Sri Aurobindo - Karuna Yoga
Sri Aurobindo - Karuna Yoga Sri Aurobindo - Karuna Yoga
BOOK II: The Book of the Traveller of the Worlds 292 All here was known by a spiritual sense: Thought was not there but a knowledge near and one Seized on all things by a moved identity, A sympathy of self with other selves, The touch of consciousness on consciousness And being’s look on being with inmost gaze And heart laid bare to heart without walls of speech And the unanimity of seeing minds In myriad forms luminous with the one God. Life was not there, but an impassioned force, Finer than fineness, deeper than the deeps, Felt as a subtle and spiritual power, A quivering out from soul to answering soul, A mystic movement, a close influence, A free and happy and intense approach Of being to being with no screen or check, Without which life and love could never have been. Body was not there, for bodies were needed not, The soul itself was its own deathless form And met at once the touch of other souls Close, blissful, concrete, wonderfully true. As when one walks in sleep through luminous dreams And, conscious, knows the truth their figures mean, Here where reality was its own dream, He knew things by their soul and not their shape: As those who have lived long made one in love Need word nor sign for heart’s reply to heart, He met and communed without bar of speech With beings unveiled by a material frame. There was a strange spiritual scenery, A loveliness of lakes and streams and hills, A flow, a fixity in a soul-space, And plains and valleys, stretches of soul-joy, And gardens that were flower-tracts of the spirit, Its meditations of tinged reverie. Air was the breath of a pure infinite.
CANTO XIV: The World-Soul 293 A fragrance wandered in a coloured haze As if the scent and hue of all sweet flowers Had mingled to copy heaven’s atmosphere. Appealing to the soul and not the eye Beauty lived there at home in her own house, There all was beautiful by its own right And needed not the splendour of a robe. All objects were like bodies of the Gods, A spirit symbol environing a soul, For world and self were one reality. Immersed in voiceless internatal trance The beings that once wore forms on earth sat there In shining chambers of spiritual sleep. Passed were the pillar-posts of birth and death, Passed was their little scene of symbol deeds, Passed were the heavens and hells of their long road; They had returned into the world’s deep soul. All now was gathered into pregnant rest: Person and nature suffered a slumber change. In trance they gathered back their bygone selves, In a background memory’s foreseeing muse Prophetic of new personality Arranged the map of their coming destiny’s course: Heirs of their past, their future’s discoverers, Electors of their own self-chosen lot, They waited for the adventure of new life. A Person persistent through the lapse of worlds, Although the same for ever in many shapes By the outward mind unrecognisable, Assuming names unknown in unknown climes Imprints through Time upon the earth’s worn page A growing figure of its secret self, And learns by experience what the spirit knew, Till it can see its truth alive and God. Once more they must face the problem-game of birth,
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BOOK II: The Book of the Traveller of the Worlds 292<br />
All here was known by a spiritual sense:<br />
Thought was not there but a knowledge near and one<br />
Seized on all things by a moved identity,<br />
A sympathy of self with other selves,<br />
The touch of consciousness on consciousness<br />
And being’s look on being with inmost gaze<br />
And heart laid bare to heart without walls of speech<br />
And the unanimity of seeing minds<br />
In myriad forms luminous with the one God.<br />
Life was not there, but an impassioned force,<br />
Finer than fineness, deeper than the deeps,<br />
Felt as a subtle and spiritual power,<br />
A quivering out from soul to answering soul,<br />
A mystic movement, a close influence,<br />
A free and happy and intense approach<br />
Of being to being with no screen or check,<br />
Without which life and love could never have been.<br />
Body was not there, for bodies were needed not,<br />
The soul itself was its own deathless form<br />
And met at once the touch of other souls<br />
Close, blissful, concrete, wonderfully true.<br />
As when one walks in sleep through luminous dreams<br />
And, conscious, knows the truth their figures mean,<br />
Here where reality was its own dream,<br />
He knew things by their soul and not their shape:<br />
As those who have lived long made one in love<br />
Need word nor sign for heart’s reply to heart,<br />
He met and communed without bar of speech<br />
With beings unveiled by a material frame.<br />
There was a strange spiritual scenery,<br />
A loveliness of lakes and streams and hills,<br />
A flow, a fixity in a soul-space,<br />
And plains and valleys, stretches of soul-joy,<br />
And gardens that were flower-tracts of the spirit,<br />
Its meditations of tinged reverie.<br />
Air was the breath of a pure infinite.