Atmānanda- Laharī

Resting Butterfly on Smṛti Lane Calming the agitated mind, the little butterfly rests on the riverbank, watching thoughts flow. They come and go one by one, As it witnesses them they fall away on their own. Peace and harmony arrive without announcement. Living with the least disturbance, the butterfly dances, and sings. All doubts dissolved, confusion removed, it abides with   dearest companion, BFF Ātmā. This wealthy butterfly treasures absolute śānti, dwelling quietly in Smṛti Lane. ( Smita Lane) Teaching viveka and vairāgya, Dhanyāṣṭakam bestows the immeasurable wealth to all. You are not small You are all! As the year of 2025 ends, Svatmavidyā spreads ananda to all! May the New Year bring  prosperity and moksha to all!

    Beyond the Bend: The Butterfly’s Ascent on Gosai Drive Who is the jñani? Dhanyāṣṭakam- Verses -3-6 Releasing attachment to the nest, loosening the pull of sensual delight, holding one quiet longing to know the truth alone, the butterfly opens its wings and enters the sky of Bentleyville Fear dissolved in the chant of Rudram, “All this is Me” affirmed in Chamakam. Through hymns and bhajans the heart learned trust, and the butterfly turned northward Giving up me” and “mine,” it surrendered into the supreme. A dense forest of illusions lay ahead, yet it passed through untouched, leaving behind wealth, lineage, and world. Seeking solitude and satsang, abiding in Brahman, with spontaneous radiance, From ignorance to knowledge it flew, leaving no footprint in the air. Neither object nor absence, neither huge nor small, beyond form and gender, beyond all measure the truth shines effulgently. Incidentally appearing as people and events, karma stirs its cup of joy and sorrow. Samsa...

Butterfly in the Backyard  Who is truly wealthy?    Dhanyāṣṭakam- Verse -1 Jīva is the caterpillar, fed by the leaves of Śāstra, wrapped in the cocoon of becoming. Through śravaṇam, mananam, and nididhyāsanam, sipping the ever-fresh, awakening brew of Dhanyāṣṭakam, that knowledge is known which brings quietude to the senses, well ascertained in the ultimate truth. The fibers of saṃsāra loosen, the cocoon opens. While others keep crawling in ignorance, this one remembers its wings. The butterfly rises— unbound, beyond all becoming.