain preaching,
And the precious gift of atma vichara,
His directly liberating, true sadhana.
His eternal presence is close; ever reaching
The hearts of all devotees, so breaching
Mad ego’s fortress of dark avidya.
We feel devotion through our gratitude,
For leading us out of dread samsara;
He bestows full faith, strength and fortitude,
He transmits the power of Arunachala.

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Ever our loving guardian and guide,
Deep in our hearts his lotus feet abide.

Photos courtesy of Shri Ramanaashram

REFLECTION: By Alan Jacobs

On my blank transparent screen, that is pristine
Primordial Consciousness, clear and clean,
Birthless and deathless, I survey the scene.

I sense it has the semblance of a dream.
Technicolour pictures come and go
Endlessly like in a movie show.

All are creations of this sleeper’s mind,
But I am not that body’s brain I find.
Instead I look behind his watchful eyes

And then discover to my vast surprise
That I am that same Consciousness sublime,
Which is One with Love, and is Divine.

Posted on March 12, 2004 by Alan-ji to HarshaSatsangh

Sage Wisdom: By Alan Adam Jacobs

Whoever is awake to the material world
Is fast asleep to the spiritual world.
This wakefulness is far worse than sleep,
When our soul’s asleep to God, it’s a door
Closing, to prevent the entry of His grace.
All day we suffer from a host of fantasies,
Thoughts of loss, gain or degeneration.
For the Soul there is neither joy nor peace
Nor a way of progression heavenwards.
The sleeper has his hope in each vain fancy
And converses idly with these foolish voices.

The bird of the soul flies cheerily on high
While its shadow is speeding upon Earth,
Some fools hasten to chase their  shadow
And rushing hurriedly become exhausted,
Not understanding that it’s a reflection,
Nor knowing from where it originates.

They vainly shoot arrows at this phantom,
His quiver soon empties from the long quest.
The  contents of his worried life become a void,
Time passes in chasing after this grey shadow.
But when God’s shadow becomes a nurse maid.
It saves him from  fantasies and illusion.
God’s shadow is the true servant of God.

Dead to this  world yet living through Him.
Take hold of His hem quickly so your skirt
May also be saved at the end of your days.
Never enter this dark valley of the shadow
Without a guide who’s a true son of God.
Desert the grey shadow, gain the bright Sun
Hold the hem of the orb of Shams Tabriz.

If you don’t know the way to the bridal feast
Enquire into God’s radiance named l’Haqq.
If envy grabs you by the throat on the way
It is Satan who reaches beyond all bounds.
Because from green envy he hates Adam
And he’s at constant war with happiness.

On the way there’s no harder bridge to cross.
Happy is he who hasn’t made envy his friend.
The body is a mansion packed full of hate,
The family and  servants are all tainted.
Yet Almighty God made the body to be pure
So sweep clean His house. The purified heart
Is a true treasure and Earth’s gold talisman.

If you indulge in guile, deceit and envy
Against one who’s without a hint of blame,
Then black stains swell up in your heart.
So rest as dust under the feet of a Sage
Amd scatter the dust on envy’s bald head.

Any fool who mtorments his body is unfit
For comprehending the spiritual life .
The nose catches fragrance leading to truth
That scent is the God revealed religion.
If he’s whiffed this perfume with ingratitude,
It comes and destroys his organ of perception.

Give thanks! Be a slave to those who are grateful,
Be in their presence as one truly steadfast.

Please note that this is a versification I have made from Rumi's Mathnawi
The Complete Literal Translation by Reynard Nicholson 

Alan Jacobs

Pilgrim Finds Friends on the Path: By Alan Adam Jacobs

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1.  MOTHER DIVINE

Our Mother Divine lifts her sacred cup,
She pours pellucid, precious, potent balm,
Curing, healing, lifting pilgrim’s spirit up.

With power of Love, perfect, peaceful, calm,
She holds poor palsied pilgrim in her palm,
And plies him with pure nectar, honey sweet,

So pouring from her silver grail a potion warm,
To soothe all cares and salve his blistered feet,
With Love’s ointment: oh, perfect Paraclete!

2.  WHITE KNIGHT

Feeling his fiery steed between his knees,
He watches restless spirit’s breathing flow;
The stallion settles and he reins with ease.

Now tamed, he canters where he wants to go,
To Himalayan summits crowned with snow,
A pure white splendour glowing bright in light,

Above dark turmoil of dormant worlds below.
He arrives at awesome Selfhood, blazing bright,
Sun burst of splendour, ends soul’s dark night.

Now, White Knight hoists on high his pointed lance,
To joust with Death, a fierce Titanic tilt.
As he mounts his steed in martial prance

He strikes hard at dragon, up to the hilt,
To end all dark sorrow, fear and guilt.
Free from sense of doership, an act replete

With holy knowledge, a temple truly built
To worship God, he kneels to kiss the feet
Of Death’s slayer; such a sacred blessed feat.

3.  GOD LOVE SOLDIER

Wielding his spear of sharpest concentration,
The God-love soldier plunges its silver blade,
With mighty force of lucid sheer attention,

Deep into the dragon’s heart. Unafraid,
Delivering the coup de grace, vile ego’s laid!
Well honed with dispassionate discrimination,

Whetted with ardent zeal, no wavering shade
Of cowardice, his steel, with keen anticipation,
Slays his wayward mind of Self alienation.

4.  ARCHER

He twangs the bow of Self-Enquiry, to enter
A sharp arrow of clearly aimed insight,
Zinging to the bull’s eye of Truth at centre.

Dispelling all doubts in error free flight,
He finds Love, a beckoning beacon light,
Glowing within his inner cave of heart.

Such marksmanship is God-Warriors right,
To win this vision, the true martial art,
Holy war, waged ‘til soul and body part.

5. AQUARIUS

Water bearer draws deep from Rachel’s well,
A jar of truth for pilgrim’s thirst to slake.
Raising the cup he hears the temple bell

Which calls him home to pray and penance make
To God, whom he adores for His own dear sake
Alone, and free from lust for selfish boon.

His love showers rain of grace, and fills the lake
Where sails the white swan of devotion, soon
To glow beneath the golden harvest Moon.

6. PRIMORDIAL SAGE

Primordial Sage, in silence, takes his seat,
Emitting waves of God-like love to those
Who sit surrendered at his lotus feet.

His mystic vision’s sure, and truly knows
The sure destruction of all disciples’ woes,
That halt the climb to Self’s most blissful place.

His merciful love abundantly flows,
Ever granting pilgrim power to trace
His own Self ablaze, in a sea of grace.

7. BOLD PILGRIM

So bold pilgrim ascends the mountain path,
His friends are unconditional faith and trust.
Gentle compassion rains, a healing bath

Of grace, cleansing his feet of mundane dust,
Freeing him from greed, ego, anger, lust.
Fearless he walks, awakened, to his goal,

Unattached, discriminating, and so just,
‘Til attaining consummation with the Whole,
He finds, hidden deep at heart, Eternal Soul!

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