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Whispering Heart, Quieted Mind




Whispering Heart, Quieted Mind

For No Reason

To My Beloved


I Love



I Am Always With You

On Being Alone

Think of Me

Borrowed Passion


The Mask of Yudhishtara

I Am Standing Too

Thank You

I Belong

I’m Jealous

Love Yourself


Sri H.W.L. Poonja



What you hold in your hands is a form of spontaneous writing that reflects an opening and a transitioning of the mind and heart. Each page is a birth and a reinforcement of a chosen attitude, of a way of beinganother step in a non-linear journey past loneliness into peace, happiness and spiritual wholeness.

And to the extent that the journey is a universal one you may find your own heart speaking in these pages, toofor you are not different than I.


I was having breakfast at Western Bagelreading The Truth Is.

I started to laugh. It felt so good to laughout loudin public!

I laugh

for no reason at all.

I love

for no reason at all.

I cannot help myself.

It just seems the natural thing to do.

I could probably just as easily cry

for no reason at all.

There is nothing I want.

I already Am

all that I want.

How exhilarating to be happy

for no reason at all.

So this is freedom!


The only exercise my teacher gives is to speakfirst thing every morning and last thing every nightto the grand Mystery he calls the Beloved. Those few seconds from my heart have now seeped into many moments through out my day until I have come to know that all-that-is and all-that-isn’t, including myself, is my Beloved.

Oh my Beloved, I love you so

my only desire is to rest in you.

Reveal yourself to me

that I may know you

as fully as I can,

So that everywhere,

in all things, at all times

I see only your face,

and behold only your presence.

May each breath I take

be the breath of your love

may each gesture I make

be the gesture of your peace.

Oh my Beloved,

I rest in you.

I love you so much.


So familiar am I with the perennial longing for something to fill me up, it comes as a bit of a shock to discover what the longing covered upand what is left when the longing dries up and blows away.

I feel myself wailwhat’s happening?

My heart feels dried out and withered,

devoid even of desire for you, my Beloved.

Sadness rises briefly in me

and turns into nothing-ness

grains of sand blowing off arid dunes.

Tears of loss evaporate.

Even they are gone.

An echo runs down the canyons of time

My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me

and vanishes into the air.

I feel no flow of love in me.

Am I a well run dry?

Yet this is neither agony nor ecstasy.

This is simply empty

of everything I claimed as good.

I stand alone in a desert

without my cloak of goodness


that still I Am.


The longer I live, the more I experience lifethe more I know love is the only thing that has any lasting importance.

I can name the ones I love

family, friends, teachers,

and just plain people,

whether clean faced or masked.

I can name the things I love

a favorite piece of music,

towering mountains and azure sky,

the smell of orange blossoms

filling the valley.

I can name the activities I love

riding my horse in the morning mist,

driving through open country,

talking with a friend over a cup of coffee.

I can even name the intangibles I love

altruistic virtues like courage

and compassion,

the enigma I call “myself,”

and the mysterious Source

from which all arises

in infinite complexity.

Who or what do I love?

All seem to be objects

things perceived outside of me

upon which my love can land.

Even loving myself

seems paradoxically objectified

a strange duality!

And then I stop

and in the stillness know

It’s not the who or the what

that matters at all,

but only the Love Itself.

Underneath it all,

beyond any reason or understanding,

when my heart is set free,

I … simply … love!

And that love sometimes falls on things,

and sometimes just floats free

wrapping round nothing in particular

and hugging everything

in seamless unity.

I love

It is my happiness.

It is my fullness.

It is my peace.

It is me.

I loveperiod!

That is all there is.


For me the greatest pain has been the feeling of being so alone. As I listen to other people, I hear that we all struggle with this misery.

When I was five my dad planned

his fatal accident.

I’ve always believed that was when

aloneness became my life.

But the truth is that even before the act

that turned my world upside down

I felt alone.

So I can’t blame my dad.

Life’s events just refined the feeling

honing it to a razor edge,

polishing it to diamond brilliance,

amplifying my awareness of it

in endless variations

and endless agoniesuntil

I plunged into the aloneness,

and aloneness became my friend

Giving me time and space to find

the subtle stillness of myself-as-awareness.

Giving me silence to hear

the theme song of my own heart.

giving me emptiness to discover

an intangible fullness within my own soul.

Giving me … myself.

What a grand gift, indeed!


Buddha has said that we need to recognize that life is simply going to have its sorrows and sadness. Every so often I’ll wallow in mine for awhile. It’s like taking a shower.

It is so easy to get lost

in the steamy shower of sadness.

Its warmth and familiarity

are so comforting,

confirming the reality

of what I believe is my life.

Sometimes I stay in the shower,

lounging in the luxury

of its enervating heat,

testing how long it will take to

empty the hot water tank.

But more often now,

in only a few minutes

I know I haven’t got time for this

and reaching for the faucet

I let a cool, crisp,

clean stream energize me

awakening me

to a bright, fresh Reality.

Oh what sweet seduction

lies in the swirling mists

of a hot shower.

Thank you, my Beloved

for the cold water tap!


A friend shared with me how she was moved by Yudhishtara’s words last nightwords that have touched me, too.

Over the ages

many wise beings have said,

I am with you always.

Centuries ago Christ spoke it.

Decades ago Ramana said it.

Today Yudhishtara says it.

I am always with you!

How can that be true?

I do not see Christ standing next to me.

I cannot gaze into Ramana’s eyes.

Yudhaistara’s arms are not hugging me now.

When I find myself looking

for some aspect of form to be there,

I am left empty and disappointed.

But then I hear the words differently.

I hear:




with me

and I am home.


Is it personal desire or social conditioning that pulls us to find someone to do things with? I thought I ought to call a friend to have lunch with me today. But I didn’t do it. I realized I am happy with othersand I am also happy by myself. There is a surprising evenness to it.

I am content alone

it gives me treasured time

with my Beloved.

Being alone has kept me

from becoming jaded

by constant company.

When another being joins me

I savor the moments,

forgetful of time’s passage.

It becomes quite a feat

to teach my greedy fingers

to let go of such beautiful times,

but a greater greed

pries my fingers loose

and I return

to the fullness

that lives with me



I have learned so much from the quiet voice of my teacher.

With quiet voice my teacher said:

You may think of me

as stupid … or wise,

as strong … or as weak.

You may think of me

any way you need,


I love you.

His words have echoed through my soul

While slowly an understanding is born.

It is time to release

my small ego-images

that for a lifetime I have

worked to protect

and project.

I begin to say

with as much sincerity as I can:

You may look upon me

any way you need.

It is my gift to you.

It is my gift to me.

It is freedom.


Occasionally someone will try to follow me in my passion but the following rarely works.

My passion is ultimately

Soul-ly mine.

I am the only one

who can feel it the way I do.

My passion

will mean nothing to you.

It saddens me to see you

try to inhale my passion

as if to take a hit from it.

It is a futile gesture

and sad

for your own passion waits

lonely and unnoticed

in your own heart.

My friend, you cannot

make my passion yours

as flattering as the imitation may be,

or as bonding as it may feel.

Find your own unique passion.

Then come back and tell me of it.

We will laugh and celebrate

and have a glass of wine together.


A friend of mine leads spiritual pilgrimages to India. I used to feel I was missing something by not goingbut I love what I have found at home.

Oh, my Beloved,

thank you for

not making me

travel so far

to find you.

Thank you for

letting me rest in you

right where I am.

You know how I hate packing!


My teacher has often said, “I am always with you.” These words have meant many different things to me as my need and understanding required.

Although I feel that I hold

Yudhishtara in my heart,

who I am really holding is myself.

At one point the aloneness of that

would have suffocated me

and so I would not look at it.

When Yudhishtara has said

‘I am always with you’

it has been a great comfort to me.

Yet it is not Yudhishtara

who is with me.

It is ‘I am’ who is with me.

And if the stark aloneness of that

is too much for me to bear,

then for awhile ‘I am’

will graciously wear

the mask of Yudhishtara

to comfort my mind and heart

until the mask can be

gently removed,

and I can be full

with ‘I am’



Eventually the relationship between teacher and student must shift.

You are with me so.

And how I love you

is beyond what I can say.

But there is a difference

in the way you are

standing with me now.

There is an equality

I was not able to notice before

as you are with me now

so deeply in my mind,

my heart, and soul.

The difference is

that now

I am standing too.


It is said that if the only prayer you can utter is thank you, it is enough. Thank you is so often in my heart.

Oh my Beloved,

I cannot comprehend you.

I cannot fathom all the ways you are.

I open my eyes

and you are smiling in the sun,

laughing in the rain,

filling my mind and my heart

with overflowing gratitude and joy.

Just to be alive,

to see … to hear … to feel,

to move … to care … to love!

Thank you

for giving me life.

What blessings

you have put in my life.

Even the bumps and bruises

in the end

have been suffused with light.

Thank you, my Beloved.

Thank you.


One of the reasons I first came to satsang was because I felt that something was missing, that I didn’t quite fit in anywhere in life.

I don’t have to join a church,

chant, or swing incense before an altar.

I don’t have to go on a vision quest,

or become United Way’s volunteer of the year.

I don’t have to meditate or donate

or serve on a political committee.

I don’t have to preach, teach, help, or save.

I don’t even have to be successful at anything

in order to belong in the Mystery.

I belong because I exist.

Why did it take so, so long

for me to see and embrace this?

I belongperiod!

I don’t have to earn it.

I don’t have to wait for it to happen.

I belongright here, right now, just as I am.

And when the way I am “now” changes,

as it inevitably will, I will still belong.

I belong.

I have always belonged.

I always will belongeven past death.


Some of Rumi’s magnificent verse was read at satsang stirring memories of my own favorite poems. I cannot help but wish I had such talent as Rumi, and my beloved Hafiz.



I’m jealous of your words!

How exquisitely you play

your songs of the Beloved.

You take my breath away.

How I wish I could

ply a phrase your way.

But my words are oh, so simple,

with rhythm just as plain

they’re as common as everyday.

It’s just ordinary talk

spaced across the page.



I’m jealous of your words!

But not of what’s in your hearts

for That, too, is in mine.



Oscar Wilde saidto love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance. The guru within raised its head and spoke so gently to me.

Beloved one, you have been

so trained to feel that it is wrong

arrogant, egotistical and obnoxious

to love yourself.

You have been so conditioned

to not trust what you are.

And you have so often walked on by

the awesome truth of your being without seeing.

You have walked on by, in agony,

looking for something “out there,”

looking for some remedy for the loneliness,

looking for some peak experience to satisfy you.

Listen to me now

Only when you come to love yourself

will you begin to taste what you are.

Only then will your respect

for yourself be genuine

and will you know peace.

When you truly love yourself,

you will begin to trust yourself.

Then you won’t be so afraid

of the sadness, and the ache

the stretching that comes with life.

And so you will be able to experience life

with a sense of wonder and excitement,

and with deep, deep gratitude.

When you love yourself

you won’t be so afraid of others hurting you,

for though you will feel pain

you will not be destitute.

And so you won’t be puffing up to impress

or suiting up to defend

and there will be an authenticity to your days.

And you will know satisfaction.

When you love yourself

you will feel a deep sense of security;

and only when you feel secure

will you be able to love others

without need, or dependency,

or strings of any kind.

When you love yourself

you will surprise yourself

with a new tolerance, a quiet patience,

and even a feeling of general good will

towards those you believed were your enemies.

So love yourself fully and thoroughly.

Love yourself through embryonic narcissism.

Love yourself

into your own fullness and maturity.

And you will have loved yourself into knowing.

Love yourselfand you will love

a magnificent mystery.

Love yourselfand you will find

that your love will spill over

and touch everything with grace.

Love yourselfand you will be

Love Itself.


Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my explanations, validations, and excuses, I forget how to listen to the wisdom that is coming to me.

Dear one,

unstop your ears.

Strike “but”

from your vocabulary!

Become willing to hear.

Put down your defense.

Let your position go unjustified

for just a little while.

Soften your stance.

Grow silent in anticipation.

Feel yourself expand.


The Beloved

is talking to you.


I am reading Truth Istaking it with me for my afternoon coffee break. I am amazed at how my understanding has grownand at how much my life has been freed by this man I never knew.

How can I love this man so much?

I have never met him,

never come face to face with him.

I have only read his words

yet they are so alive to me.

How can I love this man so much

that just seeing his picture

makes me feel his presence?

Tears of joy and gratitude

run down my face.

I want to hug him

but I can only kiss a photograph

as if it were the living essence.

How can I love this man so much

as if he were my friend and neighbor,

meeting me for an afternoon cup of coffee

in downtown Studio City?

He lived in India

and left his form years ago.

I say thank you to a picture,

a two dimensional representation,

yet how come the eyes looking back at me

are so alive?

I love you Papa-ji.

I never went to your satsangs

yet you speak to me

sometimes through Yudhishtara,

sometimes through The Truth Is,

sometimes through your photograph

sometimes through my imagination.

Thank you for taking human form

and telling the truth.

so that I too can roar.


When I hear someone say, “it’s just words; it’s only a thought and not so important,” something inside of me shakes its head and says“but that is not the whole story…”

I have come to appreciate words

as well as the thoughts they represent.

I do not believe they are unimportant.

They are not a no-thing

for they carry a great potential.

I choose words more carefully now,

not because I feel restricted

but because I feel responsible.

I use them to shape within myself

the person that I am

and the way I want to be.

I choose words to create

an atmosphere of tolerance and respect.

I choose them to nurture and encourage.

I choose words to love and give thanks.

Because my words affect me

because my words may touch you,

I select them as wisely as I can.

I speak now

much differently

than I did only a few years ago

it’s a benefit of satsang!

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