cloud hovering over Arunachala

Inside the group of seventeen pilgrims, some of us had no expectations and ideas about what this trip to India would be like. I was one of these people, following Stuart Schwartz because he said Ramana was calling him to go.

Half way around the world and half asleep, we piled into a bus smelling of fresh jasmine and made the early morning ride to Tiruvannamalai. In the darkness, we passed through mango groves and fields of rice and sugar cane, palm trees, eucalyptus, saw palmetto, banana, plantain, and mimosa - they all sprout out of the generosity of the gentle southern Indian climate. The ground is hard-packed red clay, and I was reminded of the soil of my home state, Georgia.

Halfway into the late night bus ride, we stopped at a railroad crossing to wait for a passing train. Before the train reached us, sounds of Indian music blared from huge speakers. What was this sound at four o'clock in the morning? Later, we learned - the temples were opening and the songs woke with them. Later some of us would be taking early morning puja at temples like these, but not then. We needed sleep, showers, a meal, and a place to unpack.

It didn't take long to feel at home. Day by day, we got to know the small town of Tiruvannamalai, which we soon called Tiru for short. Ramana Ashram was our center. We met the thousands of pilgrims that streamed through the gates of the ashram - Germans, Poles, French, Australians, Brits, and of course, the many Indians. We ate our meals of dal and rice from the large banana leaves on the floor of the dining hall. We scooped up the delicious sattvic (wholesome, nonspicy) food like Ramana had over fifty years ago. Outside our tender feet wandered over the sacred grounds barefoot until they hardened on the gritty, hard-packed soil. We meditated and chanted in the Darshan Hall, and we meditated deeply in the Old Hall, where Ramana gave satsang for twenty years. It wasn't long that Ramana and his mountain became part of our bodies, our hearts, our souls, our being.

John and Susanne Russo

Outside the ashram, we passed Gheta, the flower girl who always smiles and greets us, and we promised to buy flowers the next time. Then we made forays into town by way of rickshaw, thanks to the abundant drivers nearby, including Karna and Rajan. We found ATMs, department stores where we could purchase modest cotton Indian clothing, and of course, the town's major temple. We sampled scrumptious food and drink - banana pancakes, roasted vegetables, salads washed in bottled water, ginger tea with lemon.

Usha's cafe, a favorite place

Some of us sought healers - drinking Ayurvedic concoctions or yielding to the healing touch of hands. Others consulted psychics, and one brave but very sick-to-his-stomach soul even made his way to the local hospital where he received a doctor's visit and antibiotics for the hefty sum of about eighty rupees (less than two dollars).

Peace forever on top of Arunachala

The mountain, Arunachala, that drew Ramana Maharshi to its power and who gave him shelter in the caves, was forever with us. We were always in its shadow, and its presence brought peace inside our hearts. The path up the mountain is arduous and steep, and some of us climbed to the peak like seasoned mountain goats. Others were content just to gaze upon it, soaking up its power - the power of just being.

Stuart in a rickshaw

And there was satsang. Most days we sat with Stuart, making sense of ourselves, our experience, and getting closer to who we are - and aren't. We ate, we breathed, we slept in the same place where Ramana lived and taught, and most of us found that we were becoming more and more at peace.

It was so easy to be blissful near Arunachala! It was so effortless to live in the moment and in the silence when one stood in the sweetness of the great mountain.

Satsang on Arunahcala

And then there was the looming departure date. Our suitcases were filled with books, CDs, and DVDs about Ramana from the ashram bookstore, but our minds were full of questions.

Our group outside the museum at Ramana Ashram

How would we be able to maintain our feeling of oneness in the insanity of New York, Philly and Boston? How does one retain this state in the middle of Boston traffic? How can I, a Boston Red Sox fan, feel bliss during a Red Sox and Yankees game?

How could we take the mountain with us, short of packing it in boxes, rock by rock? Perhaps we could talk Stuart into taking turns living with us all, sharing his peace? After all, the mountain must reside inside him.

Our teachers smiled at our questions - Stuart, Mooji, and the wise teachers within us all. I could imagine even Ramana smiling if he still had an earthly body.

Arunachala was inside us before we came to Tiruvannamalai, and it will be with us after we leave. Arunachala was always in us. We only had to be awakened to its presence.