Beyond Bones: The Real Presence of the Saint

 

Shirdi Sai Baba seated in silence — his true presence is not bound to the tomb, but alive wherever the heart remembers.

Human beings cling to bodies — not only their own, but also the bodies of those they call saints.
They dream that holiness must leave a trace in flesh:
a corpse that does not rot,
a tomb that hums with power,
a skin that melts into rainbow light.

It is a sweet dream.
Because if the saint’s bones still shine, then maybe my bones will not be eaten by worms.
If relics are incorruptible, then maybe death can be tamed.
The mind whispers: “I am this body, and this body can escape the fire.”

So across traditions, the same hunger appears.
In Tibet: rainbow body.
In Christianity: incorrupt relics.
In India: samādhi shrines.
Always the same gesture — trying to freeze eternity into matter.

But Kaula vision burns through this.
The body is not the saint.
What liberation has to do with worms or bones?
To worship the husk is to mistake the fruit for the peel.
Tenderness demands truth: clinging to the corpse is only another form of fear.

Beyond Bones and Ashes

When the knot of ego has been cut, the one you called a “person” is no longer circling in subtle form.
The jīva has poured back into the ocean.
No more orbit, no more residue.
There is nothing left to “store” inside a corpse.

This is why the bones of a saint are not batteries.
The tomb is not a prison holding their presence.
The fire has already leapt free — it cannot be locked in ash.

And yet, we know this paradox: when pilgrims kneel at a samādhi, the air does shimmer.
Hearts grow tender, tears fall without reason.
Something stirs.
This is real — but it is not coming from marrow or dust.

It comes from the act of remembrance itself.
The moment the heart recalls a saint with love, the current awakens.
Devotion is not secondary — devotion is śakti.
When memory catches flame, the Presence is felt.

This is why the shrine trembles.
Not because a subtle body is haunting stone,
but because your own devotion has been summoned into the open.

The saint is not buried.
The saint is dissolved.
What you feel is your own soul remembering its Source.

Wherever the Heart Remembers

If what stirs at a shrine is not the saint’s bones but your own devotion,
then the shrine is everywhere.

You do not need to walk to Shirdi to meet Sai Baba.
You do not need to climb Arunachala to sit at Ramana’s feet.
You do not need to touch a relic to feel Christ.

The saint has already dissolved into the Whole.
The only true pilgrimage is remembrance.
The only shrine is the heart that calls.

And this is fiercer than superstition —
because it strips away every excuse.
No more “I will feel grace when I travel, when I bow to relics, when I reach the shrine.”
Here, now, if you remember, the Current flows.

It is tender, because it frees the poor and the far-away:
those who cannot buy a ticket, who cannot touch a tomb —
they lose nothing.

It is fiery, because it leaves no hiding place:
the grace you seek is already within your reach,
and if you do not feel it, it is not because you are far from bones,
but because you have not yet let the heart burn.

Closing

The saint does not linger in the tomb.
The relic is only dust, the body only a husk.
The shakti you feel in such places is not sealed in bones — it is the flame of your own devotion, awakened by remembrance.

This means you are never far.
You do not need to journey across continents to bow before a shrine.
You do not need relics in your hands to taste grace.
Wherever the heart remembers with love, there the saint is alive, immediate, present.

This is both liberating and demanding.
Liberating — because grace is not locked in geography. The poor, the exiled, the solitary seeker at midnight have as much access as the pilgrim at the holiest site.
Demanding — because the responsibility is yours. If you do not feel the current, it is not because you are far from the saint’s bones, but because you have not allowed remembrance to burn through you.

The saint has already dissolved back into the Whole.
What remains is the fragrance of their life, which your heart can awaken at any moment.
Not closeness to bones, but closeness of remembrance is what opens the current.