Life and Spirituality

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Valley_of_flowers_uttaranchal_full_view.JPG by   Araghu “Theologians may quarrel, but the mystics of the world speak the same language.” ― Meister Eckhart L eaving behind ambitions of world and attainments of the world, most of his wealth and property, keeping only the minimum necessary to sustain his remaining years, he became a recluse. When he entered the forests on the mountains and set up his abode there, he became a hermit, a mystic yogi. At first his sleep was disturbed as he tossed and turned through the night, as he resolved the dilemmas and anguish all of us face while in the world for gain, ambition and desire. In time, the tossing and turning subsided. His sleep became as sweet as it was when he was a child. He would wake up early with the same delight that a child wakes up when it is holiday, for every day is a holiday now, each day with its own new magic. He now enjoyed the flowers of the forests as

O n a forested hill side, at a point where there is a little level clearing, sits the mystic yogi. He sits still on soft ground, under the shade of an ancient oak, by the side of a stream of clear water that runs down the hill. He is oblivious to the dance of butterflies that dance about on wild flowers around him. He is oblivious to the sounds of the gurgling stream as it rushes over pebbles and rocks rounded through the ages, or of the chirping of birds that hop from branch to branch. He is free of fear or any desire, completely at peace. His eyes are closed and he breathes slowly, evenly. A single word repeats endlessly in his mind – Allah, broken into two syllables – Al with his inward breath and lah with the outward one. He is not a Muslim. He believes in the mystic truth of all religions and that the Almighty has an infinite number of names, Allah being one of the easiest to chant because it synchronizes with the cycles of breathing with such wonderful ease. His mind is