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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). |
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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.”
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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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Last Modified on
February 05, 2007
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