As one extracts butter By churning the curd, I have found the Truth By churning the mind. Meditation is my churning rod, This body is my churning pot, Om is my churning rope; Atman is the butter: So says Sivananda.
I was tired of this illusory life of sense-pleasures. I became quite disgusted with this prison of body. I had Satsanga with Mahatmas. I imbibed their nectarine instructions. I started my perilous journey to Brahmapuri, Which is otherwise known as Niralambapuri, The distant Brahmic abode of splendour and glory, My original Home of pristine purity. I crossed the dire forest of love and hatred, I roamed far beyond the world of good and evil, I came to the borderland of stupendous silence, I caught the splendour of the Soul within. I stood in speechless wondor and delight. A strange thrill passed through me. The mind dissolved in the ocean of bliss, The ego melted in the vast Unknown, The illimitable realm of perennial joy, Where there is neither time nor, nor thought, nor sorrow.
(a) Satsanga - Group Meditation, Chanting, and Discusssion. Literally, 'Fellowship of Truth' (b) Mahatmas - Great Souls or Beings (c) Brahmapuri - Dwelling of the Absolute (d) Niralambapuri - Original Home of pristine purity
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