Mountains, Maitreya, Monasteries, Monks

By Carol Brenner

I’m delighted to have this opportunity to share of my poem about my recent trip to India.

Joining the Keepers of the Flame Fraternity in 1981 was the best and most important decision of my life. I found the teachings through an introduction to the violet flame—my major ray. Serving on the board of my local teaching center in Minneapolis helps me develop my leadership skills and fulfills my need for working on teams.

I’m passionate about spirituality and the oneness of all life, the arts—especially the Shakespeare plays, and India. Why India? I love India because to me India represents the Mother, the giver of all life.

While recently traveling in India this phrase kept coming to mind—

The mountain of the Mother extends from the earth to the heavens.*

Whether I was gliding upon the Ganges, kneeling before Krishna at a Hindu temple or climbing mountains in Sikkim, I felt the presence of the Mother.

India also embraces and contains the wide variety of faiths filling our world. From Hinduism to Christianity, to Islam to Buddhism, to Sikhism to Taoism — you will find them all in Mother India.

Mountains, Maitreya, Monasteries, Monks

High in the Himalayas hidden from false eyes,
Upon the peaks where glistens, the brilliance of the sun,
A Master and his chelas, form a circle, meditating, on the One.

Unknown to the masses, impervious to the cold,
This band of brothers have no need, for comforts of the home.

Generated from within both heat and light enfold—
A shining shield, Behold!

Shakyamuni Buddha, Guru Rinpoche, Maitreya, Avalokitesvara have come to earth to stay,
Shining their Light for others to find the Truth, Reality, the Way.

Their tone is in the ethers, their vibration in the air.
Upon the rock they’ve left their mark—find and follow, if you dare!

Their sons and daughters, in monasteries hold the flame for all
Sounding horns, gongs, drums and bells to shatter human pall.

Ancient Tibetan Buddhist chants keep all evil at bay,
From early dawn to darkened hour, they meditate and pray,
For you and me and planet earth—the path of discipleship is their way.

Himalayan peaks are calling, like a Mother calls her own;
Back down the mountain, I cannot go, though I climb alone.

Darjeeling mists surround, I willingly succumb;
Helping hands reach out, I cannot tell where from.

I’m told His heart is like a rock—a diamond of brilliant blue.
I’ll follow in His footsteps; I’ll stick to Him like glue.

I’ll find my oneness in His heart, the master residing there.
Hold fast, have courage; Goodwill is everywhere.

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* From Mother of the World (New York: Agni Yoga Society, 1956), pp. 15–16, 17. Copyright 1956 Agni Yoga Society, Inc., 319 W. 107 St., New York City.