The birds that fly in the night can see through the dark. Such is the Nature of the inspirations that appear by the night. It is the night through which others sleep but the yogi's mind remains awake. Our Master, Swami Rama of the Himalayas , dictated all his works at night. In his LOVE WHISPERS, to the question
What do you do ?
He answers,
I gather blossoms dropped by the night.
At night a sadhaka's deeper mind is wide awake. Sometimes, in a tired body, the shallows of the mind may fall asleep, yet the depths remain engaged in exploring the treasures within. Soon the treasures, like the cream from milk being churned, rise to the surface, emerge into the shallows to become words.
It is the nature of truth : the revelation is beyond thought. After it appears in the inner surface of buddhi, it seeks a garment wherewith to clothe itself, and finds the robe called the thought. The thought emerges and finds for itself the robe called the word. The word wears the garment called sound. Thus the revelations reach the listener and the reader thrice enrobed, camouflaged. To reach the essence of revelation one must doff the sound and come to the word; must divest the word and reach the thought; must drop the thought and reach the revelation.
The thoughtless, wordless, soundless are the truths that are shown to the sadhaka at night. Even through the tired body, one awakens one's shallows to work. Whether one has a feather pen or a computer at hand, the "moving finger writes" - as said the Sufi Omar, the son of Khayyam the tentmaker. One must become the child of a shelter-giver to be qualified to fly with these night birds, to fully inhale the fragrance of these blossoms dropped by the night, to savour the feasts that God serves to his disciple all the night through. The free-winged birds of revelation that can see through the dark fly only in that night whose other name is Dawn in the Hymn to the Night in the Rig-veda.
Here, then, I, son of a Master Shelter-giver, offer you the breezes blown by the flutter of the wings of the night birds; sounds, words, thoughts.
Short ones. There is not time at present to record the long works that appear; they are etched in memory to come forth to you later. There is not time now. Nor resources to print. Nor a printing press. No funding. This collection comes to you in a limited edition of one hundred copies only, a delicate bouquet of the tiniest blossoms.
Please accept these incompletes. Some day they will complete themselves. These are but faint echoes of what is sent forth from the Masters. For the original, go direct to the Master's writings, reading lists from which are presented at the end of each segment herein.
May the night birds fly through your mind also and wake you up from sleep each night to the display of the treasures of the Himalayan wisdom. May your deeper mind never sleep again.
Invoking upon you the blessings and grace of the Himalayan Masters,
Disciple of Swami Rama of the Himalayas