Last year Sandra Derksen asked me to write an introduction for Ramana Maharshi’s Forty Verses On What Is, a book that she had compiled and edited from various explanations that I had given about each verse of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu in my writings and talks, so this article is adapted from the introduction I wrote for it.
His teachings therefore represent the simple but extremely deep essence and practical implication of all of vēdānta, the philosophical conclusion of the Vēdas, particularly the non-dualistic interpretation of it called advaita (‘non-twoness’, meaning that what actually exists is ‘ēkam ēva advitīyam’, ‘one only without a second’). However, though his teachings are in perfect accord with the heart of advaita and vēdānta more generally, they are nevertheless a very fresh and original presentation of them, because he diagnosed very precisely the root cause of all our problems, namely ego, he clearly explained its nature like never before, and in doing so he clarified and emphasised the practical implication of the basic principles of vēdānta, namely that to achieve the removal of all suffering (duḥkha nivṛtti) and the attainment of happiness (sukha prāpti) we need to eradicate ego, and since ego is a false awareness of ourself (an awareness of ourself as something other than what we actually are), it can be eradicated only by our investigating who am I and thereby knowing ourself as we actually are.
Bhagavan discovered all this from his own experience, without any prior study of vēdānta, when he was just a sixteen-year-old schoolboy. One day in July 1896, when he was sitting alone in a room in his uncle’s house in the south Indian town of Madurai, an intense fear of death suddenly arose within him with no apparent cause. Instead of trying to put this fear out of his mind he decided to investigate and discover for himself whether he himself would cease to exist with the death of his body. He therefore turned his entire attention back within, towards his own being, ‘I am’, thereby withdrawing it from his body and all other phenomena, both mental and physical. Because his attention was so keenly focused on his own being, his fundamental awareness ‘I am’, the true nature of that being-awareness (sat-cit) revealed itself instantaneously as a clear, direct and certain knowledge. This destroyed in him forever all trace of ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, because he discovered himself to be just the pure awareness ‘I am’, which is the one infinite, eternal, indivisible and immutable whole, the only existing reality, the source and substance of all things, and the real nature (svarūpa) of every living being.
1. Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and its essential import
உள்ளது நாற்பது (uḷḷadu nāṟpadu) is a Tamil poem that Bhagavan composed between 21st July and 11th August 1928 in response to a request made by Muruganar, one of his foremost devotees, to teach us the nature of the reality and the means by which we can attain it so that we may thereby be saved. In the title of this poem, ‘uḷḷadu’ means ‘what is’ or ‘what exists’, in the sense of what actually exists rather than what merely seems to exist, and it also means ‘being’ in the sense of both ‘existence’ and ‘existing’. As Bhagavan says in the seventh paragraph of Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?), ‘யதார்த்தமா யுள்ளது ஆத்மசொரூப மொன்றே’ (yathārthamāy uḷḷadu ātma-sorūpam oṉḏṟē), ‘What actually exists is only ātma-svarūpa [the real nature of oneself]’, so when he uses the word ‘uḷḷadu’ he is referring to ourself as we actually are. Though ‘nāṟpadu’ means ‘forty’ and in this context implies ‘forty verses’, Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu actually consists of forty-two verses, two of which form the maṅgalam or ‘auspicious introduction’ and the remaining forty of which form the nūl or ‘text’.
Though Bhagavan has expressed many of the fundamental principles of his teachings in his other works such as Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?), Upadēśa Undiyār and Āṉma-Viddai, nowhere has he expressed some of the most important and practical of them as clearly and coherently as he does in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, so this work shines as the core and crest-jewel of his teachings, being the quintessence of all of them. Therefore studying this work carefully and trying to put into practice all that he teaches us in it is essential for anyone who aspires to follow the path he has shown us to eradicate ego, the root cause of all our problems, because unless we have clearly understood and imbibed all the principles that he teaches us here, it is not possible for us to adequately grasp and appreciate the real depth and radical import of his teachings.
The essential import of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu is very simple: What we actually are is sat-cit, because we are both pure being (sat) and pure awareness (cit), which are one and indivisible. The being or existence that we actually are is described as ‘pure’ because it is existence itself and not the existence of any particular thing. In other words, it alone is what actually exists (uḷḷadu), so though other things may seem to exist, they do not actually exist, and hence they all derive their seeming existence only from the one real existence of ourself as sat-cit. Likewise, the awareness that we actually are is described as ‘pure’ because it is awareness itself, meaning that it is awareness that is just aware without being aware of anything other than itself (as he implies, for example, in verses 12 and 13), because in the clear view of ourself as sat-cit nothing other than ourself actually exists for us to know. As sat-cit, therefore, we are not aware of anything other than our own being, ‘I am’, so sat-cit is what shines eternally as ‘I am’, and since it shines thus by its own light of awareness, it is described as ‘self-shining’ (svayam-prakāśa).
Being the only thing that actually exists and shines, therefore, sat-cit is infinite, indivisible, eternal and immutable, so this alone is what we always actually are. However, in the distorted view of ourself as ego, this is not what we seem to be, because whenever we rise and stand as ego we are always aware of ourself not just as ‘I am’ but as ‘I am this body’. So what exactly is this ego that we now seem to be? As he points out in verse 24, it is neither the body, which is non-aware (jaḍa) and therefore does not know itself as ‘I’, nor is it sat-cit, which is eternal and immutable and therefore does not ever rise or come into existence:
Therefore, since ego has no form or substance of its own, in verse 25 he describes it as ‘உருவற்ற பேய் அகந்தை’ (uru-v-aṯṟa pēy ahandai), the ‘formless demon [phantom or evil spirit] ego’, and points out that it comes into seeming existence grasping the form of a body as itself, it stands or endures by continuing to grasp that form as itself, it feeds itself and flourishes by grasping other forms, and leaving one form it grasps another form:
Thus in this verse Bhagavan reveals that the nature of ego is to rise, stand and flourish by attending to things other than itself, but to subside and dissolve back into its source (namely sat-cit) by attending to itself alone. This is one of the fundamental principles of his teachings, and is a fact that was never expressed so clearly and explicitly in any older text or by anyone else before him. The practical significance of this principle cannot be overemphasised, because it explains why self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), which is the simple practice of being keenly self-attentive, is the only means by which we as ego can surrender ourself completely and thereby be eradicated.
The reason why we as ego will subside and dissolve back into our own being, ‘I am’, to the extent to which we attend to ourself is that ego is not what we actually are, so we seem to be ego only so long as we do not attend to ourself keenly enough to see what we actually are. In other words, we seem to be ego only so long as we are looking elsewhere (attending to anything other than our own being), but if we look at ourself, there is no such thing as ego to be found, because what we actually are is just pure being-awareness (sat-cit), as we shall see if we look at ourself carefully enough. This is why Bhagavan says that ego will take flight if we investigate ourself. As he often used to say, ego seems to exist only because of avicāra (non-investigation, meaning our not attending to ourself), which is what is also called pramāda (negligence or inattentiveness, meaning self-negligence or self-inattentiveness), so it will cease to exist only by vicāra (investigation, meaning self-investigation or self-attentiveness).
Since everything other than our own being, ‘I am’, seems to exist only in the view of ourself as ego, when ego ceases to exist as a result of self-investigation, everything else will cease to exist along with it, as he explains clearly and unambiguously in verse 26, and as he also implies to a greater or lesser extent in many other verses, such as 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 11, 14 and 23, so this is another one of the fundamental principles of his teachings.
That is, nothing other than sat-cit actually exists, so all other things are not real but just an illusory appearance, and since they appear only in the view of ourself as ego, our rising and standing as ego alone is the root cause for their appearance. Therefore, since ego will cease to exist only when we investigate ourself keenly enough, the only means by which we can permanently put an end to the illusory appearance of ego and all other things is for us to patiently persevere in the practice of self-investigation (ātma-vicāra) until we are able to attend to ourself keenly enough to see ourself as we always actually are, namely as sat-cit alone.
In sleep we do not rise as ego, and hence nothing else seems to exist. In waking and dream we rise and stand as ego, and hence everything else seems to exist. Since other things include pain, suffering, misery, dissatisfaction and problems of all kinds, we experience such things only in waking and dream but not in sleep. However, since sleep is just a state of manōlaya (temporary dissolution of mind), sooner or later we will certainly rise again as ego from sleep, so it is not a permanent solution for all our problems. Only manōnāśa (annihilation or permanent dissolution of mind) can solve all problems and put an end to all suffering forever, and since the root of the mind is ego, mind can be annihilated only by eradication of ego.
As ego we are always aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, which is not what we actually are, so ego is just a false awareness of ourself, and hence it can be eradicated only by our being aware of ourself as we actually are, namely as ‘I am’ alone, bereft of all adjuncts (upādhis), the first and foremost of which is whatever body we currently mistake ourself to be. Therefore, since we can be aware of ourself as we actually are only by attending to ourself so keenly that we thereby cease to be aware of anything else whatsoever, self-investigation is the only means by which we can eradicate ego, annihilate the mind and thereby permanently free ourself from all problems and all forms of suffering.
Therefore the essential import of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and all of Bhagavan’s teachings is that:
In Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan has expressed the fundamental principles of his teachings in the style of sūtras or aphorisms, meaning that he has done so using minimum words. Therefore, though each verse is relatively short, they are packed with deep meaning and rich in implications, so it requires careful thought and consideration to understand and appreciate their deep meaning and implication.
Bhagavan said that his teachings are an open secret, but in order to see the secret that he has expressed so openly we need to open our eyes and look very carefully at what he is teaching us, meaning that we need to open our mind and heart in order to be receptive to what he offers us, which is a radically different interpretation of our experience than the one we have hitherto been accustomed to. If we are not willing to question deeply and if necessary let go of all the beliefs, assumptions and preconceptions that we had previously cherished, it is very easy for us to misunderstand him, so we need to study his teachings carefully, patiently and with discrimination (vivēka), considering with due care the meaning of each word, phrase, clause and sentence in order to understand exactly what he intends to teach us.
For example, whenever he uses words such as ‘I’, ‘we’, ‘oneself’ or ‘ourself’, we need to carefully consider and understand from the context whether he is referring to ourself as we actually are (namely ātma-svarūpa) or to ourself as ego. In many places in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu where he uses these and other such words to refer to ourself as ego, many translators and commentators have wrongly assumed that he was referring to ourself as we actually are, so they misunderstood and misinterpreted what he intended to convey, and they did so because they failed to understand that one of his principle aims in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu is to explain that everything other than ourself seems to exist only in the view of ourself as ego, and therefore does not exist at all independent of ego, so all other things seem to exist and to be as they are only because we have risen as ego and therefore mistake ourself to be a body consisting of five sheaths, namely the physical body, life, mind, intellect and will (as he points out, for example, in verse 5).
Since the verses of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu are intended to teach us a logically coherent set of fundamental principles, they are all closely interconnected, so we need to carefully study the entire text and recognise those fundamental principles in order to understand the meaning and implications of each verse correctly. If we read each verse in isolation without considering its meaning and implications in the context of what he is teaching us in all the other verses, our understanding of its import will be limited and perhaps incorrect, whereas if we read every verse in the context of the whole and recognise the logical connections that exist between them, then the meaning and implications of each individual verse will become much clearer to us.
What Bhagavan teaches us in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and his other original writings is actually extremely simple, so it is not difficult for us to understand, but it is nevertheless very deep and subtle, so it is only by putting it into practice that we will gradually be able to imbibe and appreciate the full extent of its depth and subtlety. To understand his teachings we do not need a brilliant intellect, because the concepts we have to grasp are not complex, but we do need deep clarity of mind and heart, which we can gain most effectively by the practice of self-investigation and self-surrender, because his teachings are pointing our attention back within ourself to see ourself as we actually are, namely pure being-awareness (sat-cit), which is the infinitely deep and subtle reality that underlies the appearance of all other things, namely both ego (the subject or knower) and all phenomena (the objects or things known by ego).
To understand the simple but profound principles of his teachings, we need to be willing to simplify our understanding of the basic nature of this entire appearance of subject and objects, and to simplify our understanding we need to be willing to jettison all that we previously assumed and believed about such things. If we are not willing to give up any of our old ideas and beliefs about the nature of these things, we will not be able to grasp the pure simplicity of his teachings, but if we are willing to give them up and replace them with the simple, reasonable and logically coherent ideas he teaches us in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and elsewhere, the nature of all that we experience will become clear to us, and we will understand why and how we should investigate ourself and thereby surrender ourself in order to know and to be what we always actually are.
Bhagavan does not ask us to blindly believe what he teaches us, so he begins his exposition of this philosophy of pure non-duality (advaita) by asking us to critically analyse our own experience of ourself in our three states of waking, dream and sleep, in order to understand why we cannot actually be what we now seem to be. In waking we experience ourself as one body, and in dream we experience ourself as another body, so neither of these bodies can be what we actually are, because we cannot be anything that we are aware of in one state but not in another state. However, we are aware of ourself as the same mind in both these states, so is this mind what we actually are? It cannot be, because we are aware of our being in sleep without being aware of this mind or anything else whatsoever. Since the only thing that we are aware of in all these three states is our own being, ‘I am’, what we actually are can only be this simple being, the nature of which is to be always aware of itself as ‘I am’. What we actually are, therefore, is just pure being-awareness (sat-cit), even though we now experience ourself as if we were this person, who is a bundle consisting of five sheaths, namely a physical body, life, mind, intellect and will. Therefore, since we are not what we now seem to be, we need to investigate ourself, this fundamental awareness ‘I am’, in order to be aware of ourself as the one pure, immutable and indivisible being-awareness (sat-cit) that we actually are and thereby put an end to our present illusory awareness of ourself as something other than this. All that he teaches us in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and elsewhere, therefore, follows on logically from the conclusions that we can thus arrive at by means of this simple critical analysis of our own experience of ourself in these three states of waking, dream and sleep.
When we study and try to understand his teachings, we should always bear in mind that all he teaches us has one purpose and one purpose alone, namely to direct us, motivate us and encourage us to turn back within to see ourself as we actually are and thereby surrender everything that we are not. All his teachings are therefore centred around and focused on this simple but deep practice of self-investigation and self-surrender. If we overlook this fact, we will not be able to understand his teachings in the correct perspective. What is of utmost importance is this practice, and we will be able to understand his teachings only to the extent to which we go deep in this practice, because the clarity required to understand them can come only from deep within our heart, where it is always shining silently as our own being.
Therefore we should not expect to be able to understand his teachings perfectly from the outset, but if we sincerely wish to understand them ever more deeply, we should not only try to put our present imperfect understanding into practice but should also continue to study his teachings carefully and repeatedly. As our practice of self-investigation and self-surrender grows progressively deeper, we will be able to understand what we study with increasing clarity. This is why it is said that śravaṇa, manana and nididhyāsana (study, careful consideration and practice) should continue hand in hand in our life until we as ego lose ourself entirely in the infinite clarity of pure self-awareness (ātma-jñāna).
Though śravaṇa literally means hearing, in this context it includes reading and studying, because when we read or study Bhagavan’s teachings we are metaphorically ‘hearing’ them. However, when we read or hear them, we should not do so passively, because just as we need to chew and digest whatever food we eat in order to assimilate it, we need to metaphorically chew and digest his teachings in order to assimilate them.
This process of chewing and digesting them is what is called manana, which means thinking, considering, reflecting, pondering or meditating, and which entails carefully considering all that we learn through śravaṇa. The main aim of manana is for us to understand clearly the basic principles of his teachings, all their implications, the logical connections between each of them, and most importantly of all, why and how we should and can put them into practice.
However another important benefit of careful manana and the clear understanding it gives us is that they will enable us to distinguish the grain from the chaff (the genuine teachings from the spurious ones) when we read any of the various recordings of his answers to questions or come across any other sayings attributed to him. The reason why this is necessary is twofold. Firstly, because when he replied to questions asked by those who were not yet ready to understand or accept the basic principles of his teachings (which was the case with the majority of those who asked him questions), he had to modify his teachings to suit their strongly held preconceptions, beliefs, desires and aspirations, which in most cases was not complete self-surrender and annihilation of ego, so the purpose of whatever he replied to such people was to draw them gently and gradually towards his teachings without trying to compel them to accept what they were not yet willing to accept. Secondly, because in most cases those who recorded his replies did so in English, even though he generally spoke in Tamil, or occasionally in Malayalam or Telugu, and very rarely spoke more than a few words in English, so they did not record his exact words, and since they recorded from memory sometime after he had spoken, they could only record what they had been able to understand, which was often not actually what he had said or meant. This is not surprising, because if we listen to a conversation and afterwards try to record what was said, we will at best be able to record only the gist of it, and if we failed to understand any of it correctly, we will record what we understood rather than what was actually said or meant. Therefore there are many inaccuracies in what is recorded in books such as Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi, so when we read such books we need to use our understanding of the fundamental principles of his teachings as expressed by him in his own original writings such as Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?), Upadēśa Undiyār and Āṉma-Viddai to judge for ourself whether or not each statement attributed to him actually reflects his real teachings.
Deep and careful manana is essential, because it enables us to form a clear understanding of his teachings, and whatever practice (nididhyāsana) we do will only be in accordance with what we have been able to understand. If our understanding is at all confused, unclear or imperfect, our practice will be equally confused, unclear and imperfect.
In order to deepen and clarify our understanding, repeated śravaṇa, manana and nididhyāsana are necessary. When we practise nididhyāsana, which literally means ‘deep contemplation’ and which in this context means self-contemplation or self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), namely the simple practice of being self-attentive, we are looking at our own being, ‘I am’, which is the light of pure awareness by which everything else is illumined, so we are thereby bathing our mind in this light, so to speak, and thus we are cleansing, purifying and clarifying it. Self-attentiveness is therefore the most effective way to deepen and clarify our understanding, so the more we practise being self-attentive the more we will thereby be able to understand whatever teachings of his we hear or read, and thus the deeper and clearer our manana will become, which in turn will enable us to go deeper in our practice of being self-attentive. Therefore śravaṇa, manana and nididhyāsana are all necessary, and each one feeds and nourishes the other two.
Bhagavan’s teachings are like a map. When we travel to a land we have never visited, we need to study a map of the route and the layout of our destination before departing, but when we start on our journey we do not leave the map behind. We take it with us and refer to it often as we proceed. Before departing we understood the map to a certain extent, but as we proceed on our journey and refer to it as we go along, not only does it guide us but it also becomes more meaningful to us when we actually see for ourself the places and features represented on it. Likewise, before we can start to follow that path that Bhagavan has taught us, we first need to study and think about his teachings in order to understand them enough to begin following them, because if we do not have at least a rudimentary understanding of them we will not know in which direction we should proceed, nor how we can go in that direction. Once we have gained a sufficient degree of understanding, we can and should start trying to go within, but when we do so we will inevitably be confronted with obstacles, dilemmas and uncertainties that we had not anticipated, so we need to refer to his teachings again to understand how to circumvent the obstacles, solve the dilemmas and clear away the uncertainties. If we frequently refer to his teachings and consider them carefully, they will not only guide us on our inward journey, but will also become more meaningful to us to the extent that we sink deep within.
Though our understanding of his teachings will grow deeper and clearer as we go deeper in our practice of self-investigation and self-surrender, we will never be able to say that we have understood his teachings completely or perfectly, because the deeper we sink within, the more we will be able to see fresh layers of meaning and implication in what he has written in works such as Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai, so we should always allow our practice of his teachings to be accompanied, supported and encouraged by frequent śravaṇa and manana.
Bhagavan is an expert doctor who has precisely diagnosed the root cause of all our problems, namely ego, and he has prescribed the perfect medicine to eradicate this root cause, namely the simple practice of patient and persistent self-investigation and self-surrender. Therefore, if we want to be benefited by his teachings, our primary duty to ourself is to try our best to subside deep within by patiently persevering in our practice of self-investigation and self-surrender. When we do so, we will face many obstacles in the form of our viṣaya-vāsanās (inclinations to seek happiness in objects or phenomena), but we should never give up, because as Bhagavan often said, ‘Nobody has ever succeeded on this path without perseverance’. No matter how many obstacles we may face, and how many times we may seem to fail, if we patiently persevere in trying our best to cling firmly to self-attentiveness, by his grace we will surely succeed eventually in sinking back into the innermost depth of our heart, where he shines eternally as the infinitely clear light of pure awareness, waiting like an old lion to devour us as soon as we enter his abode.
3. Bhagavan’s teachings are advaita vēdānta in its purest form
The teachings of Bhagavan Ramana are therefore an extremely refined, simple and clear expression of the essence of advaita vēdānta in its very purest and most practical form, because not only did he explain the core philosophy of advaita far more simply, clearly and radically than it had ever been explained before, but even more importantly, in doing so he made clear what the true practice of advaita actually is. However, to appreciate clearly the great contribution that he has made to vēdānta in general and advaita in particular, it is necessary for us to understand where his teachings stand in the broader context of vēdānta as a whole.
The primary texts of vēdānta are the prasthānatraya, the ‘triple origin’ or ‘triple source’, namely the Upaniṣads, Brahmasūtra and Bhagavad Gītā, and these contain a wide variety of spiritual teachings suited to the needs of people at different stages of spiritual development, so they can be and have been interpreted in many different ways by the various schools of vēdānta. One such interpretation is advaita, and there is abundant support for this view in the prasthānatraya, but other schools of vēdānta can equally well find plenty of support for their views in the same texts. There is a good reason for this, and it is how it should be, because different teachings are appropriate for us at different stages of our spiritual development, so vēdānta caters for our needs at each of the successive stages of our spiritual growth, like a loving mother catering for the needs of her children at each stage of their growth, nurturing them first in her womb, and after their birth feeding and nurturing them appropriately from their earliest infancy till they are fully grown.
From the perspective of advaita, therefore, particularly in its purest and deepest form as taught by Bhagavan Ramana, each of the many interpretations of vēdānta is appropriate for those who are attracted to it, and will gradually lead them to deeper levels of understanding and practice, so in verses 2 and 3 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu he teaches us that it is not appropriate for us as spiritual aspirants to engage in disputation with those who cherish views, beliefs and interpretations that are contrary to our own. Let anyone believe and follow whatever spiritual philosophy and practices that they want to believe, because what they believe and follow is what is best suited to them at their present level of spiritual growth.
Though advaita is the ultimate import of vēdānta, at least from the perspective of those of us who are attracted to it, we should not expect others to be attracted to it as we are, or to agree with us that it is the ultimate import of vēdānta. However, if advaita is the view that appeals to us most, we can find plenty of support for it not only in a deep and careful rational analysis of our experience of ourself in our three states of waking, dream and sleep, and in our practice of the path of self-investigation and self-surrender taught by Bhagavan, but also throughout the prasthānatraya of vēdānta.
For example, in the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad 6.2.1-2 it is said that before this (implying before the appearance of this or any other world) what existed was ‘एकम् एव अद्वितीयम्’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam), ‘one only without a second’, namely ‘सत् एव’ (sat ēva), ‘being only’, or ‘सत्त्व एव’ (sattva ēva), ‘beingness only’. Other interpretations of vēdānta would argue that though being was originally ‘one only without a second’, it later transformed itself into all this multiplicity, whereas according to advaita it has always remained as ‘one only without a second’, so all this multiplicity is just an illusory appearance (vivarta). Strong support for this advaita interpretation can be found in the Bhagavad Gītā 2.16, in the first line of which Bhagavan Krishna says ‘न असतः विद्यते भावः; न अभावः विद्यते सतः’ (na asataḥ vidyate bhāvaḥ; na abhāvaḥ vidyate sataḥ), ‘There is no existence (bhāva) of the non-existent (asat); there is no non-existence (abhāva) of the existent (sat)’, which Bhagavan Ramana translated into Tamil in verse 9 of Bhagavad Gītā Sāram as ‘இல்லாததனுக்கு இருப்பு இல்லை; உள்ளதனுக்கு இல்லாமை என்பது இலை’ (illādadaṉukku iruppu illai; uḷḷadaṉukku illāmai eṉbadu ilai), ‘For illādadu [what does not exist] there is no existence. For uḷḷadu [what does exist] there is not what is called non-existence’. In other words, what does not exist cannot ever exist, and what does exist cannot ever not exist, so as Bhagavan Ramana often used to say: ‘What exists must always exist, so if something exists at one time and not at another time, it does not actually exist even when it seems to exist’. Applying this principle to what is said in the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad 6.2.1-2, since being (sat) existed alone as ‘one only without a second’ before this, it must exist eternally, because it can never be non-existent. Likewise, since nothing other than that eternal being existed before this, nothing other than it can ever actually exist, because what is once non-existent can never be existent. Therefore what actually exists must always be ‘one only without a second’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam). Whether we want to accept this or not, this is the basic contention of advaita, and it is supported by these and many other passages in the prasthānatraya of vēdānta.
So according to vēdānta, what is this being or existence (sat) that is eternally ‘one only without a second’? According to the mahāvākya (great saying) of the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad (6.8.7), ‘तत्त्वमसि’ (tat tvam asi), ‘That you are’, we ourself are that one existence other than which nothing exists.
What, therefore, is the practical implication of this teaching? In classical advaita there has been a strong tendency to interpret this to mean that we should meditate that we are that, but in verse 32 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan explains that when we are told ‘அது நீ’ (adu nī), ‘That is you’, our immediate response should be to try to know and be what we actually are by investigating எது நான் (edu nāṉ), what am I, and he adds that meditating that we are that (namely brahman, the one real existence) and not this (namely this body) is due to non-existence of strength (namely the strength of vivēka, discernment or ability to distinguish what is real from what is unreal, bhakti, love to be as we actually are, and vairāgya, freedom from desire to be aware of anything other than our own being):
In other words, once we have been told that brahman is ourself, we should understand that we can know brahman only by knowing what we ourself actually are, and we can know what we actually are only by turning our entire attention back within to face ourself alone. Thus, by making this clear to us, Bhagavan has fulfilled the real aim of each of the mahāvākyas, which are key statements by which the Upaniṣads declare jīva-brahmaikya, the essential aikya (oneness) of jīva (the soul or ego) and brahman (the one infinite being or God).
In classical advaita we are taught that the root cause of all our problems is avidyā (ignorance), namely ignorance of our own real nature, and that the only remedy for avidyā is vidyā (knowledge), namely knowledge of our own real nature. However, the means to attain vidyā has been widely misunderstood, because it is generally believed that it can be gained only by studying the prasthānatraya, commentaries on them and other vēdānta texts under the guidance of a properly qualified teacher belonging to an established sampradāya, a tradition that hands down its doctrine through a paramparā (a lineage or succession of gurus or teachers).
Some people believe this idea so strongly that they even claim that Bhagavan Ramana was not a proper guru, because he did not belong to any such paramparā and he had not studied vēdānta in the traditional manner. However, this is a very crude and superficial understanding both of the meaning of the term guru and of the real role of guru, whereas Bhagavan has given us a much deeper and more refined understanding about the real nature and role of guru. According to him guru is not a person but the eternal reality that always exists and shines in our heart as our own being, ‘I am’. As he says in the twelfth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, ‘கடவுளும் குருவும் உண்மையில் வேறல்லர்’ (kaḍavuḷ-um guru-v-um uṇmaiyil vēṟallar), ‘God and guru are in truth not different’, and as he often used to say, God, guru and ātman are one, meaning that God and guru are nothing other than ātma-svarūpa (the real nature of ourself). However, though guru always exists in us as our own real nature, and though its grace is therefore always working in our heart to purify our mind and thereby gradually prepare us to eventually turn back within to merge forever in our source, at a certain point in this process it is necessary in most cases for guru to appear outwardly in human form in order to teach us to turn back within. Therefore, though guru appears in human form (in our case in the human form of Bhagavan Ramana), the role of guru is never in any way limited to that form, because the svarūpa or real form of guru is ātma-svarūpa, so the real locus of the role of guru is deep within our own heart, where it is always performing its extremely subtle aruḷ-seyal or act of grace by just being as it always actually is. Hence, since guru is not actually a person, even though it appears in human form, there is no need for any paramparā (lineage of gurus), because having once appeared in human form to teach us to turn within, the purpose of that human form has been fulfilled by leaving us with the precious legacy of its verbal teachings (which in the case of Bhagavan he has left us primarily in the form of his own original writings such as Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu). After that, it is up to us as disciples to always cherish guru and its verbal teachings in our heart by trying our best to follow the path he has taught us, namely the simple practice of self-investigation and self-surrender, which entails clinging firmly to self-attentiveness and thereby sinking deep in our heart, where his real teachings are always shining as the silence of our own being.
In his teachings Bhagavan has clarified the nature of both vidyā and avidyā in an extremely practical manner, thereby dispelling the mistaken belief that vidyā is a knowledge that can be gained from books or any other external source. Firstly he clarified that avidyā is nothing but ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, and that vidyā is sat-cit, the pure awareness that always shines as our own being, ‘I am’. The knowledge that can be gained from books or spoken words is only conceptual knowledge, and since such knowledge is known only by ego, it exists only in the realm of avidyā, and hence it cannot eradicate ego, whose very nature is avidyā.
So long as we rise and stand as ego, conceptual knowledge is necessary and useful, but in the spiritual path it is useful only to the extent that, firstly, it enables us to understand why we should investigate and know ourself, why we should thereby surrender ourself, and what exactly is the self we need to investigate and know and the self we need to surrender, and secondly, it encourages and motivates us to persevere in this practice of self-investigation and self-surrender. To gain this understanding and encouragement, we do not need to study many books, but only a few very relevant texts like Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and the other original writings of Bhagavan, in which he is constantly urging us to turn back within to see ourself as we actually are. As he says in the sixteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:
However, what is the practical implication of vivarta vāda, this contention that everything other than our own real nature (ātma-svarūpa) is just an illusory appearance? In classical advaita vēdānta this important question is seldom considered in as much depth as it should be. However, as Bhagavan pointed out, when we are told that all phenomena are just an illusory appearance, should we not consider to whom they all appear? Nothing can appear without appearing in the view of something, so in whose view do all these things appear? Since phenomena appear to us only in waking and dream, when we have risen as ego, and since no phenomena appear to us in sleep, when we do not rise as ego, it is clear that they appear and seem to exist only in the view of ourself as ego. Therefore, since an illusory appearance depends for its seeming existence upon the one in whose view it seems to exist, Bhagavan taught us that the practical implication of vivarta vāda is that we should investigate ourself, the one to whom all this appears.
To illustrate how all this multiplicity can be just vivarta, an illusory appearance, meaning that though it seems to exist, it does not actually exist, various analogies are given in classical advaita. One such analogy is dream. Though a whole world populated with people and numerous other phenomena seems to exist in a dream, it does not actually exist, because it is only in the view of the dreamer that it seems to exist. Likewise, our present state, which now seems to us to be our waking state and therefore distinct from dream, is actually just a dream, and we as ego are the dreamer, because the dreamer is the one in whose view all the dream phenomena seem to exist.
What actually exists and is therefore real is only ourself as we actually are, but in a dream we as ego seem to be a body, so since we are real (albeit not as ego but only as we actually are), whatever body currently seems to be ourself therefore seems to be real, and since that dream body is a part of the dream world, the whole dream world seems to be real. Therefore while we are dreaming, our dream body and dream world seem to us to be real, and therefore we seem to be awake, even though we are actually just dreaming. However, as soon as we wake up from a dream, we instantly recognise that it was just a dream and therefore not real. What a moment before seemed to be so real, on waking is immediately seen to be unreal. The reason for this is that while we were dreaming we experienced ourself as ‘I am this body’, so that dream body and hence the whole dream world seemed to be real, but as soon as we wake up from that dream, our identification with that dream body is severed, meaning that we cease to experience it as ourself, and hence we cease to experience it as real. Applying this to our present state, we can understand that the reason why our present body and the whole world of which it is a part seem to be so real, and why this state therefore now seems to be our waking state and not just a dream, is that we now experience this body as if it were ourself. This is why whatever dream we are currently experiencing always seems to us to be real and therefore not just a dream. Since we do not and cannot experience anything in our present state that we could not equally well experience in a dream, we have absolutely no evidence or other adequate reason to suppose that our present state is anything other than a dream, so it is perfectly reasonable for us to conclude that this is just a dream and that all phenomena are therefore just an illusory appearance (vivarta).
However, though in classical advaita it is argued in some texts (such as by Gaudapada in his Māṇḍūkya Kārikā) that there is no difference between waking and dream, meaning that what appears to be the waking state is actually just a dream, in many other texts it is argued that though waking is analogous to dream in some respects, it is actually more real than dream, because the waking world was created prior to our perception of it and therefore exists independent of ourself as the mind that perceives it. The former view is called dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi vāda, the contention (vāda) that perception (dṛṣṭi) is itself creation (sṛṣṭi), meaning that there is no creation independent of our perception of it, just as nothing perceived in a dream exists independent of the dreamer’s perception of it, whereas the latter view is called sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi vāda, the contention that creation precedes perception and therefore exists independent of it. Since most people are not willing to accept that their entire life is just a dream and that nothing that they experience therefore has any existence independent of their experience of it, by far and away the most popular view in classical advaita is sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi vāda, but this is a very diluted form of advaita and is taught only for the benefit of those who are not yet willing to accept all the implications of the much deeper, simpler and clearer teaching of advaita vēdānta, namely dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi vāda.
An illusory appearance is a misperception, a perception of something as something other than what it actually is, so it appears and seems to exist only in the view of whoever perceives it as such. Therefore, if all this is just an illusory appearance, as advaita vēdānta contends, how could it exist independent of the perceiving mind’s perception of it? Therefore sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi vāda is a profoundly unsatisfactory and inherently inconsistent explanation of the primary contention of advaita vēdānta, namely that what actually exists is ‘one only without a second’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam), and that the seeming existence of all this multiplicity is therefore just an illusory appearance (vivarta). Hence, in order to safeguard us from all the conceptual confusion and complications that inevitably arise from and follow in the wake of sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi vāda, in texts such as Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and Nāṉ Ār? Bhagavan clearly and unequivocally teaches us dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi vāda, and he explained that this is the view we must be willing to accept if we genuinely seek to know the one reality that underlies the unreal appearance of all this multiplicity.
Another analogy that is frequently used in classical advaita to illustrate how all this can be just an illusory appearance (vivarta) is the snake that a rope is mistaken to be. What actually exists in such a case is only a rope, but what it seems to be is a snake. Though the snake seems to be very real, it is actually just an illusory appearance, because no snake actually exists there at all. The snake seems to exist only in the view of the mind that sees it, so as a snake it has absolutely no existence at all independent of that mind’s perception of it. Likewise all phenomena seem to exist only in the view of ourself as ego or mind, so as phenomena they have absolutely no existence at all independent of our perception of them. Whenever we rise and stand as ego, as we do in waking and dream, phenomena seem to exist, and whenever we do not rise as ego, as in sleep, no phenomena seem to exist, so all phenomena depend for their seeming existence upon the seeming existence of ourself as ego. Since ego (the subject or knower) and phenomena (the objects or things that are known) both appear and disappear, neither of them is real, but though they appear and disappear simultaneously, phenomena shine or seem to exist only because of ego, as Bhagavan points out in verse 7 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:
What seems to be a snake is actually just a rope. Likewise, what seems to be both ego and all phenomena is actually just the one underlying reality, namely brahman, which is sat-cit, the real nature of ourself (ātma-svarūpa), meaning ourself as we actually are. Therefore in the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad 3.14.1 it is said ‘सर्वं खल्विदं ब्रह्म’ (sarvaṁ khalvidaṁ brahma), ‘All this is actually [truly or certainly] brahman’. However, in verse 26 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan says: ‘அகந்தையே யாவும் ஆம்’ (ahandaiyē yāvum ām), ‘Ego itself is everything’. Though it may appear on superficial observation that he is here contradicting what is said in the upaniṣad, this is actually a clear example of the way in which he clarified the truth of vēdānta by re-expressing it in a more carefully nuanced and refined manner.
That is, though the ultimate truth is that all this is actually brahman, just as what seems to be a snake is actually just a rope, in our experience as ego or jīva all this seems to include birth, death, pain, suffering, misery and all the other problems of saṁsāra (embodied existence), so we do not experience all this as the infinitely blissful brahman, which is one, indivisible and immutable, and being told that all this is brahman does not enable us to see it as such. Therefore we need to consider why we see brahman as all this and consequently not as it actually is. Since brahman sees itself only as brahman and not as all this, the reason we see brahman as all this is because we do not see ourself as brahman, and we do not see ourself as brahman because we see ourself instead as ego, this seemingly limited ‘I’ that rises in waking and dream as ‘I am this body’ and that subsides and ceases to exist in sleep. What we actually are is only brahman, but whenever we rise as ego we see ourself as all this, so in order to see ourself and everything else as the one infinite and indivisible brahman that we actually are, we need to permanently cease rising as ego. Since ego is just this false awareness of ourself as ‘I am this body’, it can be eradicated only by our being aware of ourself as we actually are, and we can be aware of ourself as we actually are only by keenly investigating ourself.
Therefore, in order to clarify the implication and fulfil the purpose of this statement in the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad, ‘सर्वं खल्विदं ब्रह्म’ (sarvaṁ khalvidaṁ brahma), ‘All this is actually brahman’, in verse 26 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan explains:
If we look keenly enough at what seems to be a snake, we will see that it is not actually a snake but only a rope. Likewise, when we as ego investigate ourself keenly enough, we will see that we are not actually this finite ego, whose nature is to be always aware of the seeming existence of other things, but only brahman, which is ‘one only without a second’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam), and whose nature is therefore to be aware of nothing other than itself, because nothing other than itself exists for it to be aware of.
Therefore, since everything is only ego, and since ego is nothing other than brahman, it is true that ‘all this is actually brahman’. That is, the immediate source, ground and substance of all this is ego, and the source, ground and substance of ego is brahman, so the ultimate source, ground and substance of all this is brahman. Thus we can see that Bhagavan has not contradicted the statement ‘All this is actually brahman’ (sarvaṁ khalvidaṁ brahma) by saying ‘Ego itself is everything’ (ahandaiyē yāvum ām), but has clarified its meaning and significance by introducing into this equation the crucial missing link, namely ego. Without this important clarification, on its own this teaching, ‘All this is actually brahman’, seems to lack any practical value, because it does not explain or clearly imply how we can actually see all this as brahman, but with this essential link that formerly seemed to be missing until Bhagavan pointed it out, the practical implication of this teaching immediately becomes clear to us, particularly when we consider it in the context of the fundamental principles of his teachings as expounded by him in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and his other original writings.
As we can see from the examples above, in his teachings Bhagavan has not only clarified the meaning and philosophical implications of the core teachings of vēdānta by expressing them afresh in a much simpler, clearer, deeper, more refined and more radical manner, but most importantly of all he has clarified and highlighted the practical implications of them. If we understand it correctly, vēdānta is an extremely practical philosophy, which is why it can be and has been adapted so well to suit the needs of aspirants during different stages of their spiritual development, and why it has therefore given rise to so many different interpretations, but unfortunately many followers of vēdānta, particularly those who claim to be followers of advaita, fail to recognise the practical implications of vēdānta, and therefore mistake the mere study and exposition of vēdānta texts to be the actual practice of vēdānta. This is why it was necessary for Lord Arunachala Siva himself, who had earlier appeared in the form of the ādi-guru (original guru), Dakshinamurti, to appear once again in modern times in the human form of Bhagavan Ramana in order to clarify the correct practice of vēdānta in general and advaita in particular.
Since advaita means ‘non-two-ness’ (a-dvi-tā), the correct practice of advaita cannot be any practice that entails more than one thing, such as the distinction between subject and object. In other words, it cannot be meditation on anything other than oneself. Therefore being self-attentive is alone the correct practice of advaita, and this is what is called self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), as Bhagavan made clear in the sixteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, where he defined ātma-vicāra by saying: ‘சதாகாலமும் மனத்தை ஆத்மாவில் வைத்திருப்பதற்குத் தான் ‘ஆத்மவிசார’ மென்று பெயர்’ (sadā-kālam-um maṉattai ātmāvil vaittiruppadaṟku-t tāṉ ‘ātma-vicāram’ eṉḏṟu peyar), ‘The name ‘ātma-vicāra’ is only for always keeping the mind on ātmā [oneself]’. ‘மனத்தை ஆத்மாவில் வைத்திருப்பது’ (maṉattai ātmāvil vaittiruppadu), ‘keeping the mind on oneself’, means keeping our attention fixed firmly on ourself, so this definition clearly implies that being self-attentive alone is the practice of self-investigation (ātma-vicāra). This is therefore the same practice that Bhagavan Krishna described in the Bhagavad Gītā 6.25 as ‘आत्मसंस्थं मन: कृत्वा न किञ्चिदपि चिन्तयेत्’ (ātma-saṁsthaṁ manaḥ kṛtvā na kiñcid api cintayēt), ‘Having made the mind ātma-saṁstha [self-standing or self-situated, namely fixed firmly on, in and as oneself], one should not think of anything at all’, which Bhagavan Ramana translated in Tamil in verse 27 of Bhagavad Gītā Sāram as ‘சித்தத்தை ஆன்மாவில் சேர்த்திடுக; மற்று எதுவும் இத்தனையும் எண்ணிடாதே’ (cittattai āṉmāvil sērttiḍuka; maṯṟu eduvum ittaṉaiyum eṇṇiḍādē), ‘Fix the mind on ātman [yourself]; do not think even the slightest of anything else at all’.
Another crucial contribution that Bhagavan Ramana made to vēdānta more broadly was to clarify the inseparable oneness and mutual interdependence of bhakti and jñāna: deep love and clear awareness. As he often used to say, ‘bhakti is the mother of jñāna’, because jñāna is the perfectly clear awareness (namely sat-cit, pure being-awareness, ‘I am’) that alone remains when we as ego have surrendered ourself entirely, and without bhakti, which is all-consuming love to give ourself entirely to God, who is our own real nature (ātma-svarūpa), we will not be willing to surrender ourself entirely to him.
In other schools of vēdānta it is generally believed that in advaita there is no room for real bhakti, and that followers of advaita at best pay only lip service to the need for bhakti, and this belief of theirs is at least partially justified by the fact that many who consider themselves to be followers of advaita do indeed look down on bhakti as an inferior path, but Bhagavan not only taught that heart-melting and all-consuming love (bhakti) is absolutely essential, being the only driving force that can enable us to persevere and go deep in the practice of self-investigation and thereby surrender ourself entirely to God, but also exemplified such love in Śrī Aruṇācala Stuti Pañcakam (the Five Hymns to Arunachala), particularly in Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai (the Marriage Garland of Syllables to Arunachala), which he sang in the madhura bhāva (the sweet state of heart-melting love in which the lover yearns for eternal and inseparable union with her beloved Lord), which is considered in the bhakti schools of vēdānta to be the deepest and purest form of love (bhakti). More than in any of his other works, in Akṣaramaṇamālai Bhagavan has taught us by example the real nature of deep bhakti and its indispensable importance in the path of self-investigation and self-surrender, and he has also shown us that the imperishable marriage (akṣara maṇam) or union with God for which the true devotee yearns is the state of absolute and eternal oneness with him that can be achieved only by complete self-surrender and consequent eradication of ego. Thus he exemplified in his life, poetry and teachings the inseparable oneness of bhakti and jñāna, thereby bridging the gulf that formerly seemed to separate advaita from the other schools of vēdānta.
True love is giving, not taking. If we truly love someone, we will not be concerned about what we can take or gain from them for ourself but only about what we can give to them. So long as we seek to gain anything from God for ourself, our love for him is still impure. If our love for him is pure, we will want nothing but to give ourself entirely to him. Therefore pure bhakti is heart-melting and all-consuming love to give ourself completely and unreservedly to God. Few of us have such bhakti in its fullest form, but if we are following the spiritual path this is what we should be aspiring for and working towards. Complete surrender of ourself to God, the one infinite and eternal reality that always exists and shines in our heart as our own being, ‘I am’, alone is the true and ultimate goal of bhakti.
When we start on the path of bhakti, God seems to be something other than ourself, so we try to express our love for him through actions of body, speech and mind, namely pūjā (worship of him), stōtra (singing his praises) or japa (repetition of his name) and dhyāna (meditation on him) respectively, and by the love with which we do such actions our mind is gradually purified, meaning that it is cleansed of all its inclinations to seek happiness in anything other than love for God, as Bhagavan explains in verses 3 to 7 of Upadēśa Undiyār. As our mind is thereby purified, we gain the clarity to recognise that we cannot actually be anything other than God, the one infinite whole, the fullness of being, the only thing that actually exists, so since we have thereby come to understand that he alone is what we actually are, we cease seeking him outside ourself and instead begin to seek him only in the depth of our own heart. That is, instead of meditating on him as something other than ourself, as we were doing previously, we start to meditate on him as none other than ourself, with the clear understanding that he is I.
Since the nature of ourself as ego is to rise, stand and flourish by attending to things other than ourself, we will subside and sink back into the depth of our heart only to the extent to which we attend to ourself alone, as Bhagavan makes clear in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, so by meditating on ourself we are surrendering ourself to God, and hence in verse 8 of Upadēśa Undiyār he says that ananya-bhāva, meditating on nothing other than ourself, is ‘அனைத்தினும் உத்தமம்’ (aṉaittiṉum uttamam), ‘best among all’, implying that it is not only the best practice of bhakti and most effective means to purify the mind but also the only means by which we can eradicate ego and thereby surrender ourself completely to God:
In the early stages of the path of surrender we recognise by the grace of God that what stands between him and us is our own will. Since he is all-knowing, nothing can happen without his knowing it. Since he is all-powerful, nothing can happen without his allowing it. And since he is all-loving, he will not allow anything to happen that is not for the ultimate good of all concerned. Therefore whatever may happen in our life is happening with his knowledge and consent and in accordance with his will, so if we want to surrender ourself to him, we must be willing to accept wholeheartedly our present circumstances and whatever happens as his sweet will for our own benefit and the benefit of all concerned, whether or not we are able to understand how each particular thing is for the benefit of all concerned. In order to wholeheartedly accept everything as his will, we need to surrender our will to his, meaning that we need to give up all our own likes, dislikes, desires, attachments, hopes, fears and so on, and we will be able to do so only to the extent that we have genuine love for him.
In order to have true and deep love for him, we need to trust him, and our trust in him and consequent love for him are born out of clarity of mind and heart, which naturally arises from within to the extent that our mind is purified, meaning cleansed of its impurities, namely its likes, dislikes, desires, attachments, hopes, fears and so on. All this happens by his grace, but his grace needs to work through us in order to bring about these changes, and it can work through us only to the extent that we are willing to yield ourself to it, thereby allowing it to cleanse us of our impurities and thereby give us the clarity to trust him and love him wholeheartedly. This process of our surrendering our will to his is therefore a gradual one, and it happens by us progressively learning to trust and cooperate with the working of his grace.
However, though by going through this process we can gradually learn to surrender our will to him, we can surrender it only to a certain extent so long as we continue to rise as ego, because it is the very nature of ourself as ego to have a will of our own to a greater or lesser extent. Therefore, in order to surrender our will entirely to him, we need to surrender ourself entirely to him, so this gradual process of learning to surrender our will to him eventually leads us to self-surrender, which is the pinnacle of this path of bhakti and surrender.
But how can we surrender ourself? The self we need to surrender is ourself as ego, and since the nature of ourself as ego is to rise, stand and flourish to the extent to which we attend to anything other than ourself, but to subside and dissolve back into our being to the extent to which we attend to ourself alone, we can surrender ourself as ego only by being so keenly self-attentive that we become aware of ourself as we actually are, thereby eradicating ego and merging back forever in God, who is what we actually are, like a river merging back in the ocean. That this is the only means by which we can ultimately give ourself entirely to God is pointed out by Bhagavan in the first sentence of the thirteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:
Therefore through his life, teachings and writings Bhagavan has clarified not only the philosophy and correct practice of the path of jñāna, namely self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), which is central to the advaita school of vēdānta, but also the nature of the ultimate practice of the path of bhakti, namely complete surrender of oneself to God, which is central to all the other bhakti schools of vēdānta.
- Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and its essential import
- Why and how should we study Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and other writings of Bhagavan?
- Bhagavan’s teachings are advaita vēdānta in its purest form
His teachings therefore represent the simple but extremely deep essence and practical implication of all of vēdānta, the philosophical conclusion of the Vēdas, particularly the non-dualistic interpretation of it called advaita (‘non-twoness’, meaning that what actually exists is ‘ēkam ēva advitīyam’, ‘one only without a second’). However, though his teachings are in perfect accord with the heart of advaita and vēdānta more generally, they are nevertheless a very fresh and original presentation of them, because he diagnosed very precisely the root cause of all our problems, namely ego, he clearly explained its nature like never before, and in doing so he clarified and emphasised the practical implication of the basic principles of vēdānta, namely that to achieve the removal of all suffering (duḥkha nivṛtti) and the attainment of happiness (sukha prāpti) we need to eradicate ego, and since ego is a false awareness of ourself (an awareness of ourself as something other than what we actually are), it can be eradicated only by our investigating who am I and thereby knowing ourself as we actually are.
Bhagavan discovered all this from his own experience, without any prior study of vēdānta, when he was just a sixteen-year-old schoolboy. One day in July 1896, when he was sitting alone in a room in his uncle’s house in the south Indian town of Madurai, an intense fear of death suddenly arose within him with no apparent cause. Instead of trying to put this fear out of his mind he decided to investigate and discover for himself whether he himself would cease to exist with the death of his body. He therefore turned his entire attention back within, towards his own being, ‘I am’, thereby withdrawing it from his body and all other phenomena, both mental and physical. Because his attention was so keenly focused on his own being, his fundamental awareness ‘I am’, the true nature of that being-awareness (sat-cit) revealed itself instantaneously as a clear, direct and certain knowledge. This destroyed in him forever all trace of ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, because he discovered himself to be just the pure awareness ‘I am’, which is the one infinite, eternal, indivisible and immutable whole, the only existing reality, the source and substance of all things, and the real nature (svarūpa) of every living being.
1. Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and its essential import
உள்ளது நாற்பது (uḷḷadu nāṟpadu) is a Tamil poem that Bhagavan composed between 21st July and 11th August 1928 in response to a request made by Muruganar, one of his foremost devotees, to teach us the nature of the reality and the means by which we can attain it so that we may thereby be saved. In the title of this poem, ‘uḷḷadu’ means ‘what is’ or ‘what exists’, in the sense of what actually exists rather than what merely seems to exist, and it also means ‘being’ in the sense of both ‘existence’ and ‘existing’. As Bhagavan says in the seventh paragraph of Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?), ‘யதார்த்தமா யுள்ளது ஆத்மசொரூப மொன்றே’ (yathārthamāy uḷḷadu ātma-sorūpam oṉḏṟē), ‘What actually exists is only ātma-svarūpa [the real nature of oneself]’, so when he uses the word ‘uḷḷadu’ he is referring to ourself as we actually are. Though ‘nāṟpadu’ means ‘forty’ and in this context implies ‘forty verses’, Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu actually consists of forty-two verses, two of which form the maṅgalam or ‘auspicious introduction’ and the remaining forty of which form the nūl or ‘text’.
Though Bhagavan has expressed many of the fundamental principles of his teachings in his other works such as Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?), Upadēśa Undiyār and Āṉma-Viddai, nowhere has he expressed some of the most important and practical of them as clearly and coherently as he does in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, so this work shines as the core and crest-jewel of his teachings, being the quintessence of all of them. Therefore studying this work carefully and trying to put into practice all that he teaches us in it is essential for anyone who aspires to follow the path he has shown us to eradicate ego, the root cause of all our problems, because unless we have clearly understood and imbibed all the principles that he teaches us here, it is not possible for us to adequately grasp and appreciate the real depth and radical import of his teachings.
The essential import of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu is very simple: What we actually are is sat-cit, because we are both pure being (sat) and pure awareness (cit), which are one and indivisible. The being or existence that we actually are is described as ‘pure’ because it is existence itself and not the existence of any particular thing. In other words, it alone is what actually exists (uḷḷadu), so though other things may seem to exist, they do not actually exist, and hence they all derive their seeming existence only from the one real existence of ourself as sat-cit. Likewise, the awareness that we actually are is described as ‘pure’ because it is awareness itself, meaning that it is awareness that is just aware without being aware of anything other than itself (as he implies, for example, in verses 12 and 13), because in the clear view of ourself as sat-cit nothing other than ourself actually exists for us to know. As sat-cit, therefore, we are not aware of anything other than our own being, ‘I am’, so sat-cit is what shines eternally as ‘I am’, and since it shines thus by its own light of awareness, it is described as ‘self-shining’ (svayam-prakāśa).
Being the only thing that actually exists and shines, therefore, sat-cit is infinite, indivisible, eternal and immutable, so this alone is what we always actually are. However, in the distorted view of ourself as ego, this is not what we seem to be, because whenever we rise and stand as ego we are always aware of ourself not just as ‘I am’ but as ‘I am this body’. So what exactly is this ego that we now seem to be? As he points out in verse 24, it is neither the body, which is non-aware (jaḍa) and therefore does not know itself as ‘I’, nor is it sat-cit, which is eternal and immutable and therefore does not ever rise or come into existence:
சடவுடனா னென்னாது சச்சித் துதியாThough ego is neither of the body nor sat-cit, it rises as an awareness ‘I’ limited to the extent of a body, so it borrows its seeming form from the body and its substance (namely its existence and awareness) from sat-cit. It is therefore cit-jaḍa-granthi, a knot (granthi) formed by the seeming entanglement of awareness (cit) with a body, which is non-aware (jaḍa). In other words, it comes into existence as an erroneous conflation of what is aware, namely ‘I am’, with what is not aware, namely a body, because it is what is always aware of itself as ‘I am this body’.
துடலளவா நானொன் றுதிக்கு — மிடையிலிது
சிச்சடக்கி ரந்திபந்தஞ் சீவனுட்ப மெய்யகந்தை
யிச்சமு சாரமன மெண்.
jaḍavuḍaṉā ṉeṉṉādu saccit tudiyā
duḍalaḷavā nāṉoṉ ḏṟudikku — miḍaiyilidu
ciccaḍakki ranthibandhañ jīvaṉuṭpa meyyahandai
yiccamu sāramaṉa meṇ.
பதச்சேதம்: சட உடல் ‘நான்’ என்னாது; சத்சித் உதியாது; உடல் அளவா ‘நான்’ ஒன்று உதிக்கும் இடையில். இது சித்சடக்கிரந்தி, பந்தம், சீவன், நுட்ப மெய், அகந்தை, இச் சமுசாரம், மனம்; எண்.
Padacchēdam (word-separation): jaḍa uḍal ‘nāṉ’ eṉṉādu; sat-cit udiyādu; uḍal aḷavā ‘nāṉ’ oṉḏṟu udikkum iḍaiyil. idu cit-jaḍa-giranthi, bandham, jīvaṉ, nuṭpa mey, ahandai, i-c-samusāram, maṉam; eṇ.
English translation: The insentient body does not say ‘I’; sat-cit does not rise; in between one thing, ‘I’, rises as the extent of the body. This is cit-jaḍa-granthi, bondage, soul, subtle body, ego, this saṁsāra and mind. Know.
Therefore, since ego has no form or substance of its own, in verse 25 he describes it as ‘உருவற்ற பேய் அகந்தை’ (uru-v-aṯṟa pēy ahandai), the ‘formless demon [phantom or evil spirit] ego’, and points out that it comes into seeming existence grasping the form of a body as itself, it stands or endures by continuing to grasp that form as itself, it feeds itself and flourishes by grasping other forms, and leaving one form it grasps another form:
உருப்பற்றி யுண்டா முருப்பற்றி நிற்குThe very nature of ego, therefore, is to grasp forms, and since it itself is formless, whatever forms it grasps are things other than itself, namely objects or phenomena, and it can grasp such things only by attending to and thereby being aware of them. Therefore it is only by trying to grasp itself so firmly that it thereby stops grasping anything else whatsoever that ego will cease to exist in such a way that it can never rise again, as he implies in this verse by saying: ‘தேடினால் ஓட்டம் பிடிக்கும்’ (tēḍiṉāl ōṭṭam piḍikkum), ‘If seeking [that is, if ego seeks its own reality by investigating who am I], it will take flight’. That is, when we as ego attend to ourself so keenly that we thereby cease to be aware of anything else at all, we will cease to be ego, whose very nature is to be always aware of things other than itself, and will remain as we actually are, namely just as pure awareness, whose nature is to never be aware of anything other than itself.
முருப்பற்றி யுண்டுமிக வோங்கு — முருவிட்
டுருப்பற்றுந் தேடினா லோட்டம் பிடிக்கு
முருவற்ற பேயகந்தை யோர்.
uruppaṯṟi yuṇḍā muruppaṯṟi niṯku
muruppaṯṟi yuṇḍumiha vōṅgu — muruviṭ
ṭuruppaṯṟun tēḍiṉā lōṭṭam piḍikku
muruvaṯṟa pēyahandai yōr.
பதச்சேதம்: உரு பற்றி உண்டாம்; உரு பற்றி நிற்கும்; உரு பற்றி உண்டு மிக ஓங்கும்; உரு விட்டு, உரு பற்றும்; தேடினால் ஓட்டம் பிடிக்கும். உரு அற்ற பேய் அகந்தை. ஓர்.
Padacchēdam (word-separation): uru paṯṟi uṇḍām; uru paṯṟi niṯkum; uru paṯṟi uṇḍu miha ōṅgum; uru viṭṭu, uru paṯṟum; tēḍiṉāl ōṭṭam piḍikkum. uru aṯṟa pēy ahandai. ōr.
English translation: Grasping form it comes into existence; grasping form it stands; grasping and feeding on form it grows abundantly; leaving form, it grasps form. If seeking, it will take flight. [Such is the nature of this] formless demon ego. Investigate.
Thus in this verse Bhagavan reveals that the nature of ego is to rise, stand and flourish by attending to things other than itself, but to subside and dissolve back into its source (namely sat-cit) by attending to itself alone. This is one of the fundamental principles of his teachings, and is a fact that was never expressed so clearly and explicitly in any older text or by anyone else before him. The practical significance of this principle cannot be overemphasised, because it explains why self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), which is the simple practice of being keenly self-attentive, is the only means by which we as ego can surrender ourself completely and thereby be eradicated.
The reason why we as ego will subside and dissolve back into our own being, ‘I am’, to the extent to which we attend to ourself is that ego is not what we actually are, so we seem to be ego only so long as we do not attend to ourself keenly enough to see what we actually are. In other words, we seem to be ego only so long as we are looking elsewhere (attending to anything other than our own being), but if we look at ourself, there is no such thing as ego to be found, because what we actually are is just pure being-awareness (sat-cit), as we shall see if we look at ourself carefully enough. This is why Bhagavan says that ego will take flight if we investigate ourself. As he often used to say, ego seems to exist only because of avicāra (non-investigation, meaning our not attending to ourself), which is what is also called pramāda (negligence or inattentiveness, meaning self-negligence or self-inattentiveness), so it will cease to exist only by vicāra (investigation, meaning self-investigation or self-attentiveness).
Since everything other than our own being, ‘I am’, seems to exist only in the view of ourself as ego, when ego ceases to exist as a result of self-investigation, everything else will cease to exist along with it, as he explains clearly and unambiguously in verse 26, and as he also implies to a greater or lesser extent in many other verses, such as 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 11, 14 and 23, so this is another one of the fundamental principles of his teachings.
That is, nothing other than sat-cit actually exists, so all other things are not real but just an illusory appearance, and since they appear only in the view of ourself as ego, our rising and standing as ego alone is the root cause for their appearance. Therefore, since ego will cease to exist only when we investigate ourself keenly enough, the only means by which we can permanently put an end to the illusory appearance of ego and all other things is for us to patiently persevere in the practice of self-investigation (ātma-vicāra) until we are able to attend to ourself keenly enough to see ourself as we always actually are, namely as sat-cit alone.
In sleep we do not rise as ego, and hence nothing else seems to exist. In waking and dream we rise and stand as ego, and hence everything else seems to exist. Since other things include pain, suffering, misery, dissatisfaction and problems of all kinds, we experience such things only in waking and dream but not in sleep. However, since sleep is just a state of manōlaya (temporary dissolution of mind), sooner or later we will certainly rise again as ego from sleep, so it is not a permanent solution for all our problems. Only manōnāśa (annihilation or permanent dissolution of mind) can solve all problems and put an end to all suffering forever, and since the root of the mind is ego, mind can be annihilated only by eradication of ego.
As ego we are always aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, which is not what we actually are, so ego is just a false awareness of ourself, and hence it can be eradicated only by our being aware of ourself as we actually are, namely as ‘I am’ alone, bereft of all adjuncts (upādhis), the first and foremost of which is whatever body we currently mistake ourself to be. Therefore, since we can be aware of ourself as we actually are only by attending to ourself so keenly that we thereby cease to be aware of anything else whatsoever, self-investigation is the only means by which we can eradicate ego, annihilate the mind and thereby permanently free ourself from all problems and all forms of suffering.
Therefore the essential import of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and all of Bhagavan’s teachings is that:
- what actually exists is only ourself as we actually are;
- what we actually are is just pure being-awareness (sat-cit), which is what always shines as our own being, our fundamental awareness ‘I am’, and which is the infinite fullness of perfect happiness (ānanda);
- we seem to be not aware of ourself as we actually are only because we now seem to have risen as ego, whose nature is to be always aware of itself as ‘I am this body’ and consequently aware of the appearance of other things;
- since ego is an erroneous awareness of ourself, it can be eradicated only by correct awareness of ourself, which means awareness of ourself as we actually are;
- since we seem to be ego only so long as we attend to and are therefore aware of anything other than ourself, we can be aware of ourself as we actually are and thereby eradicate ego only by attending to ourself so keenly that we thereby cease to be aware of anything else whatsoever;
- everything other than our own being, ‘I am’, is just an illusory appearance that seems to exist only in the view of ourself as ego, so all such things seem to exist only when we rise and stand as ego, and hence none of them exist at all when we do not rise as ego;
- our rising as ego is therefore the root cause for the appearance of all other things, including all problems and all forms of suffering;
- and finally, since ego will cease to exist only when we investigate ourself keenly enough, investigating ourself is the only means by which we can permanently put an end to the illusory appearance of all other things and thereby free ourself forever from all forms of suffering.
In Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan has expressed the fundamental principles of his teachings in the style of sūtras or aphorisms, meaning that he has done so using minimum words. Therefore, though each verse is relatively short, they are packed with deep meaning and rich in implications, so it requires careful thought and consideration to understand and appreciate their deep meaning and implication.
Bhagavan said that his teachings are an open secret, but in order to see the secret that he has expressed so openly we need to open our eyes and look very carefully at what he is teaching us, meaning that we need to open our mind and heart in order to be receptive to what he offers us, which is a radically different interpretation of our experience than the one we have hitherto been accustomed to. If we are not willing to question deeply and if necessary let go of all the beliefs, assumptions and preconceptions that we had previously cherished, it is very easy for us to misunderstand him, so we need to study his teachings carefully, patiently and with discrimination (vivēka), considering with due care the meaning of each word, phrase, clause and sentence in order to understand exactly what he intends to teach us.
For example, whenever he uses words such as ‘I’, ‘we’, ‘oneself’ or ‘ourself’, we need to carefully consider and understand from the context whether he is referring to ourself as we actually are (namely ātma-svarūpa) or to ourself as ego. In many places in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu where he uses these and other such words to refer to ourself as ego, many translators and commentators have wrongly assumed that he was referring to ourself as we actually are, so they misunderstood and misinterpreted what he intended to convey, and they did so because they failed to understand that one of his principle aims in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu is to explain that everything other than ourself seems to exist only in the view of ourself as ego, and therefore does not exist at all independent of ego, so all other things seem to exist and to be as they are only because we have risen as ego and therefore mistake ourself to be a body consisting of five sheaths, namely the physical body, life, mind, intellect and will (as he points out, for example, in verse 5).
Since the verses of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu are intended to teach us a logically coherent set of fundamental principles, they are all closely interconnected, so we need to carefully study the entire text and recognise those fundamental principles in order to understand the meaning and implications of each verse correctly. If we read each verse in isolation without considering its meaning and implications in the context of what he is teaching us in all the other verses, our understanding of its import will be limited and perhaps incorrect, whereas if we read every verse in the context of the whole and recognise the logical connections that exist between them, then the meaning and implications of each individual verse will become much clearer to us.
What Bhagavan teaches us in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and his other original writings is actually extremely simple, so it is not difficult for us to understand, but it is nevertheless very deep and subtle, so it is only by putting it into practice that we will gradually be able to imbibe and appreciate the full extent of its depth and subtlety. To understand his teachings we do not need a brilliant intellect, because the concepts we have to grasp are not complex, but we do need deep clarity of mind and heart, which we can gain most effectively by the practice of self-investigation and self-surrender, because his teachings are pointing our attention back within ourself to see ourself as we actually are, namely pure being-awareness (sat-cit), which is the infinitely deep and subtle reality that underlies the appearance of all other things, namely both ego (the subject or knower) and all phenomena (the objects or things known by ego).
To understand the simple but profound principles of his teachings, we need to be willing to simplify our understanding of the basic nature of this entire appearance of subject and objects, and to simplify our understanding we need to be willing to jettison all that we previously assumed and believed about such things. If we are not willing to give up any of our old ideas and beliefs about the nature of these things, we will not be able to grasp the pure simplicity of his teachings, but if we are willing to give them up and replace them with the simple, reasonable and logically coherent ideas he teaches us in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and elsewhere, the nature of all that we experience will become clear to us, and we will understand why and how we should investigate ourself and thereby surrender ourself in order to know and to be what we always actually are.
Bhagavan does not ask us to blindly believe what he teaches us, so he begins his exposition of this philosophy of pure non-duality (advaita) by asking us to critically analyse our own experience of ourself in our three states of waking, dream and sleep, in order to understand why we cannot actually be what we now seem to be. In waking we experience ourself as one body, and in dream we experience ourself as another body, so neither of these bodies can be what we actually are, because we cannot be anything that we are aware of in one state but not in another state. However, we are aware of ourself as the same mind in both these states, so is this mind what we actually are? It cannot be, because we are aware of our being in sleep without being aware of this mind or anything else whatsoever. Since the only thing that we are aware of in all these three states is our own being, ‘I am’, what we actually are can only be this simple being, the nature of which is to be always aware of itself as ‘I am’. What we actually are, therefore, is just pure being-awareness (sat-cit), even though we now experience ourself as if we were this person, who is a bundle consisting of five sheaths, namely a physical body, life, mind, intellect and will. Therefore, since we are not what we now seem to be, we need to investigate ourself, this fundamental awareness ‘I am’, in order to be aware of ourself as the one pure, immutable and indivisible being-awareness (sat-cit) that we actually are and thereby put an end to our present illusory awareness of ourself as something other than this. All that he teaches us in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and elsewhere, therefore, follows on logically from the conclusions that we can thus arrive at by means of this simple critical analysis of our own experience of ourself in these three states of waking, dream and sleep.
When we study and try to understand his teachings, we should always bear in mind that all he teaches us has one purpose and one purpose alone, namely to direct us, motivate us and encourage us to turn back within to see ourself as we actually are and thereby surrender everything that we are not. All his teachings are therefore centred around and focused on this simple but deep practice of self-investigation and self-surrender. If we overlook this fact, we will not be able to understand his teachings in the correct perspective. What is of utmost importance is this practice, and we will be able to understand his teachings only to the extent to which we go deep in this practice, because the clarity required to understand them can come only from deep within our heart, where it is always shining silently as our own being.
Therefore we should not expect to be able to understand his teachings perfectly from the outset, but if we sincerely wish to understand them ever more deeply, we should not only try to put our present imperfect understanding into practice but should also continue to study his teachings carefully and repeatedly. As our practice of self-investigation and self-surrender grows progressively deeper, we will be able to understand what we study with increasing clarity. This is why it is said that śravaṇa, manana and nididhyāsana (study, careful consideration and practice) should continue hand in hand in our life until we as ego lose ourself entirely in the infinite clarity of pure self-awareness (ātma-jñāna).
Though śravaṇa literally means hearing, in this context it includes reading and studying, because when we read or study Bhagavan’s teachings we are metaphorically ‘hearing’ them. However, when we read or hear them, we should not do so passively, because just as we need to chew and digest whatever food we eat in order to assimilate it, we need to metaphorically chew and digest his teachings in order to assimilate them.
This process of chewing and digesting them is what is called manana, which means thinking, considering, reflecting, pondering or meditating, and which entails carefully considering all that we learn through śravaṇa. The main aim of manana is for us to understand clearly the basic principles of his teachings, all their implications, the logical connections between each of them, and most importantly of all, why and how we should and can put them into practice.
However another important benefit of careful manana and the clear understanding it gives us is that they will enable us to distinguish the grain from the chaff (the genuine teachings from the spurious ones) when we read any of the various recordings of his answers to questions or come across any other sayings attributed to him. The reason why this is necessary is twofold. Firstly, because when he replied to questions asked by those who were not yet ready to understand or accept the basic principles of his teachings (which was the case with the majority of those who asked him questions), he had to modify his teachings to suit their strongly held preconceptions, beliefs, desires and aspirations, which in most cases was not complete self-surrender and annihilation of ego, so the purpose of whatever he replied to such people was to draw them gently and gradually towards his teachings without trying to compel them to accept what they were not yet willing to accept. Secondly, because in most cases those who recorded his replies did so in English, even though he generally spoke in Tamil, or occasionally in Malayalam or Telugu, and very rarely spoke more than a few words in English, so they did not record his exact words, and since they recorded from memory sometime after he had spoken, they could only record what they had been able to understand, which was often not actually what he had said or meant. This is not surprising, because if we listen to a conversation and afterwards try to record what was said, we will at best be able to record only the gist of it, and if we failed to understand any of it correctly, we will record what we understood rather than what was actually said or meant. Therefore there are many inaccuracies in what is recorded in books such as Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi, so when we read such books we need to use our understanding of the fundamental principles of his teachings as expressed by him in his own original writings such as Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?), Upadēśa Undiyār and Āṉma-Viddai to judge for ourself whether or not each statement attributed to him actually reflects his real teachings.
Deep and careful manana is essential, because it enables us to form a clear understanding of his teachings, and whatever practice (nididhyāsana) we do will only be in accordance with what we have been able to understand. If our understanding is at all confused, unclear or imperfect, our practice will be equally confused, unclear and imperfect.
In order to deepen and clarify our understanding, repeated śravaṇa, manana and nididhyāsana are necessary. When we practise nididhyāsana, which literally means ‘deep contemplation’ and which in this context means self-contemplation or self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), namely the simple practice of being self-attentive, we are looking at our own being, ‘I am’, which is the light of pure awareness by which everything else is illumined, so we are thereby bathing our mind in this light, so to speak, and thus we are cleansing, purifying and clarifying it. Self-attentiveness is therefore the most effective way to deepen and clarify our understanding, so the more we practise being self-attentive the more we will thereby be able to understand whatever teachings of his we hear or read, and thus the deeper and clearer our manana will become, which in turn will enable us to go deeper in our practice of being self-attentive. Therefore śravaṇa, manana and nididhyāsana are all necessary, and each one feeds and nourishes the other two.
Bhagavan’s teachings are like a map. When we travel to a land we have never visited, we need to study a map of the route and the layout of our destination before departing, but when we start on our journey we do not leave the map behind. We take it with us and refer to it often as we proceed. Before departing we understood the map to a certain extent, but as we proceed on our journey and refer to it as we go along, not only does it guide us but it also becomes more meaningful to us when we actually see for ourself the places and features represented on it. Likewise, before we can start to follow that path that Bhagavan has taught us, we first need to study and think about his teachings in order to understand them enough to begin following them, because if we do not have at least a rudimentary understanding of them we will not know in which direction we should proceed, nor how we can go in that direction. Once we have gained a sufficient degree of understanding, we can and should start trying to go within, but when we do so we will inevitably be confronted with obstacles, dilemmas and uncertainties that we had not anticipated, so we need to refer to his teachings again to understand how to circumvent the obstacles, solve the dilemmas and clear away the uncertainties. If we frequently refer to his teachings and consider them carefully, they will not only guide us on our inward journey, but will also become more meaningful to us to the extent that we sink deep within.
Though our understanding of his teachings will grow deeper and clearer as we go deeper in our practice of self-investigation and self-surrender, we will never be able to say that we have understood his teachings completely or perfectly, because the deeper we sink within, the more we will be able to see fresh layers of meaning and implication in what he has written in works such as Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai, so we should always allow our practice of his teachings to be accompanied, supported and encouraged by frequent śravaṇa and manana.
Bhagavan is an expert doctor who has precisely diagnosed the root cause of all our problems, namely ego, and he has prescribed the perfect medicine to eradicate this root cause, namely the simple practice of patient and persistent self-investigation and self-surrender. Therefore, if we want to be benefited by his teachings, our primary duty to ourself is to try our best to subside deep within by patiently persevering in our practice of self-investigation and self-surrender. When we do so, we will face many obstacles in the form of our viṣaya-vāsanās (inclinations to seek happiness in objects or phenomena), but we should never give up, because as Bhagavan often said, ‘Nobody has ever succeeded on this path without perseverance’. No matter how many obstacles we may face, and how many times we may seem to fail, if we patiently persevere in trying our best to cling firmly to self-attentiveness, by his grace we will surely succeed eventually in sinking back into the innermost depth of our heart, where he shines eternally as the infinitely clear light of pure awareness, waiting like an old lion to devour us as soon as we enter his abode.
3. Bhagavan’s teachings are advaita vēdānta in its purest form
The teachings of Bhagavan Ramana are therefore an extremely refined, simple and clear expression of the essence of advaita vēdānta in its very purest and most practical form, because not only did he explain the core philosophy of advaita far more simply, clearly and radically than it had ever been explained before, but even more importantly, in doing so he made clear what the true practice of advaita actually is. However, to appreciate clearly the great contribution that he has made to vēdānta in general and advaita in particular, it is necessary for us to understand where his teachings stand in the broader context of vēdānta as a whole.
The primary texts of vēdānta are the prasthānatraya, the ‘triple origin’ or ‘triple source’, namely the Upaniṣads, Brahmasūtra and Bhagavad Gītā, and these contain a wide variety of spiritual teachings suited to the needs of people at different stages of spiritual development, so they can be and have been interpreted in many different ways by the various schools of vēdānta. One such interpretation is advaita, and there is abundant support for this view in the prasthānatraya, but other schools of vēdānta can equally well find plenty of support for their views in the same texts. There is a good reason for this, and it is how it should be, because different teachings are appropriate for us at different stages of our spiritual development, so vēdānta caters for our needs at each of the successive stages of our spiritual growth, like a loving mother catering for the needs of her children at each stage of their growth, nurturing them first in her womb, and after their birth feeding and nurturing them appropriately from their earliest infancy till they are fully grown.
From the perspective of advaita, therefore, particularly in its purest and deepest form as taught by Bhagavan Ramana, each of the many interpretations of vēdānta is appropriate for those who are attracted to it, and will gradually lead them to deeper levels of understanding and practice, so in verses 2 and 3 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu he teaches us that it is not appropriate for us as spiritual aspirants to engage in disputation with those who cherish views, beliefs and interpretations that are contrary to our own. Let anyone believe and follow whatever spiritual philosophy and practices that they want to believe, because what they believe and follow is what is best suited to them at their present level of spiritual growth.
Though advaita is the ultimate import of vēdānta, at least from the perspective of those of us who are attracted to it, we should not expect others to be attracted to it as we are, or to agree with us that it is the ultimate import of vēdānta. However, if advaita is the view that appeals to us most, we can find plenty of support for it not only in a deep and careful rational analysis of our experience of ourself in our three states of waking, dream and sleep, and in our practice of the path of self-investigation and self-surrender taught by Bhagavan, but also throughout the prasthānatraya of vēdānta.
For example, in the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad 6.2.1-2 it is said that before this (implying before the appearance of this or any other world) what existed was ‘एकम् एव अद्वितीयम्’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam), ‘one only without a second’, namely ‘सत् एव’ (sat ēva), ‘being only’, or ‘सत्त्व एव’ (sattva ēva), ‘beingness only’. Other interpretations of vēdānta would argue that though being was originally ‘one only without a second’, it later transformed itself into all this multiplicity, whereas according to advaita it has always remained as ‘one only without a second’, so all this multiplicity is just an illusory appearance (vivarta). Strong support for this advaita interpretation can be found in the Bhagavad Gītā 2.16, in the first line of which Bhagavan Krishna says ‘न असतः विद्यते भावः; न अभावः विद्यते सतः’ (na asataḥ vidyate bhāvaḥ; na abhāvaḥ vidyate sataḥ), ‘There is no existence (bhāva) of the non-existent (asat); there is no non-existence (abhāva) of the existent (sat)’, which Bhagavan Ramana translated into Tamil in verse 9 of Bhagavad Gītā Sāram as ‘இல்லாததனுக்கு இருப்பு இல்லை; உள்ளதனுக்கு இல்லாமை என்பது இலை’ (illādadaṉukku iruppu illai; uḷḷadaṉukku illāmai eṉbadu ilai), ‘For illādadu [what does not exist] there is no existence. For uḷḷadu [what does exist] there is not what is called non-existence’. In other words, what does not exist cannot ever exist, and what does exist cannot ever not exist, so as Bhagavan Ramana often used to say: ‘What exists must always exist, so if something exists at one time and not at another time, it does not actually exist even when it seems to exist’. Applying this principle to what is said in the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad 6.2.1-2, since being (sat) existed alone as ‘one only without a second’ before this, it must exist eternally, because it can never be non-existent. Likewise, since nothing other than that eternal being existed before this, nothing other than it can ever actually exist, because what is once non-existent can never be existent. Therefore what actually exists must always be ‘one only without a second’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam). Whether we want to accept this or not, this is the basic contention of advaita, and it is supported by these and many other passages in the prasthānatraya of vēdānta.
So according to vēdānta, what is this being or existence (sat) that is eternally ‘one only without a second’? According to the mahāvākya (great saying) of the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad (6.8.7), ‘तत्त्वमसि’ (tat tvam asi), ‘That you are’, we ourself are that one existence other than which nothing exists.
What, therefore, is the practical implication of this teaching? In classical advaita there has been a strong tendency to interpret this to mean that we should meditate that we are that, but in verse 32 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan explains that when we are told ‘அது நீ’ (adu nī), ‘That is you’, our immediate response should be to try to know and be what we actually are by investigating எது நான் (edu nāṉ), what am I, and he adds that meditating that we are that (namely brahman, the one real existence) and not this (namely this body) is due to non-existence of strength (namely the strength of vivēka, discernment or ability to distinguish what is real from what is unreal, bhakti, love to be as we actually are, and vairāgya, freedom from desire to be aware of anything other than our own being):
அதுநீயென் றம்மறைக ளார்த்திடவுந் தன்னைThat is, before we are told ‘That you are’, it is natural for us to look for that (namely brahman or God) outside ourself, so the aim of mahāvākyas (great statements that reveal our true identity) such as ‘tat tvam asi’ (that you are) is to turn our attention back towards ourself by making us understand that what we are seeking is not actually anything other than ourself. Therefore if we understand such mahāvākyas correctly, we will not just meditate on ideas such as ‘I am that’, because like all other thoughts, such ideas are things other than ourself, but will only meditate on our own being, which always shines within us as our fundamental awareness, ‘I am’.
யெதுவென்று தான்றேர்ந் திராஅ — ததுநா
னிதுவன்றென் றெண்ணலுர னின்மையினா லென்று
மதுவேதா னாயமர்வ தால்.
adunīyeṉ ḏṟammaṟaiga ḷārttiḍavun taṉṉai
yeduveṉḏṟu tāṉḏṟērn dirāa — dadunā
ṉiduvaṉḏṟeṉ ḏṟeṇṇalura ṉiṉmaiyiṉā leṉḏṟu
maduvētā ṉāyamarva dāl.
பதச்சேதம்: ‘அது நீ’ என்று அம் மறைகள் ஆர்த்திடவும், தன்னை எது என்று தான் தேர்ந்து இராது, ‘அது நான், இது அன்று’ என்று எண்ணல் உரன் இன்மையினால், என்றும் அதுவே தான் ஆய் அமர்வதால்.
Padacchēdam (word-separation): ‘adu nī’ eṉḏṟu a-m-maṟaigaḷ ārttiḍavum, taṉṉai edu eṉḏṟu tāṉ tērndu irādu, ‘adu nāṉ, idu aṉḏṟu’ eṉḏṟu eṇṇal uraṉ iṉmaiyiṉāl, eṉḏṟum aduvē tāṉ-āy amarvadāl.
English translation: When the Vēdas proclaim ‘That is you’, instead of oneself being [as one is] knowing oneself [by investigating] what [am I], thinking ‘I am that, not this’ is due to non-existence of strength, because that alone is always seated as oneself.
In other words, once we have been told that brahman is ourself, we should understand that we can know brahman only by knowing what we ourself actually are, and we can know what we actually are only by turning our entire attention back within to face ourself alone. Thus, by making this clear to us, Bhagavan has fulfilled the real aim of each of the mahāvākyas, which are key statements by which the Upaniṣads declare jīva-brahmaikya, the essential aikya (oneness) of jīva (the soul or ego) and brahman (the one infinite being or God).
In classical advaita we are taught that the root cause of all our problems is avidyā (ignorance), namely ignorance of our own real nature, and that the only remedy for avidyā is vidyā (knowledge), namely knowledge of our own real nature. However, the means to attain vidyā has been widely misunderstood, because it is generally believed that it can be gained only by studying the prasthānatraya, commentaries on them and other vēdānta texts under the guidance of a properly qualified teacher belonging to an established sampradāya, a tradition that hands down its doctrine through a paramparā (a lineage or succession of gurus or teachers).
Some people believe this idea so strongly that they even claim that Bhagavan Ramana was not a proper guru, because he did not belong to any such paramparā and he had not studied vēdānta in the traditional manner. However, this is a very crude and superficial understanding both of the meaning of the term guru and of the real role of guru, whereas Bhagavan has given us a much deeper and more refined understanding about the real nature and role of guru. According to him guru is not a person but the eternal reality that always exists and shines in our heart as our own being, ‘I am’. As he says in the twelfth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, ‘கடவுளும் குருவும் உண்மையில் வேறல்லர்’ (kaḍavuḷ-um guru-v-um uṇmaiyil vēṟallar), ‘God and guru are in truth not different’, and as he often used to say, God, guru and ātman are one, meaning that God and guru are nothing other than ātma-svarūpa (the real nature of ourself). However, though guru always exists in us as our own real nature, and though its grace is therefore always working in our heart to purify our mind and thereby gradually prepare us to eventually turn back within to merge forever in our source, at a certain point in this process it is necessary in most cases for guru to appear outwardly in human form in order to teach us to turn back within. Therefore, though guru appears in human form (in our case in the human form of Bhagavan Ramana), the role of guru is never in any way limited to that form, because the svarūpa or real form of guru is ātma-svarūpa, so the real locus of the role of guru is deep within our own heart, where it is always performing its extremely subtle aruḷ-seyal or act of grace by just being as it always actually is. Hence, since guru is not actually a person, even though it appears in human form, there is no need for any paramparā (lineage of gurus), because having once appeared in human form to teach us to turn within, the purpose of that human form has been fulfilled by leaving us with the precious legacy of its verbal teachings (which in the case of Bhagavan he has left us primarily in the form of his own original writings such as Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu). After that, it is up to us as disciples to always cherish guru and its verbal teachings in our heart by trying our best to follow the path he has taught us, namely the simple practice of self-investigation and self-surrender, which entails clinging firmly to self-attentiveness and thereby sinking deep in our heart, where his real teachings are always shining as the silence of our own being.
In his teachings Bhagavan has clarified the nature of both vidyā and avidyā in an extremely practical manner, thereby dispelling the mistaken belief that vidyā is a knowledge that can be gained from books or any other external source. Firstly he clarified that avidyā is nothing but ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, and that vidyā is sat-cit, the pure awareness that always shines as our own being, ‘I am’. The knowledge that can be gained from books or spoken words is only conceptual knowledge, and since such knowledge is known only by ego, it exists only in the realm of avidyā, and hence it cannot eradicate ego, whose very nature is avidyā.
So long as we rise and stand as ego, conceptual knowledge is necessary and useful, but in the spiritual path it is useful only to the extent that, firstly, it enables us to understand why we should investigate and know ourself, why we should thereby surrender ourself, and what exactly is the self we need to investigate and know and the self we need to surrender, and secondly, it encourages and motivates us to persevere in this practice of self-investigation and self-surrender. To gain this understanding and encouragement, we do not need to study many books, but only a few very relevant texts like Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and the other original writings of Bhagavan, in which he is constantly urging us to turn back within to see ourself as we actually are. As he says in the sixteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:
எந்நூலிலும் முக்தி யடைவதற்கு மனத்தை யடக்க வேண்டுமென்று சொல்லப்பட் டுள்ளபடியால், மனோநிக்ரகமே நூல்களின் முடிவான கருத்து என் றறிந்துகொண்ட பின்பு நூல்களை யளவின்றிப் படிப்பதாற் பயனில்லை. மனத்தை யடக்குவதற்குத் தன்னை யாரென்று விசாரிக்க வேண்டுமே யல்லாமல் எப்படி நூல்களில் விசாரிப்பது? தன்னைத் தன்னுடைய ஞானக்கண்ணாற்றானே யறிய வேண்டும். ராமன் தன்னை ராமனென்றறியக் கண்ணாடி வேண்டுமா? ‘தான்’ பஞ்ச கோசங்களுக்குள் ளிருப்பது; நூல்களோ அவற்றிற்கு வெளியி லிருப்பவை. ஆகையால், பஞ்ச கோசங்களையும் நீக்கி விசாரிக்க வேண்டிய தன்னை நூல்களில் விசாரிப்பது வீணே. பந்தத்தி லிருக்கும் தான் யாரென்று விசாரித்து தன் யதார்த்த சொரூபத்தைத் தெரிந்துகொள்வதே முக்தி. சதாகாலமும் மனத்தை ஆத்மாவில் வைத்திருப்பதற்குத் தான் ‘ஆத்மவிசார’ மென்று பெயர்; தியானமோ தன்னை ஸச்சிதானந்த பிரம்மமாக பாவிப்பது. கற்றவை யனைத்தையும் ஒருகாலத்தில் மறக்க வேண்டிவரும்.Therefore, since avidyā (ignorance of one’s own real nature) is just ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, the vidyā (knowledge) that alone can dispel it is only awareness of ourself as we actually are, which cannot be achieved by any means other than self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), as Bhagavan implies in verse 27 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:
ennūlilum mukti y-aḍaivadaṟku maṉattai y-aḍakka vēṇḍum-eṉḏṟu solla-p-paṭ ṭuḷḷapaḍiyāl, maṉōnigrahamē nūlgaḷiṉ muḍivāṉa karuttu eṉ ḏṟaṟindu-goṇḍa piṉbu nūlgaḷai y-aḷaviṉḏṟi-p paḍi-p-padāl payaṉ-illai. maṉattai y-aḍakkuvadaṟku-t taṉṉai yār eṉḏṟu vicārikka vēṇḍum-ē y-allāmal eppaḍi nūlgaḷil vicārippadu? taṉṉai-t taṉṉuḍaiya ñāṉa-k-kaṇṇāl-tāṉ-ē y-aṟiya vēṇḍum. rāmaṉ taṉṉai rāmaṉ-eṉḏṟaṟiya-k kaṇṇāḍi vēṇḍum-ā? ‘tāṉ’ pañca kōśaṅgaḷukkuḷ ḷ-iruppadu; nūlgaḷ-ō avaṯṟiṟku veḷiyil iruppavai. āhaiyāl, pañca kōśaṅgaḷai-y-um nīkki vicārikka vēṇḍiya taṉṉai nūlgaḷil vicārippadu vīṇē. bandhattil irukkum tāṉ yār eṉḏṟu vicārittu taṉ yathārtha sorūpattai-t terindu-koḷvadē mukti. sadā-kālam-um maṉattai ātmāvil vaittiruppadaṟku-t tāṉ ‘ātma-vicāram’ eṉḏṟu peyar; dhiyāṉam-ō taṉṉai saccidāṉanda birahmmamāha bhāvippadu. kaṯṟavai y-aṉaittaiyum oru-kālattil maṟakka vēṇḍi-varum.
Since in every text [of advaita vēdānta] it is said that for attaining mukti [liberation] it is necessary to make the mind cease, after knowing that manōnigraha [restraint, subjugation or destruction of the mind] alone is the ultimate intention [aim or purpose] of [such] texts, there is no benefit [to be gained] by studying texts without limit. For making the mind cease it is necessary to investigate oneself [to see] who [one actually is], [but] instead [of doing so] how [can one see oneself by] investigating in texts? It is necessary to know oneself only by one’s own eye of jñāna [pure awareness]. Does [a person called] Raman need a mirror to know himself as Raman? ‘Oneself’ is within the pañca-kōśas [the ‘five sheaths’ that seem to cover and obscure what one actually is, namely the physical body, life, mind, intellect and will]; whereas texts are outside them. Therefore, investigating in texts [in order to know] oneself, whom it is necessary to investigate [by turning one’s attention within and thereby] setting aside [excluding, removing, giving up or separating from] all the pañca-kōśas, is useless. [By] investigating who is oneself who is in bondage, knowing one’s yathārtha svarūpa [actual own nature] alone is mukti [liberation]. The name ‘ātma-vicāra’ is only for always keeping the mind on ātmā [oneself]; whereas dhyāna [meditation] is considering [thinking or imagining] oneself to be sat-cit-ānanda brahman [the one ultimate reality, which is existence-awareness-happiness]. At one time it will become necessary to forget all that one has learnt.
நானுதியா துள்ளநிலை நாமதுவா யுள்ளநிலைThough the philosophy and practice of advaita vēdānta are understood by people in many different ways, and though there are many different levels of explanation given within advaita vēdānta to suit the needs of people at different levels of spiritual development, there are certain foundational principles on which all adherents of advaita vēdānta are agreed. One of these is that what actually exists is ‘one only without a second’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam), and that we ourself are therefore that. Another is that, since the real nature of ourself (ātma-svarūpa) alone is what actually exists, everything else (all multiplicity) is vivarta, an unreal and illusory appearance. Whereas most other interpretations of vēdānta explain the appearance of multiplicity by espousing pariṇāma vāda, the contention (vāda) that brahman has actually transformed itself into all this, so all this is a transformation (pariṇāma) of brahman, advaita vēdānta explains it by means of vivarta vāda, the contention that all this is an illusion or unreal appearance (vivarta), because brahman is immutable and can therefore never become or be transformed into anything else.
நானுதிக்குந் தானமதை நாடாம — னானுதியாத்
தன்னிழப்பைச் சார்வதெவன் சாராமற் றானதுவாந்
தன்னிலையி னிற்பதெவன் சாற்று.
nāṉudiyā duḷḷanilai nāmaduvā yuḷḷanilai
nāṉudikkun thāṉamadai nāḍāma — ṉāṉudiyāt
taṉṉiṙappaic cārvadevaṉ sārāmaṯ ṟāṉaduvān
taṉṉilaiyi ṉiṯpadevaṉ sāṯṟu.
பதச்சேதம்: ‘நான்’ உதியாது உள்ள நிலை நாம் அது ஆய் உள்ள நிலை. ‘நான்’ உதிக்கும் தானம் அதை நாடாமல், ‘நான்’ உதியா தன் இழப்பை சார்வது எவன்? சாராமல், தான் அது ஆம் தன் நிலையில் நிற்பது எவன்? சாற்று.
Padacchēdam (word-separation): ‘nāṉ’ udiyādu uḷḷa nilai nām adu-v-āy uḷḷa nilai. ‘nāṉ’ udikkum thāṉam-adai nāḍāmal, ‘nāṉ’ udiyā taṉ-ṉ-iṙappai sārvadu evaṉ? sārāmal, tāṉ adu ām taṉ nilaiyil niṯpadu evaṉ? sāṯṟu.
English translation: The state in which ‘I’ is without rising is the state in which we are as that [namely brahman, the infinite reality]. Without investigating the place where ‘I’ rises, how to reach the annihilation of oneself, in which ‘I’ does not rise? Without reaching, how to stand in one’s own state, in which oneself is that? Say.
However, what is the practical implication of vivarta vāda, this contention that everything other than our own real nature (ātma-svarūpa) is just an illusory appearance? In classical advaita vēdānta this important question is seldom considered in as much depth as it should be. However, as Bhagavan pointed out, when we are told that all phenomena are just an illusory appearance, should we not consider to whom they all appear? Nothing can appear without appearing in the view of something, so in whose view do all these things appear? Since phenomena appear to us only in waking and dream, when we have risen as ego, and since no phenomena appear to us in sleep, when we do not rise as ego, it is clear that they appear and seem to exist only in the view of ourself as ego. Therefore, since an illusory appearance depends for its seeming existence upon the one in whose view it seems to exist, Bhagavan taught us that the practical implication of vivarta vāda is that we should investigate ourself, the one to whom all this appears.
To illustrate how all this multiplicity can be just vivarta, an illusory appearance, meaning that though it seems to exist, it does not actually exist, various analogies are given in classical advaita. One such analogy is dream. Though a whole world populated with people and numerous other phenomena seems to exist in a dream, it does not actually exist, because it is only in the view of the dreamer that it seems to exist. Likewise, our present state, which now seems to us to be our waking state and therefore distinct from dream, is actually just a dream, and we as ego are the dreamer, because the dreamer is the one in whose view all the dream phenomena seem to exist.
What actually exists and is therefore real is only ourself as we actually are, but in a dream we as ego seem to be a body, so since we are real (albeit not as ego but only as we actually are), whatever body currently seems to be ourself therefore seems to be real, and since that dream body is a part of the dream world, the whole dream world seems to be real. Therefore while we are dreaming, our dream body and dream world seem to us to be real, and therefore we seem to be awake, even though we are actually just dreaming. However, as soon as we wake up from a dream, we instantly recognise that it was just a dream and therefore not real. What a moment before seemed to be so real, on waking is immediately seen to be unreal. The reason for this is that while we were dreaming we experienced ourself as ‘I am this body’, so that dream body and hence the whole dream world seemed to be real, but as soon as we wake up from that dream, our identification with that dream body is severed, meaning that we cease to experience it as ourself, and hence we cease to experience it as real. Applying this to our present state, we can understand that the reason why our present body and the whole world of which it is a part seem to be so real, and why this state therefore now seems to be our waking state and not just a dream, is that we now experience this body as if it were ourself. This is why whatever dream we are currently experiencing always seems to us to be real and therefore not just a dream. Since we do not and cannot experience anything in our present state that we could not equally well experience in a dream, we have absolutely no evidence or other adequate reason to suppose that our present state is anything other than a dream, so it is perfectly reasonable for us to conclude that this is just a dream and that all phenomena are therefore just an illusory appearance (vivarta).
However, though in classical advaita it is argued in some texts (such as by Gaudapada in his Māṇḍūkya Kārikā) that there is no difference between waking and dream, meaning that what appears to be the waking state is actually just a dream, in many other texts it is argued that though waking is analogous to dream in some respects, it is actually more real than dream, because the waking world was created prior to our perception of it and therefore exists independent of ourself as the mind that perceives it. The former view is called dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi vāda, the contention (vāda) that perception (dṛṣṭi) is itself creation (sṛṣṭi), meaning that there is no creation independent of our perception of it, just as nothing perceived in a dream exists independent of the dreamer’s perception of it, whereas the latter view is called sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi vāda, the contention that creation precedes perception and therefore exists independent of it. Since most people are not willing to accept that their entire life is just a dream and that nothing that they experience therefore has any existence independent of their experience of it, by far and away the most popular view in classical advaita is sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi vāda, but this is a very diluted form of advaita and is taught only for the benefit of those who are not yet willing to accept all the implications of the much deeper, simpler and clearer teaching of advaita vēdānta, namely dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi vāda.
An illusory appearance is a misperception, a perception of something as something other than what it actually is, so it appears and seems to exist only in the view of whoever perceives it as such. Therefore, if all this is just an illusory appearance, as advaita vēdānta contends, how could it exist independent of the perceiving mind’s perception of it? Therefore sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi vāda is a profoundly unsatisfactory and inherently inconsistent explanation of the primary contention of advaita vēdānta, namely that what actually exists is ‘one only without a second’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam), and that the seeming existence of all this multiplicity is therefore just an illusory appearance (vivarta). Hence, in order to safeguard us from all the conceptual confusion and complications that inevitably arise from and follow in the wake of sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi vāda, in texts such as Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and Nāṉ Ār? Bhagavan clearly and unequivocally teaches us dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi vāda, and he explained that this is the view we must be willing to accept if we genuinely seek to know the one reality that underlies the unreal appearance of all this multiplicity.
Another analogy that is frequently used in classical advaita to illustrate how all this can be just an illusory appearance (vivarta) is the snake that a rope is mistaken to be. What actually exists in such a case is only a rope, but what it seems to be is a snake. Though the snake seems to be very real, it is actually just an illusory appearance, because no snake actually exists there at all. The snake seems to exist only in the view of the mind that sees it, so as a snake it has absolutely no existence at all independent of that mind’s perception of it. Likewise all phenomena seem to exist only in the view of ourself as ego or mind, so as phenomena they have absolutely no existence at all independent of our perception of them. Whenever we rise and stand as ego, as we do in waking and dream, phenomena seem to exist, and whenever we do not rise as ego, as in sleep, no phenomena seem to exist, so all phenomena depend for their seeming existence upon the seeming existence of ourself as ego. Since ego (the subject or knower) and phenomena (the objects or things that are known) both appear and disappear, neither of them is real, but though they appear and disappear simultaneously, phenomena shine or seem to exist only because of ego, as Bhagavan points out in verse 7 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:
உலகறிவு மொன்றா யுதித்தொடுங்கு மேனு‘அறிவு’ (aṟivu) means ‘awareness’, but since real awareness is eternal and immutable, it does not rise or subside, appear or disappear, so in this verse ‘அறிவு’ (aṟivu) does not refer to real awareness, namely pure being-awareness (sat-cit), but only to the seeming awareness that rises and subsides, appears and disappears, namely ego or mind, which is the awareness that knows the world. The ‘இடன்’ (iḍaṉ), ‘place’, ‘space’, ‘expanse’, ‘location’, ‘site’ or ‘ground’, from which, on which and in which ego and the world appear and disappear, but which itself exists and shines without ever appearing or disappearing is pure being-awareness (sat-cit), which is the one real substance (poruḷ or vastu), the infinite whole (pūṉḏṟam or pūrṇa).
முலகறிவு தன்னா லொளிரு — முலகறிவு
தோன்றிமறை தற்கிடனாய்த் தோன்றிமறை யாதொளிரும்
பூன்றமா மஃதே பொருள்.
ulahaṟivu moṉḏṟā yudittoḍuṅgu mēṉu
mulahaṟivu taṉṉā loḷiru — mulahaṟivu
tōṉḏṟimaṟai daṯkiḍaṉāyt tōṉḏṟimaṟai yādoḷirum
pūṉḏṟamā maḵdē poruḷ.
பதச்சேதம்: உலகு அறிவும் ஒன்றாய் உதித்து ஒடுங்கும் ஏனும், உலகு அறிவு தன்னால் ஒளிரும். உலகு அறிவு தோன்றி மறைதற்கு இடன் ஆய் தோன்றி மறையாது ஒளிரும் பூன்றம் ஆம் அஃதே பொருள்.
Padacchēdam (word-separation): ulahu aṟivum oṉḏṟāy udittu oḍuṅgum ēṉum, ulahu aṟivu-taṉṉāl oḷirum. ulahu aṟivu tōṉḏṟi maṟaidaṯku iḍaṉ-āy tōṉḏṟi maṟaiyādu oḷirum pūṉḏṟam ām aḵdē poruḷ.
English translation: Though the world and awareness arise and subside simultaneously, the world shines by awareness. Only that which shines without appearing or disappearing as the place for the appearing and disappearing of the world and awareness is poruḷ [the real substance or vastu], which is pūṉḏṟam [the infinite whole or pūrṇa].
What seems to be a snake is actually just a rope. Likewise, what seems to be both ego and all phenomena is actually just the one underlying reality, namely brahman, which is sat-cit, the real nature of ourself (ātma-svarūpa), meaning ourself as we actually are. Therefore in the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad 3.14.1 it is said ‘सर्वं खल्विदं ब्रह्म’ (sarvaṁ khalvidaṁ brahma), ‘All this is actually [truly or certainly] brahman’. However, in verse 26 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan says: ‘அகந்தையே யாவும் ஆம்’ (ahandaiyē yāvum ām), ‘Ego itself is everything’. Though it may appear on superficial observation that he is here contradicting what is said in the upaniṣad, this is actually a clear example of the way in which he clarified the truth of vēdānta by re-expressing it in a more carefully nuanced and refined manner.
That is, though the ultimate truth is that all this is actually brahman, just as what seems to be a snake is actually just a rope, in our experience as ego or jīva all this seems to include birth, death, pain, suffering, misery and all the other problems of saṁsāra (embodied existence), so we do not experience all this as the infinitely blissful brahman, which is one, indivisible and immutable, and being told that all this is brahman does not enable us to see it as such. Therefore we need to consider why we see brahman as all this and consequently not as it actually is. Since brahman sees itself only as brahman and not as all this, the reason we see brahman as all this is because we do not see ourself as brahman, and we do not see ourself as brahman because we see ourself instead as ego, this seemingly limited ‘I’ that rises in waking and dream as ‘I am this body’ and that subsides and ceases to exist in sleep. What we actually are is only brahman, but whenever we rise as ego we see ourself as all this, so in order to see ourself and everything else as the one infinite and indivisible brahman that we actually are, we need to permanently cease rising as ego. Since ego is just this false awareness of ourself as ‘I am this body’, it can be eradicated only by our being aware of ourself as we actually are, and we can be aware of ourself as we actually are only by keenly investigating ourself.
Therefore, in order to clarify the implication and fulfil the purpose of this statement in the Chāndōgya Upaniṣad, ‘सर्वं खल्विदं ब्रह्म’ (sarvaṁ khalvidaṁ brahma), ‘All this is actually brahman’, in verse 26 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan explains:
அகந்தையுண் டாயி னனைத்துமுண் டாகுThat is, all this seems to exist only in the view of ourself as ego, so it comes into seeming existence only when we rise as ego, and it does not exist at all when we do not rise as ego. Since it therefore does not exist independent of ego, what ego sees as all this is only itself (just as in dream we see ourself as an entire dream world), so ego itself is all this. Therefore, since we as ego will subside and cease to exist if we investigate ourself keenly enough, and since everything else will cease to exist when ego ceases to exist, investigating what this ego is is the only means by which we can give up and thereby free ourself from ego and everything else.
மகந்தையின் றேலின் றனைத்து — மகந்தையே
யாவுமா மாதலால் யாதிதென்று நாடலே
யோவுதல் யாவுமென வோர்.
ahandaiyuṇ ḍāyi ṉaṉaittumuṇ ḍāhu
mahandaiyiṉ ḏṟēliṉ ḏṟaṉaittu — mahandaiyē
yāvumā mādalāl yādideṉḏṟu nāḍalē
yōvudal yāvumeṉa vōr.
பதச்சேதம்: அகந்தை உண்டாயின், அனைத்தும் உண்டாகும்; அகந்தை இன்றேல், இன்று அனைத்தும். அகந்தையே யாவும் ஆம். ஆதலால், யாது இது என்று நாடலே ஓவுதல் யாவும் என ஓர்.
Padacchēdam (word-separation): ahandai uṇḍāyiṉ, aṉaittum uṇḍāhum; ahandai iṉḏṟēl, iṉḏṟu aṉaittum. ahandai-y-ē yāvum ām. ādalāl, yādu idu eṉḏṟu nāḍal-ē ōvudal yāvum eṉa ōr.
English translation: If ego comes into existence, everything comes into existence; if ego does not exist, everything does not exist. Ego itself is everything. Therefore, know that investigating what this is alone is giving up everything.
If we look keenly enough at what seems to be a snake, we will see that it is not actually a snake but only a rope. Likewise, when we as ego investigate ourself keenly enough, we will see that we are not actually this finite ego, whose nature is to be always aware of the seeming existence of other things, but only brahman, which is ‘one only without a second’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam), and whose nature is therefore to be aware of nothing other than itself, because nothing other than itself exists for it to be aware of.
Therefore, since everything is only ego, and since ego is nothing other than brahman, it is true that ‘all this is actually brahman’. That is, the immediate source, ground and substance of all this is ego, and the source, ground and substance of ego is brahman, so the ultimate source, ground and substance of all this is brahman. Thus we can see that Bhagavan has not contradicted the statement ‘All this is actually brahman’ (sarvaṁ khalvidaṁ brahma) by saying ‘Ego itself is everything’ (ahandaiyē yāvum ām), but has clarified its meaning and significance by introducing into this equation the crucial missing link, namely ego. Without this important clarification, on its own this teaching, ‘All this is actually brahman’, seems to lack any practical value, because it does not explain or clearly imply how we can actually see all this as brahman, but with this essential link that formerly seemed to be missing until Bhagavan pointed it out, the practical implication of this teaching immediately becomes clear to us, particularly when we consider it in the context of the fundamental principles of his teachings as expounded by him in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and his other original writings.
As we can see from the examples above, in his teachings Bhagavan has not only clarified the meaning and philosophical implications of the core teachings of vēdānta by expressing them afresh in a much simpler, clearer, deeper, more refined and more radical manner, but most importantly of all he has clarified and highlighted the practical implications of them. If we understand it correctly, vēdānta is an extremely practical philosophy, which is why it can be and has been adapted so well to suit the needs of aspirants during different stages of their spiritual development, and why it has therefore given rise to so many different interpretations, but unfortunately many followers of vēdānta, particularly those who claim to be followers of advaita, fail to recognise the practical implications of vēdānta, and therefore mistake the mere study and exposition of vēdānta texts to be the actual practice of vēdānta. This is why it was necessary for Lord Arunachala Siva himself, who had earlier appeared in the form of the ādi-guru (original guru), Dakshinamurti, to appear once again in modern times in the human form of Bhagavan Ramana in order to clarify the correct practice of vēdānta in general and advaita in particular.
Since advaita means ‘non-two-ness’ (a-dvi-tā), the correct practice of advaita cannot be any practice that entails more than one thing, such as the distinction between subject and object. In other words, it cannot be meditation on anything other than oneself. Therefore being self-attentive is alone the correct practice of advaita, and this is what is called self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), as Bhagavan made clear in the sixteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, where he defined ātma-vicāra by saying: ‘சதாகாலமும் மனத்தை ஆத்மாவில் வைத்திருப்பதற்குத் தான் ‘ஆத்மவிசார’ மென்று பெயர்’ (sadā-kālam-um maṉattai ātmāvil vaittiruppadaṟku-t tāṉ ‘ātma-vicāram’ eṉḏṟu peyar), ‘The name ‘ātma-vicāra’ is only for always keeping the mind on ātmā [oneself]’. ‘மனத்தை ஆத்மாவில் வைத்திருப்பது’ (maṉattai ātmāvil vaittiruppadu), ‘keeping the mind on oneself’, means keeping our attention fixed firmly on ourself, so this definition clearly implies that being self-attentive alone is the practice of self-investigation (ātma-vicāra). This is therefore the same practice that Bhagavan Krishna described in the Bhagavad Gītā 6.25 as ‘आत्मसंस्थं मन: कृत्वा न किञ्चिदपि चिन्तयेत्’ (ātma-saṁsthaṁ manaḥ kṛtvā na kiñcid api cintayēt), ‘Having made the mind ātma-saṁstha [self-standing or self-situated, namely fixed firmly on, in and as oneself], one should not think of anything at all’, which Bhagavan Ramana translated in Tamil in verse 27 of Bhagavad Gītā Sāram as ‘சித்தத்தை ஆன்மாவில் சேர்த்திடுக; மற்று எதுவும் இத்தனையும் எண்ணிடாதே’ (cittattai āṉmāvil sērttiḍuka; maṯṟu eduvum ittaṉaiyum eṇṇiḍādē), ‘Fix the mind on ātman [yourself]; do not think even the slightest of anything else at all’.
Another crucial contribution that Bhagavan Ramana made to vēdānta more broadly was to clarify the inseparable oneness and mutual interdependence of bhakti and jñāna: deep love and clear awareness. As he often used to say, ‘bhakti is the mother of jñāna’, because jñāna is the perfectly clear awareness (namely sat-cit, pure being-awareness, ‘I am’) that alone remains when we as ego have surrendered ourself entirely, and without bhakti, which is all-consuming love to give ourself entirely to God, who is our own real nature (ātma-svarūpa), we will not be willing to surrender ourself entirely to him.
In other schools of vēdānta it is generally believed that in advaita there is no room for real bhakti, and that followers of advaita at best pay only lip service to the need for bhakti, and this belief of theirs is at least partially justified by the fact that many who consider themselves to be followers of advaita do indeed look down on bhakti as an inferior path, but Bhagavan not only taught that heart-melting and all-consuming love (bhakti) is absolutely essential, being the only driving force that can enable us to persevere and go deep in the practice of self-investigation and thereby surrender ourself entirely to God, but also exemplified such love in Śrī Aruṇācala Stuti Pañcakam (the Five Hymns to Arunachala), particularly in Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai (the Marriage Garland of Syllables to Arunachala), which he sang in the madhura bhāva (the sweet state of heart-melting love in which the lover yearns for eternal and inseparable union with her beloved Lord), which is considered in the bhakti schools of vēdānta to be the deepest and purest form of love (bhakti). More than in any of his other works, in Akṣaramaṇamālai Bhagavan has taught us by example the real nature of deep bhakti and its indispensable importance in the path of self-investigation and self-surrender, and he has also shown us that the imperishable marriage (akṣara maṇam) or union with God for which the true devotee yearns is the state of absolute and eternal oneness with him that can be achieved only by complete self-surrender and consequent eradication of ego. Thus he exemplified in his life, poetry and teachings the inseparable oneness of bhakti and jñāna, thereby bridging the gulf that formerly seemed to separate advaita from the other schools of vēdānta.
True love is giving, not taking. If we truly love someone, we will not be concerned about what we can take or gain from them for ourself but only about what we can give to them. So long as we seek to gain anything from God for ourself, our love for him is still impure. If our love for him is pure, we will want nothing but to give ourself entirely to him. Therefore pure bhakti is heart-melting and all-consuming love to give ourself completely and unreservedly to God. Few of us have such bhakti in its fullest form, but if we are following the spiritual path this is what we should be aspiring for and working towards. Complete surrender of ourself to God, the one infinite and eternal reality that always exists and shines in our heart as our own being, ‘I am’, alone is the true and ultimate goal of bhakti.
When we start on the path of bhakti, God seems to be something other than ourself, so we try to express our love for him through actions of body, speech and mind, namely pūjā (worship of him), stōtra (singing his praises) or japa (repetition of his name) and dhyāna (meditation on him) respectively, and by the love with which we do such actions our mind is gradually purified, meaning that it is cleansed of all its inclinations to seek happiness in anything other than love for God, as Bhagavan explains in verses 3 to 7 of Upadēśa Undiyār. As our mind is thereby purified, we gain the clarity to recognise that we cannot actually be anything other than God, the one infinite whole, the fullness of being, the only thing that actually exists, so since we have thereby come to understand that he alone is what we actually are, we cease seeking him outside ourself and instead begin to seek him only in the depth of our own heart. That is, instead of meditating on him as something other than ourself, as we were doing previously, we start to meditate on him as none other than ourself, with the clear understanding that he is I.
Since the nature of ourself as ego is to rise, stand and flourish by attending to things other than ourself, we will subside and sink back into the depth of our heart only to the extent to which we attend to ourself alone, as Bhagavan makes clear in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, so by meditating on ourself we are surrendering ourself to God, and hence in verse 8 of Upadēśa Undiyār he says that ananya-bhāva, meditating on nothing other than ourself, is ‘அனைத்தினும் உத்தமம்’ (aṉaittiṉum uttamam), ‘best among all’, implying that it is not only the best practice of bhakti and most effective means to purify the mind but also the only means by which we can eradicate ego and thereby surrender ourself completely to God:
அனியபா வத்தி னவனக மாகுSince we as ego will subside back into our being to the extent to which we attend to ourself, when by persistent practice our self-attentiveness becomes strong and stable enough, we will thereby be firmly fixed in our true state of being (sat-bhāva), which transcends all mental activity, so being in this state is para-bhakti tattva, the true state of supreme devotion, as Bhagavan says in verse 9 of Upadēśa Undiyār, because it is the state in which we have given ourself wholly to God and therefore do not rise as ego to know anything other than ourself:
மனனிய பாவமே யுந்தீபற
வனைத்தினு முத்தம முந்தீபற.
aṉiyabhā vatti ṉavaṉaha māhu
maṉaṉiya bhāvamē yundīpaṟa
vaṉaittiṉu muttama mundīpaṟa.
பதச்சேதம்: அனிய பாவத்தின் அவன் அகம் ஆகும் அனனிய பாவமே அனைத்தினும் உத்தமம்.
Padacchēdam (word-separation): aṉiya-bhāvattiṉ avaṉ aham āhum aṉaṉiya-bhāvam-ē aṉaittiṉ-um uttamam.
English translation: Rather than anya-bhāva [meditation on anything other than oneself, particularly meditation on God as if he were other than oneself], ananya-bhāva [meditation on nothing other than oneself], in which he is [understood to be] I, certainly is the best among all.
பாவ பலத்தினாற் பாவனா தீதசற்The path of bhakti is therefore a gradual progression towards this state of complete self-surrender, as also is the path of jñāna, so the goal of both these paths is identical, even though the followers of each may describe it in different terms. What is called complete self-surrender in the path of bhakti is what is called eradication of ego and consequent removal of avidyā in the path of jñāna. If we go deep in following either of these paths, the superficial differences that others see between them will dissolve and disappear, and we will clearly recognise that they are one and inseparable, not only in their ultimate goal but also at deeper levels in their practice.
பாவத் திருத்தலே யுந்தீபற
பரபத்தி தத்துவ முந்தீபற.
bhāva balattiṉāṯ bhāvaṉā tītasaṯ
bhāvat tiruttalē yundīpaṟa
parabhatti tattuva mundīpaṟa.
பதச்சேதம்: பாவ பலத்தினால் பாவனாதீத சத் பாவத்து இருத்தலே பரபத்தி தத்துவம்.
Padacchēdam (word-separation): bhāva balattiṉāl bhāvaṉātīta sat-bhāvattu iruttal-ē para-bhatti tattuvam.
English translation: By the strength of [such] meditation [ananya-bhāva or self-attentiveness], being in sat-bhāva [the state of being], which transcends [all] bhāvanā [thinking, imagination or meditation in the sense of mental activity], alone is para-bhakti tattva.
In the early stages of the path of surrender we recognise by the grace of God that what stands between him and us is our own will. Since he is all-knowing, nothing can happen without his knowing it. Since he is all-powerful, nothing can happen without his allowing it. And since he is all-loving, he will not allow anything to happen that is not for the ultimate good of all concerned. Therefore whatever may happen in our life is happening with his knowledge and consent and in accordance with his will, so if we want to surrender ourself to him, we must be willing to accept wholeheartedly our present circumstances and whatever happens as his sweet will for our own benefit and the benefit of all concerned, whether or not we are able to understand how each particular thing is for the benefit of all concerned. In order to wholeheartedly accept everything as his will, we need to surrender our will to his, meaning that we need to give up all our own likes, dislikes, desires, attachments, hopes, fears and so on, and we will be able to do so only to the extent that we have genuine love for him.
In order to have true and deep love for him, we need to trust him, and our trust in him and consequent love for him are born out of clarity of mind and heart, which naturally arises from within to the extent that our mind is purified, meaning cleansed of its impurities, namely its likes, dislikes, desires, attachments, hopes, fears and so on. All this happens by his grace, but his grace needs to work through us in order to bring about these changes, and it can work through us only to the extent that we are willing to yield ourself to it, thereby allowing it to cleanse us of our impurities and thereby give us the clarity to trust him and love him wholeheartedly. This process of our surrendering our will to his is therefore a gradual one, and it happens by us progressively learning to trust and cooperate with the working of his grace.
However, though by going through this process we can gradually learn to surrender our will to him, we can surrender it only to a certain extent so long as we continue to rise as ego, because it is the very nature of ourself as ego to have a will of our own to a greater or lesser extent. Therefore, in order to surrender our will entirely to him, we need to surrender ourself entirely to him, so this gradual process of learning to surrender our will to him eventually leads us to self-surrender, which is the pinnacle of this path of bhakti and surrender.
But how can we surrender ourself? The self we need to surrender is ourself as ego, and since the nature of ourself as ego is to rise, stand and flourish to the extent to which we attend to anything other than ourself, but to subside and dissolve back into our being to the extent to which we attend to ourself alone, we can surrender ourself as ego only by being so keenly self-attentive that we become aware of ourself as we actually are, thereby eradicating ego and merging back forever in God, who is what we actually are, like a river merging back in the ocean. That this is the only means by which we can ultimately give ourself entirely to God is pointed out by Bhagavan in the first sentence of the thirteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:
ஆன்மசிந்தனையைத் தவிர வேறு சிந்தனை கிளம்புவதற்குச் சற்று மிடங்கொடாமல் ஆத்மநிஷ்டாபரனா யிருப்பதே தன்னை ஈசனுக் களிப்பதாம்.Thus the pinnacle of the path of bhakti is self-surrender (ātma-samarpaṇa), and the pinnacle of the path of self-surrender is self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), which is the path of jñāna, so the path of jñāna is in no way contrary to or incompatible with the path of bhakti but is the concluding stage and culmination of it. Without wholehearted bhakti that has matured into a deep and heart-melting love to surrender ourself completely to God, we cannot succeed in going deep in the path of self-investigation, because we will be willing to investigate ourself only to the extent that we have such love. That is, since we as ego will subside back into our heart to the extent to which we attend to ourself, we cannot attend to ourself without thereby surrendering ourself, so we will be willing to attend to ourself only to the extent to which we have love to surrender ourself.
āṉma-cintaṉaiyai-t tavira vēṟu cintaṉai kiḷambuvadaṟku-c caṯṟum iḍam-koḍāmal ātma-niṣṭhāparaṉ-āy iruppadē taṉṉai īśaṉukku aḷippadām.
Being ātma-niṣṭhāparaṉ [one who is firmly fixed as oneself], giving not even the slightest room to the rising of any cintana [thought] except ātma-cintana [thought of oneself, namely self-attentiveness], alone is giving oneself to God.
Therefore through his life, teachings and writings Bhagavan has clarified not only the philosophy and correct practice of the path of jñāna, namely self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), which is central to the advaita school of vēdānta, but also the nature of the ultimate practice of the path of bhakti, namely complete surrender of oneself to God, which is central to all the other bhakti schools of vēdānta.
Más info en https://ift.tt/CfvQxFT / Tfno. & WA 607725547 Centro MENADEL (Frasco Martín) Psicología Clínica y Tradicional en Mijas. #Menadel #Psicología #Clínica #Tradicional #MijasPueblo
*No suscribimos necesariamente las opiniones o artículos aquí compartidos. No todo es lo que parece.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario