Menoculayshunal; Living The Idyll

The studies were relentless in a good way. I have always loved learning and am, perhaps, most alert yet content when researching any subject or point of interest. My tendency to be a night owl began in childhood, as I was an avaricious reader, ever in search of understanding. It is hardly surprising, really, that insomnia has become a constant companion. As mentioned previously in these ramblings, our days were quite regimented, and there was an allotted six hours of the night in which, it might be supposed, one would get rest. I found that the average for me became four hours. Yet I did not feel the drag of it, for there was so much to drink in and so little time to do so!

The figure of the Hamsa standing atop a lamp is a vital part of Hindu symbolism. The mythical swan was said to drink only the milk from a bowl in which it had been mixed with water. This is used to remind students of Shruti** that it is not just the words you see (the bowl looks like milk, but its essence must be drawn carefully, leaving behind that which is less nourishing). Seek to understand everything in between. The lamp, of course, symbolises the arrival of light to remove darkness - knowledge removes ignorance.

The Hamsa can be depicted, also, against the background of the multipetaled lotus (another symbol - this time for the crown chakra and reaching moksha, spiritual realisation), and guarding the texts which hold Shruti from which we must draw the essence of all understanding.  

There was no denying that the spiritual florescence was at full tilt. With each text there was a burgeoning inside that had more to it than the gaining of mere book knowledge. We were learning different levels of perception and gaining skill in drawing out the essence through decoding the Sanskrit - anvaya, the process of breaking open a word, phrase or sentence to understand how each component relates to the other to create one image or concept while conveying more... we were learning to drink the milk and leave the water undisturbed.

The pinnacle of this experience seemed to take place about eight months after Rekha's leaving. We had transferred to the Vibhooti ashram up near Kolwan (Pune area), high in the Sahyadri hills. Truly picturesque. It was November and heading down into winter, so it was also very cold at night and even icy on a couple of mornings. The air was clean and the space... oh the space. This was a form of holiday for the students. We had only one text to contend with and apart from the regular chanting sessions, were left to our own devices. We got creative with arts and music, engaged in study and social groups, got active with walks in the surrounding nature, and cricket and yoga on the oval. We were living the idyll. I even had a companion in Foxy Soxy, a very pretty girl who reminded me of Radha but was more amenable to sitting with me and enjoying the occasionally sneaked poori. She was something of a salve for me, as I appreciated her presence with none of the attachment there had been previously. Once bitten and all that...

The one text, though, proved to be a pivotal one. Not just because Advaita Makaranda is profound writing, but because with the guidance of our guest acharya, Sw. Advaitananda, the milk became even purer. There was a moment in one class where I literally felt like my mind was opening out like a lotus flower. You can read that and think, 'yeah, right...' And what you need to then absorb is that I too remained grounded in some doubt as to the experience (despite having had several earlier unexplained experiences). Then, in one of our girls' groups towards the end of the third week, one of the quieter young ladies looked at me as we were discussing a certain matter from the text and I could see that she too had experienced the same. We spoke quietly after group and confirmed what we both had felt. An expansion of consciousness and a sense that our brains which had felt full to overflowing had suddenly let us into another chamber somehow.

Consciousness shifted. Meditation took on yet another dimension. The facts laid out on the pages were becoming lived experiences.

We were at Vibhooti for a full month and a few extra days. When it came time to leave a fair few of us were a little torn. Here we had lived the ideal. Now, though, we had to get on with the living that everybody else has to, but carry with us the improved selves it was hoped we had become. Many of us had glimpsed something of that to which we aspired. The road trip home to Sandeepany was rather more subdued than had been the outward run.

**Shruti, "that which is heard" - works considered to have been heard and transmitted by sages, in contrast to Smriti, "that which is remembered" by ordinary human beings.