Not for any price could I, O Mountain-mover, give Thee up, not for a thousand, Thunderer! nor ten thousand, nor hundred times that, O Lord of countless bounty!
O the good fortune to bare our bosom before raging coolness, stormy grace
Jamnotri, Gangotrti, Sumeroo, Kedar and Badri glaciers stand so close as if one could reach them by hand. In fact, a semicircle of glaring diamond peaks like a jeweller’s tiara decorates this Vasishtha Ashram. Their white snowy summits are all taking a bath in the milky ocean of moonlight and their deep Soham breathings in the form of cool breezes reach here continually.
The river of Life is flowing. None exists but God. Of whom shall I be afraid, of whom ashamed? All life is my God’s life, nothing other, He and Me too is He. The whole world is my own Himalayan woods. When light dawns, flowers begin to laugh, birds sing, and streams dance with joy! 0 that Light of lights! The sea of light is flowing! The breeze of Bliss is blowing!
Shakti or power has not any existence of its own. It may be manifested, it may not be manifested. It cannot exist apart. This Sliakti in the case of the individual is revealed as what may be called Consciousnesses motion or activity, maims (mind). Manas in motion and the phenomenal world being the obverse and reverse of one and the same thing; Manas at rest is identical with Consciousness. The Absolute (Brahma) Manas purged of its dross (desires, attachment) loses its fickleness and tends to become steady. Perfect steadiness being attained, manas is one with Brahma. By this sakshatkar Maya is overcome and the world is converted into a Garden of Eden, the Lost Paradise is immediately regained. Beauty breaks in everywhere. The sense of separateness being killed out, ail cares and anxieties are merged in the supremely sublime Existence, Consciousness, and Bliss forever and ever.
Lumps of light and brilliant snow served as (dry solid) water as well as luxury. Just after finishing the meals we were up again. Moving steadily onward and upward we toiled on. One young man fell down exhausted, his lungs and limbs refused to carry him any further; he complained also of giddiness of head. He was left alone there at that time. Proceeding a little further, another companion was senseless. “My head,” he said, “reels and reels.” He also was left to himself for the time being. The rest marched on. After a short while a third companion fell off. His nose began to bleed. With two men now Rama presses on.
The Present Dwelling (for the eye enamoured of external form) of Rama is a snug cottage, in the Mountain Amphitheatre, surrounded by a green-sward in a lonely natural garden commanding a fair view of the Ganges. Narayana and Tularam live elsewhere. Ram Buti grows in profusion here. Sparrows and other birds twitter heartily all the day long. Climate bracing. The song of the Ganges and the chorus of birds keep up a celestial festival