IV

Ramana and Metaphysics

Once there was a seeker by name Vāskalin who

approached the Upaniṣadic Sage, Bahva, about the

Absolute. Three times the question was asked by

Vāskalin and three times Bahva remained silent.

Finally, Vāskalin, in exasperation, pleaded: “Why

don’t you answer me?” Bahva replied: “I am teaching

you, indeed, but you do not understand. Silent is the Self.” [174]

 

 

Ramaṇa Maharshi has often been praised as one of the greatest embodiments of Advaita Vedānta, as great as the greatest of that illustrious group. Such a wonder the world seldom sees. An Advaitin’s Advaitin if you will. Frequently he is described as “an incarnation of Advaita”. The description is an intriguing philosophical oxymoron as the truth of Advaita boldly declares that no one has ever been born, lived, or died, and yet it is without doubt an astonishingly powerful image in conveying the profound affinity that exists between the teachings of Advaita and Ramaṇa. As one passes the philosophically relevant portions of Ramaṇa’s teachings through the lens of Advaita, they will be seen to be in perfect accordance with the philosophy of Advaita. What is all the more astonishing is that Ramaṇa’s teachings emerged spontaneously as the fruit of his great awakening and only subsequently, almost by accident, did he learn of the ancient teachings. Paul Brunton said about this:

 

The ancient lore, the Upaniṣads, has received a striking confirmation from the life and teachings of the Sage of Aruṇācala, known as Bhagavān Śrī Ramaṇa. To his disciples, both eastern and western, the written and oral teachings of the Sage are the primary revelation, and the ancient lore is of value because it is found to be in full accord with those teachings. But even for those who look upon the ancient lore as of primary authority, the teachings of a living Sage must be profoundly interesting. [175]

 

 

Ramana and Reality

 

The central teaching around which all of Ramaṇa’s teachings are centered is: “In the center of the heart-cave the pure Brahman alone shines directly in the form of the Self, as ‘I’—‘I’. Abide in the Self.” Anything he said, he said not with an interest in building a system of thought, but as a spontaneous revelation of the Self. His sole function was in revealing the Self. Everyone and everything is a manifestation of the Self and, if one wants to attribute a purpose to Ramaṇa’s teachings, it was in showing the direction in which everyone is this Truth.

 

Ramaṇa would sometimes, even if infrequently, give definitions of Reality when asked. Once, when an enquirer asked, “What is reality?” he replied:

 

Reality must always be real. It is not with forms and names. That which underlies these is the Reality. It underlies limitations, being itself limitless. It is not bound. It underlies unrealities, itself being Real. Reality is that which is. It is as it is. It transcends speech. It is beyond the expressions “existence, non-existence”, and so on. [176]

 

The Reality, according to Ramaṇa, is not a “He,” a personal being, nor is it an “It”, an impersonal concept. The Reality, Brahman, is a name for the experience of the timeless fullness of Being.

 

The Reality, which is the pure Consciousness that remains when ignorance is destroyed along with knowledge of objects, alone is the Self (Ātman). In that real form of the Absolute (Brahma-svarūpa), which is limitless Self-awareness, there is not the least ignorance. [177]

 

The Absolute is Truth, Wisdom, Infinitude, says the Upaniṣad. [178] The Absolute is Existence, Consciousness, Bliss, says Ramaṇa. [179] What is the Reality? Silence is the answer for Reality is that whence all speech along with the mind retreat, being unable to reach, not attaining It.” [180]

 

Reality is a tantalizer. It is the immense mystery which knowledge cannot contain. It is a pathless land. It is the song that calls to every philosopher who seeks to find the basic, intrinsically intelligible bedrock of it all from which everything arises and into which individual personal experience culminates. Is there a truth, anywhere, which is so certain that no reasonable individual could possibly doubt its veracity? The siren of certainty beckons. The thunderous silence roars.

 

What is what-is? Reality must be found in oneself—whatever that self is or may be. Bliss lies in the realization of what is. The search for that which “Is,” in the most concrete and fundamental sense, is the motivating force and inspiration behind both Śaṅkara and Ramaṇa’s thought. It is the song of the siren. The discovery of that which “is” constitutes the discovery or unveiling of the truth, as well as itself embodying freedom.

 

What is this aspiration for Reality? The quest is to find that which is not bounded, not limited. There are said to be big truths and little truths. There are useful truths and not so useful truths; objective truths and subjective truths; truths with a small “t” and Truth with a capital “T.” Against the manifold conventions of society, Ramaṇa experienced Reality where it could not escape into theory—in one's very heart. The Upaniṣad says: “Having known every branch of knowledge but the Self, one knows, verily, nothing, and one is miserable.” [181] Ramaṇa said:

 

What use is the learning of those who do not seek to wipe out the letters of destiny (from their brow) by enquiring: “Whence is the birth of us who know the letters?” They have sunk to the level of a gramophone. What else are they, O Aruṇācala?

 

The Being of being is the Reality. According to Śaṅkara, the individual human being is a conscious living being. The individual is singled out as the principal being because individuals uniquely have eligibility for action and knowledge. [182]

 

The Atman is expanded only in humans. They, indeed, are most endowed with intelligence. They give expression to what is known. They see what is known. They know what is to come. They know the visible and the invisible. They perceive the immortal through the mortal. Thus are they endowed. But with other animals, eating and drinking alone constitute the sphere of their knowledge. [183]

 

According to both Śaṅkara and Ramaṇa, nothing is more certain than the fact of one’s own existence. It is self-evident, immediate and direct. No one is able to disbelieve in one's own existence. “A person may doubt of many things, of anything else; but one can never doubt one's own being.” [184] “Everyone knows “I am”. No one can deny his own being.” [185] This is because the very act of doubting would be but an affirmation of one's very existence. In the act of saying, “I don’t exist”, who is the “I” who is doing the doubting? The siren of certainty beckons.

 

One notices that Ramaṇa, in a manner similar to the Advaita tradition, would define Reality employing words in one of two ways: By stating its essential nature (svarūpa-lakṣaṇa) or, for the purpose of distinguishing it from other things, by stating its accidental attributes (taṭastha-lakṣ-aṇa). [186] For example, one may be defined in terms of one’s essential nature as (Existence, Consciousness, Bliss) or by any of his/her accidental attributes, e.g., maleness, femaleness, height, weight, profession, and so on. While both definitions define a thing from all others, the essential nature of a thing is eternally present while accidental attributes remain in that thing only for a limited period of time. Which definition Ramaṇa used depended upon context and convenience.

 

While the Advaita tradition makes use of both definitions, it traditionally begins with the definition of accidental attributes first. It does this for two practical methodological reasons. First of all, a definition that is based on familiar modes of thinking is easily comprehensible to most people. The teacher leads a seeker “from the known to the unknown.” First attributes, qualities and relations are superimposed on the Reality so as to enable a person to form some sort of rudimentary understanding. Then gradually these attributes are negated as a deeper and deeper analysis is performed. From the familiar, one is led to the unfamiliar. Secondly, there arises an unusual difficulty in the case of Brahman/Atman because it is not an empirical object. We have already noted that the non-dual Self cannot be defined using words since it is beyond, it transcends the reach of words and the mind. [187] This being noted, the Upaniṣads do attempt to define the Absolute from both the svarūpa and taṭastha-lakṣaṇa perspectives for teaching purposes. Since individuals are familiar with the world and the concept of causality, Brahman is first defined as the cause of the universe. This causality is an accidental attribute superimposed on Brahman. Such a definition makes the Absolute appear subject to categories, attributes, and the causal scheme. Such definitions are always open to challenge. The concept of causality or the “proofs for the existence of God” are evidence enough to show the tentativeness and uncertainty that accompanies such a definition. Categories cannot transgress their logical limits. Either the unconditional Absolute is within the realm of the phenomena, and thus not unconditional, or else its existence and nature can only be dogmatically asserted. Acknowledging this, it is said that such a (provisional) definition is still useful in certain circumstances.

 

Then, having defined Brahman in this preliminary manner as the cause of the world, the Upaniṣads go on to define Brahman in terms of its essential nature. Such definitions include: “Brahman is the Truth of truth, the Real of the real”; “Brahman is Real (Satyam), Wisdom (Jñānam), Infinite (Anantam);” “Being (Sat), Consciousness (Cit), Bliss (Ānanda).” It should be noted here that these terms are not separate or accidental attributes of Brahman but its essential nature; Brahman is Real, It is Being, It is Consciousness; Consciousness is Infinite, is Bliss and so on.

 

Perhaps the most common and oft-quoted essential definition of Brahman is sat-cit-ānanda. Śaṅkara said that these three words were employed merely for the purpose of differentiating Brahman from the name and form world that is unreal, non-intelligent, and finite. [188] Though these three words in the Upaniṣad are affirmative in form, their import is only negative because they are being used to indicate what Brahman is not, i.e. Brahman is not unreal, not non-conscious, and not finite. Ramaṇa remarked: “Sat-cit-ānanda is said to indicate that the Supreme is not different from Being (asat), not different from Consciousness (acit) and not different from Bliss (anānanda). Because we are in the phenomenal world we speak of the Self as sat-cit-ānanda.”

 

Ramaṇa, not being overly interested in philosophy, was, more often than not, when asked, either silent or presented a svarūpa-lakṣaṇa definition of Reality. Unless pushed, he rarely spoke of accidental definitions though, like the Upaniṣadic methodology, he always began with what is known to an individual, i.e. “I”. On the other hand, he quite often spoke of the Reality as Existence (Sat in Sanskrit and Ulladu in Tamil). One should be aware that the term Existence in this context does not mean any particular existent, anything with name and form. It is not a predicate of an object. It should be noted here that this is a fundamental distinction propounded by Ramaṇa. If this is not correctly understood, inappropriate criticisms may rise, which they often did. Ramaṇa regarded Existence as the essential nature of the Reality. The Reality is Existence and Existence is the Reality. This Existence (Sat) is not the existence that is meaningful only in an object. Pure Being or “Sat” is not one being among beings. Existence, as it is usually used in both empirical and philosophical discourse, is a determinative description, a categorical expression, e.g., the man exists or the house exists. Ramaṇa was quick to point out that the Reality is neither “existent” nor “non-existent” in the ordinary sense of those terms. He said: “Reality must always be real. It is not with forms and names. Reality is that which is. It is as it is. It transcends speech and is beyond the expressions “existence, non-existence, and so on.” The Reality merely is, and can never be designated exclusively as this or that. As it is pure Being, no causal relationship can be applied to it.

 

Ramaṇa would quote an analogy from the Chāndogya Upaniṣad to explain the relation between Reality as Existence and the various appearances that are existents, appearances with names and forms. Gold appears in a variety of forms, as rings, necklaces, bracelets, cups, plates, and so on. In the various objects, what is real is gold and the names and forms of each object are superimposed upon the gold. Gold persists while names and forms come and go. When the superimposition of names and forms is removed, all that remains is gold and gold alone. In his Forty Verses on Existence, Ramaṇa said: “The many ornaments are illusory. Say, do they exist apart from the gold which is real?” [189] The Chāndogya Upaniṣad says: "Just as… by one nugget of gold, all that is made of gold becomes known." [190] In a similar way, the entire world with all its names and forms, all the existent particulars, are superimposed upon the Reality that is Existence.

 

Sometimes Ramaṇa would make use of another analogy from the Chāndogya Upaniṣad. Clay may take different forms in a potter’s hands and thus become known as pots, cups, plates, and so forth. Really speaking, all these objects are but clay, through and through, though they are conventionally and individually called by various names. Each is a particular form in which the same clay appears. Even so, the Reality appears in different forms and is called by various names. To concentrate on the form makes one forget the basis. A potter is indifferent to the various manifestations and knows that each item is only clay in various shapes and sizes. The appearances are invested with a name and form but what abides is the Reality. The Sage Aruni said to his son, Śvetaketu:

 

My dear, just as by one clod of clay all that is made of clay may be known, the difference being only a name, arising from speech, but the truth being that all is clay; and just as, my dear, by one nugget of gold all that is made of gold may be known, the difference being only a name arising from speech, but the truth being that all is gold.

 

This is the bold declaration of Ramaṇa, namely, whatever is, is nothing but the Reality, the Self, the Absolute. The entire manifold universe is nothing but Brahman. As Brahman, it always exists as pure Existence and never undergoes any change. To realize this is to realize that all names and forms really only refer to that Reality. Names and forms are like an illusion conjured up by a magician. When the real nature of the illusion is pointed out, what disappears is only the illusion that seemingly presented itself as something other than what it is. Being unsubstantial, the names and forms appearance have no ability to affect the nature of the Reality. Once one realizes this, never again will the existents as separate entities be taken for Reality and yet one can still perceive their appearances—but never again as anything other than gold, clay, the Reality. On this point Ramaṇa said:

 

The ordinary man lives in the brain unaware of himself in the Heart. The Sage lives in the Heart. When a Sage moves about and deals with men and things, he knows that what he sees is not separate from the one supreme reality, Brahman, which he realized in the Heart, as his own Self, the Real. The Sage who has realized the supreme truth of his own Existence realizes that it is the one supreme reality that is there behind him, behind the world. In fact, he is aware of the One, as the Real, the Self in all selves, in all things, eternal and immutable, in all that is impermanent and mutable. [191]

 

Ramaṇa regarded the Absolute as that which is foundational to all experience though it is in no sense a substance. He replied when once asked the question, “what is reality?” “That which underlies all names and forms is the Reality. It underlies limitations being itself limitless. It is not bound. It underlies unrealities, itself being real.” The Reality is that which is different from the phenomenal, the spatial, the temporal, and the sensible. It is not to be located in space, though seemingly it is everywhere—since all things imply, and depend upon it. It is seemingly nowhere since it is not a thing that has spatial relations to anything. Its nature is inexpressible since to say anything about it is to make it into a particular thing.

 

Living in a state of pure Consciousness was natural for Ramaṇa. It was constant, with no beginning or end; complete, full, ever Blissful, silent and peaceful. Memory did not keep it in place; when memories occurred they were the dependent ones. Even while perceiving things, mysteriously they were observed without dividing into separate objects. Consciousness was not broken or split into a knower, a known, and a process of knowing. Abiding as it is, the Self, appearances come and go, though Ramaṇa moved about and dealt with people and things, never was he separated from the one supreme Reality.

 

According to Ramaṇa, the Reality that is pure Existence is pure Consciousness or pure Awareness. He said: “The Self is pure Being, pure Awareness. You are Awareness. Awareness is another name for you. The body, which by itself is inert, does not say “I”. From the perspective of an ordinary person there are three states of consciousness or awareness: waking, dreaming, and deep or dreamless sleep. (Ramaṇa and Advaita often speak of a fourth state (turīya) which is pure Consciousness that underlies and permeates these three). Listen to what Ramaṇa said:

 

There is only one state, that of Consciousness or Awareness or Existence. The three states of waking, dream, and sleep cannot be real. They simply come and go. The Real will always exist. The “I” or existence that alone persists in all the three states is real. The other three are not real and so it is not possible to say they have such and such a degree of reality. We may roughly put it like this. Existence or Consciousness is the only reality. Consciousness plus waking, we call waking. Consciousness plus sleep, we call sleep. Consciousness plus dream, we call dream. Consciousness is the screen on which the pictures come and go. The screen is real, the pictures are mere shadows on it. Because by long habit we have been regarding these three states as real, we call the state of mere awareness or consciousness the fourth. There is, however, no fourth state, but only one state. [192]

 

In the waking state, you are there, aware, the sun is the light of the world, the world with all its multiplicity is perceived as real, and the world exists external to oneself. The gift of the waking state is that it creates an awareness in each individuality that there is a reality (even though what this reality actually is, is incorrectly understood). In the dreaming state, you are there, aware, the mind is the light of all you perceive, you create the experienced universe, and the world you perceive is internal to oneself. The gifts of the dreaming state reveal that the world may quite possibly and logically neither be real nor external to oneself and that it just may be the case that nothing ever really happens. The dream state also points to possibility that the waking state may be but a dream.

 

Last night you may have dreamed that you went to Los Angeles and had dinner with Brad Pitt. While the dream lasted, everything seemed real enough. But upon waking, did you really go to Los Angeles or have dinner there? Nothing of the sort really happened even though you experienced such. Dreams are taken to be real so long as the dream lasts. Yet, in the history of the world, there is not one philosopher who has been able to prove that the waking state is nothing more than an extended dream. Finally, in the deep sleep state, you are there; there are no desires, no dreams, no imperfections; you are aware as pure awareness (a fact which is revealed when you wake up and declare, “I slept so soundly I was aware of nothing”—(this experience of inertness is impossible without an element of awareness being present), and the world does not exist. The gift of deep sleep is that the world does not need to exist in order for you to. The Self is beyond desires and dreams. Though one’s body is being ravaged by cancer or one has just won the lottery, there is neither pain nor pleasure, neither maleness nor femaleness, neither this nor that in this state—yet you are. Ramaṇa said: “A person says, “I had a dream; I was deep asleep; I am awake”. You must admit that he is there in all the three states. That makes it clear that he is there all the time.”

 

Sri Bhagavān said: All mistake the mind-consciousness for Self-Consciousness. There is no mind in deep sleep; but no one denies his being in sleep. Even a child says on waking, “I slept well,” and does not deny its existence. The “I” rises up, the mind turns outward through the five senses and perceives objects, this they call direct perception. Asked if “I” is not directly perceived, they get confused, because “I” does not announce itself as an object in front and only the perception with the senses can be recognized by them as knowledge: this habit is so strong with them. A stanza in the Thevāram says: “O Sages, eager to get over all misery, worry not about inferences and examples! Our Light is ever shining forth from within! With mind clear, live in God!” This is direct perception. Will the common people admit it? They want God to appear in front of them as a bright Being mounted on a bull. Such a vision once originated must also end. It is therefore transient. Thevāram speaks of the Eternal and Ever-experienced Being. This Thevāram stanza takes one directly to the Reality. [193]

 

 

Ramaṇa likened Consciousness to a movie screen. He said:

 

The screen is always there but various pictures appear on the screen and then disappear. Nothing sticks to the screen, it remains a screen. Similarly, you remain your own Self in all the three states of existence. If you know that, the three states will not trouble you, just as the pictures which appear on the screen do not stick to it. On the screen, you sometimes see a huge ocean with endless waves; that disappears. Another time, you see fire spreading all around; that too disappears. The screen is there on both occasions. Did the screen get wet with water or did it get burned by the fire? Nothing affected the screen. In the same way, the things that happen during the waking, dreaming, and sleep states do not affect you at all; you remain forever your own Self.

 

Ramaṇa sometimes elucidated the nature of Consciousness by narrating a passage from the tenth chapter of Vidyāraṇya’s Pañcadaśī:

 

Vidyāraṇya gives an example of the light that is kept on the stage of a theatre. When a drama is being played, the light is there, which illuminates, without any distinction, all the actors, whether they be kings or servants or dancers, and also all the audience. That light will be there before the drama begins, during the performance and also after the performance is over. Similarly, the light within, that is, the Self, gives light to the ego, the intellect, the memory and the mind without itself being subject to the processes of growth and decay. Although during deep sleep and other states there is no feeling of the ego, that Self remains attributeless, and continues to shine of itself.

 

While the Self reveals everything, it itself is not revealed by anything. The Self is never an object to anything. As we observed earlier, the Self is called the knowing subject in ordinary, everyday external perceptions when it is associated with, and functions through, the mind. The indivisible non-dual pure Consciousness appears divided, dualistic in relational knowledge. This process necessarily and invariably involves the three distinct factors: the knower, the object known, and the resultant knowledge. Such knowledge is referred to as vṛtti-jñāna (knowledge derived from a modification of the mind). Vṛtti-jñāna or empirical knowledge is a blend of the modification of the mind and the reflection of Consciousness therein. It is an expression of pure Consciousness through a mental mode corresponding to an object. Fundamentally and primarily, knowledge is Pure Consciousness. When it is expressed through a mental mode it is called (secondarily) knowledge by courtesy.

 

The Self is called the witness (sākṣin) when it directly reveals the various internal mental modes. In the case of knowing the mind, there is nothing else to mediate between the Self and the mind. Thus, it is said that the mind is directly revealed by the Witness-Self. However, in whatever way Consciousness is said to function, it is never an object to anything. Nothing exists which can know Consciousness. Material objects are inert and can know nothing. The sense organs and the mind are also inert and cannot function without the light of Consciousness. Even Consciousness cannot know itself for It is one and non-dual and cannot split into a knowing subject and a known object. Thus, Consciousness is declared to be Self-luminous in the sense that, while Consciousness reveals everything, it itself is not revealed by anything.

 

Any type of knowledge requires and is dependent upon luminosity to reveal what was previously unknown. But the Self is not an object of knowledge. Nor can one say that Consciousness is unknown. Everyone knows that they exist. It would be totally absurd to declare, “I do not exist”, for to deny oneself is to affirm oneself. Who is doing the denial? Thus, Consciousness must be Self-luminous. As long as one believes that one has the body, with such and such characteristics, the Self is spoken of as being Existence, Consciousness, Self-luminous and so on and such descriptions are not applicable to any other entity. Further, this does not mean they are characteristics of the Self. Such are the limitations of language.

 

If one were to speak about knowing the Self, there would have to be two selves—one a knowing self and the other the self which is known, as well as the process of knowing. As the Self, as Consciousness, is non-dual, who is to know what? A person can only be the Self. One does not attain Consciousness, attain something new or reach some far away goal. Consciousness has been there all along, persisting throughout the three states of experience. All that is required is to give up one’s false notions of what the Reality is.

 

Finally, the Self is Bliss. Ramaṇa said:

 

Perfect Bliss is Brahman. Perfect Peace is of the Self. That alone Exists and is Consciousness. That which is called happiness is only the nature of the Self; Self is not other than perfect happiness. That which is called happiness alone exists. Knowing that fact and abiding in the Self, enjoy Bliss eternally.

 

To live experientially as Brahman is Bliss. The Self is such incomparable Bliss that no words could ever approach it. Such Bliss cannot be talked about; it can only be experienced. It does not depend on any external factor but is completely independent and unconditioned.

 

Obviously, true happiness cannot be due to external causes such as objects, possessions, or emotions. If this were true, then a person’s happiness would increase with the increase of possessions and decrease with the decrease of possessions. If one chocolate bar produces some happiness, then one hundred bars eaten consecutively should produce one hundred times the happiness. But this is not the case. Owning everything in the universe is not humanly possible and just because a person owns nothing does not necessarily imply that they have no happiness at all. In the state of deep sleep a person has no possessions, including his own body and thoughts, but instead of being unhappy, he is extremely happy. Bliss must be natural, the very nature of the Self.

 

In the ordinary scheme of life, an individual feels satisfaction when an object of their desire is obtained. Upon obtaining an object of one’s desire, the mind temporarily turns within and rests in itself with a sense of satisfaction and contentment. However, it is the way of the world that soon, usually immediately, another desire arises and the process repeats itself. Doesn’t this reveal that lasting happiness does not lie in objects of desire? Ramaṇa would point out that the Self is Bliss, and this Bliss is natural, unvarying and constant. Objects come and go and will eventually be abandoned. However, the Self can neither be taken up nor abandoned. One can take up that which one doesn’t already have and one can abandon that which has once been taken up. But the Self is of the nature of unconceivable, unending Bliss. Ramaṇa remarked: “For one, who, having destroyed the ego, is awake to the nature of the Self which is Bliss, what is there to be accomplished?” And, “You can have, or rather you will yourself be, the highest imaginable kind of happiness. All other kinds of happiness which you have spoken of as “pleasure”, “joy”, and “bliss” are only reflections of the Bliss (ānanda) which is your true nature, you are.”

 

The Self is Existence, Consciousness, Bliss. In one of his hymns to Aruṇācala, Ramaṇa interpreted the three syllables in the name A-ru-na to stand for Existence, Consciousness Bliss. In another hymn to Aruṇācala, he describes Aruṇācala as “Being and Consciousness,” and as the “Ocean of Bliss.”

 

 

Ramana and Maya

 

Is the world real? Has it ever come to you and said, “I am real” or asked “Why do I exist, how was I created”? Or is it your mind that has determined that the world is real and seeks answers to its existence? Are you in the world or is the world in you? From the perspective of an ordinary person who is ignorant of the Self, the world is obviously real and external to oneself. To a Sage who embodies the supreme Reality and lives in the one, non-dual Consciousness, the world, as a composition of diverse objects, is not real.

 

When one sees a snake superimposed upon a rope, one does not see the rope. When one sees water superimposed upon the sand, one does not see the sand. When one sees silver superimposed upon a shell, one does not see the shell. Ramaṇa often employed these analogies. When a person forgets that they are the Self and deludes themselves into thinking they are a mind-body complex living in the universe, they must be reminded that the world that they think is real is but a delusion, an illusory appearance.

 

The mind of a deluded person habitually flows towards the world and not towards the Self. Further, even if one occasionally is able to turn their mind away from the world and concentrate it on the Self, it almost immediately loses its concentration and wanders back to the world. Why does this happen? Ramaṇa said it is because one believes that the world is real. “But for your belief that the world is real, it would be quite easy for you to obtain the revelation of the Self.” The greatest wonder, Ramaṇa declared, is that, being always the Self, one is striving to become the Self.

 

Quoting the Kaivalya Navanīta about māyā, Ramaṇa said that the text asked and answered six questions, and that the questions and answers were instructive:

 

The first question is: What is māyā? And the answer is: It is anirvacanīya or indescribable.

 

The second question is: To whom does it come? And the answer is: To the mind or ego who feels that he is a separate entity, who thinks: “I do this” or “this is mine”.

 

The third question is: Where does it come from and how did it originate? And the answer is: Nobody can say.

 

The fourth question is: How did it arise? And the answer is: Through non-vicāra, through failure to ask: who am I?

 

The fifth question is: If the Self and māyā both exist does not this invalidate the theory of Advaita? The answer is: It need not, since māyā is dependent on the Self as the picture is on the screen. The picture is not real in the sense that the screen is real.

 

The sixth question is: If the Self and māyā are one, could it not be argued that the Self is of the nature of māyā, which is illusory? And the answer is: No; the Self can be capable of producing illusion without being illusory. A conjuror may create for our entertainment the illusion of people, animals and things, and we see all of them as clearly as we see him; but after the performance he alone remains and all the visions he had created have disappeared. He is not a part of the illusion but is real and solid.

 

Why is it that one’s belief that the world of multiplicity is real, prevents one from realizing the Self that they are? Is it not the case that whatever one believes to be real possesses a certain capacity? It is an object separate from and other than the perceiver. It can come and it can go. The believed-to-be-real has an unquestionable right of entry to the mind. So long as the mind believes something is real, no thought can deny it. As long as the snake, water, silver are believed to be real, the rope, sand, and shell are denied. Further, once the mind regards the world as real in a sense that it is not, it becomes impossible to realize the Self until that delusion is destroyed. The very thing one takes as real is the very thing that obscures the Self.

 

We have observed that for both Ramaṇa and Advaita, the real is that which is eternal, which suffers no sublation, while the unreal is that which never is. They say that the unreal can never appear, not even in one’s wildest dreams, e.g., 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 must be 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 ever will be water in a mirage and yet, somehow, it is perceived. There never has been a separate individual mind-body complex and yet, somehow, it is perceived. All appearances are “what is other than the real or the unreal” (sadasat-vilakṣaṇa). It is only in this sense that the seeming plurality of the universe, including individuals, is called “illusory” (māyā).

 

Now, let us dig deeper, for contained within Ramaṇa’s teachings is an aspect of this illusoriness (māyā) that is often overlooked. The way the world is a superimposed appearance of Brahman differs from the way an individual is a superimposed appearance of Brahman. That is, the diversity displayed by the various objects of the universe differs from the diversity displayed by individuals (who are part of the universe) and further, the way that each diversity is negated differs. Take the following two examples. A person, walking in a forest at dusk, happens to see a snake but upon closer scrutiny realizes it is really a rope. This later correcting knowledge affirms the existence of a rope while negating the prior knowledge of a snake. Now, take a person looking at a white conch shell through a sheet of yellow glass. This person is not aware of the yellow glass and thus takes the white conch shell to be yellow. Subsequently this person learns that the yellowness belongs to the glass and not the shell. Here, as in the previous case, the later knowledge affirms the existence of some reality; unlike it however, it does not deny the object (the shell) of which it appeared. What it denies is only an aspect of it, that is, its yellowness. The shell is still seen. The illusion in the first example consisted of mistaking a given object (rope) for another (snake) that is not given. The illusion in the second example consists merely in attributing to an object (shell) that is perceived, a feature that does not really belong to it. In this second example, but for the superimposition of a sheet of glass to which the yellow actually belongs, there would be no illusion at all. [194]

 

With the help of these two examples we are now in a position to see that the illusory nature of the world is not exactly like the illusory nature of the individual, notwithstanding the fact that both are illusory. While one and the same Brahman appears as both the world and as the individual, it is what the individual adds to the illusion that distinguishes them. In an individual, it is the ego, the inner organ (antaḥkaraṇa), the dualistic mind that needs to be negated. The shell is seen as shell though not as it is, i.e. a white shell. It is but the yellowness in the glass that is preventing one from seeing it as it is. An individual is already Brahman and this is partially known and revealed by the presence of “I” in each individual. No one says, “I do not exist.” This “I”-notion is not fully understood. Under the sway of ignorance, an individual takes the “I” to be a “me”, my body, my mind, and so on. Regarding the world, the illusion is total. The snake is seen all by itself and the rope is not seen while in regards to individuals, the shell is seen, though incorrectly, as something is being superimposed upon it to distort its reality from being seen as it truly is. Brahman is the sole Reality and the objective universe and the individual subject are said to be superimposed upon It. However, while the world is an illusory manifestation of Brahman, the individual is Brahman itself appearing under the limitations that form part of that illusory universe.

 

Why do I point out this distinction? I do so because Ramaṇa’s focus was always on the Self. The world was not of primary importance; the individual was. He said, “Why worry yourself about the world and what happens to it after Self-realization? First realize the Self.” He was not merely a philosopher espousing a theory. The world is known as what is seen. The individual is considered a seer as well as the seen. While all of the objects in the world are illusory, only part of the seer is. The individual is a complex of the Self and the not-Self. This is obvious from such statements as “I know myself where “myself” is referring to some aspect of the mind-body complex. Remember that while the world is a superimposition upon Brahman, Brahman is not a superimposition upon the world. On the other hand, there is a mutual superimposition between the Self (Atman) and not-Self (anātman), i.e. features of the Atman are superimposed upon the inner organ and features of the inner organ are superimposed upon the Atman. Because of this, the inner organ, which is inert, appears conscious and the Self, which is infinite, appears finite. Realization consists in destroying, not the individual as a spiritual being, but only aspects of it, like its finitude and separateness from other selves.

 

By the criterion of nonsublatability, the Self alone is absolutely real. All else is 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, 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 is not, the not-Self, does not therefore make the world, the not-Self, real.

 

Maya is the means, not the end. Within Advaita, any “means” exists only at the relative level. From the absolute perspective, one is the Self, one does not become the Self. Thus, māyā is a provisional explanation as to how the eternally allpervasive Self appears otherwise. Though maya 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?

 

Atman, 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. [195]

 

The entire phenomenal world is said to be neither real nor unreal. A two-valued logic is not applicable here. To say that the world is not real is not to say, by logical implication, that the world is thus real or vice versa. The Advaitin's conception of unreality is both a logical impossibility and an empirical impossibility, i.e. a son of a barren woman. But the world of māyā is neither logically impossible nor empirically impossible—though it may be conceptually indeterminable.

 

The world of māyā is comprised of illusions, dream-like objects and experiences, the entire realm of multiplicity. Anything that is perceived or experienced is attributed some sort of existence. The question is “what sort of reality?” What is to be clearly understood is that the reality that is given to such objects of perception is not the reality that is given to Brahman. Advaita admits of three levels of reality for discussion purposes: that which is apparently real (prātibhāsika), that which is empirically real (vyāvahārika), and that which is absolutely real (pāramārthika). That which is apparently real has a reality that is very much restricted. Such existents are real to an individual at the time they are experienced. But once the earlier cognition suffers sublation, they cease to be real. Their reality is subject to given individuals at a given time. A good example to show that perceptions are possible of objects that do not necessarily exist in empirical reality is the case of dreams or hallucinations.

 

Dreams are inscrutable phenomena and Ramaṇa made frequent use of dreams to illustrate the nature of reality:

 

All that we see is dream, whether we see it in the dream state or waking state. On account of some arbitrary standards about the duration of the experience and so on, we call one experience a dream and another waking experience. With reference to reality both the experiences are unreal. A man might have such an experience as getting grace in his dream and the effects and influence of it on his entire subsequent life may be so profound and so abiding that one cannot call it unreal, while calling real some trifling incident in the waking life that just flits by, is casual and of no moment and is soon forgotten. [196]

 

In a dream, note that every dream-object, inert or living, human or demonic, pleasurable or painful, including oneself and anything else in any shape or form, all enjoy the exact same ontological status. The reality of the most expensive diamond is exactly the same as a speck of dirt. This aspect of dreams helps to convey some understanding of the state of a Sage. Ramaṇa remarked: “Does a man who sees many individuals in his dream persist in believing them to be real and enquire after them when he wakes up?” [197] “When a man dreams, he creates himself (i.e. the ego, the seer) and the surroundings, all of them are later withdrawn into himself. The one becomes many, along with the seer.” [198]

 

In addition to this, dreams are a helpful aid in a spiritual seeker’s spiritual practices. A seeker is advised to look upon everything in the world as possessing the same value, since nothing in the world actually possesses any real value. If the world is viewed as a dream containing dream objects, an individual is less likely to foster desires and strive to accumulate possessions.

 

A dreamer dreams a dream. He sees the dream world with pleasures, pains, etc. But he wakes up and then loses all interest in the dream world. So it is with the waking world also. Just as the dream-world, being only a part of yourself and not different from you, ceases to interest you, so also the present world would cease to interest you if you awake from this waking dream (samsāra) and realize that it is a part of yourself and not an objective reality. Because you think that you are apart from the objects around you, you desire a thing. But, if you understand that the thing was only a thought-form you would no longer desire it. [199]

 

The dream world is thus very useful but all the dream world can inform us of is that the Reality is “not-this”, “not-this.” If the world is but an extended dream, this tells us that it is not real, but it can’t tell us what is Real. We live in this seemingly real world and never doubt its veracity. Even if we learn that this world is a dream, all that informs us of is that all this is not real. It doesn’t tell us what is real. A Sage is like an awakened one who speaks to us in our dreams. Picture yourself at home in your bed asleep. Your father, who is awake, comes in and speaks to you. You may hear his words, but you will distort them. The closer you are to waking, the more precisely will you understand him. If you are fast asleep, you will hear nothing. A devotee of Ramaṇa put it wonderfully:

 

Do you understand that you cannot ask a valid question about yourself because you do not know whom you are asking about. In the question, “Who am I?” the “I” is not known and the question can be worded as, “I do not know what I mean by “I”.” What you are, you must find out. I can only tell you what you are not. You are not of the world, you are not even in the world. The world is not, you alone are. You create the world in your imagination like a dream. As you cannot separate the dream from yourself, so you cannot have an outer world independent of yourself. You are independent, not the world. Don’t be afraid of a world you yourself have created. Cease from looking for happiness and reality in a dream and you will wake up. You need not know all the “why” and “how,” there is no end to questions. Abandon all desires, keep your mind silent, and you shall discover. [200]

 

The dream analogy has so many facets to it and explicates what else may remain puzzling vis-à-vis non-dualistic teachings. Another aspect that the dream analogy clarifies is the rather incredible claim that one is not, as is generally believed, in the universe, but rather the universe is in oneself. Dreams and everything contained within them are within the dreamer. Ramaṇa said: “You dream of finding yourself in another town. Can another town enter your room? Could you have left and gone there?” [201] In dreams, the dreamer is the light of that world, the dreamer creates the entire dream universe, experiences various things, and then withdraws them.

 

A most intriguing question arises when an experience makes one question one's certainty about what is real and what is not. Dreams, according to Ramaṇa, suggest that the dream state and the waking state partake of the same reality. Dreams have the ability to put into doubt the reality of waking experiences which one takes for granted as real. What are the reasons why one would make such a bold claim? Even if it is true that objects come and go in both states, there seem to exist many differences between them.

 

Ramaṇa said: “In the waking state, the ego identifies itself with the physical body; in the dream state it identifies with the subtle mind. The ego and the mind are one and the same.” [202] Just because Ramaṇa declares that whatever is seen by the mind is unreal, does not seem to prove the point. Even if one were to grant this, how does this show that objects are not real in either case? This seems to fly in the face of everyone’s everyday experience.

 

Dream objects differ from waking objects in a number of aspects. Objects found in the waking state are practically efficient. One can actually drink water in the way one can’t drink dream water. Dream objects are often bizarre, abnormal, and incredible. In the waking state one is aware that one is awake but in the dream state one is not usually aware that one is dreaming. Dreams take place within the mind/body while the waking state involves the external world. Dream objects are often imprecise and ethereal while waking objects are definite and solid. Dream objects last only so long as the dream lasts while waking objects are perceived before and after a dream. Ramaṇa remarked:

 

There is no difference between dream and the waking state except that the dream is short and the waking long. Both are the result of the mind. Because the waking state is long, we imagine that it is our real state. But, as a matter of fact, our real state is turīya or the fourth state which is always as it is and knows nothing of the three states of waking, dream, or sleep. [203]

 

Further, consider the fact that waking objects outlast the duration of dream objects only from the vantage point of the waking state. What status waking state objects have from within the dream state is unknown. Why privilege one vantage point over another? In an attempt to determine what is real, one cannot presuppose that the criteria of the waking state is valid when that is the very thing one is attempting to prove. Isn’t it obvious that dream objects last as long as the dream lasts and waking objects last as long as the waking state lasts. No advantage to either side. Ramaṇa remarked: “Because you find the dream creations transitory in relation to the waking state there is said to be a difference. The difference is only apparent and not real.” [204] Again, on this aspect he said, confronted with a person who was objecting that a dream is fleeting and unreal, besides being contradicted by the waking state:

 

The waking experiences are similar. You go to sleep and dream a dream in which the experiences of fifty years are condensed within the short duration of the dream, say five minutes. There is a continuity in the dream. Which is real now? Is the period covering fifty years of your waking state real or the short duration of five minutes of your dream? The standards of time differ in the two states. That is all. There is no other difference between the experiences. [205]

 

The objection that dream objects are not similar to waking objects cannot be supported on the contention that, while objects experienced in the waking state are practically efficient, those seen in a dream are not. When confronted with this objection, Ramaṇa replied: “You are not right. There are thirst and hunger in dream also. You might have had your fill and kept over the remaining food for the next day. Nevertheless you feel hungry in dream. This food does not help you. One’s dream-hunger can be satisfied only by eating dream-food. Dream-wants are satisfied by dream-creations only.” [206] Objects of the waking state only have efficiency in the waking state. Dream objects are useful in their own way in the dream state. Dream water cannot quench a waking thirst, but it does quench a dream thirst; and it is equally true that waking water cannot quench a dream thirst even though it does quench a waking thirst. Again, listen to Ramaṇa:

 

A phenomenon cannot be a reality simply because it serves a purpose or purposes. Take a dream for example. The dream creations are purposeful; they serve the dream-purpose. The dream water quenches dream thirst. The dream creation is however contradicted in the waking state. The waking creation is contradicted in the other two states. What is not continuous cannot be real. If real, the thing must ever be real—and not real for a short time and unreal at other times. So it is with magical creations. They appear real and are yet illusory. Similarly the universe cannot be real of itself—that is to say, apart from the underlying Reality. [207]

 

It is like a man satisfying his dream wants by dream creations. There are objects, there are wants and there is satisfaction. The dream creation is as purposeful as the waking world and yet it is not considered real. Thus we see that each of these illustrations serves a distinct purpose in establishing the stages of unreality. The realized Sage finally declares that in the regenerate state the waking world also is found to be as unreal as the dream world is found to be in the waking state. Each illustration should be understood in its proper context; it should not be studied as an isolated statement. It is a link in a chain. The purpose of all these is to direct the seeker’s mind towards the one Reality underlying them all. [208]

 

Thus it cannot be said that waking objects alone are useful, fruitful, or practically efficient. Dream objects work in dreams just as waking objects work in the waking state. Take another example. I am sleeping peacefully in my bed. I begin dreaming that I am walking down a path in the forest when suddenly I see a tiger behind me. I realize that I am about to be eaten by the tiger. I begin to run. I run faster and faster but the tiger remains right behind me. I turn and look and see the tiger crouching, ready to spring. The tiger lunges at me and just before he strikes, I observe his claws are open and about to rip into me. At that moment, I cry out and wake, in a sweat with my heart pounding. Now, was there ever a tiger there? No, you reply, it was only a dream. Then why am I sweating and my heart pounding? An unreal tiger produced real effects (from the waking perspective). Thus, it isn’t the case that an illusory something cannot produce real effects. Not only that, this dream, which some call a nightmare, had the effect of waking me up. Thus, the issue is still out on whether the waking state can be proven to be different from the dream state.

 

Another argument was advanced stating that dreams are strange and contain bizarre objects, while the waking state is normal. Śaṅkara addressed this issue in his commentaries on the Brahmansūtras and the Gauḍapāda-kārikās:

 

It may be argued that, since the contents of dream are quite different from the objects of waking, they cannot constitute the illustration for proving the illusoriness of the waking world. The dream-contents are strange and abnormal, and are not the replica of what are experienced in waking. It has been said that the things seen in dreams are strange and abnormal. But when and to whom do they appear abnormal? To him who has returned to waking after a dream. In the dream-state itself the contents are not realized to be strange. It is from the side of waking that the dream-contents seem abnormal, but in themselves they are quite normal. [209]

 

Just as a traveller who is well-instructed goes to a place and sees there strange things which are but natural to that place, so the dreamer transported as he is to the dream-world, experiences strange things. Each state or circumstance has its own peculiarity. But that cannot prevent comparison of the waking-world with the contents of dream. [210]

 

There do exist strange and unusual events and objects in the waking state, even if they may be rarer than the ordinary and commonplace. Sometimes, quite often in fact, dream contents are ordinary, too. The Brahmasūtras say: “The dream is only an illusion, for its nature is not completely manifest (compared to waking).” [211] However, dreams are sometimes quite vivid and lucid while perceptions in the waking state are sometimes fuzzy and unclear. But this is not the crucial issue here. In dreams, the senses function unaided by the external sense organs while the sense organs function in the waking state. Yet, is it the case that what the external sense organs perceive is Reality? What is important to note is that the logic of one state need not conform to another in order for both to be dream-states. Dreams can take many forms and merely because of variations one need not conclude that something is not a dream. As Ramaṇa remarked:

 

Again, consider it from another point of view: You create a dream-body for yourself in the dream and act with that dream-body. The same is falsified in the waking state. At present you think that you are this body and not the dream-body. In your dream this body is falsified by the dream-body. So that, you see, neither of these bodies is real because each of them is true for a time and false at other times. That which is real must be real for ever. But you say “I”. This “I”-consciousness is present all through the three states. There is no change in it. That is alone real. The three states are false. They are only for the mind. It is the mind which obstructs your vision of your true nature. Your true nature is that of infinite spirit. That was the case in your sleep. You note the limitations in the other two states. What is the difference due to? There was no mind in sleep, but it exists in the dream and the waking states. The feeling of limitation is the work of the mind. What is mind? Find it. If you search for it, it will vanish by itself. For it has no real existence. It is comprised of thoughts. It disappears with the cessation of thoughts. [212]

 

Another aspect of dreams Ramaṇa remarked about was the charge that a person makes no conscious effort to get rid of a dream and awaken. Dreams come to an end spontaneously without any effort on one’s part. If the waking state is a dream, then why doesn’t it come to an end without any effort on our part? Why should an individual attempt to realize the Self?

 

Your thinking that you have to make an effort to get rid of this dream of the waking state and your making efforts to attain or real awakening are all parts of the dream. When you attain jñāna you will see there was neither the dream during sleep, nor the waking state, but only yourself and your real state. [213]

 

In a dream, you have no inkling that it is a dream and so you don’t have the duty of trying to get out of it by your effort. But in this life you have some intuition, by your sleep experience, by reading and hearing that this life is something like a dream, and hence the duty is cast on you to make an effort and get out of it. However, who wants you to realize the Self, if you don’t want it? If you prefer to be in the dream, stay as you are.” [214]

 

It has been said that the waking world can be distinguished from the dream world because in the waking state one is aware that one is awake, but one is not aware that one is dreaming in the dream state (except perhaps in what are called lucid dreams). The reason given for this claim is that objects are external to oneself when one wakes while, upon waking, one believes the dream objects were internal. Ramaṇa pointed out that it is only upon awakening that one realizes that the dream objects which had appeared as external to the dreamer in the dream, were actually internal. In a similar manner, upon Self-realization, true awakening, one realizes that the objects of the world that were perceived as external, are really internal. Even as the waking state reverses the experience of the dream state, so does Self-realization reverse the experience of the waking state. In this way, the waking and dreaming states are not less, but more compatible.

 

How does one know that there are external physical objects in the waking state and merely internal mental objects in a dream? When dreaming, objects are perceived as real and as external to the perceiver. It is only upon waking that one renounces these perceptions as being mere mental creations, internal, and illusory. Judged from the perspective of within a dream, there is no way to tell that such perceptions are internal. Then the question may arise if a truly awakened person, a jīvan-mukta, has dreams, because it is said that jīvan-muktas do not sleep like ordinary individuals. Ramaṇa said:

 

If the jñāni can have a waking state, what is the difficulty about his having a dream state? But of course, as his waking state is different from the ordinary man’s waking state, so his dream state also will be different from the ordinary man’s dream state. Whether in waking or in dream, he will not slip from his real state, which is sometimes called the fourth or turīya state. [215]

 

Of course, the jīvan-muktas are having brahmākāra vṛtti always, even during sleep. The real answer to the question, and the whole set of questions, is that the jñāni has neither the waking, dreaming, or sleeping states, but only the turīya state. It is the jñāni that sleeps. But he sleeps without sleeping or is awake while sleeping. [216]

 

Thus, we see that Ramaṇa often used the dream analogy to elucidate how māyā operates as well as to reveal the unreality of the world. In fact, it seemed to be his favorite analogy. Why he did this was not to formulate an intellectual theory, though we see him discussing various aspects of the dream world—he did it so as to direct the seeker’s mind towards the one Reality underlying both the waking and dreaming states. The key, or heart, of the issue rests in his contention that the entire universe, with all its infinite multiplicity, is built upon a single mental thought, the “I”-thought. A person mistakes the “I” for a “me”.

 

There remains the problem that if the waking state is similar to the dream state, then why doesn’t the waking world disappear when one wakes up, that is, becomes enlightened? Yet, as we just saw in Ramaṇa’s own words, the jñāni continues to perceive the world even after Self-realization has occurred—though the jñāni perceives the world as Brahman rather than apart as separate and distinct objects. To this objection Ramaṇa replied:

 

There are different methods of approach to prove the unreality of the universe. The example of the dream is one among many. Waking, dreaming, and deep sleep are all treated elaborately in the scriptures in order that the Reality underlying them might be revealed. It is not meant to accentuate differences among the three states. The purpose must be kept clearly in view.

 

Now they say that the world is unreal. Of what degree of unreality is it? Is it like that of a song of a barren mother or a flower in the sky, mere words without any reference to fact? Whereas the world is a fact and not a mere word. The answer is that it is a superimposition on the one Reality, like the appearance of a snake on a coiled rope seen in dim light. But here too the wrong identity ceases as soon as the friend points out that it is a rope. Whereas in the matter of the world it persists even after it is known to be unreal. How is that? Again the appearance of water in a mirage persists even after the knowledge of mirage is recognized. So it is with the world. Though knowing it to be unreal, it continues to manifest.

 

But the water of the mirage is not sought to satisfy one’s thirst. As soon as one knows that it is a mirage, one gives it up as useless and does not run after it for procuring water.

 

(How can the world be false when, after being repeatedly declared to be false, one cannot resist satisfying one’s desires from the world?) It is like a man satisfying his dream wants by dream creations. There are objects, there are wants, and there is satisfaction. The dream creation is as purposeful as the waking world and yet it is not considered real.

 

Thus, we see that each of these illustrations serves a distinct purpose in establishing the stages of unreality. The realized Sage finally declares that in the regenerate state the waking world also is found to be as unreal as the dream world is found to be in the waking state.

 

Each illustration should be understood in its proper context; it should not be studied as an isolated statement. It is a link in a chain. The purpose of all these is to direct the seeker’s mind towards the one Reality underlying them all. [217]

 

We see Ramaṇa acknowledging that, from a certain perspective, a mirage, unlike a dream, more accurately conveys how an illusion can continue to exist even after it is known to be an illusion. If one persists by questioning the mirage analogy: although it is true that water drunk by a jñāni quenches his thirst, while mirage-water does not, one should remember that any given analogy is advanced to give a particular insight and that one should never push an analogy beyond its intended purpose—otherwise, one’s questions will be unending.

 

 

Ramana and Causality

 

We have noted that Ramaṇa was not particularly interested in theory. He discouraged theoretical questions and generally either remained silent when such questions were asked or else asked the questioner to find the source of the “I” that was asking the question. When he spoke, he spoke freely and often with laughter and humor. If a questioner was particularly insistent, Ramaṇa would sometimes relent and give an explanation. If the questioner was not satisfied, he was free to object and ask further questions. Such explanations were usually rather short and if the questioner persisted too long with the topic, or if they moved in the direction of mere intellectualism, Ramaṇa would change the topic and direct the attention of his questioners towards more practical matters.

 

Among such topics, those that centered around the nature and origin of the world often arose. Ramaṇa expressed, when pushed, that there are three traditional modes of approach or standpoints to the metaphysical problem of creation:

 

The ajāta school of Advaita says, “Nothing exists except the one reality. There is no birth or death, no projection or drawing in, no sādhaka (practicer), no mumukṣu (one who desires to be liberated), no mukta (one who is liberated), no bondage, no liberation. The one unity alone exists for ever.” To such that find it difficult to grasp this truth, and 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.” This is called dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi-vāda or the argument that one first creates out of his mind and then sees what his mind itself has created. To such that cannot grasp even this and who further argue, “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 and we cannot call such a world non-existent,” the argument called sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi-vāda is addressed and they are told, “God first created such and such a thing out of such and such an element and then something else and so forth.” That alone will satisfy them. Their mind is not otherwise 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 are only to suit the capacity of the hearers. The Absolute can only be one. [218]

 

Ramaṇa said that ajāta-vāda, or the theory of nonorigination, is the closest or most compatible with the Truth (the Truth is beyond conceptualization—ajāta is meaningful only if one presumes birth or jāti). Remember, this is also a theory and unless one assumes that there is creation there would be no reason to deny it. People often say that Ramaṇa, himself, held the ajāta-vāda theory. He remarked: “I do not teach only the ajāta doctrine.” If this theory was too difficult to grasp, Ramaṇa was insistent that a serious seeker should be satisfied with the doctrine of simultaneous creation, since it is the most beneficial attitude to adopt if a seeker is seriously seeking the Self.

 

Let me give a rather lengthy quote by David Godman on the three theories, as it is so very well put:

 

1 – Ajāta-vāda (the theory of non-causality). This is an ancient Hindu doctrine which states that the creation of the world never happened at all. It is a complete denial of all causality in the physical world. Sri Ramaṇa endorsed this view by saying that it is the jñāni’s experience that nothing ever comes into existence or ceases to be, because the Self alone exists as the sole unchanging reality. It is a corollary of this theory that time, space, cause and effect, essential components of all creation theories, exist only in the minds of ajñānis and that the experience of the Self reveals their non-existence.

 

This theory is not a denial of the reality of the world, only of the creative process which brought it into existence. Speaking from his own experience, Sri Ramaṇa said that the jñāni is aware that the world is real, not as an assemblage of interacting matter and energy, but as an uncaused appearance in the Self. He enlarged on this by saying that because the real nature or substratum of this appearance is identical with the beingness of the Self, it necessarily partakes of its reality. That is to say, the world is not real to the jñāni simply because it appears, but only because the real nature of the appearance is inseparable from the Self.

 

The ajñāni, on the other hand, is totally unaware of the unitary nature and source of the world and, as a consequence, his mind constructs an illusory world of separate interacting objects by persistently misinterpreting the sense-impressions it receives. Sri Ramaṇa pointed out that this view of the world has no more reality than a dream since it superimposes a creation of the mind on the reality of the Self. He summarized the difference between the jñāni’s and the ajñāni’s standpoint by saying that 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.

 

2 – Dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi-vāda. If his questioners found the idea of ajāta or non-causality impossible to assimilate, he would teach them that the world comes into existence simultaneously with the appearance of the “I”-thought and that it ceases to exist when the “I”-thought is absent. This theory is known as dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi, or simultaneous creation, and it says, in effect, that the world which appears to an ajñāni is a product of the mind that perceives it, and that in the absence of that mind it ceases to exist. The theory is true in so far as the mind does create an imaginary world for itself, but from the standpoint of the Self, an imaginary “I” creating an imaginary world is no creation at all, and so the doctrine of ajāta is not subverted. Although Sri Ramaṇa sometimes said that dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi was not the ultimate truth about creation, he encouraged his followers to accept it as a working hypothesis. He justified this approach by saying that if one can consistently regard the world as an unreal creation of the mind, then it loses its attraction and it becomes easier to maintain an undistracted awareness of the “I”- thought.

 

 

3 – Sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi-vāda (gradual creation). This is the common-sense view that holds 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. It includes virtually all western ideas on the subject from the “big bang” theory to the biblical account in Genesis. Sri Ramaṇa only invoked theories of this nature when he was talking to questioners who were unwilling to accept the implications of the ajāta and dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi theories. Even then, he would usually point out that such theories should not be taken too seriously as they were only promulgated to satisfy intellectual curiosity. [219]

 

A number of important points in the above quote are worth mentioning. The non-creation theory is an attempt to describe the jñāni’s personal experience. Truly speaking, for a jñāni, there is nothing to say and no one to say it to. It is only because a person assumes that there is birth (jāti) that the jñāni, out of compassion, opens his mouth and denies it—his words being but an intellectual statement or theory for the listener—the truth lies in the experience, not in the theory. One should not mistake map for territory, a finger pointing at the moon for the moon itself.

 

Secondly, the theory of non-origination is not a denial of the reality of the world, but only of the creative, causal process that brought it into existence. Ramaṇa often said, and his speech and actions only confirmed such, that the jñāni is aware that the world is real – not as separate objects, but as an uncaused appearance of the Self. The world’s appearance is perceived by the jñāni, but it is not its appearance that makes it real, it is real because its appearance is inseparable from the Self. On the other hand, an ajñāni creates with his mind an illusory world of separate objects by continually misinterpreting the sense-impressions it receives. In both cases, sense-impressions are perceived. Where they differ, and it makes all the difference, is that the ego, the me/my thought is absent in the jñāni and present in the ajñāni. Thus, the jñāni perceives the Self, or better, reposes in the Self, while in the ajñāni’s mind, thoughts create a false separation between the Self and the not-Self.

 

The simultaneous creation theory, though not as close to the truth as the non-origination theory, has an extremely useful aspect to it. While non-origination is a breathtakingly wonderful theory, it is more or less an intellectual theory. On the other hand, according to Ramaṇa, the simultaneous creation theory is a theory that can be practiced and he encouraged his followers to accept it as a working hypothesis. If one accepts the idea that the world is an unreal creation of the mind, then it will begin to lose its attractiveness, thus making it easier to focus on the source of the “I”-thought.

 

Ramaṇa remarked on many occasions when individuals would ask about which of the gradual creation theories are correct:

 

There are many (gradual creation theories) and they are meant to indicate that the creation has a cause, and a creator should be posited so that one might seek the cause. The emphasis is on the purpose of the theory and not on the process of creation. Moreover, the creation is perceived by some one. There are no objects without the subject, i.e., the objects do not come and tell you that they are, but it is you who say that there are the objects. The objects are therefore what the seer makes of them. They have no existence independent of the subject. Find out what you are and then you understand what the world is. That is the object of the theory. [220]

 

The important point to be noted in the gradual creation theory, with its myriad variations, is that it generally only serves to satisfy intellectual curiosity. Ramaṇa said:

 

There are only two ways in which to conquer destiny or be independent of it. One is to enquire who undergoes this destiny and discover that only the ego is bound by it and not the Self, and that the ego is non-existent. The other way is to kill the ego by completely surrendering to the Lord, by realizing one’s helplessness and saying all the time, “Not I, but Thou, O my Lord”, and giving up all sense of “I” and “mine” and leaving it to the Lord to do what he likes with you. Surrender can never be regarded as complete so long as the devotee wants this or that from the Lord. [221]

 

Gradual creation theories do not meet either of these criteria. As well, gradual creation theories are full of logical contradictions and inconsistencies.

 

There are two traditional positions with regard to the causeeffect relation that lies at the heart of gradual creation theories: Either the effect is pre-existent in the cause or else the effect is non-existent in the cause prior to its production. However, both positions are riddled with inconsistencies. The basic position of those who hold that the effect is a de novo creation from the cause is that if such were not the case, causation itself would be meaningless. If the effect is pre-existent, then why does it need to be produced? Thus the cause and effect must differ and the effect must be non-existent before its production by the cause. But this position raises two fundamental problems. First, the cause and effect relation regarding the material cause is unsatisfactory. Nothing can come out of something unless it is already existent in that something. If such were not to be the case, then it would amount to disclaiming the need for a material cause for the production of an effect. And secondly, if the efficient cause is separate from the material cause, then this implies a limitation to God. God, being the efficient cause, would be bound to work upon material independent of him. Furthermore, he would be limited to creating only those forms of which this given material would admit.

 

Those who hold that the effect is pre-existent in the cause counter the objection that if such were the case, then causation itself would be meaningless, by saying that if the effect is not pre-existent in the cause, then anything could come out of anything. There would be no determinative cause for a specific effect. Milk could come out of sand and then, only sometimes. In rebuttal, the opponents object that if the effect pre-exists in the cause, why does it need to be produced? The reply is that the effect is not in the cause as such—it is latent in the cause and has to be brought out. Thus, what is latent must become patent. Yet, still difficulties persist. Is the cause wholly transformed or only partially transformed in this process? If the whole cause is transformed, then the cause ceases to be, and what happens to the cause in which the effect is said to pre-exist? And if only a part of the cause changes into the effect, with the other part maintaining its substance, it will be like killing one-half of a hen to eat and trying to keep the other half to lay eggs with.

 

The reply to this is that what is meant in saying that the cause is transformed into the effect is that what was not previously manifested is now made manifest. The clay as cause does not disappear when the pot, as effect, is produced. What was the cause is now the effect, persisting in it. Yet still the dialectic continues by asking exactly what does this “manifestation” mean? Again one is caught between the horns of a dilemma involving either the case that causation is redundant or else impossible.

 

Thus it is that these two theories of causation destroy each other’s position. If the effect is already existent, it is redundant to say that the already existent is created. And if the effect is non-existent, it can never be produced. Either alternative fails to satisfy the demands of logic. Thus it is that the Advaitin propounds the doctrine of non-origination.

 

According to the ontological position of Advaita, the causal relationship cannot apply to the Absolute due to the fact of its being merest Being. Being is said to be the constitutive stuff of everything that is. It must not be thought of as the greatest common factor. As the constitutive reality of things it is the essence of all conscious and unconscious referents. As well, it is the source and ground of everything. Thus, it is the irreducible substratum, the most elementary, the simplest, the only noncomposite. Merest Being cannot be one member in a causal series, even if that one be held to be the highest or the greatest. If it were a member of a series, then it would not be merest Being itself. Nor can merest Being be a product of evolution. For this would imply that the world came into being from nonbeing that is logically absurd. Non-being is not the cause of anything whatsoever precisely because it is nothing. Even to deny it, and have the negation be real, must mean that Being is embedded therein.

 

The provisional Advaita Vedānta theory of causation implies six requisites: (1) There is a relation in terms of succession in the cause-effect relationship. The cause is earlier and the effect is later. (2) The relationship between the cause and the effect is an irreversible relationship. The cause always precedes the effect and never vice-versa. (3) The relationship between the cause and the effect is a necessary relationship and not a contingent one. (4) Cause and effect are not completely identical nor are they totally different. (If any two entities are absolutely different, they are not related by cause and effect, and if they are absolutely identical, then they are the same entity.) (5) The relationship between cause and effect is a onesided relationship. The effect is always dependent upon the cause and not vice-versa. (6) Between the cause and the effect, the cause alone is real.

 

This analysis will logically lead an individual to discover the impossibility of a causal scheme. From the seeming reality of the causal scheme at the empirical level, one is led to discover that philosophically speaking, there is no causation. By applying this criterion to the famous rope-snake example, the Advaita theory of causality will become clear.

 

The rope is the cause of the snake in the sense that the snake pre-existed (so to speak) in the rope. It was sustained by the rope and finally disappeared back into the rope. All the time there was nothing other than the rope. The rope never ceased being a rope, even while it appeared as the snake. This is the very essence of the idea; a thing appearing differently without ceasing to be itself even during the different appearance.

 

Because every effect has a cause, the Absolute is cosmologically said to be the cause of the Universe. This needs some elucidation. Whenever the Advaitin speaks of causation, it is with regard to God (Īśvara). Whenever the Advaitin speaks of appearance, it is with regard to the Absolute (Brahman). Since the Absolute (Brahman) is the only Reality, and if we seek a cause for the world as we see it given in experience, we employ the language of cosmology and say, the Absolute alone, if anything, could be the cause of the world and not anything else.

 

Theologically, Advaita is aware of the theoretical difficulties of a mere theism. Thus, this is only a provisional acceptance purely as a methodological device later to be abandoned for a purer concept of non-duality. Accordingly, the Absolute (Brahman) is considered as the substrate (adhiṣṭhāna) of an illusory appearance of the world.

 

If God is the creator of the world, the theists run into difficulty relating to the material out of which the world is fashioned and its subsequent implications with regard to the efficient cause or Creator. Was this material pre-existent and independent of God? What is the material itself made of? Is it a part of God? Does all of God change or only a part of him if this material is somehow God? What is the relationship therein? Is the universe a de novo creation or a transformation of something pre-existent?

 

Supposing there is a world and God is the cause of it, the following questions must be answered. Why does a non-creative God suddenly become creative? What is the purpose of God’s creation? If there is something left for God to achieve, then his perfection has been compromised and if there is not, then creation must be redundant. God is infinite and creation is finite. What could an infinite God desire from a finite creation? Yet, as the Brahmasūtrabhāṣya asks: “If Īśvara has no purpose, then how do we explain creation?” [222]

 

One attempt to overcome this dilemma is to propound the theory that creation provides a place in which individuals may work out their past merits and demerits. Ramaṇa said:

 

The purpose of creation is only to give rise to asking the question, “what is the purpose of creation. Investigate the answer to this question, and finally abide in the Supreme or rather the primal source of all, the Self. The investigation will resolve itself into a quest for the Self and it will cease only after the nonself is sifted away, and the Self realized in its purity and glory. [223]

 

However, the flaw in saying that the universe exists to work out past-karma is that past deeds themselves also require a place and time in which they were performed, ad infinitum. The solution is merely postponed, but not solved. And to postulate a beginningless creation is to silence one’s critics, but not to explain the phenomena of creation.

 

The theory of origination postulates an efficient cause (God) and a material cause (atoms) and the effect is said to be a new production from the cause. Yet the defects of this theory include limiting the creative powers of God. If God is forced to work with the atoms given, which are co-eternal with and independent from God, then only those forms that the nature of the material admits of can be created. And what is the relationship between God and this material? If there is no relationship between them, then the two merely exist side by side, not affecting each other. Yet, as this does not explain creation, there must be some sort of relation. If there is a relation, then what affects one must affect the other. It is all very well for creation to undergo change, but it plays havoc to have to accept the fact that God as well must undergo change. To propound the relation as one of “identity in difference” will not alleviate the problem. How is it possible for a thing to undergo change and yet at the same time to remain the same? Such is a logical impossibility. If there is a connection between the two causal correlates, then either both sides are affected, or else they are not related at all. One cannot have it both ways. To maintain both change and identity in the same entity is to divide that entity itself.

 

The Sāṅkhya theory of pariṇāma-vāda or satkārya-vāda says that the effect pre-exists in the cause. Yet as we saw earlier, this has unwelcome consequences in regards to the transformation of the cause. Since Sāṅkhya denies the need for an efficient cause (God), the problems with God undergoing change do not affect their theory. But, at the same time, it is unthinkable for an insentient matter (prakṛti) to produce the world by itself. An intelligent agent seems a necessary presupposition for the creation of things having a design.

 

Advaita provisionally accepts the Sāṅkhya theory of pariṇāma-vāda, but modifies it in that māyā is the material cause in association with God as its power. However, since difficulties eventually do present themselves, the entire conception of creation is held to be (in the final analysis) without any ultimate significance to the Advaitin. It does have practical implications, but is not logically defensible. Thus, for all practical theological purposes, the world may be said to be an actual change of māyā as the power of God. However, in the ultimate analysis, it is but an appearance of Brahman. In other words, the world is nonexistent in Brahman.

 

Thus, the theory of transformation is held to be only provisionally correct. It is a preliminary teaching device to the theory of the appearance of Brahman as the world. It is a concession and, as a theory of creation, it may be more plausible than others. But any creation theory is beset by certain fundamental difficulties that are inherent in the very idea of change. It is said within Advaita Vedānta that the creation-stories have not a metaphysical import but a metaphorical one. There is nothing absolutely to be gained by the knowledge of creation. It is the identity of the Self with Brahman that is the purport of the creation texts.

 

The real is the Absolute. Theologically speaking, this Brahman in association with māyā, is called Īśvara or saguṇa Brahman. And it is this saguṇa Brahman that creates the world. But philosophically speaking, there is no causation at all.

 

It is only by assuming the existence of the world that its cause is sought for. Cause and effect are relative terms. Any event that is the cause of another event requires to be explained in terms of its own antecedent. Such a process leads to an infinite regress. To arbitrarily draw a line somewhere is to compromise with logical consistency. There is no reason to presuppose an uncaused cause after asserting that every event has a cause. If such were the case, what is to prevent one from postulating that each event was itself uncaused? And then where is the question of causality at all?

 

Utmost care should be taken not to interpret ajāta-vāda statements as advocating an invisible being or entity behind the phenomena. The non-origination theory of non-duality expresses the absence of difference of every kind. The purport of its message is just to convey this knowledge. That which is, is all there is. To posit a being behind the scenes is to posit something over and above what is given. Ramaṇa was keen to point to what should be the most obvious fact of any experience. He affirmed the pure experience that always is. In every reference to an individual’s “I”, the Reality is manifesting itself. Though the total significance of the “I” may not be exactly cognized or appreciated, no experience takes place without it. It is the nature of this “I” which Ramaṇa is always referring to.

 

The problem of causality is a problem about mere illusional and intellectual matters and what they imply regarding the nature of Reality. Always Ramaṇa’s preference was to single out the “I”-”I”, the Self for this analysis since all other understanding not only presupposes this Self, but is dependent upon it. The second and third level creation theories presuppose that the things it identifies are different. Ramaṇa and ajāta-vāda state that the “two things” are really identical. They express the absence of another. They are not mere emotional or conceptual possibilities. They state a fact and this fact is self-existent. And that which is self-existent, which has being in itself and for itself, is complete and immutable.

 

Ramaṇa said about all these theories:

 

Various accounts (of creation) are given in books. But is there creation? Only if there is creation do we have to explain how it came about. We may not know about all these theories but we certainly know that we exist. Why not know the “I” and then see if there is a creation? [224]

 

Ramaṇa remarked:

 

Of what use are disputes about the world, saying that it is real, that it is an illusory appearance, that it is conscious, that it is insentient, that it is happy, that it is miserable? We have observed that the Self alone exists. From the perspective of the Sage, the world presents no problems.

 

Again, he explained:

 

Brahman is real. The world is illusion. Others say that the world is real. Both statements are true. They refer to different stages of development and are spoken from different points of view. The aspirant starts with the definition “that which is real exists always”. Then he eliminates the world as unreal because it is changing. The seeker ultimately reaches the Self and there finds unity as the prevailing note. Then, that which was originally rejected as being unreal is found to be a part of the unity. Being absorbed in the reality, the world also is real. There is only Being in Self-realization, and nothing but Being.

 

 

Ramana and the Individual

 

Ramaṇa’s descriptions of the individual self (jīva) are very much in keeping with Advaita’s definitions and descriptions. However, other than the parts of Ramaṇa’s definitions that are virtually identical with Advaita’s, Ramaṇa also had his own unique description. We will look at some examples of both.

 

The individual self (human being) is called “jīva” because it is characterized by life (from “jīv” = “to live, breathe”). Ramaṇa said, “Jīva is so called because the individual self sees the world.” This tells us something about the jīva and how it differs from the Self because the Self is not the one who sees. The jīva is the Self appearing through the limiting adjuncts of the psycho-physical complex. It is comprised of a physical body with its five cognitive sense organs, as well as an inner organ (antaḥkaraṇa) comprised of the mind, intellect, ego, and consciousness. In the jīva, the inner organ (antaḥkaraṇa), which is not conscious in nature, appears conscious and the Self, although infinite in nature, appears limited to the inner organ. When the identity of the Self with Brahman is realized in one’s own experience, what is destroyed is not the essential nature of the jīva but only certain aspects of it, such as its finitude, mortality, its separateness from other individuals, and so on.

 

Every conscious activity of the mind or body of an individual revolves around their assumption that there is an “I”, which they take to be a “me” who is doing something. This “I” is the common factor involved in every thought, word, or deed and this “I” assumes it is responsible for all these activities. Everyone believes they are the doer. Ramaṇa described this common factor the “I”- thought. The technical term for this “I”- thought is “aham-vṛtti,” i.e. a mental modification of the “I”. When a one’s mind flickers, one’s personality or what is called the ego, takes responsibility for whatever happens. This is an illusion. The Self or real “I” never moves, never imagines that it is doing or thinking anything. The “I” that is imagining all this is but a mental fiction, a delusion. Ramaṇa upheld the traditional Advaita view that the notion of individuality is only this “I”-thought manifesting itself, flickering, in different ways. No matter in which way the “I”-thought moves, be it as the ego, memory, emotions, intellect and so on, they are all but thoughts, all but different forms of the phantom “I”-thought. Ramaṇa said:

 

The mind is nothing other than the “I”-thought. The mind and the ego are one and the same. The other mental faculties such as the intellect and the memory are only this. Mind, intellect, the storehouse of mental tendencies, and the ego; all these are only the one mind itself. This is like different names being given to a man according to his different functions. The individual soul (jīva) is nothing but this ego. [225]

 

Giving a wonderful description of the jīva, Ramaṇa said:

 

Arranging thoughts in the order of value, the “I”- thought is the all-important thought. The second and the third persons (he, you, that, etc.) do not appear except to the first person (I). Therefore they arise only after the first person appears, so all the three persons seem to rise and sink together. Trace, then, the ultimate cause of “I” or personality. [226]

 

In Advaita, an individual is said to be enveloped by five sheaths (kośa). [227] A picture is drawn, as it were, of five men one within the other, and all veiling the true Self. The five men are the five sheaths, each with a head, limbs, trunk, and support. As we go from the outermost to the inner sheaths, we get nearer the truth. Each outer sheath stands to the inner in the relation of the filled to the filler. By the inner is the outer filled. As the Sage Varuṇa instructs his son, Bhṛgu: Brahman is that from whence all beings are born, wherein having been born they reside, and whereunto they return at the end. Bhṛgu makes a journey into the realm of truth. He comes across the five sheaths, one by one, each time thinking that the sheath he is faced with is the reality, and each time going beyond, not being satisfied with his own discovery, till he arrives at the final truth that Bliss is Brahman.

 

The sheaths (kośa) are so called because they veil the Self, hiding it from one’s view. The five sheaths are: the food sheath (annamaya), the vital air sheath (prānamaya), the mental sheath (manomaya), the intellect sheath (vijñānamaya) and the bliss sheath (ānandamaya). Annamaya is the sheath made of food, the physical body. Its constituents are the quintuplicated elements, i.e. earth, air, fire, water, and space—elements, not in their pure form, but in their varying grades of mixture. Of the same stuff as the physical body are the things of the experienced world made. Prāṇamaya is the vital sheath; it is that which makes for life, and its expression is the breath. The prāṇas are said to be the products of the rajas aspect of the pure (non-quintuplicated) elements. To the sheath of prāṇa belong also the five organs of action (karmendriya)—those of speech, grasping, locomotion, excretion, and generation. Manomaya is the sheath of consciousness. Desiring and doubting are the functions of the mind. It arises out of the sattva phase of the pure elements. Its channels are the five organs of knowledge (jñānendriya)—those of hearing, touch, sight, taste and smell. Vijñānamaya is the sheath of self-consciousness; it is what is called intellect (buddhi), the agent of actions and the enjoyer of the fruit of actions. It is the empirical individual migrating from one physical body into another. Ānandamaya is the sheath of bliss. It is not the original bliss that is Brahman but a pseudo-bliss, and is the root-cause of transmigration. Ānandamaya is another name for ignorance (ajñāna) or nescience (avidyā).

 

The five sheaths may also be rearranged into three bodies. Annamaya is the gross body (sthūla-sarīra). The next three, prānamaya, manomaya and vijnānamaya, constitute the subtle body (sukṣma-sarīra). And, ānandamaya is the causal body (kāraṇa-sarīra). It is as endowed with these five sheaths, or three bodies, that an individual experiences the external world in the waking state. In dream-experiences, the gross body does not function but the other two bodies are active. While the wakeful enjoyments are gross, those pertaining to dreams are subtle. In deep sleep, the individual experiences neither the gross objects of the world without, nor the subtle objects of the world within. But the causal body, viz., nescience, persists. And, it is on account of this that we dream and become awake again.

 

Ramaṇa, in his own inimitable style, made clear what is not so obvious in this traditional Advaita analysis of the three bodies: the gross, the subtle, and the causal. In his characteristic way he goes right to the heart of the matter and elucidates why the “I”-thought is where one’s focus must be turned. In effect, he turns what is an intellectual analysis into a personal practice. He said:

 

The ego is described as having three bodies, the gross, the subtle, and the causal, but that is only for the purpose of analytical exposition. If the method of enquiry were to depend on the ego’s form, you may have to take it that any enquiry would become altogether impossible, because the forms the ego may assume are legion. Therefore, for the purpose of Self-enquiry you have to proceed on the basis that the ego has but one form, namely that of the aham-vṛtti. Although the concept of “I”-ness or “I am”-ness is by usage known as aham-vṛtti, it is not really a modification (vṛtti) like other vṛttis of the mind. Because, unlike the other vṛttis which have no essential interrelation, the aham-vṛtti is equally and essentially related to each and every vṛtti of the mind. Without the aham-vṛtti there can be no other vṛttis, but the aham-vṛtti can subsist by itself without depending on any other vṛtti of the mind. The aham-vṛtti is therefore fundamentally different from other vṛttis. So then, the search for the source of the aham-vṛtti is not merely the search for the basis of one of the forms of the ego, but for the very source itself, from which arises the “I am”-ness. In other words, the quest for, and the realization of the source of the ego in the form of aham-vṛtti, necessarily implies the transcendence of the ego in every one of its possible forms. . . . From the functional point of view, the ego has one and only one characteristic. The ego functions as the knot between the Self which is pure Consciousness and the physical body which is inert and insentient. The ego is therefore called the knot between Consciousness and the inert body (cit-jaḍa-granthi). In your investigation into the source of aham-vṛtti, you take the essential Consciousness (cit) aspect of the ego. For this reason the enquiry must lead to the realization of pure Consciousness of the Self. [228]

 

Advaita Vedānta adopts an enquiry into the three states of experience (avasthā-traya-vicāra) to reveal the real nature of the Self. By analyzing life as a whole, and not merely the waking state as most philosophical systems are prone to, Advaita reveals a comprehensive approach. An analysis of the waking state shows that the individual self resides in a physical body and employs its instruments to enjoy the objects of the external world. But the Self is not the not-Self. The former is conscious while the latter is inert. The analysis of the dream state reveals that the Self does not really act and is unattached. In dreams, the Self appears to interact with a myriad of things. But upon waking, it is realized that there were no dream objects and no interaction. And an analysis of the deep-sleep state shows that the Self is relationless. Here there are no distinctions whatsoever. There is no knowing subject, nor known objects. There is no within and no without as all empirical distinctions have vanished. Objective consciousness has disappeared though pure Consciousness remains. Thus, though the three states exist, they and their contents are not persistent. But underlying them and persisting throughout is the Self. The “I” that was there in the waking state, was also there in the dream and deep-sleep states. The states pass and vary, but the underlying consciousness remains the same. The Kena Upaniṣad says: "The world which shines in the states of waking, dream, and dreamless sleep, knowing as the Absolute—who I am, one is freed from all bonds." [229]

 

Philosophers say metaphysics deals with three basic entities: God/Absolute; the world; and the individual. [230] If the individual is a part of the world, why is it given a special place? Unlike the myriad things comprising the world that are always known as objects, the individual human being is both a subject and an object. It is both a subject who knows and it is also an object to itself which is known. The individual is thus distinguished from the world of matter in that it is a living and conscious being. The word jīva is really a contraction of the word jīvātman. In its capacity as jīva, the subjective individual is involved in duality, and in its capacity as Atman, it is identical with Brahman.

 

Ramaṇa, and the Advaitins before him, had to somehow explain or at least address the issue of how the one undifferentiated Consciousness could be understood as functioning in various different individuals or, more concise, how does the One appear as the many? If the ultimate Reality is one and non-dual, how to explain the apparent plurality of the world? Also, how to vindicate the apparent plurality of individual beings (jīva), for the jīva, unlike the objects of the world, are said to partake of, and essentially be, the one non-dual Reality. It is, however, easy to explain and understand how plates, cups, and so on may emerge from the same clay, rather than explaining how the one undifferentiated, unmoving Consciousness appears as a multitude of conscious individuals. After all, plates and cups are not aware of anything, while individuals possess awareness with a desire for change.

 

Regarding this seeming enigma, and keeping in mind that Ramaṇa had no desire to formulate logical theories, he gave analogies or metaphors such as: the reflection of the sun in various pots of water; the reflection of color in a crystal; the sun and shadows; the cinema screen; ocean and waves, and sweets of various shapes. Unlike Ramaṇa, Śaṅkara, and the ancient Sages who merely resorted to metaphors in an attempt to address the issue, post-Śaṅkara Advaita philosophers both can and did develop these metaphors into metaphysical philosophical theories. Thus, there came about three basic theories in their attempts to establish the essential non-difference of the individual (jīva) from Brahman: the theory of reflection (pratibimba-vāda), the theory of limitation (avaccheda-vāda), and the theory of manifestation or appearance (ābhāsa-vāda). [231]

 

Śaṅkara explains that jīvas are mere appearances or reflections of the Self, as when the sun is reflected in rippling water. [232] He was addressing the question, “if there is only one Self, operating in all the various individuals, why don’t the actions of the various individuals get mixed up?” It was also a reply to the question, “How does the one undifferentiated, unmoving Consciousness appear as a multitude of conscious individuals?”

 

The reflection of the sun in a body of water varies according to the state of the water, be it calm or turbulent, clean or dirty. Likewise, the reflection of the one undifferentiated Self varies according to the state of ignorance in which it is reflected. The minds of all the myriad individuals vary. Some are more, some are less, under the influence of passion and desire, capable of intellectual discrimination or not, and so on. The one undifferentiated Consciousness appears differently as it is reflected according to the differences in the reflected medium, i.e. individuals. Individuals have perceptions of sense-data, and their mind interprets that data as being an object, as being other than oneself. Even a little reflection will reveal that one is not their body, but that their body is theirs. Everyone says, “this is my body”, “this is my hair”; “this is my thought”, “this is my emotion” and so on. “My” is a personal pronoun signifying possession. These things belong to you, the perceiver, the owner and the user. Who are you?

 

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 that 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. One’s image of who they are seemingly grows, shrinks, and so on, as the body grows, shrinks, and so on.

 

One may note that while Ramaṇa was living in the Virupāk–a cave, he was given a copy of the Vivekacūḍāmaṇi and he felt that a prose paraphrase of the book in Tamil would be useful for spiritual aspirants and so he wrote one. Thus, Ramaṇa was very aware of the analogies given therein and often employed them himself.

 

In the Vivekacūḍāmaṇi, the following verses are pertinent:

 

Even if sattva is pure like water, yet, in combination with rajas and tamas, it generates worldly existence. But, when the original, the light of the Self, gets reflected in sattva alone, then, like the sun, it illumines the entire inanimate world. [233]

 

Just as you do not identify yourself with your body’s shadow, or your reflection, or your dream body, or when you imagine it in your heart, so too, do not identify yourself with your living body. [234]

 

Looking at a reflection of the sun, mirrored in the water of a jar, a fool thinks it is the sun itself. Similarly, a stupid person, through delusion, imagines that the reflection of Consciousness appearing in the limiting adjunct is the Self. [235]

 

A wise person rejects the pot, the water, and the sun’s reflection in it and, indifferent and independent of them all, so sees the self-luminous sun in the sky which illuminates these three. [236]

 

Being yourself the ever-existent Reality, which is the self-luminous foundation of everything, abandon the universe and your individual body like vessels filled with impurities. [237]

 

When a person’s attention is on the reflection he 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.

 

Interestingly, Śaṅkara’s analogy of the sun being reflected in various pots of water helps to explain how it is that the Self “enters” the universe and jīvas. Though the Self goes nowhere, does nothing, and thus cannot “enter” literally, it “enters” the universe and jīvas just as the sun “enters” the water by being perceived there in its reflection. Of course the sun does not “enter” the water literally but merely as a reflection.

 

The above-mentioned analogy helps to explain how it is that the individual is not the “doer” of actions. “When the limiting adjunct moves, the movement of its reflection is ascribed by fools to the original, like the sun which is unmoving. Likewise, one thinks “I am the doer”, “I am the enjoyer”, “I am lost”, alas!” [238] From the perspective of the sun, it does not move, but from the perspective of an ignorant person on the earth, it appears to rise and set; it is perceived to move though in actuality it does not!

 

Again, the jīva is said to be a reflection of the Self on the mirror of ignorance. [239] From a particular perspective, the reflection is the prototype. A person’s face reflected in a mirror is not really different from the face in front of it and does not have an independent life of its own. Further, the reflection lasts only so long as the mirror remains. But how the reflection appears, what it looks like (being so independent, so object-like, so other than me) is due to the shape, size, clarity and so on, of the mirror. Obviously, the clearer the mirror, the more perfect will be the reflection and relation between the jīva and Atman.

 

Finally, the reflection theory powerfully demonstrates the main thrust of why such analogies are used in the first place. Liberation is the goal, the reason to be, of all such teachings. Breaking the pot means the destruction of ignorance of the ego.

 

As when the pot is broken, the space (within) becomes one with the space (without), so too, the supreme knower of the Absolute becomes the Absolute itself when the limiting adjuncts vanish. [240]

 

The ābhāsa-vāda or appearance theory posits that the individual (jīva) is a seeming or illusory appearance of the Absolute (Brahman). All manifestations of name and form, of being independent separate objects, are an appearing-to-be what it is not. The unity of Being, the Self, instead of being realized, appears to an individual as a world of multiplicity. Those ignorant of the undifferentiated Self assume the diversity to be real, whereas it has no real independent status, it is the figment of a fractured mind.

 

Sureśvara, who formulated the appearance theory, said “jīvas are reflections of Brahman (cidābhāsa) on individual ignorant minds with their latent tendencies”. Reflection of the Self on the ignorant mind is the jīva.” He said:

The one seer (Self) in all being, shines as if different because of the objects, even as the sun with his wealth of rays shines as many (as reflected on account of the different water-containers). [241]

 

Just as for one and the same person the state of being friend, neutral, or foe is imagined by other people, soalso, of the non-different pure Consciousness, difference is dependent on the internal organ. [242]

 

Padmapāda presented two other analogies for the reflection theory. He proposed the red crystal and the mirror examples to demonstrate how the undifferentiated Self is reflected in jīvas. In the case of the red crystal, the crystal’s nature (its color) is different from that of the (red) flower. The error comes in identifying the red color with the crystal which of itself, has no color. The mirror analogy shows how the prototype is identical with the reflected face in the mirror. Thus, the ego of a person is (essentially) identical with Brahman (and not just similar to it).

 

With the reflection theory, one can understand how it is that just because one realizes the identity of the jīva and Brahman, it does not follow that the reflecting medium (the internal organ) is destroyed. When one realizes that one’s face is identical with the reflected face in the mirror, the mirror is not thereby destroyed. This explains the fact that even after a person realizes the Self, the body of the jīvan-mukta does not disappear.

 

The limitation theory, looking at the dilemma from another angle, states that the one, undifferentiated pure Consciousness, being without attributes or qualities, cannot be reflected (as in a mirror or a pot of water) and thus, it would be more accurate to say that the individual is not so much a reflection of Consciousness, as to say that jīvas are limitations of it. Remember, this objection arises only when one stretches the analogy beyond its legitimate point. In Śaṅkara’s writing both types of analogies are found and thus, two philosophical theories emerge. The point of the reflection theory is that the jīva is adventitious. The theory has its own insights and it behooves the reader to take what it is attempting to reveal, and not reject it as inaccurate merely because no analogy can explain everything. Ramaṇa remarked:

 

But, why all this objection and counter-objection, analysis and counter-analysis? Can the world exist apart from the Self? The “I” is always Brahman. Its identity need not be established by logic and practice. It is enough that one realize the Self. The Self is always Brahman. [243]

 

That being noted, the limitation theory arose because of the beauty and appropriateness, the illustrative power of examples like, “the space within a pot”. This theory elucidates that the individual (jīva) is but a limitation of consciousness. This limitation is constituted of the limiting condition or adjunct (upādhi) of ignorance. Advaita philosophers frequently employ the term “upādhi” and use it in the sense that the upādhi is a qualification or limitation of one thing by another. Thus, in this context, it refers to the mind superimposing upon the infinite Self limitations and conditions that do not properly belong to it. So long as this ignorance lasts, individuals engage in this false superimposition and do not know the Self as it is. Individuals thus view themselves as individual, separate, distinct, conditioned, and finite. In a similar way, space is really one and indivisible but is perceived through limitations as if it were divided into particular spaces like the space in a pot, a house, and so on.

 

As the space in a pot merges into the universal space, merge the individual in the great Self and be ever silent, O Sage [244]

 

Space is universal, located everywhere. Space enclosed in a pot is known as ghaṭākāsa. This enclosed space is merely conventional. In actuality, space is space. Likewise, the Self appears enclosed by the body and its adjuncts but in actual fact, this is only seemingly so. [245]

 

Space, divested of hundreds of limiting adjuncts such as a pot, a jar, a receptacle for grain, the eye of a needle, and so on, is one and not diverse. So too, the supremely pure Self is one only, when divested of limiting adjuncts such as egoism, and so on. [246]

 

Though connected with a jar, space is not tainted by the odour of the liquor in it. Similarly, the Self is not tainted by the qualities of the limited adjuncts with which it is connected. [247]

 

It is not born; it does not die; it does not grow; it does not decline; it does not change. It is eternal. Even if this body is destroyed it does not cease to exist, just as the space in a pot does not become extinct when the pot is broken. [248]

 

As when the pot is broken, the space (within) becomes one with the space (without), so too, the supreme knower of the Absolute becomes the Absolute itself when the limiting adjuncts vanish. [249]

 

An advantage of the limitation theory over the reflection theory is that the former gives a greater empirical reality to the jīva than the latter. In the reflection theory the jīva is a mere fleeting reflection, while in the limitation theory it is a necessary practical reality in that individuals in the world, subject to ignorance, do perceive other individuals and objects in the world as separate, distinct realities.

 

Ramaṇa covers, in detail, all aspects of this discussion as follows:

 

Multiplicity of individuals is a moot point with most persons. A jīva is only the light reflected on the ego. The person identifies himself with the ego and argues that there must be more like him. He is not easily convinced of the absurdity of his position. Does a man who sees many individuals in his dream persist in believing them to be real and enquire after them when he wakes up?

 

This argument does not convince the disputant.

 

Again, there is the moon. Let anyone look at her from any place at any time; she is the same moon. Everyone knows it. Now suppose that there are several receptacles of water reflecting the moon. The images are all different from one another and from the moon herself. If one of the receptacles falls to pieces, that reflection disappears. Its disappearance does not affect the real moon or the other reflections. It is similar with an individual attaining Liberation. He alone is liberated.

 

The sectarian of multiplicity makes this his argument against non-duality. “If the Self is single, if one man is liberated, that means that all souls are liberated. In practice it is not so. Therefore Advaita is not correct.”

 

The weakness in the argument is that the reflected light of the Self is mistaken for the original Light of the Self. The ego, the world and the individuals are all due to the person’s latent tendencies. When they perish, that person’s hallucinations disappear, that is to say one pitcher is broken and the relative reflection is at an end.

 

The fact is that the Self is never bound. There can therefore be no Release for It. All the troubles are for the ego only.

 

Jīva is called so because he sees the world. A dreamer sees many jīvas in a dream but all of them are not real. The dreamer alone exists and he sees all. So it is with the individual and the world. There is the creed of only one Self which is also called the creed of only one jīva. It says that the jīva is only one who sees the whole world and the jīvas therein. Then jīva means the Self here.

 

So it is. But the Self is not a seer. But here he is said to see the world. So he is differentiated as the Jīva. [250]

 

Ramaṇa invoked all these theories without saying that one was more appropriate or superior than another, but he does say that, in all cases, his own direct method of Self-enquiry is superior to any indirect method or theory. Citing the reflection theory, he explains:

 

Some Upaniṣads also speak of 101 nādīs which spread from the heart, one of them being the vital nādī. If the jīva comes down from above and gets reflected in the brain, as the yogis say, there must be a reflecting surface in action. That must also be capable of limiting the Infinite Consciousness to the limits of the body. In short the Universal Being becomes limited as a jīva. Such reflecting medium is furnished by the aggregate of the latent tendencies of the individual. It acts like the water in a pot which reflects the image of an object. If the pot be drained of its water there will be no reflection. The object will remain without being reflected. The object here is the Universal Being-Consciousness which is all-pervading and therefore immanent in all. It need not be cognized by reflection alone; it is self-resplendent. Therefore, the seeker’s aim must be to drain away the latent tendencies from the heart and let no reflection obstruct the Light of Eternal Consciousness. This is achieved by the search for the origin of the ego and by diving into the heart. This is the direct method for Self-Realization. One who adopts it need not worry about nādīs, the brain, the suṣūmnā, the paranāḍī, the kuṇḍaliṇī, prāṇāyāma or the six centers. [251]

 

The above passage is immediately followed by a passage from Ramaṇa that utilizes the abhasa-vada model:

 

The Self does not come from anywhere else and enter the body through the crown of the head. It is as it is, ever sparkling, ever steady, unmoving and unchanging. The changes which are noticed are not inherent in the Self which abides in the Heart and is self-luminous like the Sun. The changes are seen in Its Light. The relation between the Self and the body or the mind may be compared to that of a clear crystal and its background. If the crystal is placed against a red flower, it shines red; if placed against a green leaf it shines green, and so on. The individual confines himself to the limits of the changeful body or of the mind which derives its existence from the unchanging Self. All that is necessary is to give up this mistaken identity, and that done, the ever-shining Self will be seen to be the single non-dual Reality. The reflection of Consciousness is said to be in the subtle body (sukṣma sarīra), which appears to be composed of the brain and the nerves radiating from it to all parts of the trunk, chiefly through the spinal column and the solar plexus. [252]

 

In the following passage, Ramaṇa elucidates the nature of the mind. The jīva believes that it is an individual and bound because of the mind and its “I”-thought. With the disappearance of the mind and its “I”-thought, the disappearance of a sense of individuality, there is Self-realization.

 

What is called “mind” is a wondrous power residing in the Self. It causes all thoughts to arise. Apart from thoughts, there is no such thing as mind. Therefore, thought is the nature of mind. Apart from thoughts, there is no independent entity called the world. In deep sleep there are no thoughts, and there is no world. In the states of waking and dream, there are thoughts, and there is a world also. Just as the spider emits the thread (of the web) out of itself and again withdraws it into itself, likewise the mind projects the world out of itself and again resolves it into itself. When the mind comes out of the Self, the world appears. Therefore, when the world appears (to be real), the Self does not appear; and when the Self appears (shines) the world does not appear. When one persistently inquires into the nature of the mind, the mind will end leaving the Self (as the residue). What is referred to as the Self is the Atman. The mind always exists only in dependence on something gross; it cannot stay alone. It is the mind that is called the subtle body or the soul (jīva). [253]

 

Isn’t it obvious that it is not the body that proclaims itself as “I”? Every baby knows that it is not “I” when it first becomes aware and talks of “baby wants this, baby wants that”. Then its elders, who are far less wise than the baby and sadly have been conditioned by others, comes and with constant persistence tells the baby again and again that baby’s body is baby’s self. The poor child, upon hearing nothing but this from all sides, becomes more and more convinced of this falsehood until, having attained what is called maturity, the baby grows into an adult and is himself or herself now ready to denounce anyone who is so bold as to affirm that the body is not the Self.