|
Swami Vivekananda and His Pet Animals |
| July 17, 2006 by admin |
|
The following except from "Vivekananda: A Biography" by Swami Nikhilananda (published 1953) was forwarded by K.M. of Seattle.
"After the Swami's return from East Bengal he lived a relaxed life in the monastery, surrounded by his pet animals: the dog Bagha, the she-goat Hansi, an antelope, a stork, several cows and sheep and ducks and geese, and a kid called Matru who was adorned with a collar of little bells, and with whom the Swami ran and played like a child.
"The animals adored him. Matru, the little kid, who had been—so he pretended—a relation of his in a previous existence, slept in his room. When it died he grieved like a child and said to a disciple: 'How strange! Whomsoever I love dies early. '
"Before milking Hansi for his tea, he always asked her permission.
"Bagha (the dog), who took part in the Hindu ceremonies, went to bathe in the Ganga with the devotees on sacred occasions, as for instance when the gongs and conchs announced the end of an eclipse. He was, in a sense, the leader of the group of animals at the Math. After his death he was given a burial in the grounds of the monastery."
Swami Vivekananda was a great Indian Spiritual Teacher who left his body in 1902. Many people with psychic vision or past life remembrances feel that Swami Vivekananda, in his passion to serve the Westernizing world, was reincarnated in the West to provide the deeper personality vehicle of the Avataric Great Sage, Adi Da Samraj, founder of Fear-No-More Zoo. In response to these visions and memories Adi Da has clarified the nature of His relationship to Swami Vivekananda. |
|
|
|
|
|
Swami Brahmananda's Love of Plants |
| November 16, 2005 by admin |
|
Maharaj [Swami Brahmananda] had a great liking for plants and trees. In whatever place he lived for a considerable time, it was his pastime to plant orchards, flower-beds, fruit and vegetable gardens. He took personal care of them. He enjoyed their growth and beauty as they existed in nature. He looked upon them as Nature's offering to the Virat (Omnipresent Being).
Maharaj could instinctively find out the peculiar needs of a tree or plant and devise the necessary nutriment. In this way he turned a dying plant into a luxurious one with profuse flowers or fruits as the case might be. Sometimes by a special treatment he astonishingly improved the size, color and fragrance of the products.
[Quoted from "Swami Vivekananda's Contribution to the Present Age" by Swami Satprakashananda. Swami Brahmananda was one of the most highly regarded monastic disciplies of the 19th century Indian saint Sri Ramakrishna.]
[Pictured at left is a Hong Kong Orchid Tree planted at Da Love-Ananda Mahal Sanctuary, a retreat sanctuary established by Fear-No-More Zoo Founder Adi Da Samraj.] |
|
|
|
|
|
Bhagavan Nityananda With Animals |
| June 23, 2005 by admin |
|
[The following story about Bhagavan Nityananda (189?-1961) of Ganeshpuri, India is excerpted from the book Nityananda: The Divine Presence by M.U. Hatengdi (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Rudra Press, 1984).]
Late one evening in 1950, devotees were sitting outside the Ashram on the western side. The Master sat in front of them on a raised area that was enclosed by a small ledge. Behind him was a drop of about six feet into the fields. There was little talk, but even when sunset brought darkness, no one wanted to leave before the Master.
After a time, a pair of bright eyes materialized out of the darkness, steadily approaching the group from behind the Master. At first it was thought to be a cow, but as the animal got closer, it was clear that these were the bright eyes of a big cat. Strangely, no one was able to utter a word or to shout a warning, yet all had a sense that trouble would be averted. The tiger paced up slowly until it was directly behind the Master, then lightly balanced on its hind legs and rested its forepaws on his shoulders.
Without moving at all or looking back, as if he had been expecting the animal, Nityananda lifted his right hand and patted the tiger's head. Satisfied, the tiger jumped down and disappeared towards the Mandakini. Later, the Master said tigers are the vehicles of the goddess and since this was the abode of Vajreshwari, tigers were to be expected.
Many tales are told of the Master's ability to understand animals; in Udipi the Master used to tell the owners of a caged parrot that they should release the bird, since it just cursed them all the time. Eventually, Nityananda released the bird himself. On the other hand, in Ganeshpuri during the early forties one devotee always brought his caged parrot for the Master's darshan. In my own experience, during a visit in May 1944, the Master interpreted the song of a nearby bird: "He is saying that it will begin to rain in three days." The bird's weather prediction proved correct. And in yet another instance during the Ganeshpuri days, he reassured a devotee who was frightened of snakes that the nearby cobra was harmless, since it was chanting. |
|
|
|
|
|
Anandamayi Ma Visits Margosa and Banyan Trees—A Story |
| June 14, 2005 by admin |
|
This story about the great Indian Teacher Anandamayi Ma is excerpted from Anandamayi: Her Life and Wisdom, by Richard Lannoy (London, 1996). Shown in photo at left is Anandamayi Ma.
One afternoon, after taking their midday meal, a small group of companions set out by car for Lucknow. After they had passed Unnao, a lady sitting bundled up in the back of the car in gauzy white robes exclaimed, “Look, Didi, what a lovely little village!” The woman addressed as Didi looked indifferently at the passing view. In all directions stretched the same unchanging expanse of farmland, dotted here and there with clusters of trees and the mud huts of villages. It was a typical scene in the monotonously vast Gangetic valley. Their car swept on, raising a cloud of dust in its wake; with the sun high in the sky the scene was shadowless and almost devoid of color. “Weren't those trees beautiful,” the lady in the back persisted as the car sped on. “Come on then,” replied Didi patiently, “lets go back and look at them.” “But the car has already taken us some distance away,” responded the other with some hesitation. “never mind,” Didi put in, “let’s go back, driver, please!”
When the car had returned most of the way, it turned off the road and bumped down the track between fields. Silhouetted against the vast horizon, a distant peasant went about his work. The car came to a halt at the edge of the village. The lady who spotted the trees got out of the car and set off at great speed in their direction. Without turning towards the other members of the party, she commanded them: “Bring the basket of fruit and all the garlands that are in the car.” Didi did has she was bidden, carrying them all in her arms as she ran to catch up. There was a pond beside a large house with tiled roof and smoothly molded mud walls. Beside the pond stood two young trees, one a banyan, the other a margosa, growing side by side.
By this time villagers began to collect, curious to know what brought so unusual a vehicle as a motorcar to their rustic dwellings. The woman in the cotton robes of dazzling whiteness cut a striking figure amidst the dun-colored surroundings, the dun colored garments of the villagers and several dun colored dogs. Her fine jet-black hair fanned out over her shoulders and her pale skin was as faintly lined as the delicate grasses silhouetted against a whitewashed wall nearby. She looked about her with keenly alert eyes; a smile came to her lips as she gazed intently at the two trees. Around her a hush fell, the gathering crowd of villagers astonished by the commanding presence of the stranger. She approached the two trees and started caressing their branches and trunks with great affection. Pressing her forehead again and again to their trunks she said in soft but clearly audible tones: “Well, well, so you have brought this body here to see you.” Everybody looked at the trees with blank incomprehension, there being nothing to distinguish from countless others dotting the plain. The woman, nevertheless, seemed to hold everyone in silent thrall.
“What is the name of your village?” she enquired.
“Bhawanipur,” was the reply.
“Who planted these two trees?”
“Dwarka,” someone offered.
“Is the owner of this land at home?”
“No, but his wife is over there.”
The group of visitors, who were now being watched with intense curiosity by a cluster of children, turned and saw the owner's wife approaching. Addressing the woman with sweetness of tone and expression, the visitor in white told her: “Take good care of these two trees and worship them. It will be for your good.”
Then she took garlands from Didi and decorated the trees with them and distributed all the fruit from the basket to the incredulous villagers. Without the faintest notion of who she was, they all assumed postures of deferential respect towards her, as if they perceived her to be of exalted station. Yet they could instantly recognize her as one of themselves, a simple woman, simply dressed and accustomed
to village ways. She moved easily among them, but paid tender attention to the numerous children while at the same time encompassing one and all within her friendly and attentive gaze.
She turned back whence she came, closely followed by the crowd, who were now smiling with awkward pleasure, yet still dismayed by the inexplicable attention conferred on them and on a couple of trees by a bunch of total strangers.
“Margosa and banyan -- Hari and Hara!” exclaimed the lady.
“Now you've given these trees the names of gods,” Didi declared in wonder.
Then the lady in white asked them: “Do you repeat God's name? Even though you may not be able to do so daily, at any rate now and again perform puja (worship) and sing kirtana, or religious songs, under the boughs of those trees." Then she turned to her companions. “How extraordinary!” she observed, “those trees were pulling this body towards them as people might. The car was carrying us away from them, but it was just as if they caught hold of the shoulders of this body and dragged it back in their direction. This kind of thing has never happened before.”
As the visitors got back into the car, one of the villagers diffidently enquired of the driver who was the great lady who had referred to herself as 'this body'?
“Anandamayi Ma of Bengal. Remember this visit well, for she is a holy person and she never does anything without meaning.”
For more information about Sri Anandamayi Ma visit this link: www.anandamayi.org. For more spiritual wisdom about trees, see Fear-No-More Zoo's spiritual life of trees section. |
|
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
"Planet Bytes" is a service mark of the Avataric Samrajya of Adidam Pty Ltd.
Original photos & writings are
© 2005-2006 The Avataric Samrajya of Adidam Pty Ltd, as trustee for The Avataric Samrajya of Adidam.
All rights reserved. Perpetual copyright claimed.
|
|
