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Quote by Swami Dhyan Giten

“RELATIONSHIPS & THE INNER BEING The other is a mirror of our own face; the other is a mirror of our inner being. The entire universe is a manifestation of our own inner being. Man is the microcosm and the universe is the macrocosm. In our inner being, we are one with all. True relationships is to see ourselves in all beings and to see all beings in ourselves. The inner being is not only present in human beings, but it is also present in flowers, trees, animals, stones and the stars. The divine exists everywhere in nature. Once we realize this we will never feel alone. We find the communion of the heart everywhere.”

Quote by Swami Dhyan Giten

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Swami Dhyan Giten

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“Look at the universe! What do you see? An order? Tranquillity? A divine peace? You fool! You ignorant! Over there, galaxies are colliding, suns are exploding, black holes swallowing stars! Now look at the universe again! What do you see? A disorder? Chaos? Anything savage? You see a hell? Now, you see the truth!”

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Author:Mehmet Murat Ildan
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“We tend to be unaware that stars rise and set at all. This is not entirely due to our living in cities ablaze with electric lights which reflect back at us from our fumes, smoke, and artificial haze. When I discussed the stars with a well-known naturalist, I was surprised to learn that even a man such as he, who has spent his entire lifetime observing wildlife and nature, was totally unaware of the movements of the stars. And he is no prisoner of smog-bound cities. He had no inkling, for instance, that the Little Bear could serve as a reliable night clock as it revolves in tight circles around the Pole Star (and acts as a celestial hour-hand at half speed - that is, it takes 24 hours rather than 12 for a single revolution). I wondered what could be wrong. Our modern civilization does not ignore the stars only because most of us can no longer see them. There are definitely deeper reasons. For even if we leave the sulphurous vapours of our Gomorrahs to venture into a natural landscape, the stars do not enter into any of our back-to-nature schemes. They simply have no place in our outlook any more. We look at them, our heads flung back in awe and wonder that they can exist in such profusion. But that is as far as it goes, except for the poets. This is simply a 'gee whiz' reaction. The rise in interest in astrology today does not result in much actual star-gazing. And as for the space programme's impact on our view of the sky, many people will attentively follow the motions of a visible satellite against a backdrop of stars whose positions are absolutely meaningless to them. The ancient mythological figures sketched in the sky were taught us as children to be quaint 'shepherds' fantasies' unworthy of the attention of adult minds. We are interested in the satellite because we made it, but the stars are alien and untouched by human hands - therefore vapid. To such a level has our technological mania, like a bacterial solution in which we have been stewed from birth, reduced us. It is only the integral part of the landscape which can relate to the stars. Man has ceased to be that. He inhabits a world which is more and more his own fantasy. Farmers relate to the skies, as well as sailors, camel caravans, and aerial navigators. For theirs are all integral functions involving the fundamental principle - now all but forgotten - of orientation. But in an almost totally secular and artificial world, orientation is thought to be un- necessary. And the numbers of people in insane asylums or living at home doped on tranquilizers testifies to our aimless, drifting metaphysic. And to our having forgotten orientation either to seasons (except to turn on the air- conditioning if we sweat or the heating system if we shiver) or to direction (our one token acceptance of cosmic direction being the wearing of sun-glasses because the sun is 'over there'). We have debased what was once the integral nature of life channelled by cosmic orientations - a wholeness - to the ennervated tepidity of skin sensations and retinal discomfort. Our interior body clocks, known as circadian rhythms, continue to operate inside us, but find no contact with the outside world. They therefore become ingrown and frustrated cycles which never interlock with our environment. We are causing ourselves to become meaningless body machines programmed to what looks, in its isolation, to be an arbitrary set of cycles. But by tearing ourselves from our context, like the still-beating heart ripped out of the body of an Aztec victim, we inevitably do violence to our psyches. I would call the new disease, with its side effect of 'alienation of the young', dementia temporalis.”

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Book:The Sirius Mystery: New Scientific Evidence of Alien Contact 5,000 Years Ago
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“You whom my body longs for, where are you? In the stars, in the river, over the rainbow? Perhaps you hide in the shadows of the mountains, whistling in the wind through mighty peaks Just maybe you are in every corner of my being awaiting invocation Ô Manna Breath fill my life with your infinite power”

LifeSoulPoetrySpiritualityStarsPoemCosmicRainbowMetaphysicsMind Body SpiritMountainsRiverMind Body Connection
Book:Twilight Zone Encounters
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“Spend your time with the people who talk about the stars because to whichever place you put your mind in, you will move to that place! Stars pull you to the stars; mud pulls you to the mud!”

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Author:Mehmet Murat Ildan
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“It took the mountain top, it seems to me now, to give me the sensation of independence. It was as if I'd discovered something I'd never tasted before in my short life. Or rediscovered it - for I associated it with the taste of water that came out of the well, accompanied with the ring of that long metal sleeve against the sides of the living mountain, as from deep down it was wound up to view brimming and streaming long drops behind it like bright stars on a ribbon. It thrilled me to drink from the common dipper. The coldness, the far, unseen, unheard springs of what was in my mouth now, the iron smell, all said mountain mountain mountain as I swallowed. Every swallow was making me a part of being here, sealing me in place, with my bare feet planted on the mountain and sprinkled with my rapturous spills. What I felt I'd come here to do was something on my own.”

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Book:On Writing
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