II

A Bird’s Eye View of Advaita

 

Where knowledge is of the Self, how can there be

various kinds or grades? Knowledge of the Self is one.

Proceeding step by step refers to the stage where one

has turned away from the pursuit of sense objects and

one’s gaze is entirely directed toward the Eternal. The

Self has not yet been realized, but the treading of this

path has become attractive.

 

 

Introduction to Indian Philosophy

 

It is useful to begin an investigation into the Indian philosophical schools by stating the fundamental categories. There are eight fundamental categories common to all the Indian philosophical systems: valid means of knowledge (pramāṇa); truth and validity (prāmāṇyam); error and invalidity (aprāmāṇyam); God/Reality (Îśvara/Brahman); individuals (jīva); physical universe (jagat); liberation (mokṣa); and the means to liberation (mokṣa-sādhana). The first three categories deal with epistemology and theories of knowledge. They ask and answer the question, “How does one know what is known?” Collectively, they are called an enquiry into knowledge (pramāṇa-vicāra). The next three categories deal with metaphysics, i.e. an enquiry into Reality. They ask and answer: “What is capable of being known?” They are known as an enquiry into reality or “thatness” (tattva-vicāra). The last two categories deal with liberation and the practical teachings thereto. They concern the application of metaphysics to life itself, as it is lived in daily experience. They ask and answer the question, “Why should a person enquire?” So they pertain to the purpose of enquiry (prayojana-vicāra). Thus, all the Indian philosophical systems, being school-oriented, concern themselves with the fundamental questions of how, what, and why.

 

Depending upon how one views philosophy, one can either found metaphysics upon epistemological grounds or epistemology on metaphysical grounds. Method and material are interdependent. Any theory of knowledge presupposes certain declared and undeclared metaphysical assumptions, and any metaphysical theory is blind without a sound epistemological methodology. Method is barren without material, and material is blind without methodology. In Indian philosophy, the general trend has been to base epistemology upon metaphysics, for the simple reason that revealed wisdom embodies a direct experience of Reality. Thus, the nature of Reality, as well as the possibility of knowledge, is revealed in revelation. The task left to epistemology is to identify the various sources of knowledge, the validity and truth of knowledge, and the problem of invalidity and error. With this ascertainment, epistemology could then declare the proper method, if any, by which Reality may be known.

 

Epistemological theories appear to have originally developed so as to intellectually establish, and safeguard the validity of the revealed texts and the sayings and experiences of Sages from the onslaught of skeptical attacks leveled against them. However, notwithstanding their original impetus, once this endeavor was commenced, it seems to have taken on a life of its own. Epistemological doctrines gradually separated from the religious context and questions were raised about the nature, origins, and instruments of knowledge. Theories arose to explore the possibility of knowing perceptual, non-perceptual, and transcendental entities.

 

 

What is Vedanta?

 

The earliest known occurrence of the word “Vedānta” refer to that part of the Vedas known as the Upaniṣads. [22] The term “Vedānta” = veda (wisdom) + anta (end/essence), was used as a synonym for the Upaniṣads for two reasons, one literal/physical, the other conceptual/ philosophical: (1) Because the Upaniṣads are literally, physically, found at the back of the Vedas (i.e., at the end of the book), they are said to form the concluding portion or end of the Vedas. (2) Besides literally expressing the fact that the Upaniṣads form the concluding part of the Vedas, the term also expresses the idea that the Upaniṣads represent the essence of the Vedas. As such, the Upaniṣads as Vedānta, are spoken of as the crown or summit of the Vedic wisdom. Thus, the term “Vedānta” is the most apt synonym for the Upaniṣads. Like most Sanskrit terms, there is a śleṣa or multivalent element involved. The Sanskrit “anta”, like the English word “end”, means both “end” and “essence”, (e.g., “the end/essence of practice is proficiency”). This transparent multiplicity of meanings permeates the philosophy of Vedānta. Multiple meanings from multiple standpoints coexist, and each possesses both a truth and a use from a given perspective.

 

The word “veda” (wisdom) traditionally has three different referents (which need not necessarily be exclusive). [23] One meaning refers to a “direct inner intuitive knowledge.” This is most dramatically reflected in the great sayings (mahāvākya) of the Upaniṣads. It is testimony to the experience of the oneness of the Self with the Absolute. Ramaṇa remarked: “The essential aim of the Vedas is to teach us the nature of the imperishable Ātman and show us that we are That.” Latent within it is the insight that one is what one always is. One is the Self, here and now. To attain the unattained, action is necessary. But to attain the already attained, no action is required. To bring out the full implication of this particular usage, for the seer, the Vedic statement declares, “Veda is no longer Veda.” The Upaniṣad itself claims that Veda-as-a-direct-inner-intuitive-wisdom is merely a contextual expression:

 

Where verily there is, as it were, a duality, there one smells, sees, thinks, knows another. But when to the Knower of the Self, where everything has become the Self, then by what and whom should one smell, see, think, and know? Through what should one know That owing to which all this is known? Through what, O Maitreyi, should one know the Knower? [24]

 

Secondly, the word “Veda” refers to revealed knowledge which has been divided into four collections: Rgveda, Yajurveda, Sāmaveda, and Atharvaveda (along with their numerous recensions) and divisions into mantra, brāhmana, āranyaka, and Upaniṣad. Thirdly, the word Veda refers to “the entire body of Vedic revelation”. This usage refers not only to the content or subject-matter of the mantras, but also the form of expression that they assume. The later schools of Vedānta will draw upon this usage to present a body of teachings, which will be used as external and internal aids for self-realization. This standpoint represents “practice based upon theory”.

 

Therefore, depending upon one’s point of view, this threefold schema permeates the Vedas. We shall see that the Advaita tradition employs this insight as it speaks of: (1) the “thunderous silence” which “speaks” about the Unspeakable; (2) “words to live by” for the spiritual aspirant who is seeking personal experience; and (3) a “philosophy” for the seeker/scholar who desires a theory with conceptual consistency. In other words, there are seemingly different perspectives, viz. (i) one could say that Ramaṇa may be approached from a position of radical non-duality; (ii) a position of qualified non-duality; or (iii) a position of multiplicity. For instance: A man may be viewed from the perspective of himself; from the perspective of father and child; and from the perspective of an employee. In other words, one person is viewed from three perspectives, with each succeeding perspective involving a greater degree of separation from oneself: At first, one feels one is in the light (the world is external to you); secondly, the light is in you (the world is within you); thirdly, you are the light. Ramaṇa often adopted these three different standpoints (sometimes known as ajati-vāda, dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi-vāda, and sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi-vāda, and sometimes as pāramārthika, vyāvahārika, and prātibhāsika) when he spoke about the nature of the physical world; one should note that one or the other of them is applicable to whatever he spoke about. It cannot be stressed enough that it behooves the reader to be consciously aware of from what/whose perspective he is speaking to.

 

Indeed, Ramaṇa never got tired nor wearied of asserting that, from the viewpoint of a Sage, there is only the one indivisible Self; there is neither a knower, nor known, nor any process of knowing; neither a guru, nor disciples, nor teachings; neither a liberated individual, nor any bound individual. The essence of his teachings is that there is a single, immanent, partless, indivisible Reality, directly experienced by everyone, that is simultaneously the source, the substance, and real nature of all that is. In an attempt to speak of this non-relational, ineffable, indivisible Reality, Ramaṇa referred to it by various names: the Self, true Knowledge (svarūpa-jñāna), the Fourth (turīya), the Heart, Existence, Consciousness, Bliss (sat-cit-ānanda), That (Tat), the Self (Ātman), the Absolute (Brahman), Śiva, to name but a few. One should not misunderstand this and think that Reality has attributes, names, or forms, but only that each name signifies the one non-dual Reality. “Truth (ultimate Reality) is One; Sages call it by different names.” [25]

 

 

What is Advaita Vedanta?

 

Though there exists a plethora of source material, as well as thousands of secondary works on Advaita Vedānta, it is extremely difficult to convey exactly what “absolute non-duality” (advaita vedānta) is, apart from an intellectual understanding of it. This is because Advaita is described in three different, interrelated ways. First and foremost, it primarily points to a direct inner intuitive experience. At this level, silence is the only adequate “description” of pure non-duality; and silence is a woefully inadequate communicator for most people. Historically, when Gautama the Buddha was asked, “What is the Truth?” he remained silent. When Pilate asked Jesus, “What is the Truth?” he remained silent. An Upaniṣadic Sage, Vāskalin when asked by a seeker Bhava, “What is the Truth?” the former remained silent. Interestingly, when I am asked, “What is the Truth”, I, too, remain silent. On the surface, all the four answers appear similar, and yet the first three persons remained silent out of wisdom, while I remain silent out of ignorance. Such is the difficulty before us.

 

At another level, Advaita Vedānta connotes a body of words to live by. At this level, it is a system of spiritual instructions or indicators for “obtaining the already obtained”, i.e. Self-realization. Śaṅkara said: “When the knowledge of Brahman is firmly grasped, it is conducive to one’s own beatitude and to the continuity of the knowledge of Brahman. And the continuity of knowledge of Brahman is helpful to people as a boat is helpful to one wishing to get across a river.” [26]

 

Finally, and what is by far the most commonly used designation, Advaita Vedānta is a system of philosophy, a conceptual theory, one among many, and for many individuals, a rather distasteful, dry, and absurd theory at that. Philosophy is for the scholar who desires conceptual consistency. In other words, there are seemingly several Advaitas; however, it would be more accurate to say that Advaita has often been approached from three perspectives, though it should never be forgotten that the final word in Advaita is always the one, non-dual Self or Brahman/Ātman.

 

Advaita Vedānta, as a philosophical system, derives its name “Vedānta” from the fact that it is based on the teachings found in the Upaniṣads. The Upaniṣads constitute the foundation for the all Vedānta (philosophical) systems, and the qualifier “Advaita” was later applied to this original school in order to distinguish it from other Vedāntic systems which subsequently arose. [27] The source books foundational to all Vedāntic systems alike are: the Upaniṣads, the Bhagavad-gītā, and the Brahmasūtra. Together these three are known as the prasthāna-traya, (triple canon of Vedānta). “Prasthāna” means “foundation” and thus, these three constitute the three foundations. They are known as: Primary Scripture, the Śruti-prasthāna (i.e., Upaniṣads); Remembered Tradition, the Smṛti-prasthāna (i.e., Bhagavad-gītā); and Reason, the Nyāya-prasthāna (i.e., Brahmasūtra).

 

The Vedas are known as śruti (that which is “heard”). Since the Upaniṣads form part of the Vedas, their name śruti-prasthāna is apt. The Bhagavad-gītā stands next to the Upaniṣ ads in authoritativeness and importance. As the Bhagavad-gītā forms part of the Indian epic, the Mahābhārata [28], which is a remembered text (smṛti), it is called smṛti-prasthāna. The Brahma-sūtra represents the standpoint of reason, because therein the Upaniṣadic ideas are set forth in a logical order. Thus, we see that the basic sourcebooks of Advaita, and therefore its basic doctrines, are based upon scripture supported by tradition and reason. Ramaṇa, through the efforts and enquiries of others, became acquainted with all these sourcebooks and would refer to them and even quote them when the need of the occasion presented itself. However, it may be noted that he himself wrote no commentaries on the prasthāna-traya, though due to circumstance he did translate a few Advaitic works for the benefit of his devotees. He had absolutely no aspirations to establish a philosophical school, or be a traditional (or any other type of) philosopher. He said, “I have no school.” [29]

 

The central question for Vedānta concerns the nature of Brahman. Thus, the Brahmasūtra, which philosophically strings together the central concepts of the Upaniṣads in an orderly manner begins: “Now, therefore, the enquiry into Brahman.” [30] And this enquiry is not only intellectual, but also practical. Advaitic thought circles around the theme, “Ātman is Brahman”. [31] Ramaṇa’s thought centered around this theme as well, though with a new emphasis as we will see.

 

Advaita’s approach is Self-enquiry. Ramaṇa’s approach also is Self-enquiry, though with a new approach and emphasis. Advaita’s concern is for individuals, here and now. Ramaṇa’s concern is for individuals, here and now. Advaita’s goal is that which is eternally present, immediate, and accessible. So was Ramaṇa’s. Therefore, one should note that Advaita and Ramaṇa are concerned about Brahman, about the Self, not because Brahman is great, but because the Self is Brahman. Ramaṇa was insistent that the spiritual quest begins with enquiry, an enquiry into the Self, into who one really is. He did this, not because the Upaniṣads, the Brahmasūtra or the Advaita tradition advocate such a view, but because it was the fruit of his direct experience of the Self. Why should Self-enquiry alone be the direct means to liberation? “Because every kind of spiritual discipline except that of Self-enquiry presupposes the retention of the mind as the instrument for carrying on the spiritual discipline, and without the mind it cannot be practiced.”

 

Is it not a fact that every individual, in some way or other, must partake of the Reality? If this is granted, and it does appear to be a logical necessity, then each individual, in the final analysis, must investigate to find out who it is that does so. When push comes to shove, it is just not good enough that an ancient Sage or the Buddha or whatever God or great individual is enlightened, peaceful, blissful, and so on. Each individual wants a “piece of the action” too. Thus, one should begin an enquiry into who one really is. “Who am I” is where the quest begins, as well as ends.

 

Scholars have observed that Ramaṇa’s teachings are, in essence, in accord with the Upaniṣadic and Advaita doctrines, and the remarkable thing is that he first had the experience and only subsequently heard and read about it. A person once remarked about this: “Theory he learnt later and recognized it, just as a woman who had borne a child might read afterwards about child-birth.” [32]

 

To reveal the Self is the be-all and end-all of Advaita. This experience, Advaita further claims, is within the reach of all. The same method of approach may not suit everyone. The average person can have no knowledge of the particular combination of factors that is necessary to bring to completion the hitherto neglected factors of one’s being. Thus, it is not really theory that Advaita advocates, so much as experience. “Philosophy is not his (Śaṅkara’s) aim, but is rather a vital weapon with which to fulfill this aim, which is to rescue people out of transmigratory existence.” [33]

 

Advaita means “non-duality”. The prefix “non” applies not only to duality, but also to “isms” and “systems of thought”. The goal of Advaita is not so much to “know about” the Self, as it is to “personally experience” the Self. If “knowing about” is helpful, or conducive to this goal, so much the better. But Advaita never loses sight of the fact that “I am the Absolute” is an experiential statement, not a theory. Gauapāda explained: “This view (that there is duality) is only for the sake of instruction. When the truth is known, all duality disappears.” [34]

 

Literally, Advaita Vedānta means: “Non-duality (a-dvaita) (is the) end/essence (anta) (of) wisdom (veda)”. The essence of Advaita, succinctly put, is contained in the following oft-quoted verse: “The Absolute is Real; the world is non-real; the individual human being and the Absolute are not different.” [35] This insight is simple to state, but devastating in its implications, and requires a precise understanding. What-is is, “I am That” or, to change the phrase, “There is nothing which truly exists which is not That”.

 

The “Absolute alone is real” for the simple reason that Advaita defines the Real as that which is always real, which never changes. Anything that comes and goes is, in the ultimate scheme of things, not worth pursuing or obtaining. Anything that changes is declared to be “other than the Real”. The world is defined as non-real (not un-real), as illusory (in a particular definition of illusoriness), in relation to the Absolute. Everything in the universe changes, and thus it can’t be ultimately Real. But the world is not totally unreal, i.e., like a square-circle or a married-bachelor, because it does appear. Thus it has a strange status known as “neither real nor unreal”, as illusory. Finally, the Self is not other than the Absolute. This does not mean that the finite individual human being as comprised of name and form is the Absolute, but that the true nature of an individual is not other than the Absolute. Let us see how M. Hiriyanna explains the subtle meaning of this oft-quoted verse:

 

Śakara regards all diversity as being an illusion. But it is very important to grasp correctly the significance of so describing it. Śakara’s conception of the real (Sat) is that of the eternal Being, and Brahman is the sole reality of that type. Similarly, his conception of the unreal (asat) is that of absolute nothing. The world, in all its variety, is neither of the one type nor of the other. It is not real in this sense, for it is anything but eternal. Nor is it unreal in the sense defined, for it clearly appears to us as no non-entity can. Nobody, as it is stated in Advaitic works, has ever seen or is ever going to see a hare’s horn or a barren woman’s son. They are totally non-existent. Further, it possesses, unlike non-entities, practical efficiency or has value, being serviceable in life. This is the reason why the world is described in Advaita as other than the real and the unreal (sadasad-vilakaa) or as an illusory appearance. The serpent that appears where there was only a rope is neither existent nor non-existent. It is psychologically given, but cannot be logically established. In other words, the things of the world, though not ultimately real, are yet of a certain order of reality. They are appearances in the sense that they depend for their being upon some higher reality. The “serpent”, for example, points to the existence of the rope, and the dependence is one-sided, for while the disappearance of the rope necessarily means the disappearance of the serpent, the reverse does not hold good. [36]

 

 

Synopsis of Advaita Vedanta

 

The central question for Vedānta concerns the nature of Brahman. The Brahma-sūtra, which philosophically strings together the central concepts of the Upaniṣads in an ordered manner, begins with: “Athāto brahma-jijñāsā (Now, therefore, the enquiry into Brahman).” Thus, Advaita begins its philosophical enquiry, here and now. Its metaphysics is immanent and not transcendent. Brahman is involved in, and is the basis of, all one’s experiences. This is a key point because it has several far-reaching consequences. Advaita is primarily and foremost an enquiry into Brahman—the reality that is intimately and immediately involved in the individual’s experiences. However, though Brahman is seemingly enmeshed in one’s experiences, It is not consciously present to one’s consciousness, at least not as the things of the empirical world are. The individual must make an earnest enquiry and divine Brahman through discrimination. Though Brahman is not something to be gained afresh, it does need to be discriminated from the not-Self. This search is not divorced from experience, nor is it outside one’s daily experience. It comes through an analysis of one's day-to-day experience, at all levels.

 

The most distinguishing features of Advaita Vedānta are: (1) The non-difference of the individual human being (jīva) from the Absolute (Brahman); (2) the distinction between the absolute (pāramārthika) and relative (vyāvahārika) standpoints; (3) the doctrine of illusion/ignorance (Māyā/avidyā); and (4) the conception of liberation here and now (jīvan-mukti). These features are also found, in some form or other, in Ramaṇa’s thought, though one is tempted to say that the greatest distinguishing element of Ramaṇa’s thought is his “Who am I?” methodology.

 

 

Absolute Non-Duality

I

 

The quintessence of Advaita is its doctrine that the individual human being is non-different from the Absolute. This essential identity is most directly and eloquently expressed in the four “Great Sayings” (mahāvākya) of the Upaniṣads: “The Absolute is Consciousness,” [37] “The Self is the Absolute,” [38] “That thou art,” [39] and “I am the Absolute,” [40] The inner meaning of these great sayings directly reveals, “All this is only One” (ekam eva advitīyam). In other words, That (Absolute) alone am I in which there is no form or formlessness, it is beyond name and form, transcending even the beyond. It does not imply, as some interpreters seem to think, that Ātman/Brahman is a “bare nothing”. Śaṅkara foresaw this possible misinterpretation, for he said, “Brahman, free from space, attributes, motion, fruition, and difference, being in the highest sense and without a second, seems to the slow of mind no more than non-being.” [41] In the Vivekacūāmaṇi, he says:

 

What is the use of dilating on this subject? The individual is no other than the Absolute; this whole extended universe is Brahman Itself; the scripture persistently urges only Brahman, one without a second. It is an indubitable fact that people of enlightened minds who know their identity with Brahman and have given up their connection with the objective world, live palpably unified with Brahman as eternal knowledge and bliss. [42]

 

This identity of an individual with Brahman needs clarification. It is the individual in its true essential nature, as Ātman, which is identical with Brahman and not the individual as is empirically encountered. In the ordinary world, an individual thinks of oneself as an egotistic mind-body complex. This is an illusion, a delusion, an expression of ignorance caused by ignorance.

 

The essence of Advaita is persistently declared again and again, “You are That, here and now.” To the person who objects, “But is not my search proof of my having become lost?” the reply comes, “No, it only shows that you believe you are lost.” For, what are you in search of? How can you find that which you already are? A Sage once said, “Let me tell you a simple fact. If you set aside your ego for a moment, you will realize that you, the traveler, are that which you are seeking. Everything is within you. The supreme inner stillness is your destination.”

 

Or, to word it another way, “Any seeking is a denial of the presence of the sought”. To paraphrase Śaṅkara, “Why are you looking for the Self or God in city after city, temple after temple? God dwells in the heart within. Why look in the East and in the West? Don’t look for God, look for the Guru. God dwells within you; in truth, you are God. You don’t need to find God, you need to find a Guru who will guide you to yourself.” How much similar is he to Ramaṇa, “The word ‘liberation’ (mukti) is so provoking. Why should one seek it? One believes that there is bondage and therefore seeks liberation. But the fact is that there is no bondage, but only liberation. Why call it by a name and seek it?” The questioner adds, “True, but we are ignorant.” Ramaṇa replied: “Only remove ignorance. That is all there is to be done. All questions relating to mukti are inadmissible. Mukti means release from bondage that implies the present existence of bondage. There is no bondage and therefore no mukti either.” [43]

 

Throughout history, individuals have found themselves tossed between the twin banks of pleasure and pain, gain and loss. They are seemingly alienated from themselves, alienated from others, and alienated from the Absolute. From such a perspective it makes sense to ask, “How is it possible for a finite, relative, mortal individual human being to be identical

with an infinite, immortal Absolute?” [44] Each of the Great Sayings (mahāvākya) of the Upaniṣads imparts a threefold knowledge that Advaita seizes upon to provide an answer to this question. First of all, the mahāvākyas remove the deep-seated misconception that the individuals are finite, bound, imperfect, and mortal beings; and conversely, they reveal that the true Self of each individual is infinite, ever-free, ever-perfect, immortal. Secondly, they remove the wrong notion that the supreme Reality is remote, hidden, unattainable, and declare that It is immediate, direct, the innermost Self of all. Thirdly, they reveal that there are not separate individuals and an Absolute. Instead, they declare unequivocally, “You are That,” without an iota of difference. In other words, Advaita rejects all the three types of difference: “There is nothing similar to Brahman; there is nothing dissimilar to Brahman; and there is no internal variety.” [45] Ramaṇa often quoted this verse about the three types of difference and their inapplicability to the Self. “The Self alone is and nothing else. However, it is differentiated owing to ignorance. Differentiation is threefold: of the same kind; of a different kind; and as parts in itself. The world is not another Self similar to the Self. It is not different from the Self; nor is it part of the Self.” [46]

 

When individuals mistakenly superimpose various qualities (e.g. mortality, imperfection, gender distinction, and so on) upon themselves and the opposite qualities (e.g. immortality, perfection, omniscience, distance) upon the Absolute, Advaita resorts to a series of negations (neti-neti) to correct this misunderstanding. [47] Śaṅkara, commenting on this says, “The Absolute can never be properly denoted by any words, including the word ‘Absolute’ (Ātman/Brahman).” [48]

 

Hence, in the Advaita tradition, though there are passages like “Everything is Brahman”, [49] Brahman is Existence, Knowledge, Infinitude,” [50] “the Self is all this,” [51] “the world is an unbroken series of perceptions of Brahman and hence nothing else but Brahman,” [52] until one’s ignorance is destroyed, such statements will neither be correctly understood nor experienced as true. Ramaṇa remarked: “The bonds of birth and death will not cease merely by doing many repetitions of the great sayings. Instead of wandering about repeating ‘I am the Absolute,’ you abide as the supreme Self yourself.” The spiritual aspirants aspire towards a goal (the Self). Their viewpoint is conditioned by, “my body, my practices, my goal”. From such a perspective, it is not possible to realize that nothing whatsoever is apart from the Self.

 

Any personal effort necessarily comes from the very same illusory separate individual from which one is seeking escape. It should seem obvious that the ego cannot understand that which it is not. The Self is not an “object” to be seen, felt, or obtained. Though there is nothing that It is not, to look for It is to lose it. The seeker is the sought. One cannot “hold” It, but then one cannot get rid of It. An individual person can only be concerned with the process of “becoming”. Yet the Self is, and therefore cannot be attained or achieved.

 

Thus, for spiritual aspirants, Advaita speaks of “not-this, not-this”, which is given, not so much as to say that appearances are not applicable to the Absolute, as to indicate the impossibility of attributing any conceptualization to It. The Self is beyond description, beyond what the finite mind can fathom. The Self is called “a-dvaita” to point to the fact that there is nothing that it may be compared.

 

It is the thesis of Advaita that the Self is ever-present and yet, one does not realize it. The entire problem for each individual can be reduced to the simple question of “knowing” or “not-knowing”. With Vedānta there is actually nothing to be done; it is only a matter of understanding, but that understanding has to be very accurate and refined. Though the Self’s nature is inexpressible, it cannot be denied. “A man may doubt of many things, of anything else; but he can never doubt his own being.” [53]

 

The purpose of Advaita, of Ramaṇa, of the Guru, and of spiritual disciplines, is to kindle an awakening to this ever-present, already established Self. This it does by drawing one’s attention to the fact that appearances cannot appear independent of a reality that upholds them. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. To realize that one is the Self, one must make an enquiry into the nature of the Self, the content of the notion “I”. Advaita declares that the Self is not a hypothetical postulate. It is the most immediate, direct, and certain perception of all. Because one believes in oneself, the thinker, seer, hearer, and so forth, one has faith that what one thinks, sees, and hears is “real”. Instead, why not doubt the things which come and go, for example, thoughts, sights, and sounds, and hold onto that which is always there and is foundational to it all, one’s Self. The “I am” can never be changed into an “I am not.” To say “I do not exist” is to affirm the “I” who will do the doubting. [54] What is experienced, as well as its meaning, is always open to doubt. But that someone experienced is certain.

 

Advaita asks one to enquire into exactly who this “I” is. It is seeking the ultimate unity that pervades the universe of multiplicity. To discover this essence, Advaita employs numerous methods. It employs the “time-honoured” method of prior superimposition and subsequent denial. [55] Because individuals find themselves superimposing qualities upon themselves, and upon the Absolute, one is led from the familiar to the unknown. Gradually, attributes are negated as a deeper and deeper analysis is performed. One’s attachment becomes detachment, and the Self finally stands revealed. Hand in hand with this method is “not-this, not-this”. Or, to mention but one other method, Advaita employs mantras for conveying the Self. According to Advaita, the well-known final discipline for Self-realization is to hear the liberating word (śravaṇa), reflect upon it (manana), and digest and experience its purport (nididhyāsana). [56]

 

Advaita traditionally commences with an enquiry into the Self. How does one refer to oneself? Only as “I”. It is one single syllable. Every person says “I”, but who is making an effort to know what this “I” exactly is? One usually refers to the physical body when one speaks of “I”, but a little reflection will reveal that the “I” cannot be the physical body. The body itself cannot say “I”, for it is inert. [57] One says, “this is my coat, this is my hair, this is my body.” What is “mine” belongs to me. “My” is a personal possessive pronoun implying ownership. What belongs to me is not me. I am separate from it; I possess it. Whatever I possess, I can dispense with, and still remain who I am. On a deeper level, when one says “I”, one is referring to the faculties of thinking, feeling, and willing. Yet the same analysis applies. These are my thoughts, my feelings, my emotions—they come and go. I know them. I am the knower, and they are the known. No one says, “I am this shirt” or “I am this house”. Likewise, it is a mistake to superimpose one’s body, one’s thoughts, and one’s feelings, upon the “I”. [58]

 

What is this “I”? In the body arises a sense of awareness. As a collection this is usually called the mind. What is the mind but a collection of thoughts. And this collection is where the “I” functions as their basis. Every thought relates to you, the “I”, either directly about you or connected with you as individuals, objects, things, events, opinions. In other words, every thought is rooted in your “I”. So what is this “I”—where is it rooted? Track it to its source. This process Ramaṇa called ātma vicāra or an enquiry into the Self.

 

Advaitins propose that the “I” (jīva) performs two searches: one outwards and empirical and the other inwards and spiritual. When the jīva identifies itself with the mind-body complex, there arise the notions of “I” and “mine”. This association is the result of an interaction among the Self, ignorance, the internal organ, and external objects. The Self which is one and non-dual is non-relational. When the Self associates with ignorance, it develops numerous relations with objects.

 

There is a pseudo “I”, the empirical “I”, and there is the real “I”, the Ātman or Self. Between the ever-luminous Self (which neither rises nor sets) and the non-real, not-Self, the insentient body (which cannot of its own accord say, “I”), arises a false “I” which is limited to the body, the ego, and this meeting place is known as cit-acit-granthi, the knot between the sentient Self and the insentient body. The term “I”, when used by the not-Self is but a convenient label.

 

Then, what is the “I”? Advaita avers that a little reflection will reveal that upon awakening from sleep, the first thought that arises is the “I”-thought. One thinks, “I slept well last night” or “I am still tired” or “I am going to the bathroom”. First, the “I”, and then the drama of one’s life. Further, there is not a single thought anytime, which does not first invoke this “I”. One has never, and will never have, a thought or experience without this “I” being present. It is the pillar around which each and every thought clings. Every thought relates to the “I”, either directly or in connection with other individuals, objects, things, events, opinions, and so on. The “I” is the basis for everything else—the entire myriad universe of second and third persons, the universe of he, she, and it. Everything, inclusive, is rooted in one’s “I”.

 

Before anything can come into existence, there must be someone to whom it comes. All appearance and disappearance presuppose a change against some changeless background. The “I” is that support. One is not “what happens” to oneself, but to whom things happen. Who am I? Advaita avers that it is enough to know what you are not. The “I” is not an object to be known. Truly, all one can say is that “I am not this, not that”. The “this” and “that” of the world come and go. But the “I” persists. If one can point to something, one cannot meaningfully say, “I am (only) that.” If one can point to something, one is obviously more than that. One is not “something else” and yet, without you, nothing can be perceived, nor imagined either.

 

 

II

 

To understand, let alone appreciate, any philosophical system demands that one comprehend its particular perspective. In Advaita Vedānta, it is crucial that one understand the distinction made between the absolute (pāramārtika) and the relative (vyāvahārika) points of view. [59] This distinction pervades the entire system, and what is true from one point of view is not so from another. Without being absolutely clear regarding this distinction, it is likely that one will not only misinterpret Advaita’s doctrine, but further accuse the Advaitin of inconsistencies, contradictions, and absurdities. One must be absolutely clear that these two “levels”, two “truths” distinction is but a pragmatic device and does not mean, that there are really two truths or levels.

 

To illustrate the Advaita doctrine of perspectives with a simple analogy: From the sun’s perspective, the sun neither rises nor sets; there is neither darkness nor concealment nor varying shades of light. By definition, darkness cannot be where light is. However, from the perspective of an individual upon the earth, the sun rises and sets; there are both light and darkness and varying shades in between, and it is valid to label the sun’s light an enemy of darkness. Two seemingly contradictory propositions, both equally valid, and true, once their particular perspectives are correctly understood. Nevertheless, note that what is valid from one perspective is not from another. From the sun’s perspective, “all is light”. From darkness’ perspective, there is relative light and relative darkness, and every shade in between. The question is, “Which do you identify with; are you the physical body, or are you the Self?”

 

While Advaita acknowledges that distinctions appear unique and individual at the empirical level, all distinctions lose their distinct individuality from the Absolute point of view. That is, “All this is Brahman” is absolutely true while “all this is individually separate and distinct” is relatively true. What is true from one point of view or level of reality is not from another. However, this does not mean that there are two realities, two truths. There is one Reality, as seen from two different perspectives. Śaṅkara avers that one perspective is from the point of view of ignorance; it is relatively true, (the sun seemingly rises and sets), while the other point of view is from the perspective of wisdom (I am the Light). The sun is seen to traverse across the sky, and yet everyone knows that it does not move! Water is seen in a mirage, and yet there never has been water there, nor will there be, nor is there now. I see my body and yours, and a myriad others, and yet I may be mistaken as to the validity of what I see. That I see something is not in question; what that something is, is the question.

 

The Advaita position is that there are not two types of being, nor two truths, but one reality, one truth, as seen from two different perspectives. This is the entire crux of the matter and precisely the point that is most easily misunderstood.

 

Brahman is known in two forms as qualified by limiting conditions owing to the distinction of name and form, and also as the opposite of this, i.e. as what is free from all limiting conditions whatever . . . thus many texts show Brahman in two forms according as it is known from the standpoint of knowledge or from that of ignorance. [60]

 

Compare Ramaṇa’s statement when a questioner enquired: “Some people say that Brahman is real; that the world is illusion is a stock phrase of Śrī Śaṅkarācārya. Yet others say the world is reality. Which is true?” Ramaṇa replied:

 

Both statements are true, but at different levels of understanding and experience. The absolute truth is the Reality is non-dual. There is only Being in Selfrealization, and nothing but Being. But the term “reality” is used also in a different sense and is applied loosely by some thinkers to objects. It is as a concession to them that degrees of reality are recognized. When one has recognized the absolute Truth, there is no sense in talking about degrees of truth or of reality. [61]

 

From the point of view of ignorance of the Self, Advaita admits of numerous distinctions, while from the absolute perspective of wisdom, of a Sage, there is only Brahman/Ātman, one and non-dual. Because it acknowledges these two perspectives, it is able to address and make sense of the metaphysical riddle of the One and the many; of how individuals are seemingly different from one another, and of the existence of a seeming plurality of things. Epistemologically, there is the problem of the subject-object dichotomy, as well as the problem of truth and error. Ethically, there is the problem of bondage, freedom, and the means thereto. Without these two perspectives, all such problems are philosophical enigmas.

 

Either a person is bewitched by multiplicity (and thus said to be under the sway of ignorance) or one experiences the all-pervading Consciousness. The pluralism that is experienced at the empirical level, and with which philosophical enquiry, and spiritual disciplines commence, is what is in question. Merely because one imagines that one is a distinct, limited physical being, a finite entity in a universe of infinite entities, does not make it so. Advaita avers that there is the Self, one and non-dual, not “my self”, “his self”, “her self”. Because an individual is misled by the seeming diversity of names and forms, minds and bodies, one imagines multiple selves. However, that does not mean that multiplicity is the only vision possible.

 

All the great Advaitins throughout the ages not only realized the Self and emphatically declared that the Self alone is real, but then spent their lives in making clear what the duties of people are, compassionately assisting everyone to the goal of life. From the absolute perspective, the goal is emphasized. From the relative perspective, the means are emphasized. The aim is to know one’s Self. But in order to know, one must be able to know.

 

 

Three Approaches to Creation Theories

 

Ramaṇa explained to a devotee that there are three modes of approach, or standpoints, to the metaphysical problem of creation. He spoke about all of them at different times, but it is clear from his comments that only the first one is always true and that the second mode is useful for spiritual aspirants:

 

I do not teach only the ajāta-vāda doctrine. I approve of all schools. The same truth has to be expressed in different ways to suit the capacity of the hearer. The ajāta doctrine says, “Nothing exists except the one reality. There is no birth or death, no projection or drawing in, no seeker, no bondage, no liberation. The one unity alone exists.” To those who find it difficult to grasp this truth and who ask, “How can we ignore this solid world we see all around us?” the dream experience is pointed out and they are told, “All that you see depends on the seer. Apart from the seer, there is no seen.” This is called the dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi-vāda or the argument that one first creates out of one’s mind and then sees what one’s mind itself has created. Some people cannot grasp even this, and they continue to argue in the following terms: “The dream experience is so short, while the world always exists. The dream experience was limited to me. But the world is felt and seen not only by me, but by so many others. We cannot call such a world non-existent.” When people argue in this way, they can be given a sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi-vāda theory, for example, “God first created such and such a thing, out of such and such an element, and then something else was created, and so on.” That alone will satisfy this class. Their minds are otherwise not satisfied and they ask themselves, “How can all geography, all maps, all sciences, stars, planets, and the rules governing or relating to them and all knowledge be totally untrue?” To such it is best to say, ‘Yes, God created all this and so you see it. All these theories are only to suit the capacity of the learner. The absolute can only be one.” [62]

 

The highest and supreme mode is the theory of non-origination (ajāta-vāda) as expounded by Gauapāda. [63] (However, even this perspective is but an approximation to the truth, a teaching with which Ramaṇa is in complete agreement. GauḌapāda said, “Ajāti is meaningful only so long as jāti (birth) carries meaning. The absolute truth is that no word can designate or describe the Self.” [64] From this level there is no creation, no birth, no death, no dissolution, no bondage, no liberation, and no one striving for liberation. It is a Sage’s experience that nothing has ever happened, because the Self alone exists as the sole unchanging reality. From this perspective, the (relative) reality of the world is not denied. A Sage perceives appearances like anyone else. However, the Sage does not perceive the world as comprised of separate objects. An appearance is not unreal merely because it is an appearance. The real nature of an appearance is inseparable from the Self and partakes of its reality. What is not real is to mentally construct an illusory world of separate, interacting objects. Ramaṇa said, “The world is unreal if it is perceived by the mind as a collection of discrete objects, and real when it is directly experienced as an appearance in the Self.”

 

The next mode, which is a middling concession to the absolute truth for seekers who find the ajāta-vāda impossible to digest, posits that creation is simultaneous with perception (sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi-vāda). According to this perspective, the world arises like a dream on account of a person’s own thoughts induced by the defect of not knowing oneself as the non-dual Self. With the arising of the “I”-thought, the world simultaneously comes into existence and ceases to exist when the “I”-thought ceases. The world only exists when it is perceived. Upon awakening from sleep, the first thought a person has is the “I”-thought and upon its emergence, the entire universe consisting of objects other than oneself springs into existence. Once the “I”-thought, mistakenly taken as meaning “me” (male, father, professor, thin, healthy, etc.) arises as the subject, then everything other than me becomes an object. In deep sleep, when the “I”-thought is absent, so is the universe. This is everyone’s personal experience, though they refuse to admit so. Ramaṇa would encourage his followers to accept this theory as a working hypothesis because, if one is constantly regarding the world as an unreal creation of one’s mind, then it will lose its attraction, its seductiveness, and it will be easier for that person to then maintain an undistracted awareness of the “I”-thought. Thus, this theory is “true” in so far as the mind of an unenlightened person does create an imaginary world for itself. At the same time, from the standpoint of the Self, an imaginary “I” creating an imaginary world is no creation at all and thus does not contradict ajāta-vāda.

 

Finally, there is the “what has been created is perceived theory” (sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi-vāda) which is the ordinary common sense view that believes that the world is an objective reality governed by laws of cause and effect which can be traced back to a single act of creation by a creator. This theory states that the world exists prior to anyone’s perception of it and that it is external to oneself. Ramaṇa only invoked this theory when the person he was speaking with was unwilling to accept either of the other two theories. Invariably, Ramaṇa would tell such a questioner that the theory of “what is created is seen” should not be taken too seriously, as all it does is to satisfy one’s intellectual curiosity.

 

There may be any number of theories of creation. All of them extend outwardly. There will be no limit to them because time and space are unlimited. They are, however, only in the mind . . . creation is explained scientifically or logically to one’s own satisfaction. But is there any finality about it? Such explanations are called gradual creation. On the other hand, simultaneous creation is instantaneous creation. Without the seer, no objects are seen. Find the seer and the creation is comprised in him. Why look outward and go on explaining the phenomena that are endless? [65]

 

 

The Key Concept of Advaita

 

The cornerstone of any philosophical system is that “key concept” upon which the system revolves; and such a key concept is avidyā/māyā. [66] This calls for a little explanation in order that a possible misunderstanding does not result. Critics sometimes label Advaita Vedānta as “illusion-theory” (māyā-vāda), and Advaitins are called “illusionists” (māyā-vādins). These terms are used disparagingly, and yet there is a grain of truth in the matter. Avidyā/māyā cannot exist, or function, independent of Brahman, and it ceases to bewitch a person once Brahman is realized. However, strictly speaking, Brahman is the be-all and end-all of Advaita, and if anything, Advaita should be called “Brahma-vāda” This is so because Advaita never loses sight of its central doctrine that Brahman is real, the world is non-real, and the individual is non-different from Brahman. Ramaṇa remarked:

 

Śakara was criticized for his views on māyā without being understood. He said that: Brahman is real, the universe is unreal, and the universe is Brahman. He did not stop at the second, because the third explains the other two. It signifies that the universe is real if perceived as the Self, and unreal if perceived apart from the Self. Hence māyā and reality are one and the same. At the level of the spiritual seeker, you have got to say that the world is an illusion. There is no other way. When a man forgets that he is Brahman, who is real, permanent, and omnipresent, and deludes himself into thinking that he is a body in the universe which is filled with bodies that are transitory, and labors under that delusion, you have got to remind him that the world is unreal and a delusion. Why? Because his vision, that has forgotten its own Self, is dwelling in the external, material universe. It will not turn inwards into introspection unless you impress upon him that all this external, material universe is unreal. When once he realizes his own Self he will know that there is nothing other than his own Self and he will come to look upon the whole universe as Brahman.

 

It would appear that for Ramaṇa, ignorance (avidyā) is a term that is fundamentally and basically a description of an affliction of the psyche, an existential description of a state of being, an experiential realm of ignorance. It is not a metaphysical entity, a full-blown philosophical concept, so much as it is a useful tool and a description. If this is so, and it should be, as it would be in keeping with the feeling that Ramaṇa was first and foremost concerned with an individual’s liberation and not with philosophy per se, then I believe that a case may be made that the Advaita teachings of Ramaṇa, are first and foremost meta-philosophies.

 

Śaṅkara defined ignorance (avidyā) as: “the mutual superimposition of subject and object, the mutual transposing of the Self and the non-Self, the unacceptable combining of true and false.” [67] In the same place, he also said that “learned men regard this superimposition (adhyāsa) thus defined as avidyā [68] and that superimposition is the imposition of a thing on what is not that thing (atasmims-tad-buddhiḥ). As well, he said: “Avidyā is parameśvarāsraya, that is, ignorance depends upon Brahman. And in it (avidyā) individuals, having lost their identity with Brahman, rest.” [69] Ramaṇa defined māyā as: “Māyā is that which makes us regard as non-existent the Self, the Reality, which is always and everywhere present, all-pervasive and self-luminous, and as existent the individual soul (jīva), the world (jagat), and God (para) which have been conclusively proved to be non-existent at all times and places.” [70]

 

As a philosophical term, avidyā/māyā is crucial to the understanding of Advaita. Since Śaṅkara did not differentiate between avidyā and māyā, as post-Śaṅkarite Advaitins did, I present the two terms as one key concept here.

 

Avidyā/māyā is the means, not the end. It is an explanatory concept. Within Advaita, any “means” exists only at the relative level. From the absolute perspective, one is the Self, one does not become the Self. When the rope is seen, there is no question about a snake. When the Self is realized, there are no questions about māyā. Thus, māyā is a provisional explanation as to how the eternally all-pervasive Self appears otherwise to deluded individuals. Though avidyā/māyā is not ultimately real, its importance cannot be exaggerated for the role that it plays. No one can deny that individuals seemingly perceive multiplicity and distinctions. How does this happen?

 

Ātman, the self-luminous, through the power of one’s own māyā, imagines in oneself, by oneself (all the objects that the subject experiences within or without). This unborn, changeless, non-dual Brahman appears to undergo modification only on account of māyā and not otherwise. [71]

 

According to Advaita, the real is that which is eternal, which suffers no sublation, while the unreal is that which never is. Advaita contends the unreal can never appear, not even in one’s wildest dreams, e.g. a square-circle or the child of a barren woman. Because appearances are perceived, they cannot be said to be unreal (asat). Similarly, because the real (Sat) never changes, appearances, which change, cannot be called real (Sat). Therefore, appearances are indeterminable. How miraculous, mysterious, inscrutable! All that is perceived as “other than you” is neither real nor unreal! There never has been, nor is, nor will be, water in a mirage and yet, somehow, it is perceived. Thus, Advaita calls all appearances, sadasad-vilakṣ aṇa, “what is other than the real or the unreal”. It is only in this sense that the seeming plurality of the universe is called “illusory” (māyā). Any enquiry into māyā is not to make the concept intelligible, but to enable one to go beyond it. Once one has destroyed ignorance, there remains no problem to be solved, no questioner to enquire whether appearances are real or not.

 

By the criterion of completeness, the Self alone is absolutely real. All else will be called “real” only by courtesy. The distinction between one individual and another, the existence of a plurality of things, the superimposition of attributes on the Absolute are all concessions to the Truth made from the relative point of view. By this criterion, avidyā/māyā is not a second entity. Only a person under the spell of ignorance perceives its effects. The sun does not ask, “Where is this darkness you speak about?” Because one denies what one is, the Self, and superimposes upon the Self what It is not, the not-Self, does not therefore make the not-Self real.

 

 

LiberationWhileLiving

 

Finally, since Advaita is primarily an enquiry into the Self, the reality that is involved in, and is the basis of, an individual’s every experience, the Self is everyone’s birthright. The Self is here and now; not something to be obtained from outside, at a later time. The Absolute is not a God, above and beyond. That thou art declares the Upaniṣad. Thus, according to Advaita, Ātman and liberation (mokṣa) have the same meaning. This leads us to the nature of spiritual disciplines, and ultimately to the concept of liberation-while-living (jīvan-mukti).

 

In the Advaita tradition, all manifestations are considered but name (nāma) and form (rūpa). This is a subtle point. According to Advaita, so long as the seeker regards him/herself as a separate individual human being, then spiritual disciplines are absolutely essential. The final position (siddhānta) of Advaita is that there is no teacher, no taught, no teachings. “All this is Brahman only.” But until that vision becomes an experienced realization, Advaita advocates a series of preliminary disciplines, i.e. righteous behavior consisting of external remote aids which help purify the mind (nitya-naimittika karmas), the four fold proximate aids to spiritual discipline (sādhana-catuṣṭaya), [72] and the principal proximate aids of hearing the truth, reflecting upon the truth, and digesting the truth (śravaṇa, manana, and nididhyāsana). [73] Obviously, all of these disciplines presuppose and demand the presence of a teacher, an aspirant, and teachings as well as a place in which to practice the teachings. Advaita is not averse to spiritual disciplines such as the various yogas and all the myriad sādhanas, but considers them as being but preliminaries to liberation.

 

Another way in which the “means to liberation” can be analyzed is to analyze the nature of the aspirant. When an individual’s sense of duality is very strong and their practices are predominantly external, then their spiritual disciplines fall under the category of “remote aids”. When an individual’s sense of distinctness is middling and their practices are predominantly internal, then their spiritual disciplines may be subsumed under the category of “proximate aids”. Finally, when an aspirant’s direct awareness of reality is awakened within through the grace of the preceptor (guru), and only a subtle distinction exists between the goal and the path, then such a one’s disciplines are called the “principal proximate aids”. Hence, Advaita envisions a series of spiritual disciplines ranging from the grossest, most external, remote disciplines, all the way to liberation itself, about which, at the highest level, nothing can be said. There is no disciple, nor is any discipline rejected. Whichever means is adopted depends upon the nature and understanding of the disciple. Developing in different ways, from differing initial states, each disciple’s practice leads to greater states of awareness, eventually culminating in the Self. Indeed, Śaṅkarācārya said: “Until a person awakens to the knowledge of their identity with the Self, liberation can never be achieved . . .”

 

Therefore, let the wise person give up craving for pleasure in external things, and struggle hard for liberation. Let such a one seek out a noble and high-souled teacher, and become absorbed wholeheartedly in the truth that is taught by him. [74]

 

Though the transcendental Self is radically personal, individuals are not consciously aware of it in the way that they are aware of sense-objects. Human beings, with their outward turning sense organs, have been fascinated with an external world consisting of innumerable persons, places, things, and events. But in dealing with something that is not an object, and is totally unrelated to space-time concepts, their attention has been inadequate. Instead of directing one’s attention outwards to the world of “others”, one should learn to direct one’s attention inwards, towards the indwelling Self.

 

In other words, to seek the Self, an individual must make an earnest enquiry into the Self through discrimination. Though the Self is not something to be gained afresh, it does need to be discriminated from the not-Self. Such a search is not divorced from, nor outside of, one’s personal experience. This means that, at any given time, an aspirant’s qualifications and readiness determine how seriously, earnestly, and completely one seeks the Self.

 

Vedānta teaches that one is the Self, here and now. Why one does not realize this ever-present fact and suffers, is due to ignorance. [75] Individuals aver, “I am deficient, inadequate, incomplete, right now.” The evidence for this appears overwhelming. “Isn’t it a fact that I am a male or female, who is compulsively pursuing pleasure and security? I am full of desires, wants, and needs.” Further, the fulfillment of these desires is so incredibly important precisely because they are going to be the means of one’s fulfillment. The logic of separation is easy to understand: “What one doesn’t have, one must obtain to thereby become complete.” However, what is usually overlooked is that sense enjoyment has a double sting: it takes off the edge of the sense organs by making them blunt, and it sets the mind afire by making the mind desire for more of the same enjoyment. The mind wants enjoyment, but the body can’t take it. One burns the candle at both ends. One is roasted in one’s own desires. Desires are the root of suffering.

 

But the Self is not another “object”, even the greatest of objects, to be obtained. The Self is the seeker as well as the sought, even though the seeker does not know this due to ignorance. Since the individual, as the not-Self, is neither real nor unreal, the very question of an individual self seeking union with the Absolute is ludicrous. And yet, if one does not seek, one will not find. As the Gītā says:

 

Though quite self-evident, easily knowable, quite near and forming the very Self, Brahman appears to the unenlightened, to those whose understanding is carried away by the differentiated phenomena of names and forms created by ignorance, as unknown, difficult to know, very remote, as though he were a separate thing. [76]

 

The idea that the individual, as individual, is a mere fiction, and its corollary, that the individual is really here and now, the Self, is the purest Advaita. Generally, this is too difficult a teaching for one to digest immediately and thus arises the need for a gradual awakening. One is led from the unreal to the real, from darkness to light, from death to immortality, step by step. This is the general teaching of Advaita philosophy. Any, and every “other”, be it an experience or an object, is, by definition, going to be ultimately inadequate. Experiences and objects come and go. Since they have a beginning, and they will have an end. The “other” must ultimately disappoint one. Thus, if there is truly something called the Self, something called completeness, it must be present, here and now, or it cannot be at all.

 

The real teaching of Vedanta is that the ignorance that is destroyed never really existed. To destroy ignorance and attain bliss is to destroy what never was and to attain what we have always had. [77]

 

The final teaching of Advaita, from the absolute perspective, is that there is not incompleteness during sādhana and completeness upon liberation; there is no duality during spiritual practices and non-duality during liberation. [78] There is only the ocean of the Self, before, during, and after. This leads us to Advaita’s conception of the nature of achievement. There are said to be two types of attainment: attainment of the not-yet-attained and attainment of the already attained. What has not-yet-been-attained, the attainment of a new automobile, is achieved in space and time. It may be attained by a limited effort and will produce a limited result, i.e. a new car. This type of attainment always involves both gain and loss. One gains a new condition and loses one’s old condition.

 

However, Vedānta also talks about another type of attainment, “obtaining the already obtained.” [79] To obtain the already obtained, neither space nor time is involved. One can only obtain that which one does not already have. Since there never was a time when one was not the Self, the Upaniṣads say: “And being already released, he is released; Being already Brahman, he attains Brahman.” [80]

 

Since Advaita declares that liberation can be “attained” here and now, provided a person makes oneself fit, one need not wait until death overtakes the physical body. Such a person is called a jīvan-mukta, liberated even while living in a body. [81] The continuance of the body is in no way incompatible with the state of Self-realization. What happens is merely a change of perspective; ignorance has been destroyed. Right knowledge of the Self puts an end to ignorance. If the body were real, then liberation could come only after the destruction of the body. But since one is not the physical body, its continued appearance or disappearance is of no consequence. From the standpoint of the jīvan-mukta, there is only Brahman/Ātman. It is to the ignorant that the jīvan-mukta appears to tenant a body. Even to refer to such a one as “him” or “her” is due to one’s ignorance. The Self alone exists.

 

 

Ramana as a Philosopher

 

Right from the start, let us be clear. From the absolute perspective or settled conclusion (siddhānta) of Ramaṇa, there is no teacher, no taught, no teachings; there is no birth, no death, no universe; no enlightened being, no unenlightened being, and no path to enlightenment; there is no knower, no known, and no means of knowledge. There is only the one, indivisible Self. This is the highest and only supreme Truth. The Self is Truth and Truth is the Self. When it manifests itself, it manifests as Love. But from the perspective of an ordinary person under the sway of ignorance of the Self, the so-called unenlightened person, the entire universe of multiplicity seemingly exists and shouts out for explanations and answers. Thus, any issue that arises may be approached from either of these two angles.

 

One can discuss Ramaṇa’s life and teachings from either of these viewpoints and give appropriate references to illustrate such. For instance, Ramaṇa replied in varying ways to the question, “What should I do?” He has replied, (1) There is no one to do anything. Nothing has ever happened. Your life in this world has no more substance than experiences or objects occurring in an illusion, a mirage, a hallucination or a dream; or (2) Whatever is destined to happen will happen, and whatever is not destined to take place will not; or (3) Begin Self-enquiry, cultivate the virtues, meditate, perform spiritual practices, and so on. Take responsibility with confidence. Time, place, circumstance, qualification all must be taken into consideration. If the reader does not keep this in mind nor is able to understand from what perspective a reply is given, then confusions, inconsistencies, and/or contradictions will arise.

 

It may seem to a non-philosopher that philosophy is a dry, difficult, and mysterious subject. But it is actually not that complicated. A philosopher has a lot less information to absorb than those in many other disciplines. The task of a philosopher primarily consists in learning to ask fundamental questions, and in mastering the paradigms that are exemplary in dealing with these questions concerning the three main categories of philosophy (the Absolute/God, the world, and individual human beings) and the three basic questions (how, what, and why). Understand and apply the paradigm, and everything else should fall into place logically, consistently and coherently.

 

Philosophy the world over concerns itself with three basic questions: how does one know what one knows? (epistemology); what is knowable? (metaphysics); and why one should know? (practical teachings). What distinguishes philosophy from a mystic Sage’s experience is that philosophy involves a rational investigation and explanation that involves rigor, coherence, and consistency, and it advances reasons for the answers it provides, while mystical utterances are not systematic, well thought out intellectual statements, but expressions based solely on the mystic’s personal experience. This is a traditionally held distinction.

 

Was Ramaṇa a philosopher? Virtually every author who has written about Ramaṇa emphatically states that the Maharshi was not a traditional philosopher and that his teachings were not philosophy in the strict sense of the term. This is an oft-voiced view, and it is certainly the case that he did not instruct others to think out problems or analyze the world from a theoretical point of view. Ramaṇa was definitely not a systematic thinker or professional philosopher presenting a logically thought-out system of principles. He continually emphasized that thought must be eliminated, for it is in the elimination of thought that one discovers the deeper awareness that is behind and beyond thought. Ramaṇa said:

 

Holding the mind and investigating it is advised for a beginner. But what is mind after all? It is a projection of the Self. See for who it appears and from where it rises. The “I”-thought will be found to be the root-cause. Go deeper. The “I”-thought disappears, and there is an infinitely expanded “I”-consciousness. [82]

 

One should also note that Ramaṇa had very definite views on the value of philosophy and its usefulness. Examples of his words on the subject include:

Some theoretical knowledge is needed for Yoga and may be found in books, but practical application is what is needed. Personal example and instruction are the most helpful aids. As for intuitive understanding, a person may laboriously convince himself of the truth to be grasped by intuition, of its function and nature, but the actual intuition is more like feeling, and requires practical and personal contact. Mere book learning is not of any great use. After realization all intellectual loads are useless burdens and are to be thrown overboard. [83]

 

Pre-occupation with theory, doctrine, and philosophy can actually be harmful, insofar as it distracts a man from the really important work of spiritual effort, by offering an easier alternative which is merely mental, and which therefore cannot change his nature.

 

The intricate maze of philosophy of the various schools is said to clarify matters and to reveal the Truth, but in fact it creates confusion where none need exist. To understand anything there must be the Self. The Self is obvious, so why not remain as the Self? What need to explain the non-self?

 

I was indeed fortunate that I never took to it (i.e. philosophy). Had I taken to it, I would probably be nowhere; but my inherent tendencies led me directly to enquire “Who am I?” How fortunate!

 

This being noted, Ramaṇa lived, spoke, wrote, and taught a type of philosophy, if one concedes to this term, which is known as Advaita (if it may be so called). Ramaṇa was a master of non-duality. He did not expound a closed system of philosophy, nor did he tell what reality is. All he ever did was to point to the total and absolute experience of non-duality where there is no split between subject and object, where there are no distinctions at all. Let me explain. When asked if his teachings were the same as Śaṅkara’s, who is universally considered to be one of India’s premier philosophers, if not its greatest, Ramaṇa replied: “My teachings are only an expression of my own experience and realization. Others find that it tallies with Śrī Śaṅkara’s.” [84]

 

Thus, the question arises: in what way, if at all, may Ramaṇa’s teachings be said to be philosophy, and did he make a contribution to it as one of its builders? One can always “read” philosophy into or out of someone’s teachings. But what I am asking is whether it is insightful and meaningful, in some sense or other, to think of Ramaṇa as a proto-philosopher and investigate his proto-philosophy as philosophy? Shouldn’t this be obvious? “Proto” means “prime; original” and in Ramaṇa’s case, before he knew of philosophers and philosophy, he experienced what they speak about. One could compare it to a person “having a child and then only later getting married.”

 

Ramaṇa is an Advaitin. Regarding theory, his statements are amazingly similar, especially with those made by ajāti-vāda Advaitins. Where there exists a fundamental difference philosophically is with regards to the traditional Advaita’s doctrine and attitude towards practice. Generally speaking, Advaitin’s proscribe a system of meditation that mentally affirms that the Self is the sole reality. The famous injunction quoted is śravaṇa, manana, nididhyāsana. Thus, the great sayings such as “I am the Absolute” or “That thou art” are generally used as mantras or foci of meditation. On the other hand, Ramaṇa advocated self-enquiry.

 

Though, it is rarely stated by scholars, Advaita Vedānta is not just one of the orthodox systems of Indian philosophy but is an exposition and revelation of the non-dual Reality. The philosophy of Advaita is not a system of thought, is not an “-ism”, is not truly speaking a school among schools of philosophy. The “non” applies both to duality, as well as, any “isms,” or a system among systems. Ramaṇa and Advaita are in total agreement about this. The implications of this mean that Advaita Vedānta is not merely, or only, a philosophical school of thought, but that it was founded and grounded in a deeper sphere; and though Ramaṇa is not a philosopher in the strict sense of the term, his teachings may be fruitfully analyzed from this radical philosophical perspective. Ramaṇa himself first called his own thought, “intuitive knowledge of the heart”. [85] He spoke about doctrines only when doubts expressed by scholarly devotees had to be cleared, or questions had to be answered. He came to know of these doctrines only long after he had the experience of non-duality.

 

In order to form a correct understanding of Ramaṇa’s teachings, one must be clear about why, when, and how he employs various concepts, categories, and arguments. His thought appears to be intellectually simple, because it revolves around just two categories, the Self and the not-Self, in terms of which they explain God/Absolute, human beings, and the world, or, everything that can be known, the means to know what can be known, and the purpose thereof.

 

I believe I am on safe ground to state that, like such ancient Sages as Uddālaka, Aṣṭāvakra, Dattātreya, Ribhu, and Gauapāda before him, Ramaṇa sometimes, on occasion when asked by ardent seekers, did present rational explanations and illustrate them with examples vis-à-vis the non-dual Self. Though he himself was not interested in philosophy, due to fortuitous (for us) circumstances he came into contact with philosophical writings mainly through the efforts of Palaniswami. [86] To cite but a few instances, Ramaṇa often quoted or referred to various Advaita scriptural and philosophical works/passages; he often alluded to the three philosophical standpoints of ajāta-vāda, dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi-vāda, and sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi-vāda (the theories that: nothing ever happened at all; that perception is creation; and that creation is that which is perceived); he employed traditional philosophical analogies such as the rope-snake, shell-silver, red-crystal, reflection of the sun in pots of water, reflections in a mirror, movie screens, and dreams. The number of examples that could be cited is actually very, very large.

 

Further, like the Sages of old, he successfully demonstrated in his life and sayings that the non-dual Self is not a theological dogma and that it does not depend even upon the mystical experiences and sayings of Sages; it is the great Truth which forever has been, is, and will be and that Silence is eloquence par excellence. Even if there were no texts, or if the texts differed from Ramaṇa in their teachings (which actually is not the case), Ramaṇa’s personal experience was, is, and forever will be self-validating, a wonder to behold.

 

It is often said that Ramaṇa communicated and transformed mainly through silence. He said: “Silence is never-ending speech. Vocal speech obstructs the other speech of silence. In silence one is in intimate contact with the surroundings. Silence is true exposition; it is the perfect teaching (upadeśa).” A teacher employing words necessarily implies the dualities of the teacher, teachings, and the taught, while Ramaṇa’s truth, his silence, embodied the pure non-dual Essence. Ramaṇa himself said: “The Guru’s silence is the loudest teaching (upadeśa). It is also grace in its highest form. Silence is the most powerful form of teaching transmitted from master to adept.”

 

While it is true that Ramaṇa said his silent teachings were more direct and more powerful, he used verbal expositions when asked. It is primarily from these verbal teachings that we explore Ramaṇa’s philosophy. Silence has an ancient history of being the supreme mode of teaching in Advaita. [87] Further, this reverence reaches its peak in the figure of the young, silent Sage, Daksināmūrti, whose name is universally depicted as the form of Lord Śiva, as the grace-bestowing Guru, the primordial Guru of gurus. On the same side of the road, down from the Ramaṇāśrama, stands a Dakṣiṇāmūrti Maṇapam, a temple Ramaṇa often referred to. Śaṅkara gave a famous, oft quoted hymn praising the young Sage and silence: “A young Sage is sitting with aged disciples under a banyan tree. The Sage teaches in silence and the doubts of the students are dispelled.” [88] Ramaṇa would often cite this verse as approval to those who came for teachings.

 

Advaita employs a number of different methods by which to convey “Self-knowledge” linguistically. Human beings not only want to know the unknown; they also want to know the unknowable. One such method is described by Śaṅkara in his commentary on the Bhagavad-gītā. This method has been time-honored in the Advaita tradition as the traditional method for teaching the trans-phenomenal Brahman. [89] It employs the technique of prior superimposition and subsequent denial (adhyāropa and apavāda). First, qualities and relations like perfection, infinitude, omniscience, omnipotence, omnipresence, causality, etc., are superimposed upon the Absolute so as to enable one to form some sort of understanding. Then, gradually these attributes are negated as a deeper and deeper analysis is performed. From the familiar, one is led to the unfamiliar. From the known, one is led to the unknown. As Śaṅkara put it: “Their aim (religious knowledge) is to be the means of detachment from the objects towards which one is naturally attracted.” [90]

 

A second method, which goes hand-in-hand with the above technique, is the method of via negativa. The Bhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad says: “Now therefore the description (of Brahman): ‘Not this, not this’. Because there is no other and more appropriate description than this ‘not this’.” [91] Śaṅkara, commenting on this passage, says that the Absolute can never be properly denoted by any words—including the word “Absolute”. Thus, the only appropriate way to indicate the Self is to say, “not this, not this”. Though no positive description of the Absolute is possible, Advaitins claim that a negative characterization may be comprehensible. Its import is not so much to say that there are no characteristics applicable to the Absolute as to indicate the impossibility of attributing any conceptualization to it. Thus “not this, not this” has been called a way or manner of expounding the Truth. Ramaṇa, when asked if “not this, not this” (neti-neti) was an appropriate meditation, replied, “There is now wrong identification of the Self with the body, senses, and so on. You proceed to discard these and this is neti. This can be done only by holding to the one that cannot be discarded. That is iti (that which is; the Self).”

 

An often, overlooked phenomenon occurred in the life of Ramaṇa connected with via negativa. As Ramaṇa’s great awakening was taking place, he did not know of the theory or practice of “not-this, not-this”, and yet he mentally said to himself, “Now, death has come. What does it mean? The body dies. I am not the body, I am not the mind . . . this was not a mere intellectual process, but flashed before me vividly as living truth.” In rejecting his body, mind, and so on, Ramaṇa had undergone a comparable, though non-intellectual, process of neti-neti.

 

A third technique consists in the use of metaphor and analogy. Ramaṇa often alluded to metaphors, and those he employed usually involved superimposition.. The Self is said to be indicated, pointed to, through implication. Since the Self cannot be known by the express meaning of words, Sages often resort to analogies. An illusory silver is superimposed upon a shell; an illusory snake is superimposed on a rope; the Self is said to reside in the heart-cave; consciousness is described as an ocean; multiple suns are reflected in a pail of water; multiple colors are reflected in a crystal, and so on. It is easy to see why metaphors are often used by Advaitins to explain, show by example, how the One may appear as many. For instance, there is the analogy of the sun being reflected in water. The role of an illustration is to refer to some common feature(s). When two things are compared, they are compared only with reference to some particular point(s) they have in common. It is well known that no comparison is ever totally equal, for, if they were the case, there would not be a comparison but identity. The special feature of the sun that warrants comparison in this case is known as “participation in increase and decrease”. The reflected image of the sun increases when the water expands, and contracts when the water shrinks. Further, the reflected image trembles when the water is agitated, and divides itself when the water is divided. Thus, the reflected image participates in all the conditions and attributes of the water even as the real sun remains unaffected all the while. Similarly, the Self, although changeless, participates as it were in the attributes and states of the body. It seemingly grows, shrinks, and so, as the body grows, shrinks, and so on.

 

When a person's attention is on the reflection, it ignores the real sun in the sky. In order to perceive the original, one must turn one's attention from the reflection to the prototype. The sun does not include the pot, the water, and the reflection. If anything, they are there only to turn one's attention to the original. One should not mistake the reflection for the original. Imagine a big building collapsing. Some rooms are in ruins, others intact. But can one speak of the space as ruined or intact? The structures suffer damage and change, not the space. A goldsmith melts down old ornaments to make new ones. Sometimes a good piece accidentally goes with the old. He is not worried. He knows that no gold has been lost. Transformation is only a verbal handle, a name. Gold is gold, no matter what shape it is in. Water is water, no matter as appearing as waves, whirlpools, bubbles, or drops. Clay is clay whether in the shape of a pot, a mug, or a plate.

 

There are two ways in which ineffability may be understood. There is the literal meaning implying that there is an utter impossibility of any description of the Self at all. Obviously, Ramaṇa did not accept this definition in that he did not shun language. He only stressed the inadequacy of language to capture reality. He did not preclude talking about the Self; otherwise he would have remained totally silent. The other way one may interpret ineffability means an inability of language to do justice to the Self, because language is conceptual and polarized. Neither thought nor language can escape these limitations, but that doesn’t necessarily imply that it can’t be a useful, almost indispensable approximation. All terms which Ramaṇa used for the Self such as sat-cit-ānanda, the Heart, Brahman, svarupa-jnāna, turiya, and so on, even though they are outdistanced by the Self, serve some sort of use at the rational level.

 

Another possible technique for conveying knowledge of the Self is silence as we have already noted—a technique that was Ramaṇa’s favorite:

 

Preaching is simple communication of knowledge; it can really be done in silence only. What do you think of a man who listens to a sermon for an hour and goes away without having been impressed by it so as to change his life? Compare him with another who sits in a holy presence and goes away after some time with his outlook on life totally changed. Which is the better, to preach loudly without effect or to sit silently sending out an inner force?

 

To know “That” is the end-all and be-all of life according to both the ancient Upanisadic wisdom and also to Ramaṇa. In some sense or other this is the purpose of philosophy. Yet, it must be noted that the Hindu culture does not have a univocal word for the term “philosophy.” However, this being acknowledged, the term “darśana” is widely considered to be the most appropriate Hindu terminological analogue to “philosophy.” Darśana is abundantly and profoundly rich with meaning. Darśana, from the Sanskrit root meaning “to see”, implies not only “vision” (which includes insight, intuition, and vision of the truth), but also the instrument of vision (such as viewpoint, worldview, doctrine, philosophical system). In a word, darśana implies “sight” in all its myriad connotations and the term, like many of the Sanskrit terms, is pregnantly multi-significant, multivalent. Thus, besides expressing “viewpoints or perspectives”, the term also suggests the idea of “right vision or (Self)realization” (mokṣa).

 

The former meaning customarily refers to the great Indian philosophical systems, one of which is Advaita Vedānta. Philosophically, from this perspective, Advaita is not so much a search for the truth as it is an exposition, elaboration, clarification, vindication and conceptual fixation of what has been experienced. From this view, it is always second-hand, indirect, and conceptual. The latter meaning, on the other hand, refers to the person experiencing a vision or insight. In this case, it is direct, personal and experiential. In other words, the “seeing” implied by the term “darśana” includes, both conceptual knowledge and perceptual observation, critical exposition and intuitional experience, logical enquiry and spiritual insight, concrete and abstract, gross and subtle. It is my contention that Ramaṇa’s thought was a philosophy if one wants to use that term, primarily in this latter sense and only secondarily in the former.

 

The English expression “I see” contains a hint of this multi-valence in that it denotes both a “direct vision” (I see the tree) as well as a “correct understanding” (a three year old child when told that two plus two equals four exclaims, “I see, I understand”. In passing, it may be noted that this second “inner sight” is actually more reliable than one’s external sight. As well, the term darśana is also used, in certain contexts, to refer to the “audience or auspicious sight of a revered, great, or holy person, a Sage, deity, or place.” Regarding “sight”, Śaṅkara said:

 

Seeing is of two kinds, ordinary and real. Ordinary seeing is a function of the mind as connected with the visual sense; it is an act, and as such it has a beginning and an end. But the seeing that belongs to the Self is like the heat and light of fire; being the very essence of the Witness (Self), it has neither beginning nor end . . . The ordinary seeing, however, is related to objects seen through the eye and of course has a beginning . . . The eternal seeing of the Self is metaphorically spoken of as the Witness, and although eternally seeing, is spoken of as sometimes seeing and sometimes not seeing. [92]

 

Bhagavān asked: “Can the eye see itself?” Reply: “Of course not. It can see everything else, but not itself.” Bhagavān: “But what if it wants to see itself? That is it! Creation is the mirror for the eye to see itself.” Reply: “Do you mean e-y-e or I?” Bhagavān: “You can take it figuratively as e-y-e and literally as ‘I’.”

 

One should never lose sight of the fact that the word “darśana” is rich with meaning. The darśanas, as philosophical systems of thought, embody the cumulative reflection of Indian wisdom through the ages and include epistemology, metaphysics, ethics, social customs, aesthetics, psychology, cosmology, physics, grammar, logic, speculations about language, exegesis of scriptural texts, psycho-physical practices, dialectics, and even protests against orthodoxy. To study, understand, interpret, and continue the scholarship of the Indian darśanas, it is imperative that one realize that it holistically includes both thinking and living, theory and practice, an ancient, continuous, and seamless tradition. It has been able to combine, in an almost uncanny manner, conformity to tradition with an adventurous, enquiring mind.

 

Gauapāda (c. 5th century CE) was one of the most venerated Sages of Indian philosophy and the first historical person whose teachings on the Upaniṣadic wisdom of Advaita have survived. His place within the Advaita tradition is immense and commands the highest respect and homage. Ramaṇa was fond of quoting Gauapāda.

 

Employing scriptural statements, Gauapāda analyzed the three states of existence (waking, dream, and deep sleep) and showed that the Self (which is referred to as the “fourth” or “transcendent” (turīya), underlies and transcends these changing states. [93] The Self is constant, not subject to change, the ground of the other three, and the one reality of which the other three states are appearances. It alone is Real, being permanent, while the other states come and go. Then, employing reason, Gauapāda established logically this absolute non-duality (the Self alone is truly Real) and the illusory nature of the phenomenal world (though it appears, it is not Real inasmuch as it changes). His central doctrine was that “nothing has ever been born, nothing has ever happened”. [94] Using impeccable and remarkable reasoning, Gauapāda advanced the doctrine which he is best known for, “nothing is ever born” or the theory of non-origination (ajātivāda)—nothing is ever born, not because “nothing” is the ultimate truth, but because the Self is the only unchanging reality. This is the pinnacle of Advaita thought. It is also the pinnacle of Ramaṇa’s thought. Ramaṇa remarked: “There is no dissolution or creation, no one in bondage, nor anyone pursuing spiritual practices. There is no one desiring liberation nor anyone liberated. This is the absolute truth. This verse appears in the second chapter of Gauapāda’s Kārikā. One who is established in the Self sees this by his knowledge of reality.” [95]

 

Advaita, being based on the Upaniṣads, accepts the doctrine that knowledge has been divided into these two broad categories, the empirical and the trans-empirical. The body, the mind, the senses, and all the objects of the external world, are all subsumed under the empirical, the not-Self and are objects of knowledge. They can only be known through one of the valid means of knowledge. Wisdom or the Self is trans-empirical and not an object of knowledge. Ramaṇa said: “The Self alone exists and is real. The world, the individual and God are, like the illusory appearance of silver in the mother-of-pearl, imaginary creations in the Self, they are the not-Self.” [96]

 

 

Ramana and Free Will

 

Finally, Ramaṇa’s views on free will vis-à-vis predetermination are so astounding that it behooves us to explore the issue. According to Ramaṇa, at the level of an ordinary person (ajñāni), individuals, from birth to death, will experience a series of preordained activities and experiences, all of which are the consequences of previous acts and thoughts. The only freedom which exists, if one does, is to realize that, in actuality, no one is acting and no one is experiencing. If, the Self is realized, then the words “freedom” and “predestination” lose all value, for, the Self neither acts nor experiences, is neither free nor bound. For the Self, “nothing has ever happened”, and thus all words and concepts lose their meaning.

 

Are human beings victims of an inescapable fate, or do we really have the power to create our own destiny? That is the age-old question that has plagued philosophers, theologians, and even the common person on the street. According to Ramaṇa, the question of free will or predetermination does not at all arise from the point of view of non-duality. Individuality itself is illusory. However, so long as one imagines that one has a separate individuality, so long does one imagine that one has or does not have free will.

 

To set the stage, look at two quotes from Arthur Osborne:

 

Sri Bhagavān was uncompromising in his teaching that whatever is to happen will happen, while at the same time he taught that whatever happens is due to prārabdha, a man’s balance-sheet of destiny acting according to so rigorous a law of cause and effect that even the word “justice” seems too sentimental to express it. He refused ever to be entangled in a discussion on free-will and predestination, for such theories, although contradictory on the mental plane, may both reflect aspects of truth. He would say, “Find out who it is who is predestined or has free will.” [97]

 

Actually, however, the question of free will or predestination does not arise at all from the point of view of non-duality. It is as though a group of people who had never heard of a radio were to stand around a wireless set arguing whether the man in the box has to sing what the transmitting station tells him to or whether he can change parts of the songs. The answer is that there is no man in the box and therefore the question does not arise. Similarly, the answer to the question whether the ego has free will or not is that there is no ego and therefore the question does not arise. Therefore Bhagavān’s usual response to the question would be to bid the questioner to find out who it is that has free will or predestination. [98]

 

Ok. But what about at the level of individuality—what happens there, where ordinary individuals live and experience? What are we to make of Ramaṇa’s own words in the light of a person’s everyday experience of cause and effect in the world?

 

Osborne himself asked Ramaṇa:

 

Are only important events in a man’s life, such as his main occupation or profession, predetermined, or are trifling acts also, such as taking a cup of water or moving from one part of the room to another?” Ramaa replied: “Everything is predetermined.” Osborne said, “Then what responsibility, what free will has man?” Ramaa replied, “Why does the body come into existence? It is designed for various things that are marked out for it in this life . . . As for freedom, a man is always free not to identify himself with the body and not to be affected by the pleasures and pains consequent on its activities.” [99]

 

On another occasion, in a remarkably similar manner, Ramaṇa was asked:

 

I can understand that the outstanding events in a man’s life such as his country, nationality, family, career or profession, marriage, death, etc. are all predestined by his karma, but can it be that all the details of his life, down to the minutest, have already been predetermined? Now, for instance, I put this fan that is in my hand down on the floor here. Can it be that it was already decided that on such and such a day, at such and such an hour, I should move the fan like this and put it down here? Ramaa replied, “Certainly. Whatever this body is to do and whatever experiences it is to pass through was already decided when it came into existence.” [100]

 

Finally, there is Ramaṇa’s reply to his mother when she came to visit him in Tiruvannamalai for the first time. She had come in the hope of taking him back to Madurai. Ramaṇa remarked:

 

The Creator, remaining everywhere makes each one play his role in life according to their past deeds (prārabdha karma). Whatever is not destined to happen will not happen, try how hard you may. Whatever is destined to happen will happen, do what you may to stop it. This is certain. Therefore, the best course is for one to remain silent. [101]

 

So what is one to make of this? Ramaṇa, in his own words, from the empirical perspective, seems to uphold a doctrine of predetermination that, on the face of it, seems almost shocking, so counter-intuitive, rather disconcerting and astounding in its total thoroughness. “All the activities that the body is to go through are determined when it first comes into existence. It does not rest with you to accept or reject them. The only freedom you have is to turn your mind inward and renounce activities there.” [102]

 

The consequences of this are not lost on any intelligent person. One’s next question becomes, if this is the case, then what responsibility does a person have? Where is the scope for bettering oneself, let alone for liberation? To this Ramaṇa replied: “Why does the body come into existence? It is designed for the various things that are marked out for it in this life.” [103]

 

Then again, on a different occasion, to a questioner with perhaps different needs, Ramaṇa replied: “Free will exists together with the individuality. As long as the individuality last, so long is there free will. All the scriptures are based on this fact and advise directing the free will in the right channel. Find out who it is who has free will or predestination and abide in that state. Then both are transcended. That is the only purpose in discussing these questions. To whom do such questions present themselves? Discover that and be at peace.” [104]

 

There appears to be no contradiction here. According to Ramaṇa, individuality has only an illusory existence. However, as long as a person imagines that they have a separate individuality, so long do they also imagine they have free will. These two, individuality and free will, exist together inexorably and inevitably.

 

Stated differently, the problem of free will, according to theologians, places God, the Creator, between the horns of a dilemma. If God gave human beings free will, then God is neither omnipotent nor omniscient. If humans have free will, then God does not know what will happen because what happens will depend on the free will of what people decide. God will not have control of everything, because humans will have the power to change things. On the other hand, if God is omniscient and omnipotent and does control everything, while humans have no free will or possibility to do things other than as they happen, then such a God is unbelievably cruel and capricious. People are advised by Sages and scriptures to be good; yet, if they have no ability to change their fate, then that is just cruel.

 

For example, in a movie that has been filmed, each actor plays his or her part and that part is written out beforehand and cannot be changed after the film is made. Each actor plays a role and yet remains unaffected by their actions, because they know it is a role that they play. When an actor is born or dies on the screen, the person playing the role is neither born nor dies. When fire burns or water wets, the screen remains unaffected.

 

Or again for example: If one acts a part in a play, the whole part is written out beforehand, and one acts faithfully, whether one is Caesar who is stabbed or Brutus who stabs. The actor is unaffected by events on the stage because they are playing a role and not “real”. In the same way, that person who realizes his identity with the deathless Self acts his part on the human stage without fear or anxiety, hope or regret, not being touched by the part played. If one were to ask what reality one has when all one’s actions are determined, it would lead only to the question: Who, then, am I? If the ego that thinks it and makes decisions is not real, and yet I know that I exist, what is the reality of me? This is but a preparatory, mental version of the quest that Ramaṇa prescribed, but it is an excellent preparation for the real quest. “Others are not responsible for what happens to us. They are only instruments of what would happen to us some way or other.”