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Excerpts: Toward a Philosophy of Perception- The Magnitude of Human Potential: Cloud Optics
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Toward a Philosophy of Perception-
The Magnitude of Human Potential: Cloud Optics
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TEACHINGS AND MANIFESTATIONS OF SHRI DHYANYOGI

From Toward a Philosophy of Perception: The Magnitude of Human Potential—Cloud Optics, by Margaret A. Harrell. (Reprinted from Love in Transition, Volume I, essay “A Man Called Milton: Experiments in Consciousness,”):

To write my Exceptional Human Experience autobiography therefore means holding the biographies of others. Even for an EHE autobiography, the details might sound unbelievable, fantastic—embedded and encrusted with precognitive experience, if seen in hindsight as that. The last link, in fact, is the death “transition” of a saint in India, Shri Dhyanyogi Madhusudandas, August 29, ‘94 (whose official Western biography I had been helping edit), on Lord Krishna’s birthday. He died (by “consciously leaving the body”) in Mahasamadhi. That was on the day after my own two-volume book was finished—in computer-PK restyling (psychokinesis, or mind through matter) that made the writing on every other page disappear in the printout except for the final letter or two on every line down the right side of the page. Unaware of the Mahasamadhi, as in experiences in the past, I saw no immediate connection, as I am sure the reader will not either. The point of my life was to make the connections—not one connection, but threads and pathways of connection, more appropriate to a critic of a novel, who studied image development. But this line of thought—not usually followed on an everyday basis, this metaphysical strain, this symbolical thread—was the only way to understand my life.



From Toward a Philosophy of Perception, (same essay):

In a dream in the ‘81 period, an impression-imprinting giant monkey—with long arm outstretched—headed single-mindedly toward me, looking neither right nor left (in ‘94, I learned of the monkey god of service Hanuman in the Hindu Ramayana); then repeatedly, determinedly he slung me around in circles over his head and, throwing me to the ground, left me for dead—while I watched overhead (as if in a near-death experience, but in a dream!), to see if I lived. Hanuman, I didn’t know, was strongly associated with Shri Dhyanyogi. But then, neither did I know of Dhyanyogi-ji. There was going to be an unavoidable initiation, into a new view on life—its boundaries, where the known stops, where the edge is of our former understanding. This is where we can all push the frontiers further, beginning in my case with the necessity to look death into the eyes. Moreover, to do so through the eyes of some close to me who would die and ingeniously attempt to keep contact in ways that gave not only emotional but, as in the case of the computer, sometimes concrete quantifiable—and widely witnessed—proof. If not proof, at least something interesting in itself to investigate, while if one truly followed the narrative line, it would be entirely difficult to dismiss it. This dream is a key point in tying threads together—points spread across a large map, points of connection obvious after, but only after, events occurred as years passed. Finally in the summer of ‘94, with the Mahasamadhi (conscious leaving of the body in “death”) of Shri Dhyanyogi, the wave collapsed. But only beginning in ‘95 did I understand his connection with the human-sized monkey now identified as Hanuman, with whom he frequently expressed identification (of which there are many attestations in his landmark biography, something else that didn’t exist in English before). For sixty years Dhyanyogi was priest of Bandhwad, India, ashram, built in the early 1800s to house a 200-pound, 1,200-year-old statue, or murti, of Lord Hanuman, miraculously discovered following Hanumanji’s instructions to a farmer in a dream where to dig. By ’95, the symbolic near-death experience, forecast in the dream in ‘81, would have occurred. I would have been mysteriously struck down (in ‘92) by what doctors called “post-traumatic shock as the aftermath of a car accident or fall.” Yet I had had no car accident or fall. Neither had I had a near-death experience (though Dhyanyohgi-ji had). The explanation eventually seemed to me to be an elaborate, painful initiation—in which the vertebrae of the neck and of the lower back squashed together, for no apparent reason—resembling the picture in the dream, where I had watched overhead to see whether I was really or only apparently dead. A psychic said that I must tell my body it wasn’t preparing to die—that as the mind expanded, the body, partly to make balance, also because it recognized the symptoms, was preparing to die. She further referred to crashes into my lower chakras— A note in aftermath: Only 11 years later would this abruptly, completely, spontaneously subside, lift, give way to a new bodily structure, again based on energy.
 

1 From his official biography, while in early manuscript, translated from A Pathway to the Self, written in Gujarati by Babu Parekh (recent publication, “As told by Anandi Ma,” with the title This House Is on Fire in August 2004): “His devotion to Hanuman was not new. He had developed a relationship with him from early childhood. Happening to see an idol or picture of Hanuman anywhere, it was hard for him to leave that place. He would gaze at it for a long time without even blinking his eyes.” An observer: “I see Lord Hanuman in Dhyanyogi’s back” (pp. 17, 132). Hanuman could “swell himself to the size of a mountain or reduce himself to the size of a man’s thumb” (Tales of Hanuman comic book).

EXCERPT ON DHYANYOGI-JI AND MILTON KLONSKY


(describing a light body meditation in early 2001), from Toward a Philosophy of Perception, (reprinted from Margaret A. Harrell, “The Gift of the Natural Mind: A Consciousness,” Exceptional Human Experience, 2004, pp. 169-170):

Behind that analysis, or insight, is an experience that took some time to crystallize into words. During a couple of the meditations at the two-day seminar I received two “messages.” But one of the most extraordinary things, to me, was that two faces (those of Milton Klonsky and Shri Dhyanyogi, both no longer “in the body”) were involved. That is not customary with me. In my earlier [Exceptional Human Experience, or EHE] Newsletter report, while knowing that “the experience” was the important thing and the key, I didn’t have the frames of reference to recount it in that way. At that time I focused on the first message (from Milton Klonsky)—the implication of human potential being in fact an essential human contribution. Each individual contribution, taken as a whole, was a resource of the planet vital to Earth’s survival, including the implication of there existing such things as repositories of information involving the individual and the planet. I went even so far as to speculate on some sort of “symmetry”—or a dynamics turning on relationship or ratio—between problems and the potential for their solution, some sort of mathematics of the mass of problems relative to the solution possibility (revealing a dynamics of human potential involved in containing and combining information).

     The second “message” (given by Shri Dhyanyogi)—not yet in focus in February 2001, more faraway-seeming—was understandable and extremely revealing after 9/11. I will develop it only slightly here, to the extent that I can connect it to the point in the first meditation, summarized above...

     First, I knew the experience could go in many directions, that is, there were many possibilities for uncloaking its implications. I had experienced it before it was “stamped” by the mark of any one direction (in quantum physics, this “stamping” happens in “collapsing a wave function,” also called “reduction of the wave function”). It is perhaps difficult (usually considered impossible) to report an experience as multidirectional, or even locally noncentric—composed as this one was simply of energy and impulse, before it is “definitively” observed and thereafter confined in its most identifiable focus. I knew quite well that it could go in one direction for one observer, another for another observer—and do this through time, in increasing variety, if initially presented while it contained its potential for defining itself differently for different readers. The importance of this was that from such a position although still holding the compacted nucleus of the message, it is accessible through any number of future potential directions. This means it has the energy of all possibilities still intact. It is equally specific, to view the “frothy wholeness,” as would be a more narrow single vein, and it has a reason to be perceived by an appropriate individual in just that particular vein or amplitude. As time passed this was one of the points I returned to as part of the quality of the experience—as opposed to its explicit message. As such, it was important to me to describe the dynamics that such a particular experience of receiving information brought with it: the special dynamics by which a kinetic sense of wholeness comprised all the information, of facts, sensations and insights. And, it was as important as the multiple meanings themselves. Like an uncollapsed wave function (“state vector”) in quantum physics, the material had not yet been “observed” or singled out by consciousness by exclusively favoring particular perspectives of its meanings. On the other hand, one could almost call it a “multiply collapsed wave function,” but without withdrawing any energy from any direction—which as I understand it is a contradiction in terms. It was like a kaleidoscope that refused to stop long at a viewpoint. The trick was to not bring down any “weight” of observation, though taking in the full impact. Such observing, I believe, requires following the “frequency” of the whole.

     For me, the peak of the experience was that it still had no sustained partiality of viewpoint or direction, even though it disclosed many directions inherent in it one after the other—or one “inside” the other—an inevitable continuous formation of self-refueling, recycling, multiply individualized perceptions taken in snapshots of the Whole, each self-evident, once beginning with an eruption of awareness. As if in a kind of spinning stillness, new bits of organization would materialize in total clarity. Later I found another word for this, the Zen Buddhist satori, or sudden flash of enlightenment which reveals the “nature and wisdom of mind” and moves the person who reaches this state into the practice, from then on, of “living in the present.”
 


 

References

BRIGGS, J. & F. D. PEAT. Turbulent Mirror: An Illustrated Guide to Chaos Theory and the Science of Wholeness. New York: Harper & Row, 1989/1990
DAVIES, P. Other Worlds: Space, Superspace and the Quantum Universe. New York: Touchstone, 1982.
DHANYOGA CENTERS (Antioch, CA), ed. Authorized translation of Babu Parekh’s biography of Dhyanyogi-ji in manuscript, 1990s. Revised for 2005 publication as This House Is on Fire (Anandi Ma).
HARRELL, M. A. The Will To Initiate and Evolve. EHE News 8, 2001 (8-13).
——. The Gift of the Natural Mind: A Consciousness. Exceptional Human Experience 17(2), 2004 (169-179).
——. Toward a Philosophy of Perception: The Magnitude of Human Potential—Cloud Optics. Bloomington, IND: AuthorHouse, 2005

 

 

 

 

                        

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