“It is a problem only because you lack patience. If you decide that locat ing a Rishi is the thing you want most to do you will set about doing it, no matter how many lifetimes it may take. It is only a matter of time, after all.
“Being immortal the Rishis are not subject to time as we know it. They have gone beyond the reach of Mahakala, the God of Death, whose name is Time. Mahakala is the center of all the universes, the boundary between form and formlessness. Death provides limitation to form with the help of time. All of us who are born are destined to die, and as long as we live all of us exist within the stream of time. Once we die we drop out of time until we are reborn
“While we are alive time is real for us, but it is relative; you see this every day in your own life. At the office time seems to pass so slowly; it just drags by, especially if you have no love for your work. But when you are busy doing something that you enjoy, like sex, then you say, ‘Oh, my goodness, how time flies!’ Time actually passes at the same rate; the difference is only because of your point of view. But if such a small difference in viewpoint can have such a major effect on how you experience time, you can imagine what a difference there must be between the human viewpoint and the cosmic viewpoint.
“You can only know a particular time or space if its frame of reference is appropriate for you. A human would find it difficult to live for long on the moon or other planets because the human body is made to live in the time and space of Earth; Earth is our frame of reference. The Rishis, who are able to use the sun as their frame of reference, do not have this problem. While you and I count our years according to how long it takes the earth to move around the sun, the Rishis count their ‘years’ according to how long it takes the sun to revolve around-well, around something else. Obviously their perspective on time is very different from ours. They have gone beyond all limitations of time, so they can experience time in any frame of reference that they choose.
“Since all time cycles are relative, and depend on the observer’s frame of reference, doesn’t it seem at least possible that a Rishi, who has harnessed the power of the sun, should see things according to the sun’s life cycle? Because of this different viewpoint a Rishi’s senses of sight, hearing and memory extend to cosmic days the way the human memory extends to ordinary days. With this sort of perspective a Rishi can both plan well into
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the future and see far back into the past. Each Rishi likes to contribute what he can to the cosmic Lila, the play of existence. Just as countries create five year plans to facilitate their development, the Rishis create developmental plans, for our world and for all the other worlds in the cosmos. And their plans are in an entirely different time frame from ours.
“Since Rishis are beyond all limitations of time, and since time and space form a continuum, as our modern scientists tell us, can the Rishis have any limitations as far as space is concerned either? No, they can move wherever they like in the universe in the twinkling of an eye. Einstein believed that nothing could ever go faster than light in a vacuum, but he was wrong. Thought is faster than light. A Rishi merely thinks that he wishes to go somewhere, and he arrives there immediately.
“The Rishis are beyond all limitations of time and space that we can con ceive, but even they have some exceedingly subtle limitations which they must live with. They never quite transcend all attributes and distinctions; if they did, how could they continue to exist separate from the cosmos? So they continue doing their penances, getting closer and closer to absolute perfection without ever reaching it. They are totally perfect from our frame of reference, but from their frame of reference they still fall short of the Ulti mate. How must they feel, if you and I feel bad that we haven’t made much spiritual progress?
“But whatever their limitations, the Rishis are far, far beyond us humans. By now you should have some idea of how little you can understand the state of a Rishi, and about how fortunate we are that the Mahapurushas come here to play about. The Rishis are especially interested in our world of death and impermanence because it is here that beings can change their innate natures very quickly.”
“But you are always pointing out to me people who in spite of all their efforts to improve remain as crooked as a pig’s tail, and saying about them, Jati svabhava na munchyate’ (inborn characteristics don’t change),” I pro tested.
“And I’ve just got through telling you that time is relative. Most people will not be able to totally transform themselves within the space of a single human lifetime, although as you well know there are those who can and do; what about Jean Valjean? But from the cosmic viewpoint things happen here in the World of Death at breakneck speed. In just a few lifetimes you can achieve great things, whereas on other planes of existence it may take you millions or billions of years to get anywhere. Even the gods vie to be born here.
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“The Rishis, in spite of being completely unlimited by any orbit, love to come down to Earth and play about, to help lighten Mother Earth of Her load. They visit all parts of the world, but they find the earth of India most to their liking.”
“Does India have some sort of monopoly over them, then?”
“No, no; why they prefer India has something to do with the gravity here. There have of course been other civilizations, like that of Atlantis, which have made great spiritual progress. The Atlanteans, and the people of the civilizations which were related to them, like the ancient Egyptians, Assyri ans and Babylonians, could take out the astral body and move about with it, but they could never progress as far as our Rishis did. They produced a few Siddhas, but they were really too conscious of the physical world to advance much spiritually. How can I say this? Well, look at the pyramids and the sphinx and what-have-you. How massive they are! The kings and their priests were more interested in this sort of worldly glory than in true spiritu ality.
“Incan culture was also based on that of Atlantis, but it never quite reached the same stage of advancement. You know, the Incas used to wor ship a form of Bhairava (Shiva as ‘The Terrifier’), to whom they offered human sacrifices. The priestesses knew a crude form of Vajroli, enough so that they could regenerate themselves. They worshipped blonde people; most of the royalty was blonde, in fact. They were shorter and better built than the Red Indians, which suggests that they were of different stock.
“Atlantis sank under the ocean, and the ancient cultures of Egypt and Peru and the rest have vanished almost without a trace. But in spite of all the destruction that has happened here some part of India’s ancient culture still remains, thanks to the blessings of the Mahapurushas who come here to enjoy their Lila.
“Even when the Rishis lived here openly, in physical bodies, they never wanted anyone to know them, since then they would have no peace, because even in Satya Yuga there are plenty of people around to trouble Rishis with requests for help. So, since they need peace and quiet for their researches, the Rishis would pretend to be ordinary people, and would live quiet lives with their wives in ashrams in out-of-the-way places. They always worship fire internally, but just to fool everyone they would make a show of worshipping the fire externally. If people knew that they did not need an external fire, everyone would rush to the Rishis and insist that all their work be done immediately.
“Of course, if you were clever you could recognize who was a Rishi; some
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thing would give them away, like their voices. Rishis would not talk much in words, of course; they usually communicated in Para Vani. But when they would talk their voices would be like thunder! I loved that picture The Ten Commandments, but one thing I have never been able to figure out is how Cecil B. DeMille was able to imitate God’s voice so well. It sounded exactly like a Rishi’s voice; maybe it could have been a little deeper, but that rich ness was there, just like a Rishi. Where did he get the idea, I wonder? Such touches are what make a film maker really great.
“Almost all our ancient Rishis were householders, which is another reason they could commiserate with the plight of embodied beings. No one is ever turned away from a Rishi’s ashram, and everyone who comes there is auto matically benefited. Tigers, rabbits, jackals, deer and other wild animals all live peacefully together inside the ashram’s precincts. If a tiger should chase a deer into the ashram the tiger’s personality will suddenly change as soon as it crosses the boundary, and it will forget to kill for as long as it remains there.
“The Rishi makes sure that all the ashram’s inhabitants–plants, animals, humans, even rocks-feel confidence in themselves, so that they grow to become the best they can be, in their own ways. No one is told that he or she is bad, foolish, hopeless, or helpless. In return, all the inhabitants, even the trees and the flowers, always try to contribute their best to the ashram. Even a very dull boy who comes to the ashram, one who cannot understand even the simplest sadhana, is taken care of. The Rishi will assign him an ordinary task, like farming, or caring for the ashram’s cows. When he sees that the boy is finally ready then the Rishi will initiate him, and then he too can progress.
“Actually, a Rishi is the embodiment of motherliness. In the old days, when a Rishi’s wife would scold one of her husband’s spiritual children for some foolishness, the Rishi himself would take the disciple aside and say, ‘Don’t worry about it. Do you want to do this? All right, go ahead and do it, I am here to look after you.’ Don’t ask me how I know all this.”
He chuckled, and then spoke more softly.
“A Rishi and his wife also have a beautiful play together; far more beautiful than any of the modern relationships I see. Because the wife is half and the husband is half, it was a beautiful partnership back then; the wife would see to the details of running the ashram, the mundane aspects of life, and the Rishi would take care of the spiritual and astral aspects for both of them.
“Veda Vyasa was the Rishi who wrote the Mahabharata, and who divided the Veda into four parts. His wife was totally devoted to him and never ques
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tioned what he told her to do. She knew he was Shaktiman, the directing, controlling factor, and she knew from experience that whatever he would direct her to do would be the right thing. He in turn never had any reason to question what she did, because he knew she was the perfect executive. What a partnership!”
“Do you believe then that a woman should never question her husband?”
“What do you think?” he replied testily, to show his contempt for the foolishness of my question. “No woman should obey her husband blindly unless she is sure he never makes mistakes. Yes, if her husband is a Rishi that is one thing; but not every woman can marry a Rishi. Now may I con tinue with my story?”
I kept quiet.
“Because of her tremendous faith in her husband, which was her form of niyama, Vyasa’s wife could carry water without a pot. Food should be filling, full of love and emotion; but the water you drink should be light, almost ethereal. Vyasa’s wife simply carried a cloth whenever she went for water, and the force of her purity made the water so light that she could bind it in the cloth and carry it home with her. This is no ordinary capability, let me tell you; such power was involved that it was almost on a par with the ability to make solidified mercury impervious to the effects of fire, one of the most difficult of all transmutations.
“One day when she went down to the river to fetch some water she hap pened to see a pair of Gandharvas sporting in the water. She admired them, and thought, ‘Ah, if only God had seen fit to permit us to have a child!’ This was her only thought on the matter. She did not dream of returning to the hermitage and indulging in love-play with her husband; she did not envy the Gandharvas their romance. She just thought that one little thought but that was enough to ruin her concentration. When she tried to pick up the water in the cloth as usual, it all spilled out.
“She tried again two or three times, with the same result. She began to get flustered, knowing that she had to bring some water for her husband. Finally she went and got an earthen pot and filled it, and returned to the hermitage.
“That evening Vyasa, who had been in samadhi all day long, came back to the ashram and asked his wife for a drink of water to soothe his parched throat. As soon as he drank the water he knew something was wrong: the water was heavy. Naturally it was heavy; it had been in that pot, and had absorbed some of the qualities of the earth of which the pot was made. One of the Earth Element’s chief characteristics is heaviness.
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“Very gently he brought this fact to the attention of his wife, who told him the whole story. Now it was his turn to make a mistake, because he accused her of being enamoured with the desire for romance, the base desires of the flesh. She showed him how wrong he was.
“Indignantly she replied, ‘All I did was admire them, and you accuse me of falling into the trap of sensuality! Never would I do that!’ To prove her point, she added, “If my words are true, the cloth will again hold water!’ And it did
“Vyasa then had to retake his words. This is the play of Shakti and Shakti man. She had previously been able to hold the water in the cloth on the strength of her husband’s austerities, but when she made the cloth again hold water, it was her own power which did it. Jnana versus bhakti; isn’t it beautiful?”