(14 March 1946 – 12 July 2022)
The funeral service will be on 9 August at 12.30. Many sannyasin friends will connect with him in their hearts.
There will also be a celebration on 10 September at 2.00pm in Dunkeld, to celebrate his life. Friends will gather around the Birnam Oak, by the river Tay, scatter his ashes in the Tay, and then go up to the community field for an outdoors celebration.
The veil between him and the natural world was very thin
Our beloved friend Hari died peacefully in hospital with his sister by his side. He had been struggling for many years with several complex health problems, and at last it got the better of him. I believe he was very ready, and fearless. The last few times I visited him we talked about death.
He felt an urgency to get everything sorted out, so that he left things in order and with clarity about what he wanted. We put the finishing touches to that a few months ago when I visited, and he was relieved. I remember him also talking about how grateful he was that he had had a near death experience, sometime before sannyas, and he knew without doubt that death was a transition to something very welcoming, a homecoming.
Although he was frail in these last years, and talking was tiring for him, he loved to see his old sannyas friends, and lit up with joy. He often spoke of how very blessed we have all been, and even in the midst of some of the most challenging health scares, he had experiences of utter bliss and what sounded to me like transcendence. He was ready. He had a great capacity for contentment in himself, despite the trials that his body kept producing.
Hari was a very sensitive soul, a Piscean, and always with one foot in the beyond. His pace was slow, in speech and movement. He thought carefully before speaking, and then would often come out with something quite profound, but always with a little chuckle. He dearly loved nature, and especially trees. He lived for the last couple of decades in Perthshire, a very green and beautiful part of Scotland, where he made many friends locally. Walking through Dunkeld with him, we would have to stop every few paces to chat with someone he knew. He was clearly loved.
Until the last few months he was able to walk from his house to the river Tay, where there are two very ancient giant trees, and I believe they were as much his friends as any of us. I always got the impression that the veil between him and the natural world was very thin.
Before he took sannyas, he had become friendly with a lovely man known as ROC, who made a very core contribution in the early Findhorn Community, because of his rare ability to communicate with the natural world, and the spirit world. That was Hari’s world.
Hari was born and brought up in Scotland, but never found it easy to fit in with the mainstream culture. I first met him when we had both discovered Osho’s meditations in Edinburgh in the mid-70s. He had been involved with a Gurdjieff group for some years, but his group leader encouraged him to look into other paths, and when he came across dynamic meditation and Osho, it was clear.
He took sannyas in 1976, and not long after went to Poona where he worked as an electrician (he had a degree in Electrical Engineering) until the end in 1981. After a few months in Scotland when he had surgery on his wrists for Carpel Tunnel syndrome, he came to the ranch, and stayed the whole time, again working as an electrician. When the Ranch ended, he lived on in California for a few years, where the highlight for him was a time when he lived wild among the sequoias of Northern California.
His other ever-abiding love was dancing, and wherever he was he found the opportunity to dance, freely and with abandon. It was a great sadness to him in latter years when his peripheral neuropathy, which affected his balance, no longer allowed him to dance.
One little story: a couple of years after the Ranch folded, I was asked to go back for a while to bolster the small group of caretakers who were devotedly looking after it.
Purohit, who was an old friend of Hari’s from the electrical department, was there, and Hari came to visit us both. The 3 of us took a day off and went down to the pine forest on a glorious June day. Hari had brought some ecstasy with him, and we all stripped off and spent it wandering around the pine forest in utter bliss.
I’ll never forget Hari dancing around, his lily-white lean body stark naked, with only a pair of sneakers on his feet. Sheer delight. We had just reassembled, dressed and returned to the jeep, when some locals came by on the County road. Whew. That could have been a dicey encounter if it was 10 minutes earlier! Magic.
Yesterday I got the call to come quickly to see Hari as he was already unconscious and soon to go. (Until then we had not been allowed to visit because of covid.) I was on my way, when I received a call that he had already passed over. As I drove home, I found myself singing in joy, ‘Fly, fly high, let your wings touch the sky…’ I’m pretty sure he was.
I hope you are aware somehow of all the fond and loving send offs coming your way from so many friends all over the world.
Grateful to have known you, always a dear presence in Poona and on the Ranch, and more closely in our infrequent but sweet meetings later on in Scotland, most often over lunch in some cafe.
The sound of your laughter and the glint in you eyes has been with me these last days… remembering how you would tell your stories in your own slow way, chuckling and beaming.
In spite of all the body trouble, you always brought focus on the light, your love of nature, your gratitude for life, for the Master. You shared and transmitted the very expanded experiences of oneness and bliss you had, even through these hard times.
Such a wonderful inspiration you are. Thank you, Hari.
Sending much love on your way.
this is your planning mate Riktam, now simply Ricky.
I see from today’s OSHONEWS that you left your body. I am sure you soon learned to travel in time and space in the after-death realms and perhaps you have already visited the ranch where we worked together, planning great material things in Chuang Tzu office. You inspiring the electrical disciples and Redmond Electric and me inspiring the HVAC disciples with our dedication to the impossible.
What a delightfully solid reliable fellow you were, always calm, easy to be with and to work with, and gracefully putting up with my electrical errors such as forgetting to tell you a new pump motor needed a 3-phase supply – not single phase… I was never good at electrics but you were brilliant.
How wonderful to learn that later you were dancing in joy with the trees in Scotland! A sparkling vision!
And wonderful to read that you had a near-death experience so long ago which will have prepared you well for your new life in spirit. You left your body on my 80th birthday.
Here is a photo of us working together in the ranch planning office, nearly 40 years before your transition to bodiless bliss.
Come and visit me soon and we will blend together more than was possible before,
Looking back on my times with Hari
by Puri (Purohit)
When Nirved called on the 13th of July to tell us that Hari had died the day before, I thought: “Is this why I kept thinking of him throughout the last week? Did he give his goodbyes?” I then had to tell a few common friends about this and they had had the same experience: he had popped up in their minds and connected in his gentle and never-intrusive way.
Our connection goes back to the late seventies in Poona, where we worked together in the electrical department of the ashram around Osho.
In a way both of us were dropouts: Hari, trained as an electrical engineer, had dropped out of a career in that profession and disappeared in the Scottish woods, working as a simple forest warden.
In that solitude he had come to himself and experienced bliss in nature. And once a year he would buy a ticket for the Edinburgh Festival, sit in the first row of the opera house in his forest warden outfit provoking all the finery present – and in the break he would eat his sandwich there. I remember how his dry chuckle accompanied this story.
Being a proud and rebellious Scot, and quite aware of the history of his people, he would never eat deer meat. When industrial looms came into use, the commons were taken over for sheep grazing by the gentry for the production of wool. Crofters could no longer survive without the use of the commons, were pushed off their land and flooded the cities as cheap workforce. Only a few could make a living out of tending the sheep. And when wool production became cheaper in Australia, deer were brought in instead and the land was used as hunting grounds for the now very rich gentry. Hardly anybody was needed for their care and people again had to leave the land. That is why a “real Scot” will never eat the meat of Scottish deer, he told me.
And I had trained as a physician, then found the mechanical medicine totally unacceptable. While looking for more holistic ways of helping people, I had decided – in order to not just be a parrot – before dealing with others, to first understand myself better.
Osho often named the unused potential in his disciples and he gave Angus Blair Hardy the name Anand Hari. Anand translates as bliss, meaning: “get out of your misery, live blissfully!” and hari is the god of thieves. Now – what could a god be interested in stealing from you? Only your heart can possibly interest a god and of course he gives it back to you, otherwise the game would be over. Everybody knows these moments when watching a child trying to walk, or a bird learning to fly, all thinking stops and one just is. Hari has stolen your heart for a moment and it comes back to you renewed.
Hari certainly lived up to both parts of his sannyas name. There was enough hardship in his life to be miserable, but he chose to take it without complaint and in good humor; he always knew how to find blissful moments.
He deeply loved the Highlands and the most beautiful times we ever had together were the ten days in 2019 at Loch Tummel, where Soham had rented a house and brought Hari, Jalal and Ajara, our niece Sigrid and us together; Nirved came for a visit on the weekend. Hari then showed us the pearls of his country, like Aberfeldy, its world of fairies and the grounds of Blair Castle.
And the god of thieves? Sometimes these moments did indeed happen around Hari when suddenly there was only now and the mind stopped. A chuckle, a stillness, a dry comment, a sudden belly laugh could trigger them and for a moment there was no time, just being there. Was it his innocence in the face of hardship that opened the hearts around him? No matter what the role of the moment was: Hari was always just Hari.
On the other hand, however loving, heartfelt and attentive a friend he was, I never felt that I really knew him. It feels to me that only alone with nature he could let his own nature, his childlike playful presence, be there without any hesitation. This space was clearly visible to me only once: During our walk on ecstasy in the pine forest in Rajneeshpuram. He was like the Greek god Pan then, totally connected with the natural world around him and utterly blissful in himself. Nirved has described this in her post.
While in Mill Valley near San Francisco, Hari repeated the withdrawal from the world one summer and lived in the open woods up on mount Tamalpais, coming down only to get supplies or for a short electrical job when he ran out of money. One could feel his bliss then. His body paid the price for his uncompromising trueness to his being, then and throughout his life, and he accepted that without regrets.
With a tear in my eye and gratitude in my heart, and with a lot of admiration for the way he lived his life, I let go of this friend – so very different from me – and wish him well on his new journey.
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