35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

EMPIRE OF THE SOUL
final transition from physical to incorporeal seemed so effortless
and undramatic that many refused to believe he had died. According
to his philosophy, of course, he had not.
Those who got close to his corpse, riddled with cancer though it
was, say it smelled of fresh roses even days after the final exit.
The supreme bliss is found only by the tranquil yogi, whose
passions have been stilled. His desires washed away, the yogi easily
achieves union with the Eternal. He sees his Self in all beings,
and all beings in his Self, for his heart is steady in Yoga.
Who sees me in all things, and all things in me, he is never far
from me, and I am never far from him.
– Bhagavad Gita
I sat in Ramana Maharshi’s cave, a dark and spacious recess about
halfway up Arunachala and overlooking the vast Siva-Parvathi
temple. I wondered how a man made up his mind to renounce the
world, to sit in silent meditation until he discovered Truth. How
many of us even know what solitude is, let alone could volunteer
for a lifetime of it?
When I walked outside, soon daunted by the dark and fathomless
night of the soul, I stood gazing down at the temple. The place was
more like a city, with courtyards within courtyards, vendors’ stalls,
street entertainers with performing animals in tow, and many people
engaged in activities that seemed to have little connection to any
Western concept of religion.
I saw it as charming, in a carnival and medieval way. From the
inner shrine, where the mighty idols of Siva and his consort dwelled,
radiated the great wheel of life, the worldly solar system spinning
around its divine sun. Where the sprawling mess that was the town
beyond fitted into this scheme of universal harmony, I was less
sure.
My guts had miraculously recovered from whatever waged war
on them, and I had no intention of missing another meal. I returned
down the mountain path back to the ashram.
The dining hall was a barnlike hut with stone floors and white
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