Friday, 26 December 2014


We're like moths circling a candle flame,
Seeking refuge in God's Holy Name,
Fascinated by the brilliant light of Self,
Yearning to escape the clutch of ego elf.

Then pining for the holy light divine,
We dive deep into our Heart sublime,
We dare immolate in its sacred fire;
Ego's dead, no more of me and mine's desire

Thursday, 27 March 2014





Liriope, raped by the God Cepharus, laid her babe in a cave,
That of Tiresius, half blind prophetic Sage of Ancient Greece.
A wise Stoic soothsayer, and farsighted necromancer grave.
The predestined fate of every human kind he clearly sees.
The aged Sage scrutinised this fair, fine feisty child
Gazing deeply into his sky blue eyes, serenely calm and mild.
“This lad shall live a happy life, unless he comes to see his face!”
The awesome decree scared Liriope who fled, like some creature wild.
She swore no mirrored glass would ever invade her household space!
The sturdy lad grew swiftly to shine as a handsome model youth,
Strong armed, spirited, carefree, honest, loyal to all known truth.
Rings of curls, forthright chin, noble nose, ruby lips, eyes of grace;
He was chased by sultry shepherd maids, and also ardent men,
Wanting warm friendship with this bewitching beauty, for then
Now at the tender age of sweet sixteen, he’d never seen his face!


Many a swarthy swain and shepherd lass vied for his amorous art;
But beneath his tender calf-like skin lay a hidden pride so hard,
For no one on this Earth who’d tried, had ever touched his heart.
While herding deer into their pens, as some huntsman’s guard,
A mountain nymph with strangest voice saw him rambling in a field;
She could never hold her peace, if she heard any voice she’d yield
To the sudden urge to answer, when that same voice spoke again.
She repeated the last words, she’d overheard and instantly revealed,
That to this tiresome fault she was afflicted, to her everlasting shame.
For Goddess Hera cursed her for seducing Zeus, a plan conceived
To trap the God. Hera shrieked “by you I’ve been betrayed, deceived,
With harsh punishment, for such wicked ways, I’ll, you surely tame!
Only the very briefest use of speech shall you ever now enjoy!”
But poor Echo had seen Narcissus, a true Adonis, a golden boy;
She planned to have this boy, her toy, and enjoy a mating game.


Young Narcissus was unaware of his charisma, to allure,
But Echo planned to snare the lad through her sweet desiring gaze;
He’d never seen his ravishing face, so fair, his mind was pure;
Fate now staged her dramatic game which promised great heroic days.



When Echo spied her wondrous ‘wunderkind’ wandering through the land,
His golden locks waving, mid red poppies and amber fields of corn,
Her smouldering heart caught fire, flickering flames were quickly fanned,
She stalked him with unceasing stealth, utterly fatigued and worn.
The nearer she approached the fiercer burnt her ardent flame;
Oh how she craved; she called “hello”, to start her playful game.
The youth had lost track of the deer herds prints, amongst the golden grain;
He called “Is any one there?”, then love sick Echo answered back the same.
He looked around and shouted “please come!” and “please come!” she echoed again.
He could see nobody there and called “why run away from me?”
Then he heard his voice return to him, pitched in a much higher key;
He cried “please let’s meet”; “please let’s meet”, her answer came so plain.
She swiftly rushed from the dark pine wood to take him in her arms,
He fled, and cried “stop! whoever touches me will come to harm!
I’ll never grant you such power!” weeping she echoed this refrain.


Spurned, Echo lurks in the gloomy forest shade, hiding all her shame;
She cries and pines in her cave, her heart aches with pain and grief,
Sleepless worry swiftly wastes away her anxious ridden frame,
No voices linger on, and her spirit’s slain by sorrow’s thief.
He’d mocked her as he’d mocked many lustful maid and ardent youth.
That night one scorned lad cursed in pain from a huntsman’s booth
“So may he fall in love too, and whom he loves may fail to gain!”
The Gods heard his plea and ordained this would manifest as truth.
Narcissus retired to a woodland pool where no human ever came;
The fresh water was cool, silvery, still, and chrystal mirror clear;
Tired from herding roving deer he sat down to rest right here,
Falling asleep he dreamed he needed drink , and woke up again.
Feeling parched he took a sip to slake his thirst with water cool,
Then his gaze was struck by an awesome sight in the centre of the pool,
A face beyond all beauty, he fell in love, a love which has no name.


Echo, her body wasted, remained a voice to haunt our world,
Narcissus lies, seduced by his own reflection in a pool.
Now this comic play will swiftly be enacted and unfurled,
To fall in love with one’s own face, is the hallmark of a fool!



He studied well that face of perfect beauty with awe, amazed!
‘Twas like some statue of a noble God, carved in marble white,
Its sparkling sapphire eyes twinkled like stars; at all he gazed.
‘Twas wondrous, blushing cheek mingling with tingling skin, so bright,
Now blinking, then winking, its neck stood firm on a well built chest.
Had any thinking man, born by nature, ever been so blest?
Like Apollo, there glowed glory from this most glamorous face.
He admired, suspired, adored, desired… , now to see the rest?
He turned his neck so slightly, shifting from his comfy place,
To his great surprise, the young god turned very slightly too.
He pursed his ruby lips to kiss the face, to love him, and to woo,
His passion quickened, his palpitating heart began to race,
He stared again, the awesome god had pursed his lips as well!
Suddenly, insight dawned clearly through his mind like a chiming bell,
That face he loved, must be his very own! Oh! such astounding grace.


Neither food, duty, rest nor sleep could tempt him from this spot,
He yearned with hungry lustful eyes that could never have their fill,
He burned with love for his own treasured face, fanning passion hot,
Then suddenly arose a fear that queerly made him feel quite ill;
He could never enjoy being the lover of some portrait in a pool.
Grief came, it sadly sapped his frame, as if he’d stamped a mile,
He’d be denied the object of his love, how ruthless, oh how cruel!
The Gods would make him sorely suffer as if he was on trial,
To die! to die for his beloved! Was this to be his dismal fate?
His anxious nerves were knocked askew, he tasted bitter bile.
Then he saw a greybeard, an ancient sage, come limping up his way,
Very old and bent, half blind, who it was he couldn’t say.
“I am Tiresius, I’ve come to help you boy, so rest with me a while.”


The Gods had intervened to save Narcissus from an aweful fate,
The Seer who foretold, “if you see your face, you’ll meet your death,”
Had arrived in the very razor’s edge of time before too late,
He’d come to aid this suicidal lad, to save his soul and breath.



“So you’re identified with your face, a picture in a pool,
That’s a bad mistake my lad, I shall try to tell you why,
If you think that;s who you truly are, you’re simply just a fool!
Real Truth is better, wake up from delusion, before you come to die!
You think you’re that body-mind, and Narcissus is its name,
A handsome boy, the girls adore, but that’s a pitiful shame.
Now gaze at me attentively, and tell me what you see.”
“I see your face, a grizzly, old greybeard, a body, halt and lame.”
“Do you see your own face now, or just that ageing head called ‘me’?”
“Only one face is there Tiresius, of course I can’t see mine.”
“Good, let’s pause at that Narcissus, you’re doing rather fine.
Now ask ‘who sees?’ aren’t you looking out from space and vacancy,
From a one eyed window without a frame, Consciousness of course;
That is who you truly are, pure Consciousness perforce!
Now listen well, and question more, I’ll surely set you free!”

“The notion ‘I’m just that body-lump is folly of the fool,
To know ‘I’m Consciousness playing Narcissus’, that’s wise!
You’re glued to that image, your face reflected in a pool.
That’s untrue, a mistaken fancy, a deceptive pack of lies;
To be free and live your life from the Reality of Truth
You must know what you’re looking out of lad, forsooth!


Narcissus realised he wasn’t that handsome image in the pool,
To fall deeply in love with his own lovely, handsome pretty face
Was the action of a silly stupid, gormless gullible fool,
Tiresius had taught him the Truth, oh such an act of Grace!

Friday, 3 January 2014



God graciously steers our skiff to the furthest shore,

Can man or woman wish for any gift worth more?

Than to wake up from dark deep sleep of samsara,

One's highest aim. Now thanks to Great Lord Ramana,
His direct path is shown for all who yearn to learn,

And wholeheartedly burn with inner fire to turn,

Surrendering to Bhagavan biding in their Heart,

With Self Enquiry, the highest desirable art,

A man or woman can ever attempt to try,

Before their predestined day when due to die.

With determination persistence and attention,

Diving deep into the heart with breath retention,

Are all one needs to achieve that blessed deed,

And through their Self Realisation be finally freed.


Tuesday, 31 December 2013

MAHA YOGA A Garland of Sonnets

A Garland of Sonnets
By OM (Oleg Mogilever, St. Petersburg, RUSSIA), 1986

Translated from the Russian by OM, 2004 Edited by Alan Jacobs, 2004
Sadguru is clearing the Path only for His devotees, Granting great Grace within and from heaven, And how lucky is one, who embarks on vichara, Yearning only for Atman as his God the Self.
Th...e Master, activated by his own Heart, Did not let Himself to dream, but left home, When He heard the call of Arunachala: “Leave it to Me, forget about the mundane!”
It seemed He was bearing His flesh by tapas, But the dagger of truth, into the heart of death, Was thrust into this youth by Direct Cognition.
Now for aspirants we’re given the living clue And everybody must repeat His experiment – The purpose came to light by His experience.
The purpose came to light by His Experience. “Yes, the body perishes. But it’s not my Self!” The fear of death is a most illusive snake Disappearing in the radiance of True Knowledge.
If ego is then the life of the world, and is Real But if it is only a myth, only the lila of Being. Where is the Truth? “The Self will soon appear When all forms and names are discarded.
Joking apart, there’s no Path more serious. ‘ Know Thyself ‘ – here’s the Practice, not a slogan, This maha yoga will work only for valiant ones.
You must travel through a blazing fire, Through the test of the bottomless well. O, seeker, don’t forget to wear your courage! ”
“O, seeker, don’t forget to wear your courage! It will support you in the sea as a lifebelt, If there is no any sign of hope from without, When impossible return to all normal footholds.
Catching sight of ego-self, inquiring, Keep attention on Self, but closing eyelids Don’t let consciousness, oh ignoramus, sleep, Let your self-enquiry act like a riding whip!
Dispelling a stream of thought-forms Be vigilant, courageous and rigorous Doing away with all ego’s sculptures.
In order to keep the unshakeable course Tirelessly increase your spiritual resource – Keep a strong mumuksha beneath the garment! ”
“Keep a strong mumuksha beneath the garment, A craving for Liberation, that powerful Will Which shall transform your Dream into a deed, Into effort of your Search, into the Path of Jnana.
In order to get the better of the old monkey – The mind as ego-self, stand firmly at your post, Know your aspiration as your second suit, Do the work continuously, without any flaw.
Always only abiding always into ‘That’ You shall feel yourself, boundless OM, As Bliss, Knowledge, and Existence.
So, my dear, be always on the watch, Inquire into a question, who’s regarded as you? Every moment don’t lose sight of the Task! ”

“Every moment don’t lose sight of the Task! Open wide the gift of inner sight! Only by a mood of earnest devotion Can one disperse the mirage of the universe.
It will lead away an adept with himself In order to stop the stream of his attention On the abode of eternal Fire-of-Existence, Desiring to destroy every available face.
The thought-ores dissolve without delay, Pursuing the source of these falsities, Not giving way to speech, to food, to dream!
Amidst nightmare of mental illusions In order to tear the mythical bonds It is necessary everywhere to see the Essence! ”
“It is necessary everywhere to see the Essence! That Lotus of the glory, embodied at the Heart, That hidden, secret Reality-Doorway, A scarlet flame on the bridge with a bonfire.
That way drive thy herds, the Sadhak, The indefatigable Cerberus of thoughts, And they will vanish in the crater of the Heart. You will be aware of the shore as only Silence. O, my dear! Be always watchful! Don’t miss out on your inborn Gift: You are the Unity of Being and Knowledge!
But to really experience this level You must first give up deceptive bonds, – Only by uninterrupted acts of Worship.”
“Only by uninterrupted acts of Worship And whole-hearted commited devotion You’ll burn bridges to sensual objects And be consolidated on the Path of Knowledge.
Give up by vichara your passions and whims When an obtrusive thought arises. The crutch of words has no need for you. Keep silence by subduing the heat of deeds.
O, dear, feel acutely the Heart’s air, Live in ‘Who am I?’ forgetting world and its breather, The Path of Self-enquiry is your true Path.
Know, only by the ascent of an earnest Search Amidst mirages of samsara’s reservoirs It is possible to win back your Primogeniture.”
“It is possible to win back your Primogeniture! When a kiwi bird in ancient times exhausted a vast sea With its beak, drop by drop, Siva’s Grace came! There is no grief! Like this labour dissolves hosts of vasanas
If without thinking about heaps of obstructions You are invariably on vigilant Patrol, Being on the watch of ego – the root of thoughts, Questioning ‘Who am I?’ there and here.
There are no more any sins, diseases and troubles! After casting them away as delirium of reasoning O, my dear, get down into thy bottomless well,
The Heart’s Path will lead thee forward, To that Reality which only lives alone. . . . . . . . . . . So aspire, being fully embodied in your Search!”
“So aspire, being fully committed in the Search! Let since earliest times, play of the fuss Not bother you, the dedicated adept, No more the greedy stings of a mosquito.
Without any expectations go on the Path! To Oneself! It is time, after leaving fruitless rooms of books, To practice the Return-to-thy-foundations Experiencing the world as a myth, a mirage.
A family, a work, the body are only shadows Of your true Nature, shining everywhere, Not ever having either birth or death.
As soon as ego arose and rushed boldly to the battle ‘Who am I?’ untill duality is still with you You are the Self-enquiry! The thread of Life there is only in ‘THAT’! “
“You are the Self-enquiry! The thread of Life there is only in THAT! The other is delusion, fraud and Illusion. The spiritual sabre of ‘Who am I?’ Will kill thought by this question of all questions.
But that daughter of distinctions, as before, without permission Still strives to disturb your Camp, your Eternal nature. Very sharp is the way of Knowledge, which removes all outgrowths.
O, my dear, throw off upadhis of the body, Give up all, to the very last one. To the death, end drive of the ego, the imposter in Self. . . . . . . . . . . . Constantly staying at vichara Cognize the unity with no end: Your goal is a Heart of Being.”

“Your goal is a Heart of Being. THAT. Which is inaccessible to vacillating thought And to a word – son of that shadow of Life, IT is within all parts, beyond life of ego-‘I’. A Single, Imperishable, Fatherland of all and everything. The authentic bliss lies beyond mirages of a day. There are not any further Truths behind IT. THAT is the Truth Itself.
Is thy warrior’s armor firm? Has thy sword of sacrifice hardened? You must without doubt, stop your profane life.
It will be burnt down on that sacred Bonfire Where your real Home is manifesting – In the infinitely innermost Flame that’s there.”
. “In the infinitely innermost Flame that’s there Is living your Atman, Guru, ‘I am’ living Which is not subject to good and evil – Your Master is invariably calling.
Have you heard my Voice through walls of illusion? Burn it to ashes by your Self-enquiry! Know only Love to Me, Practice it without any fear or treason.
Not losing your attention, oh my dear, Go through nights of Ignorance to the imperishable dawn Without breaking out of touch with Me.
We will meet in the source of Fire. And not before and not later. Only then ego – nail of the universe – loses its power.”
The ego – nail of the universe – loses its power Into the arms of Guru – the Self of all, The Great Bhagavan Sri Ramana. His sacred teachings are listened to now.
Sravana. By finding the Direction, Love and Devotion for quest of THAT, It’s possible to realize the purpose of Life – BE and enjoy felicity in awareness: “All is One”.
“ The Lord, I am Thine! Now – forward! To the Meeting! THOU art my Self… Not empty words but only this Path Will bring forward the era of Happiness – Being.
Let the Self-enquiry dry up a sea of vasanas, May tamas, rajas and their grief vanish And the Truth is shining as ‘I – I’! ”
And the Truth is shining as ‘I – I’ Into Itself, by Itself, in its Nature, By Consciousness which brings the adept to Bliss. Bliss, carried through the fiery coach.
“O, Guru! Save me by Thy Grace! As a doll of salt is put into the ocean When she comes make it sound, Let ego dissolve in the Heart, in Self!
O, so thin is the bridge – as the edge of a razor – To THAT, who ALONE knows the result of battle. Oh Lord, give me powers for not turning aside from the way!
I am going to Thee, checking the course with Thee, It is the boundless Aspiration to the Truth.” . . . . . . . . . . Sadguru is clearing the Path only for His devotees.
XV (The main Sonnet)
Sadguru is clearing the Path only for His devotees, The purpose came to light by His Experience: “O, seeker, don’t forget to wear your courage, Keep a strong mumuksha beneath the garment.
Every moment don’t lose sight of the Task, It is necessary everywhere to see the Essence, Only by uninterrupted acts of Worship It is possible to win back your Primogeniture.
So aspire, being fully commited in the Search! You are the Self-enquiry! The thread of Life is only in THAT! Your goal is a Heart of Being.
In the infinitely innermost Flame that’s there The ego – nail of the universe – loses its power And the Truth is shining as ‘I – I’! ”
Om Sri Ramanarpanamastu

Sunday, 15 December 2013



The King's daughter glows, all radiant within,
Her shining raiment's woven from purest gold,
She surrenders to her precious God of old.
She lives without a hint of guile guilt or sin,
She's triumphant, certain always to win
The struggle to save her sleeping flock and fold.
She's well beyond all reproach and we're told
Her word's still heard, within world's dreadful din....

An aspiring devotee yearned to wed,
This fair daughter of the heavenly King,
Then by Truth he would forever be led,
The sacred marriage of which most mystics sing.
She consented if first He Realised Self,
And freed himself from his vain egotistic elf!


grieve not.

death my friend
cuts the strings of change
and leaves the departed
growing old no more,
glorious and unchanging,
reposing forever
in our living memory.
remember, priceless one:
nothing real can be harmed;
and no illusion can survive!

BOOM! jai ramana-ji!

yosy flug             

Wednesday, 4 December 2013



On chequered squares of space and time,
Dark shadows dance their game of mime;
To slay the Self is their cryptic aim;
By sleights of mind, to heights they climb.

There sits their Chief, Black’s his name,
A proud ego is his claim to fame,
A cosmic game he’s forced to play,
Helped by his dark deluding dame.

False bishops at his feet do pray,
Marauding knights have feet of clay,
A pride of puppet pawns at rest,
His army’s poised in gaunt array.

The Lord of Light is truly blest,
The White Goddess for his Queen, no less:
With castled Sages on each side,
He waits to joust this celestial jest.

His soldiers, stately stallions ride,
Maintaining righteous order wide.
In silence, pawns withdraw and meditate,
Freed from the dream of seek and hide.

That Self wants Ego checked to mate,
The rascal fights to thwart his fate,
And kill his foe himself instead:
We’ll watch a battle taught and great.

By laws of Nature the rules are led,
The end’s perceived, pure consciousness ahead.
To wage this war in awesome glory
‘Till Black resigns; thank God, he’s dead.

After ages, growing grey and hoary,
Both lie boxed, the game was gory.
When ‘WHO’ created this sport is ready,
A new game begins again; another story!

  Alan Jacobs