Wednesday, 30 December 2009


"There's no Time; it's a mode of
convenience, thought up by Man,
No Space,a Theatrical Stage set up by our
pre-programmed brain,
No body,just molecules,atoms,that revolve in
Self's own span,
No mind,a narrow guage to measure things,on
our Dreamer's Train,
No Good nor Evil,Right nor Wrong,these are
polarities of the Age,
Nothing perceived or conceived is "Real",so
says the Advaita Vedantic Sage.

Monday, 28 December 2009








On the boundless ocean of Self divine,
Billow bounding foam and endless froth of thought,
Muttering about mundane 'me' and 'mine',
Sensual pleasure is what mad ego sought.

But the Self of pure awareness bright,
Reflects ego's dream-like body, mind
And world; all are mirrored by its light.

That's the Truth we're bound to find,
If we simply pose the koan 'who am I'?
Persistence is needed on this sacred quest;
In time the ego topples and must surely die.

All that happens is for the very best,
The Self in all its glory is revealed,

Saturday, 26 December 2009


Let's don a ring of blazing beauty,
Red firestone ruby set in antique gold,
Worn by heroes who knew their sacred duty,
Diligent, persistent, loyal and bold!

They performed the primal Holy Task,
To ponder on the cause and reason why
We're imprisoned on planet Earth, and ask
The liberating question' Who Am I?'

If one cleans and polishes this ring,
In time the Great God-like Sage appears,
Then if we love devotional chants and sing,
He'll throw away our host of anxious fears,
To take us on the path to Liberation,
His way which leads to Self Realisation.


How may the Sage, Self aware, by oneself be
The Grace of His compassion is equally blessed
On everyone; His Presence is known , not guessed,
Our inner-eye of Being sees well it's very own.

Those drenched in logic will themselves dethrone;
He who wants to know? Yet,Everyman is graced,
And freed from fear or sorrow, whenever faced
By His silent gaze, in his own enlightened zone.

His wisdom, care and mercy, flow to all,
As with mother's love each child's inferred.
In equanimity, each question's heard,
Preventing, through Grace, devotees fall.
For those who Self-Enquire, His urgent call!
He soon responds with an intuitive word .

Thursday, 24 December 2009


The supreme act a man or woman can perform,
Is surrender of the mind to God alone;
If with sincerity and highest moral tone,
Soul's then received and no longer mourns forlorn.
The thief repents, to steal no more, torn and worn
By conscience pricks, he now sincerely does atone,
Rejoices in freedom, instead of imprisoned groan;
So mind's surrender sees the birth of bright new dawn.

Like a boxer who's been battered by punch and blows,
Throws the towel into the ring with real relief,
The asprirant who surrenders, now fully knows
He's forgiven like that bad repentent thief.
Surrender is the golden key to freedom's gate,
Better we act now , then leaving it 'till too late.

Wednesday, 23 December 2009


A lmighty mountain, emblem of the Self !
R ed ruby stone, radiant with light,
U nborn, deathless , sacred chord of Aum ,
N ear, as God, you’re dear, inside my heart,
A bundantly showering, true love and grace.

C onsciousness-Absolute’s power unfolds,
H elping devotees of Great Sage Ramana.
A t your call, he came to dwell and teach
L ifting worldly burdens from all who knelt
A nd prayed to wake up. from life's dark dream

S urrendering at your lotus feet , "Oh Lord !
I am the Self!" you loudly call, to all,
V ictory over demonic ego-mind !
A lmighty mountain, emblem of the Self!


Surrender and Self Enquiry are Golden Keys to our magnificent teaching,
So start to serious practise, call off the seeking and cease endless preaching,
Like those deluded ones who say, 'You're perfect as you are now, just stay in a blissful state!'
And then all those others who profess, 'Why bother,it's all ordained by fate?'

Beyond a shadow of doubt Advaitic Non-Dualism is very far reaching,
If we assert we are the 'doers of action ', then God's Will we are breaching,
But in meeting this teaching we are quickly brought to knock at Heaven's Pearly Gate
Where intellectual games and metaphysical conundrums all end in checkmate.

Let's rejoice in gladness in whatever God sends us in our pilgrimage on Earth.
This miraculous, melodramatic adventure, starting from the day of our birth,
Passing through our childhood years when rebellious ego started to raise its brazen head
Shouting, screaming,compulsive daily demanding loudly, feet kicking wildly spread.

Then on to passionate adolescence, loving experience for all one is worth.
But tiring of riotous pleasure, the soul feel empty and loathes such a
meaningless dearth.
And so into this wilderness poor Mary wanders, feeling barren,lost and wretched,
Struggling to find an oasis, festooned with apple blossoms and sweet pink orchids.

She yearns for help and prays hard with faith to her childhood God with a
passionate cry,
"Oh please give me some meaning to my sordid discordant life or I feel
I will die!"
And then, a vision appears before her – is it reality or illusion?
Shimmering and shining with radiance – is it just another trick of delusion?

A firm voice spoke from inside the light with awesome power and might,
but clear,
"Know your Self, my child, and ask the question 'Who Am I?', banish all
your doubt and fear."
"But I can't know who I am," she moaned, "nor how to know myself or the
meaning of life!"
And with downcast eyes, she wept inconsolably pouring forth her woes and strife.

The next day in a Mind-Body-Spirit Book Shop where she went to browse and look,
She came across the title "Who Am I?", a force impelled her to buy this book .
And turning the front cover quivering with wonder and awe she discovered therein
A photo of an Indian Sage with a face of great peace, emanating within.

It struck a resounding chord deep in her innermost heart with immediate force
She proceeded to peruse the pages with the uttermost attention, of course.
‘Self Enquiry’, ‘Mind control’, ‘Peace and Happiness, ‘Self and Individuality’
‘The Jnani and the World’, ‘Sadhana and Grace’, and ‘Aham - all is Unity.

She knew the greatest spiritual adventure of her life was about to begin,
A journey deep into her Self that with this Great Guru's help she was
certain to win.
So she read Chapter One, ‘Self Enquiry’ which told her to ask herself, 'Who am I?’,
Which she did with zeal and earnestness but there was no answer that came in reply.

She begged the Sage for guidance to aid her in this ponderous, perplexing plight,
A serene voice within aroused her and answered in the middle of the night
"Listen to me, my sweet child, for fate has decreed that it's time for you to die,
But it’s not a death to be afraid of, just the end of your individual ‘I’.

The mighty sword of Self Enquiry will surely bring about this mystic death,
Do not expect answers! Questioning, alone is the way to stifle ego's breath."
Just focus your undivided attention through the right hand side of your chest,
Be brave, be resolute, be patient – all will be revealed in this source
of great rest.

Hold your breath if you wish, it keeps the mind quiet, then dive deeply
into your Heart
To find the source of the 'I'. This is the method that I wish, my child ,to impart.
And so, inhaling deeply, she followed the advice of her innermost guide,
Putting all her concentration where she knew her immortal soul does reside.

"That is correct," her inner voice replied, "keep on trying just a little
each day
And in time, where your tendencies are tied, you will cut that binding knot away."
"But those tendencies are who I am,’ she said starting to feel bewildered and sad,
I’m not sure that I want to lose my quirks and foibles for I think it might drive me mad."

"Foolish child", the voice replied, "those form the walls that stop you
knowing ‘who you are'
I'm teaching you how to know your Self, your True Nature, and remove that prison bar!"
"Please don’t be angry with me," she said forlornly, "I promise
that I shall try my best."
And knocking on the door of the Heart a voice replied, "Come in,most honoured guest!"

After that Mary, for that was her name, persevered daily, as she had been told
Deeper and deeper inside she dived like a pearl fisher girl, and ever so bold.
And lo, amazing trinkets of thoughts, feelings and emotions Mary found within,
But midst rusty concepts and broken dreams, were gems of wisdom strewn therein.

One morning Mary vowed not to be distracted by these soap bubbles of thought,
But to plunge below those baubles as deep as she ought, 'twas the Source of 'I' she sought.
She did not know what to expect - overwhelming joy, satchitananda,bliss,
But instead she felt as if she were falling down into a deep, dark,abyss.

It was as if a loving power had grasped her mind and then held it firm
and still,
All chattering ceased and a tranquil peace invaded and seized her selfish will .
Like a new born babe, she opened up her eyes and looking all around in awe
Mary viewed the magnificence of God's creation hardly believing what she

Her ego had fled,it was as if someone had removed a badly aching tooth,
She realised all was One, she saw without separation, an Immortal Truth.
"I am limitless, unbounded, free!" she cried, not knowing if she should
laugh or weep.
"I am God, the Absolute, the Self. No longer hypnotised by the painful veil of sleep!"

Paula Marvelly and Alan Jacobs

A poetic cooperation we wrote together a few years ago

Tuesday, 22 December 2009


Take the deep leap into firm certainty of Faith
With determined, unshakeable utter fearlessness!
Let His sacred mighty mountains be our shield
Against sense storms of restless monkey mind.

Enjoy an untroubled, carefree, clarified calm,
By handing over our whole imaginary burden,
Of worry, concern, stress, and fancied anxiety
About pre-ordained duties, and many affairs

To our Lord of love, and infinite compassion;
Mighty God, Self of our own Being in the Heart,
To whom we’re unconditionally surrendered,
Taking sole refuge with worshipful devotion.

Even tribulation is welcomed as for the best!
We practice mind-control by repetition of His Name,
And dive into the heart, questing for the source of ‘me’,
Full of gratitude for His boundless love, and grace.


Let's pray for might to fully Self Enquire
And Dive into the Heart with fervent fire,
To pierce the thick sticky glutinous mire
Of dark stale vasanas from which we tire,
And burn them soundly on the funeral pyre.

Sunday, 20 December 2009


All objects are emanations of the mind;
Each Being's driven by One Almighty God,
He makes the clouds to weep and mountains nod,
While Seeker strives by quest, his SELF to find.

God magicks this dream fit to trick the blind,
He rules by Love but sometimes with a rod.
'I Am', He frees from shell of earthly clod,
He acts with great compassion, firm yet kind .

Deluded we thought our Will was ever free,
Not puppet-like, masquerading on a string.
In fact we've reacted, we've never done anything,
Our deeds are but reflexes of that Arch-Deceiver 'Me'.

'Me' is the Tyrant who's usurped God's throne,
Now we know He truly reigns, majestic, and alone .

Saturday, 19 December 2009



Without some objective ‘thing’ that really exists,
Can there be worthwhile reflections on existence?
Thought free, the inward Being, the Heart persists;
How can we know its fundamental subsistence?
To conceive it, one must truly BE THAT, at Heart.
Conceive a wise Self Realised Soul in one’s mind,
All notions, about his Sage-like, essential part,
Are futile, unless we’re like he IS, we will find.

Regard a beautiful root-hanging Banyan tree,
Can we know the life of its hidden roots below?
It can’t possibly be conceived by you or me;
Only the tree knows its own state as it grows.
Without oneself, actually, consciously Being,
Can there be knowledge about ‘who is seeing’?


Our greatest ever fear, is the dreaded fear of death,
End of the much cherished, experience of life;
At the point of dying, the rattling of the breath,
Prompts us to seek refuge in God! Fear’s rife
And only divine protection can calm the mind.
Heartfelt prayer helps us loose our selves at once,
It’s not the Pure Conscious Self, that dies we find,
But ego-self, struck with fear, that we renounce!

In egocide, our Absolute Self is now regained.
From our True Nature, we’re Immortal and thus free!
Like some larvae, struggling in earth, to be maintained,
May become butterflies, and fly to liberty;
So are we transformed, if at time of death,
We surrender, before we take our final breath.


Knowing, from within, through subtle senses five;
There’s an apparent coloured, sonic, solid world;
No doubt the cause of that, is One Great God, alive!
The canvas, the light, fine work of art unfurled,
The seer and the seen; all are He, the wondrous One.
The supreme artist wields a magic brush of light,
A fiery comet is its hair; ‘neath Moon and Sun

He draws, on the primed canvas, of day and night,
Many fantastic, fabulous, magical forms;
From electrons to galaxies, so lustrously bright,
Excelling in excess, all accepted human norms.
But this myriad macrocosm, second to none,
By His microcosm in our Hearts, we know is One!


God, world and soul, perennial triple truths,
From which traditional religions, all proceed;
While ego’s false sense of me rules: forsooth,
The three are separate from each other, indeed.
But in the poise of pure Self’s, transcendent state,
This threefold division is maturely outgrown.
So this tiresome, dogmatic, religious debate,
Is no longer helpful for the truth to be known.

“My faith’s infallible absolute truth” says one,
Why all this fuss and interminable bother?”
“No, my creed’s the way to God!” claims another.
So proceed endless arguments beneath the Sun;
It’s ego which carves from the One some trinity,
Real Self, ends this quarrel, extending to infinity

Thursday, 17 December 2009



Our Mother Divine lifts her sacred cup,
She pours pellucid, precious, potent balm,
Curing, healing, lifting pilgrim’s spirit up.

With power of Love, perfect, peaceful, calm,
She holds poor palsied pilgrim in her palm,
And plies him with pure nectar, honey sweet,

So pouring from her silver grail a potion warm,
To soothe all cares and salve his blistered feet,
With Love’s ointment: oh, perfect Paraclete!


Feeling his fiery steed between his knees,
He watches restless spirit’s breathing flow;
The stallion settles and he reins with ease.

Now tamed, he canters where he wants to go,
To Himalayan summits crowned with snow,
A pure white splendour glowing bright in light,

Above dark turmoil of dormant worlds below.
He arrives at awesome Selfhood, blazing bright,
Sun burst of splendour, ends soul’s dark night.

Now, White Knight hoists on high his pointed lance,
To joust with Death, a fierce Titanic tilt.
As he mounts his steed in martial prance

He strikes hard at dragon, up to the hilt,
To end all dark sorrow, fear and guilt.
Free from sense of doership, an act replete

With holy knowledge, a temple truly built
To worship God, he kneels to kiss the feet
Of Death’s slayer; such a sacred blessed feat.


Wielding his spear of sharpest concentration,
The God-love soldier plunges its silver blade,
With mighty force of lucid sheer attention,

Deep into the dragon’s heart. Unafraid,
Delivering the coup de grace, vile ego’s laid!
Well honed with dispassionate discrimination,

Whetted with ardent zeal, no wavering shade
Of cowardice, his steel, with keen anticipation,
Slays his wayward mind of Self alienation.


He twangs the bow of Self-Enquiry, to enter
A sharp arrow of clearly aimed insight,
Zinging to the bull’s eye of Truth at centre.

Dispelling all doubts in error free flight,
He finds Love, a beckoning beacon light,
Glowing within his inner cave of heart.

Such marksmanship is God-Warriors right,
To win this vision, the true martial art,
Holy war, waged ‘til soul and body part.


Water bearer draws deep from Rachel’s well,
A jar of truth for pilgrim’s thirst to slake.
Raising the cup he hears the temple bell

Which calls him home to pray and penance make
To God, whom he adores for His own dear sake
Alone, and free from lust for selfish boon.

His love showers rain of grace, and fills the lake
Where sails the white swan of devotion, soon
To glow beneath the golden harvest Moon.


Primordial Sage, in silence, takes his seat,
Emitting waves of God-like love to those
Who sit surrendered at his lotus feet.

His mystic vision’s sure, and truly knows
The sure destruction of all disciples’ woes,
That halt the climb to Self’s most blissful place.

His merciful love abundantly flows,
Ever granting pilgrim power to trace
His own Self ablaze, in a sea of grace.


So bold pilgrim ascends the mountain path,
His friends are unconditional faith and trust.
Gentle compassion rains, a healing bath

Of grace, cleansing his feet of mundane dust,
Freeing him from greed, ego, anger, lust.
Fearless he walks, awakened, to his goal,

Unattached, discriminating, and so just,
‘Til attaining consummation with the Whole,
He finds, hidden deep at heart, Eternal Soul!


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

There reigns a King and Black’s his name,
A strong ego is his claim to fame,
This cosmic game he’s made 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, his Queen, no less;
With Castled Sages on each side,
He waits to play this celestial jest.

His Knights, stately stallions ride,
Maintaining righteous order, wide.
In silence, his rooks then meditate,
Enslaved to dreams of seek and hide.

Self wants Ego bound, checkmate;
The villain fights to thwart his fate,
And slay his foe himself, instead;
We watch their struggle, taut and great.

By laws of fate the rules are led,
The end’s perceived, foreseen ahead;
To wage this war in awesome glory,
‘Till Black or White resigns, then drops dead.

After ages, growing grey and hoary,
Both lie boxed, the game was gory;
When ‘Who’ made this game is ready,
Battle starts again; another story!

Wednesday, 16 December 2009


ALAN JACOBS was born in 1929 in London. He was a wartime evacuee to the United States at the age of 10, and lived in New York State, attending the Irving School in Tarrytown. He returned to England in 1943 and went to Malvern College, and then served in the Royal Army Education Corps for National Service. He entered the family business and was trained in Management Studies and Clothing Manufacture at the Tailor and Cutter Academy. He was later appointed the Production Director of Willerby Tailoring.
When the family business was sold he became an art dealer and established a reputation as a specialist in Dutch and Flemish 17thC. Paintings, ending up with a Gallery in Duke Street St James’s. On retirement he attended poetry workshops at Morley College and the City Literary Institutewhere he was taught Prosody by the Poets Christopher Reid and the late Julia Casterton. He later became a Professional Life Coach (Coaching Academy), A Neuro Linguistic Programme Practitioner and then an author.
From an early age he has been interested in religion and mysticism. He commenced a personal search for truth, and studied comparative religion. He then entered the Gurdjieff Society in 1957 and remained there until the early seventies. He then met Jiddu Krishnamurti, and studied his teachings until 1979. Next, he discovered Ramana Maharshi and became familiar with his extensive literature and spiritual practice. He is currently President of the Ramana Maharshi Foundation UK.
His first book was Dutch And Flemish 17th C. Painters A Collectors Guide for McGraw Hill. he then compiled an Anthology the 'Element Book of Mystical Verse' for Element Books, now republished as 'Poetry For The Spirit', by Watkins Publishing and Barnes & Noble. As a Poet he has versified, for ‘O’ Books both the 'Bhagavad Gita', 'The Principal Upanishads', and 'The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius', as well as compiling a major prose anthology for them entitled 'The Ocean Of Wisdom'. For Watkins Publishing he edited 'Ramana- Shankara- And The Forty Verses', versified the 'Essential Gnostic Gospels' and compiled an Anthology, the 'Wisdom of Ramesh Balsekar'. XLibris have published a volume of his own poetry, 'Myrobalan of The Magi' and a History of London from a spiritual perspective entitled Mysterious London'. He has just completed an anthology 'The Wisdom Of The Native American Indians', 'Plato's Republic- An Abridgemnent and Modernisation' and 'When Jesus Lived In India' all for Watkins Publishing.
His first collection of Poetry, Mastering Music Walks The Sunlit Sea contains only sonnets and roundels. It is the first of a planned series of small collections of poetry for Matador Publishing. He has been regularly published by the Poetry Magazine 'Reflections', and compiled an anthology of their Poets for the Rowan Press. He has three children,Laura Jacobs Bsc.B.A., currently at Birbeck College, London University, working for her Phd. in Milton Studies, Dr.Keith Jacobs M.A.,Phd, Asst.Prof.of Sociology at the University of Tasmania, Graham Jacobs, A Senior Partner at St.James' Place, Investment Advisors, and five grandchildren.
He now lives in Edgware, Middlesex, and annually visits India.

Tuesday, 15 December 2009


From Sun Absolute shine all luminaries ,
The sparkling myriads of diamond stars
Twinkling in their galactic fluidity
Illuminating child planets and infant moons .
All are ignited by that same Great Sun.

On my night stroll I see flashing glow worms ,
At home, moths attracted by my candle‘s flame.
This same great light from the Sun Absolute
Is also that invisible flame within my Self.

Monday, 14 December 2009


Let’s surrender our minds before His Name,
To those roseate softest lotus feet,
Of Lord Ramana of Arunachala fame.

Buried deep in the Heart he dwells there complete,
Immortal formless Consciousness bliss.
Then we're granted the blessed princely kiss
That wakens soul’s sleeping beauty from her fate.

Sunday, 13 December 2009


Beloved! your bewitching glance of grace,
Stole one dark night into my troubled mind,
And saved my soul; a deed of mercy kind.
Let me glimpse the bright halo round your face
Unveiled. You seized me captive in that place
Hidden deep in my heart, you were hard to find.
The balm from your open palm healed my blind
Deluded mind, all pain vanished without a trace.

I loved you then the only way I could
Unimpeded by the selfish impish 'me'.
You opened the lotus of my heart for good,
Mercy flowed like milk from breasts so free.
Your beauty's all aglow for me to see,
In blaze of Self, I've wakened, understood!

Saturday, 12 December 2009


A Legend of Lord Shiva from the Hindu Puranas

Part 1

Enjoying the sport of love with Lord Shiva
On the eastern slopes of mount Mandara,
Her hands illuminated, like coral-gold,
Parvati playfully masked her husband’s eyes.

The whole cosmos plunged into inky jet,
Black as a raven in a pool of tar.
Behind Shiva’s third eye, burned a fierce blaze,
Her sweat simmered like rutting juice, and flowed
As drops, spilling into Her open womb.
A babe was conceived by the Great Goddess—
Nine hard spent labouring months later
Alas, how tragic! what shame! a monstrous birth!
A brutish babe with greasy matted locks,
Smelling rankly of piss and cesspool drains,
Roaring, kicking, wailing, sticking out his tongue;
This demon, born in darkness, was also blind.

Parvati, stunned, asked her august Lord,
“What is this deformation I’ve created?”
Lord Shiva replied in stern stentorian terms,
“He’s our own, born from veiling my three eyes!
Our child of demonic power is blind,
Because in foolish jest you blocked my sight;
Name him Andhaka, the ‘sightless one’,
I’m his father, so rear him as our son!”
The Divine Mother nursed her deformed babe,
And told her maids, to guard him from all ill.

Time passed and a devil King called Golden Eye,
Who envied his brothers many children,
Burned and yearned for a son to call his own.
Retiring to a forest glade, he prayed
For the grace of Shiva to grant this boon.
After a year of hard austere penance,
Great God Shiva appeared to Golden Eye.
“Andhaka’s temper, alone, equals yours,
Cast off gloom! welcome him as if your son!”
Golden Eye came out of his yogic trance,
Hymned honeyed thanks to Shiva and his Queen.
But the Lord of Yogis warned the Demon King,
“Should Andhaka commit many evil deeds,
I, myself, shall be forced to purge his sins!”

Golden Eye failed to reign for long as King:
Proudly boasting of a son, he fought the Gods,
And disturbing righteous order, was slain
By none other than Vishnu the Protector.
Young Andhaka was then crowned the Demon King!

Part 2

Andhaka was mocked by youthful friends,
They played mischievous pranks and cruel games,
They tore the wings off flies, broke birds’ eggs,
And cut whiskers off roaming feral cats.
“Blind ass!” they shrieked “how can you be King?
Ignorant , arrogant, beastly blind brat,
You were never Golden Eye’s natural son,
Obey us and we might spare you more abuse!”

Shaken, Andhaka hid, deep in the woods,
For years he lived an ascetics’ life of pain;
He chanted mantras, stood on one leg,
Fasted, cut, singed and lashed his tortured flesh.
Eating wild fruits and berries from the trees.
In despair he tried to hurl his wretched frame
On a funeral pyre, a hideous death.
But Brahma, moved by pity, stayed his hand.
“Andhaka your zeal has won my help!
Choose a boon, whatever your heart desires.”
“Oh Lord, how dare I fight my cruel foes,
With shrivelled sinews of body, and blind;
Heal my broken bones and restore my sight,
Then grant me, great Creator, eternal life!”
Brahma heard his earnest plea, and replied
“There can be no staying the hand of death!
Choose another more acceptable boon,
Then I shall grant your physical requests.”
“Then who’s the purest woman in the world,
Let her be as my gracious loving mother,
I shall worship her as my highest ideal,
But destroy me if I lust after her flesh.”
“I shall surely do that” said Brahma and left.

Andhaka regained his sight, his foulness gone,
His face shone with a strange newfound beauty,
His body straightened out to fresh powers.
Assuming his right of Demon Kingship,
He formed a devilish force to take control
Of the heavenly lands. His strong army
Even put the Great God Indra to flight!
Minor deities, fearful, paid him homage.
He took a thousand beauteous Nymphs hostage,
And indulged himself in dalliance,
On the soft lush lawns of ecstasy’s verge;
He frippery frolicked in fun, fancy free,
Lost in the maddening spicy scent of musk.
At table, he pigged on beef and pork,
Fired by strong drink, greed, arrogance and pride.
He raced his chariot in the fields of heaven
Disturbing wise scholars and pious priests,
He built stables and a brazen tower.
As a self-styled Sage, he perverted rites,
Taught false doctrines, and ravaged the land,
Like a bull elephant in spring time rut.

Part 3

One day, his Chief Minister out for a ride
Spied an awesome sight, returning hot paced,
He told his King, “Oh Lord Of Demons!
Dwelling in a cave, I saw a comely Sage,
His lotus eyes were closed in deepest bliss,
A crescent moon silvered his matted hair,
Thick elephant hide adorns his hips,
Wild serpents twine round his lithesome neck,
Skulls hang as garlands on his deep blue throat.
His mighty arms wield a golden trident,
He has four powerful arms, smeared with ash.
He’s guarded by a thug with a monkey face,
Holding weapons in rough and brawny hands.
But, and this will interest you, my King,
A maid, of ravishing beauty sits near him,
Crowned with a tiara of precious gems,
This lady, fair companion of the Sage,
Is worthy of being held and seized by you!”

Andhaka, shook, quivering with lust,
He sent his Minister to ask the Sage
“Whose son are you? in heaven’s name, why here?
And who is this fair lady by your side?
My King, Andhaka says “penance with a maid,
Is forbidden, surrender her to him
You foolish sage, or you will have regrets!”

The Sage knew Andhaka was the Demon
He had sired, and smiling he replied,
In awesome, firm and well measured tones,
“I am Lord Shiva! Tell your so called King,
I’ve no memory of a Father or Mother,
I perform prolonged austerities
Outside the realm of time, a penance,
Which the universe cannot see, to regain
Mighty powers lost in the sport of love,
Tell your Demon, take and do what you like!”
Then Shiva sat, plunging into silence.
His paramour mirrored his natural peace,
Her veil illumined the tapestry of worlds.

Part 4

Blind Andhaka, had never known his father,
He’d been reared instead by Golden Eye,
He neither feared nor respected Lord Shiva,
He strongly desired to win the unknown maid,
Little suspecting she was his mother true.

Andhaka crackled like fire aflame with ghee,
Smitten by the gadfly arrow of desire;
He hot-hoofed to his palace for strong wine;
The drink inflamed his mind to mad frenzy.
He strutted like a cockerel in chase,
Passion scorched, he advanced on her cave,
Which thuggish ape Viraka guarded zealously.
He raised his sword and struck at the Demon King,
Andhaka’s sword was shattered by the agile ape,
Andhaka slunk away with broken pride.

At Shiva and Parvati’s primal home,
The silent Goddess, sat still, within her cave,
Guarded by Viraka, their simian slave,
Waiting for her inscrutable Lord’s return.
Shiva had left for the green pine forest,
Where he performed austere hard penance.
The Lord of Dance and King of Demons
Were both gamblers in life’s game of dice,
Each prized the daughter of the Mountain King.
Andakha returned, his senses spinning
Like a top, flushed with heady, vintage wine.
Puffing and preening he tossed swords, spears,
And javelins, fired arrows, threw missiles,
Rocks and discs at the ape, downing him in swoon.
The pile of weapons hurled, had blocked the cave,
In which the Goddess prayed to Brahma and Vishnu
For help in confronting this Demon King.

The Gods heard her earnest, heartfelt plea,
And transformed a thousand Sages into maids.
They entered the cave of the Mountain Queen,
Performing deeds of valour in her aid.
Thunder crashed, as if at an aeon’s end,
With pounding drums, clashing cymbals,
Conch shells roaring, the ape came to his senses,
And stood aloft in full and mighty strength,
Assisted by the god-like maidens,
They threw piles of weapons piece by piece
Back at the cruel Demon King Andhaka.
Hearing the noise of cataclysmic war
Shiva sped swiftly like a lightning flash
To protect his beloved wife and home.
On seeing the mighty Lord, Andhaka fled,
And Parvati reunited with her Sire.

Part 5

Andhaka sent a messenger to Shiva,
“Surrender your paramour to me
Lord of all Earth’s devious serpent powers,
Or I’ll dispatch you to the House of Death!”

Then that wise three eyed God of all goodness,
Destroyer of evil and hat of pride,
Auspicious in embodiment as a flame,
Wearer of snakes and skulls as his garland, said
“Fight me then, if you think you have the might,
Of what use are wives, even full of beauty,
Or wealth, even piled high as a mountain peak,
Oh poor slave of narrow sensory spectrum,
Do what deeds you are preordained to do,
I shall do what acts I must do, trust in that!”

The dreadful Demon wrestled with the God,
Hand to hand in fierce combat! Form with source,
Battled in the sand like two titan tigers,
With knees, teeth, nails, feet, arms and butting heads.
The Demon’s fists struck him, with all his might,
Yet he bled, wounded to the bone’s marrow,
Pierced to the heart by Shivaic fire,
Which penetrated, skin, cells and pores.
Shiva speared him, lifting him high in the sky
Of unending space, like a screaming child,
The vengeance of the Lord, Three Flaming Eyes,
Impaled Andhaka on his trident’s tip.
With a bestial groan like birth begetting,
The vital force within him, soon poured out,
He knew Shiva, was his real Father, the One.

The refuge of the Age, measureless Shiva,
Pranced a wild and whirling dance of triumph,
He waved Andhaka, staked, aloft on high,
Now scorched by sun’s rays to whitened ash,
Then drenched by torrential monsoon rain,
‘Till touched at last by shafts of gentle grace,
He became Realised in the Self as One.
In pristine purity, Andhaka sang,
A paean of divine praise, to the Holy One.

Part 6

Great Lord Shiva, all compassion, Three Eyed
For inward seeing, in my heart abide.

You entered my jet black demonic force

To transfigure, ravishing me at source.

You’re Lord of all energies, the noble King
Transforming them to dance, to make them sing.

Destroyer of Kama, imp of greedy lust,
With one glance from your third eye I shall trust.

They call you the awesome One, to instil
A trembling in the heart, I obey your will.

You fill my soul with awe as name of God,
You’re above the mind, a mountain range untrod.

Assuming all the forms of worlds at will,
To teach devotees ‘That’ which alone stands still.

Your dance, as Natarajan is heroic,
Engendering virtues both brave and stoic.

Your dance, with one stamp, is world destroying,
You brought me back to Self, all enjoying.

Destroyer of demons and wilful devils
Pounding rock ego to dusty levels.

Your body with purest white ash is smeared
For a dish of egos, well cooked and seared.

Dark One, terror to all those whom you deny,
But freed by the sacred quest of ‘Who Am I?’

Death, in the well of life, where is your sting?
Deep in our Being lies Self awakening.

Your cosmic dance, in the cremation ground,
Frees through blazing fire of Aum’s holy Sound.

You sport matted hair, a beggars disguise,
Through which Ganga flows, speech of the wise.

Mighty Yogin, your strength of stalwart oak,
Is the teaching of |God, vile ego to yoke.

The hero’s ever patient, to receive;
Facing boldly, all that happens, by your leave.

Self hidden within, is the wish to be free,
‘Who Am I?’ is the key to liberty.

Purusha, within the core, Being Supreme,
My heart’s wish to waken, from life’s long dream.

Support of the soul, with all her treasure,
Substratum, amethyst root of nature.

Within all which penetrates the mind of man,
Grace revealed, is your prime, predestined plan .

Bestower of riches in all three worlds,
Endless diversity, your mercy unfolds.

Garlanded with secret serpent power,
Kundalini raise, sustain and flower.

You’re the consumer, dear majestic Lord.
Of flesh-bound egos, by your sweet accord.

Performer of the secret rituals of Love,
Tuned to Tantra, by bridal marriage above.

Your sustained, controlled emanation,
Retains the seeds of God intoxication.

Clad in the noble elephantine hide,
In strength and power, eternally abide.

You’re the wild madness for Existence,
Consciousness, bliss and their quintessence.

You’re generous lender of divine support
For the failing devotee, his shield and fort.

The spirit boundless of Para-Atman
At-One-Ment, whole in both God and man.

Partaker in frail mortal human frame
To savour, in your divine eternal game.

As wielder of the great cosmic power,
In bliss you sip eternity’s flower.

Hidden amongst rushes, you lay unborn,
Effulgent as sunlight before red dawn.

Moon crested One, reflecting godlike Grace,
For all to see and know your shining face.

From your cosmic stance of silent plenitude
Streams forth destiny, love and magnitude.

You are the truly perfect, purest One,
Above, within, beyond the blazing Sun!”

Part 7

Obtaining perfect knowledge of the Self,
The being called Andhaka, gained release,
And in Shiva’s hand took wing, then blest;
Your love and praise has pleased me Demon King!
With Bull Nandi, you shall command my hosts.
All misery and doubts are now dispelled,
Like rags and tatters lost in boundless sky!

Parvati received with love and gentle grace,
Her tender child, now through wisdom reborn.
He fell to the ground and blessed her lotus feet,
Was raised and welcomed to her bounteous breast.
He drank the limitless light to fill his sight,
And sang one song from which all ragas flow,
Eternal love, to Shiva’s dance sublime.

In the family of the Lord of Yogis,
Andhaka became a learned Rishi,
All creatures through him may be clairvoyant,
He clears the perils on the pilgrim’s path,
So demonic force, blind son of creation,
Regaining his father and mother’s bliss,
Transformed ny nectar streams of healing grace,
In service consecrated to Lord Shiva,
As his devotee Rishi

Friday, 11 December 2009


THE SELF is dear to all, from dearest love,
Devotion flows like a stream of golden oil.
The Sage knows Self within as God above.
His child, after hard and persistent toil,
Still sees himself apart from God, yet melts
Mere logic to find faith from all turmoil.

The radiant heat of love the foul dross smelts,
His heart's desire, becomes God's lotus feet.
The one who attaches form to Holy Name,
In time transcends that image, just the same.
With Devotion ripe, and hearing Truth complete,
The blossom on the bough flowers Self replete.

The fool who prays for selfish ends desired,
Fulfilment never finds; when he maintains
His love for sake of God alone, well inspired,
This feeling, being granted, he yet remains,
In love with that One, the only true emotion.
He grows a lotus of pure white devotion.

On deep blue sea, its root deepens that notion
Within man's frail craft, God guides us o’er the sea
Of strife; allows Soul to unfold, as Self of sky,
The One all wise, unlidded, all knowing Eye.
Devotional Surrender is thus the master key
And take us back home to ever dwell with Thee.


THE SOUL that's free, bathing in Being,
Untroubled by scribbled script or worried world
Her transcendent root is 'inward seeing',
As a blue lotus glows sapphire like unfurled,
Freed from vexatious life while alive, sees Earth
At sea in space and time, peaceful, empearled.
She whose pure breath's in darkling arms of death,
Basks in pure Being at One with her birth.

God is clad in light; each one who's free
May mother bright pearls,by destroying
Binding bonds. Reborn in grace to liberty,
Oh best of souls, in all, equality enjoying,
To the ignorant alone, differences arise,
Great Soul in Self abiding receives the prize!

Wednesday, 9 December 2009


My hymn is sung to that great and holy One,
Who dwells in splendour, the radiant light,
That shines in every heart, and every Sun
Of Self-effulgent beauty, blazing bright.
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!
Make our actions worthy in Thy holy sight.

Oh Lord, we pray to keep Thee ever in our sight,
Oh Thou, whom we adore, our God, the holy One.
Thy rays of grace and love are always bright
In strength and power, as in the golden Sun.
Keep us from wavering, fix our hearts on light,
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!

Thou art All and Thy mighty will be done!
Not foolish will of ego, lest it darkens sight
And screens us from Thee, oh majestic One.
Thy blinding brilliance of eternity bright
Is stronger, deeper, than summer’s noon-day Sun.
Let’s bathe in Thy blissful balm of blessed light.

Lead us from nescient dark to conscious light!
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!
And ever mindful, we’re resting in Thy sight;
Thou art father, mother, friend, oh holy One,
Thy perennial fire is shining clear and bright,
Deep in our hearts, flames Thy splendid inward Sun.

Thou within us, who bides, is also in the Sun,
Dark clouds are dispelled by thy beacon light.
On bended knee we praise Thee, primordial One,
Who through grace revealed, demists our frosted sight.
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!
Polish the mirrors of our souls, make them bright.

Oh jewel of faith, that sparkles diamond bright,,
And shines fiercely like our bosom friend, the Sun,
Thaw our frigid hearts with warmth and light,
Thou art All and Thy mighty will be done!
Oh, let our deeds be worthy in Thy holy sight,
To hymn our love for Thee, oh great and holy One.

Praise to the wondrous One, burning beryl bright,
Make Thy wisdom light to guide us, as the Sun,
And may Thy will be done, in Thy all knowing sight!

Tuesday, 8 December 2009


MASTER, like a Sapphire brilliant, bright,
My sky blue lotus, nestling deep at heart
Lies bound, its calyx tightly wrapped, pray start
Its unfolding by heat.Ignite pure light
To waken Love: dispel soul's dark night
Of ignorance by white rays, beamed to dart
To heart's core, biding in her caverned part.
Self's hiding behind a veil, reveal her might!

Sky blue lotus rooted in mire so rife,
Flowers in the pure waters of your space,
She needs help, sent from ever boundless grace.
The well honed blade of your pruning knife
Cuts weeds, so she may blossom in her place,
To adorn the altar of your Temple, Life!


My recent book reviwed in NOVA

When the Bible says of Jesus that the 'boy grew in stature and wisdom', he may well have been absorbing the wisdom of sages in India. Rosamund Burton traces a fascinating journey ...
Did Jesus really ever visit India and Tibet? This is a question people all around the world will shortly be asking themselves when the $20 million Hollywood blockbuster movie, The Aquarian Gospel, is released in 2010. The film is about Jesus' missing years and is directed by Australian-born Drew Heriot, who was launched onto the world stage in 2006 when he directed The Secret.

English author and poet, Alan Jacobs, happened to be in India in 2008 when he read about this blockbuster film in the Indian press, and was intrigued. The idea that Jesus travelled to India has been called "the tale that won't go away" and has captured the imagination and interest of millions, Jacobs recounts. He suggested to his publisher that he write a book giving the evidence for and against the hypothesis that Jesus travelled to India and Tibet - and the result was When Jesus Lived in India published earlier this year. I speak to him on the phone about the book and his personal opinion on the matter...

In the Bible, the only reference to Jesus' life between the ages of 12, when he is debating with the elders in the temple, and 30 when he is baptised by John the Baptist, is "the boy grew in stature and wisdom".

An interesting source of evidence for the idea that Jesus did live in India is a book entitled The Aquarian Gospel written by the Reverend Dr Levi H Dowling, which is now in its 53rd reprint and 18th edition. Levi Dowling, who lived from 1844 to 1911, was the son of a minister and by the age of 16, Levi himself was preaching to large congregations. He served in the United States Army as a chaplain during the American Civil War and, after attending university and medical college, practised medicine until he retired.

According to his second wife and biographer, in addition to practising medicine, he also spent 40 years studying the esoteric sciences and in deep meditation. He found himself able to access the Akashic records, a huge collection of knowledge, which is believed to record every event in the history of the cosmos and to be stored in a non-physical plane of existence, Jacobs explains.
Other people who have claimed to be able to access the Akashic records are Madam Blavatsky, founder of the Theosophical Society, Edgar Cayce, the most documented psychic of the 20th century, and Rudolf Steiner, the Austrian philosopher.

In The Aquarian Gospel, Dr Levi Dowling claims that Jesus did visit India and Tibet during his missing years. It describes him travelling with the royal prince Ravenna of Orissa through India, and studying for four years with the Brahmins at the Jagannath Temple in Orissa where he learnt about the Vedas, the ancient sacred texts of Hinduism. The Brahmins were astonished by this young Jewish boy's understanding of these ancient texts. But they became angry and drove him out of the temple when he began to question the Hindu caste system, and why the Untouchables were not allowed access to sacred texts and teachings.

The Aquarian Gospel also mentions that Jesus went to Tibet's capital Lhasa where he was given access to all the sacred Buddhist manuscripts, before he travelled on to the province of Ladahk in Northern India, and then into Lahore. In addition, it recounts that Jesus returned to India after the crucifixion when he arose from the dead.

Scholars have found discrepancies with The Aquarian Gospe,l Jacobs explains. For instance, it mentions that Jesus visited Lahore, which did not exist in his time, and also claims that Jesus knew the Chinese sage Meng-tzu, but the latter actually preceded Jesus by three centuries. However, The Aquarian Gospel has a very large following, particularly in the United States, and has never been out of print.

The idea that Jesus spent his missing years in India first came to light at the end of the 19th century when a Russian called Nicolai Notavitch published his book, The Unknown Life of Jesus Christ, in the 1890s. Notavitch was an author and historian and in 1887 he visited a Buddhist monastery in Ladakh. There he was told by the head lama it was believed that the essence of the Buddhist teachings were in those of Christianity because the prophet Issa, their name for Jesus, had visited Tibet 2,000 years earlier.

The lama told him to go to the monastery of Hemis, near Leh, in Ladakh, and there the abbot read him the verses of an ancient manuscript which related to Issa's visit to Tibet. With the help of an interpreter, he recorded them.
These verses are known as the Tibetan Gospel of Issa.

They give a history of the people of Israel and an account of Jesus' birth, as well as of his death. Like The Aquarian Gospel, the Tibetan text also says that Jesus travelled to India, where for six years, he was taught about the Vedas by the Brahmins. It also supports the claim in The Aquarian Gospel that Jesus spoke out about the Brahmins' treatment of the Untouchables, and spent time with and taught these downtrodden people.

When, it's claimed, the Brahmins decided to kill Jesus, he quickly left the Juggernaut area where he had been based and went to Gautamides, the birthplace of Buddha, and here studied the sacred sutras. In the Tibetan Gospel of Issa it is said that after six years, Issa, whom Buddha had chosen to spread his holy word, had become a perfect example and teacher of the sacred writings. It also says that Jesus visited the Hemis Monastery in Ladakh and describes his return to Judea and his subsequent preaching, arrest and crucifixion.

When Notavitch's sensational book was published, an Oxford professor called Dr Max Muller was asked to investigate its veracity. He sent an English schoolmaster based in Agra to Ladakh where he was allegedly told by the Hemis Monastery abbot that he had not met Notavitch, and that he knew nothing about the manuscript.

Yet 40 years before Notavitch visited the monastery, according to Dr Holger Kersten, author of Jesus in India, a Mrs Harvey went there and described viewing the manuscripts. Also, after Notavitch, a man called Kaliprasad Chandra went to Hemis and was told by the monks that Notavitch's account was truthful and was shown the manuscript. Further, in 1939, a Swiss nun and the President of the World Association of Faith were also shown the manuscripts.

Dr Holger Kersten went to visit the Hemis monastery in 1979, but the manuscripts in question could not be found. But he did see evidence that Notavitch had actually been to Hemis. Kersten also discovered Hindu texts written between the 3rd and 4th centuries describing how Jesus had come to India.

Another interesting piece of information comes from the Koran, which does not mention Jesus' missing years, but says that he escaped the crucifixion and travelled to India, settled in Kashmir and later died there. It is a view supported by highly respected Islamic scholars. There is actually a temple at the place in Kashmir where he is believed to have lived and died.

There is no definite evidence as to whether Jesus did or did not visit India and Tibet. As Alan Jacobs says, "You are really in the field of possibilities and probabilities.

What I have discovered is this. Christians don't like it, so it is not credible. Hindus like it, because the idea that Jesus visited India is as attractive as if he visited Great Britain or anywhere else. Islam likes the idea that he was in Kashmir and the Buddhists like the idea that he was in Tibet, so really it is where you stand on this. You could say that your own attitude is conditioned by your own religious belief, or what you would like to believe. But what actually happened we will never know, unless more evidence comes up."

However, what does fascinate Jacobs is the folk legend which has existed for 2,000 years that Jesus was seen in Tibet, Nepal, northern India and Kashmir.

In his book, Alan Jacobs also considers other possibilities to account for Jesus' missing years, one of which is that he lived with the Essenes, a Jewish ascetic community. It was a religious community that had a lot of rules that Jesus later preached, Jacobs explains, including communal meals, baptism and the monastic life. Some of his friends including John the Baptist were known to have been Essenes. If this is the case, the likely reason it is not mentioned in the four Gospels in the Bible is due to the Essenes' link with Orthodox Judaism, and the Christian Church's desire to disassociate itself from Judaism.

Parahamsa Yogananda, founder of the Self-Realization Fellowship, contributed hugely to bringing greater awareness to the West of the spiritual wisdom of the East. In his two volume work, The Second Coming of Christ, he shows Jesus' teachings are connected to yoga, one of the world's oldest spiritual paths to achieving oneness with God. Yogananda's belief is that the three wise men who came to Bethlehem when Jesus was born were great rishis, sages from India. So, from the beginning of his life Jesus had a very special connection with India. Then, when he was 12 or 13, he joined one of the caravans travelling from Palestine to India, and spent many years there and also in Tibet.

Alan Jacobs is Jewish by birth, but he explains he has studied all the main religions and written extensively about Christianity, including two books on the Gnostic Gospels.

When Jesus Lived in India includes paraphrased versions of the relevant texts of Dowling's The Aquarian Gospel and also the Gospel of Issa and Jacobs puts forward the evidence for and against the idea that Jesus lived in India, but admits that we shall probably never know one way or the other.

Finally, Jacobs adds, perhaps today in this Age of Aquarius, world of globalisation and era of communication, there is also a desire to emphasise more what the main religions have in common rather than their differences. And that explains why the idea that Jesus lived in India and embraced the teachings of both Hinduism and Buddhism is now so popular. Having personally studied both Buddhist and Hindu teachings, but also feeling very aligned to Christianity and its beliefs, I am certainly excited by this possibility.

When Jesus Lived in India by Alan Jacobs is published by Watkins Publishing and costs $24.99.

Looking for Spiritual Awareness Courses & Meditation Classes in Melbourne and Victoria? Click here for the NOVA Online Directory ...

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Friday, 4 December 2009


On the ocean shore of an alienated aspiring soul,
Wild thoughts stampede like a herd of unsaddled horses,
They frolic on the foaming rocks, feeling they are whole.
Mare and stallion jostle in this sport on racing courses.

Sometimes the stormy waters become serene and calm,
Mirroring narcissistic life as in a magic pool,
Soon all lies quiet, without any trace of harm,
Even for my dinghy which transports this crazy fool.

When a sense storm breaks I flee to my cabin down below,
And batten down the hatches waiting for the clouds above,
And rainbow entertainment, to swiftly fly and go.
I pray for the coming of Love's snow white turtle dove.

She flies by, bearing an olive branch of emerald green,
I stand and wait aboard my craft, silent, still once more.
I've fled the rough tempest of mind's stricken struggling scene,
My dinghy's reached God's peaceful beach on quite another shore.

Thursday, 3 December 2009


Daily life's a swiftly flowing stream of re-born Souls
Each are playing a role on this sad Ship of Dreams,
As preordained by God Almighty for their growth
To Enlightenment and Liberation so it seems.

Myriad are the changing scenes in time and space
As souls are reborn after a deep sleep of rest.
Comes the day when tired of suffering in this place,
There's a call to awaken from that vale of tears.

Then the Mighty Lord through Grace sends His Teaching
Which tells us how to awaken from our fears.
The golden keys are Surrender and Devotion,
To safely cross life's tempestuous ocean.

The mighty Grace of the Sage is forever there
To help and free us from darkness and despair.