The Paramount Importance of Self-Attention

Complete revised version.

Sadhu Om
as recorded by Michael James

Contents

Introduction

Between December 1977 and February 1980 I made rough notes of some of the things that I heard Sri Sadhu Om say either to me or to other friends or visitors, and many years later these notes were found and read by a friend, who then urged me to share them with other devotees, saying that they contain a wealth of ideas that would help anyone who is following the path of self-enquiry taught by Sri Bhagavan.

The accuracy of what I recorded in these notes is comparable to the accuracy of the recordings in books such as Talks and Day by Day, because just as the devotees who recorded conversations with Sri Bhagavan in such books did not write them as he spoke or in his presence, but did so afterwards from memory, so I did not write these notes as Sadhu Om spoke but did so a few hours later in my room. Therefore I cannot claim that I recorded exactly what he said, but only the impression that it made on my mind at that time, so my notes reflect my own imperfect understanding of what I heard him say.

Moreover, whatever he said was suited to the understanding and needs of whoever he was talking to, so he sometimes said things that, if taken out of context, would seem to conflict with the explanations that he usually gave about Bhagavan’s teachings. Therefore when selecting and editing extracts from these notes for publication in this and the subsequent articles in this series, I have taken care to omit any portions that contain ideas that are not consistent with the explanations that he would usually give.

Since what I recorded was approximately the ideas that he expressed rather than his exact words, and since I wrote them in the form of brief notes that I intended to serve only as reminders, I have now edited these notes, expanding and adapting them wherever necessary, in order to make the ideas that I recorded suitably clear and coherent. Therefore what will be published in this series is neither the precise words of Sadhu Om nor the exact notes that I wrote, but I am confident that it nevertheless conveys reasonably accurately the ideas that he expressed.

The title that I chose for this series reflects the central message in what I recorded and in all that Sadhu Om said or wrote, namely that practising self-attention is of paramount importance, and that directing our attention towards self is the sole aim of all that Bhagavan taught us, because in order to experience what we really are we must attend to ourself keenly and vigilantly, to the exclusion of everything else.

Bhagavan used various Tamil and Sanskrit terms to mean ‘self-attention’, ‘self-scrutiny’ or ‘self-investigation’, but one that he often used is the Tamil term taṉṉāṭṭam, which is a compound of taṉ (the inflexional base and oblique case form of tāṉ, which means ‘self’) and nāṭṭam (which in this context means investigation, examination, scrutiny, observation or attention), so whenever Sadhu Om uses the term ‘self-attention’, it should be understood to be a translation of taṉṉāṭṭam or any of the other terms that Bhagavan used in this sense, such as taṯ-gavaṉam (self-attention), ātma-vicāra (self-investigation), svarūpa-dhyāna (self-contemplation), svarūpa-smaraṇa (self-remembrance), ātma-cintana (self-meditation), ātmānusaṁdhāna (self-contemplation), ahamukham (facing inwards, towards I) or ahanōkku (looking inwards, at I).

Michael James

Extracts from a tape-recording: 13th March 1977

Sadhu Om: Self-attention is ever going on. It needs no effort.

Here the whole philosophy is based on the principle that people are not contented by attending to second or third persons, so vairagya (freedom from desire to experience otherness) must be the base. One should know that attention to second or third persons brings misery.

When Bhagavan was asked, ‘Why should we attend to the first person or atman?’ he replied, ‘If you do not attend to the first person, you attend to second or third persons instead. If you do not do atma-vicara, you do anatma-vicara. Neither is necessary. To be is not doing, not attending’. Until one comes to the conclusion that attending to second or third persons – or even to the first person – is ultimately unnecessary, one should attend to the first person. But if that is felt to be tiresome, be free from that also, and just be happy with your mere being.

[Later Sadhu Om explained that this is like saying, ‘If you do not like this coin with a head, you can have this one with a tail’, knowing that both coins are one. Remaining with only our being is the state of attending to nothing other than self.]

There must be a first person to attend to second or third persons. Must not the first person exist before it can start to attend to any second or third person, and does it know that it is? After waking up from sleep as so-and-so, the first knowledge that comes to us is about our own existence. That itself is self-attention. Knowing that ‘I am so-and-so’ is knowledge of the first person. How does this knowledge come? Only by attending to the first person. So attention to the first person is always going on, even while we are attending to second or third persons. Without attention to the first person, attention to second or third persons cannot occur.

The knowledge of second or third persons indicates the presence of the first person. When the world is known, that shows that the first person is present. This is self-attention without effort. A jnani is always paying attention in this way. He is not actually paying attention, because he is self-attention. If he knows anything, he clearly knows, ‘Because I am, these are known. Because I am, I hear this. Because I am, I smell this’. This ‘I am’ is a constant knowledge. This constant self-attention does not fade away when he seems to attend to second or third persons.

This is the difference between a jnani and an ajnani. The ajnani forgets that he is experiencing his being, whereas the jnani does not forget this. He is fully aware of this ‘I am’. How can this awareness be there unless there is an attention? Since awareness and attention are one and the same, if we are aware that ‘I am’, we are attending to ‘I am’. There will be no exertion in such self-attention, and there will be no forgetfulness of the first person even when attending to second or third persons.

Can we actually forget self? No, we cannot. We cannot but know self.

In deep sleep our self-attention is without second or third persons. In sleep we do not need any outside indicators, any second or third persons, to know that ‘I am’. Self-attention is ever present in sleep. Though second and third persons, the outer signs, are absent, we do not doubt whether or not ‘I am’. Our being is our attention; our sat is our cit; our mere being is knowing.

Now we want to know, so we have to attend. Attending is a verb, but though ‘I am’ is also a verb, it is not an action, a kriya-rupa, but is just being, a sat-rupa. So in ‘I am’, in just being, there is no exertion and hence no tiredness. Self-attention is our svabhava, our very nature, not our doing, not our making effort. It is constant, even in sleep.

When we once discover that we are fully aware of our being in sleep, we will know that we will be fully aware of it in death and in pralaya (the dissolution of the universe). We alone are; nothing is ever destroyed.

In sleep there is no fear. Bhagavan said, ‘Where there are thoughts, there will be fear. When thoughts subside, there is no fear’. Fear, sorrow and desire are nothing but thoughts. Thought creates them. In sleep we remain alone, without thoughts. When we are alone there is no fear. Fear comes only due to thoughts, and thoughts are cheating us. We can be fearless only when we are perfectly alone, when we simply remain as we really are, devoid of thought. In sleep there is no fear because there is no thought.

The thinker is the first thought, the ‘I’-thought. Who is thinking? The ego, the first person. This first person, the first thought, rises on waking from sleep. The knowledge of the first person is the first knowledge we get on waking from sleep. Therefore, self-attention is ever going on. Until we know that, we have to make effort to attend to self, and after knowing it, we never have to worry about it or anything else.

Knowing self happens in a split second. It makes everything, the entire universe, dissolve.

Both light and darkness are necessary to make a film show. In the projector there is light, but the film has darker portions that prevent the light passing through. Only through the less dark portions does the light escape to the screen. If light alone were present, no film show would be seen. Likewise, if a uniformly dark film were present, nothing would be seen. Therefore both light and darkness are essential. To make the show of this world, both vidya (knowledge or self-awareness) and avidya (ignorance or self-forgetfulness) are necessary. But is it necessary to have this show?

3rd December 1977

Sadhu Om: The guru acts through our own discrimination (vivēka). Reflection (manana) on the guru’s teachings is itself a spiritual practice (sādhana), because by our reflecting and discriminating the hold of our vāsanas (mental inclinations or propensities) is weakened and our mind is kept in quietude – that is, in the quiescent state of self-attention.

4th December 1977

Sadhu Om: The various theories taught by Bhagavan (regarding karma, prārabdha, surrender, God, guru and so on) will often contradict each other, but will never contradict the need for self-attention. All such theories are merely clues or aids that help us cling to self-attention. They are each suited to different moods of the mind.

Self-attention is the only watertight theory. All other theories are riddled with loopholes and contradictions. Therefore if instead of quietening the mind they give rise to doubts, set them aside by investigating who thinks about them.

Self-attention is the sole aim of all Bhagavan’s teachings. He taught us that self alone exists and is real, and that all else is a dream, a figment of our imagination. He said, ‘Attend to that for which you came’; we came for knowing self and not for learning many theories. However, a thorough understanding of his teachings and the theories he proposed will enable us to quieten our mind in any situation.

Bhagavan has given us a simple teaching: ‘Your own self-awareness is the only thing that seems to be permanent. Therefore do research on it alone: attend to it, and cling to it firmly’. Though this teaching is simple, it is the greatest of all treasures.

Grace acts by persistently reminding us of self. To forget self (that is, to attend to anything else) is misery; to remember self is peace or bliss.

Whenever any doubts, questions or new ideas arise, reflect on whether they could arise in your sleep. Obviously they could not, so they are external to you. Therefore forget them and remain as you were in sleep.

The mind is controlled effectively by knowledge alone. Root out all disturbances by keen and sharp discrimination. Do not try to rely on forcible control.

Krishna said that he will attend to the needs of those who always meditate only on him without thinking of anything else (Bhagavad Gītā 9.22; Bhagavad Gītā Sāram verse 31). What does this mean? He is our real self, and nothing is other than him, so he can only attend to himself. If we also attend only to self, without thinking of anything else, where are any ‘needs’? Other than ourself, nothing is real, so we should attend only to self.

When Ramasami Pillai asked Bhagavan which thoughts should be rejected as bad and which should be accepted as good, he replied, ‘Reject all thoughts, even the thought of Bhagavan’.

Never think you are a beginner in the early stages of sādhana. Always act as if the dawn of self-knowledge might come any moment.

We will be standing on our own feet only when we are able to reject all disturbances – come what may – by keen discrimination. Then all books, satsaṅg and other outward aids will be unnecessary.

Whatever disturbances may come, remember that they are because ‘I am’. As a result of our daily practice, the thought ‘I am’ will immediately pull us back to self-attention.

There are no straight routes to our goal. That is, a rigid or formal approach is impossible, because self-enquiry is an art, and each situation must be dealt with in an appropriate manner as it arises. Bhagavan has given us an armoury of weapons suited to each situation, so when the shield does not work use the sword. When the mind is agitated an attitude of surrender may help, but when the mind is quiet do not think, ‘I should surrender; how to do so?’ but instead use that quietness to abide as self.

There is no such thing as ‘partial surrender’. Surrender is only real surrender when it is complete. What is called ‘partial surrender’ is only a practice aiming at complete surrender, and that practice is the correct discrimination in any given situation that will lead the mind back to self-attention.

5th December 1977

Sadhu Om: To dwell upon ‘I am’ in whatever way is possible is good contemplation (manana). It is the practice that will root out all interest in other things (second and third persons) and make self-abidance easy.

Good and bad are based on the limiting concept ‘I am the body’. The experience of the jñāni is simply ‘I am’. Though it may seem that the jñāni sees differences, he never actually experiences any distinctions such as good or bad. He is ever contented with the knowledge ‘I am’. ‘I am’ is both the way and the goal (as Bhagavan teaches us in verse 579 of Guru Vācaka Kovai).

Bhagavan is the greatest siddha. He knows well what work need be done on us and how to do it. Though we do not know it, he is doing his work all the time.

Erratic behaviour only occurs if a disciple has a profound change of outlook while still retaining some individuality. Bhagavan will always bring about the required change of outlook (the experience of true self-knowledge) together with the loss of individuality, so no outward changes will be seen in those whom he liberates, and no ‘I’ will rise in them to say ‘I have had this change of outlook’, nor will he say anything (that is, he will not say that they have been liberated).

He used to give the example of a hard-shelled fruit which an elephant swallows whole and excretes unbroken, but when the shell is broken open the contents are found to have been digested. Likewise, when Bhagavan consumes anyone’s ego, they will outwardly appear unchanged. No one can say how many egos Bhagavan has thus consumed⁠1.

In one of his verses Muruganar sang to Bhagavan, ‘You have given me sahaja [my natural state] without letting me experience nirvikalpa samādhi, close my eyes, or do any sādhana’. Such is Bhagavan’s guruship, but if he were asked how he does it, he would say, ‘I don’t know; I just know that I am’.

There is only a thin line between jñāna and ajñāna. At the right time, a shock may enable one to cross the line and have that small change of outlook.

‘I am’ is neither inside nor outside. Dwell on the fact that ‘I am’ is devoid of limitations. Dwell on the feeling of being. That is self, and it alone exists.

The karma theory is riddled with loopholes, ambiguities and dubious assumptions. Firstly it presupposes that the ever non-existent ego exists as a doer, and on top of this false assumption it piles up one false assumption over another: the existence of God, āgāmya, sañcita, prārabdha, their functions and so on. Do not merely doubt the theory; doubt whether you exist as a doer.

6th December 1977

Sadhu Om: Initiation is only necessary for students in the first or second standard [in the school of bhakti described in The Path of Sri Ramana], because they need to be taught rituals or mantras before they can start such practices. For students in the fourth standard no initiation is necessary, because the fact that they have been drawn to the sadguru indicates that they have already passed beyond such preliminary practices.

The guru works directly through the matured mind of an aspirant, using the aspirant’s own discrimination to turn his attention towards self. If an aspirant does proper study (śravaṇa) and reflection (manana) on the guru’s words, he will clearly understand that self-attention is the only practice that is necessary, and that all other practices are superfluous.

A true aspirant will understand that ‘I am’ is the guru. If the guru were merely a body, he would disappear as he appeared, and would therefore be useless. To search for a ‘living’ guru is absurd, because the ‘living’ guru will sooner or later become a dead guru. If an aspirant has understood the teachings of the guru correctly, he will no longer look for the guru outside, because he will have faith that the guru is ever present within himself as ‘I am’.

Bhagavan used to say that the body of the guru is a veil covering him in the view of his devotees, because it conceals from them his true form as self. What advantage do devotees who were blessed to be in his physical presence have now? All they now have is a memory, which is no better than a dream. If they think proudly, ‘I have seen Bhagavan’, that is just another opportunity for their ego to rise.

To have come to Bhagavan is a sign of our ignorance, but he removes that ignorance by enabling us to understand that his presence is not limited to any place here or there, because it alone exists. He does not allow us to cling to anything external, but makes us discriminate and understand that ‘I am’ alone is eternal, and that the guru therefore cannot be anything other than that.

I am now so well soaked in Bhagavan’s teachings, so firmly convinced by them, that I cannot take serious interest in any other guru or teaching. But this is not a fault, because such a strong conviction is necessary.

When Bhagavan was ill with cancer, I composed ten verses saying, ‘If you can form even a single resolution (saṁkalpa), think of this helpless creature, who can do nothing for himself’ and so on. When he read those verses he smiled, and that smile showed me my foolishness. It said to me, ‘If my thought, look or touch can help you, how much more so can my silence?’

Thinking, looking and touching are actions that require a body, but his silence requires no physical presence. Silence is the most effective weapon, so to ask the guru to use any other means is like asking a general to use a crowbar to open a fortress, even though he is already bombarding it with cannons, bombs and all the most powerful weapons. We have Bhagavan’s words, which are sufficient to turn our mind selfwards, and his silence is sufficient to do whatever else is required.

We must be content with our guru, because even on the spiritual path chastity (fidelity to one’s own guru) is necessary. If we chase after other gurus, that is a sign of a wandering mind and lack of discrimination, which will only obstruct the work being done by his grace.

If we do proper reflection (manana) on Bhagavan’s teachings, we will find no room for discontent.

9th December 1977

Sadhu Om: We must be careful not to feed the ‘I’ in any way. That is an important part of spiritual practice (sādhana). At every twist and turn, we must be alert against the rising of this ‘I’. To sit in the hall [Bhagavan’s ‘old hall’ in Ramanasramam] is good, but it is also necessary to watch all the time that we do not feed ‘I’.

We should not even think of becoming a guru or guiding others. Avoiding such ideas is good discipleship. We must always be humble and self-effacing. If we want fame or the good opinions of others, then we are no better than worldly people, because we are still thinking that happiness comes from things outside ourself.

How can an aspirant mix with worldly-minded people? Their thought-current is completely opposed to ours. If one feels increasingly out of place in this world, and if one has less and less liking to mix with worldly-minded people, that is a sign of progress.

True progress is not raising kuṇḍalinī to here or there, but is just humility. To be constantly self-effacing in every way is a sure means to samādhi.

Bhagavan told us to be quiet, but nowadays so-called ‘yogis’ and ‘maharishis’ are shouting so much. Bhagavan lived as a perfect example of the state of jñāna, but where can you see such an example among all the famous ‘sages’ today? Tinnai Swami⁠2 is the nearest I have seen to what Bhagavan taught us: complete non-interference. To keep quiet and not to interfere is the best way of living in the world.

When an old woman cursed Bhagavan for roaming about the hill in the heat of the sun among all the thorny plants, asking him why he did not just keep quiet, he did not reply arrogantly, ‘But I am a great maharishi’, but merely thought, ‘Yes, that is also good. Why not? To keep quiet is best’.

We should not want to have anything or to be anything. Great saints have prayed, ‘Send me to heaven or hell. I do not even ask for liberation (mōkṣa). Only let me always cling to you alone’.

What use is the good opinion of others? At most it will last only for the lifetime of this body.

10th December 1977

Sadhu Om: In verse 273 of Guru Vācaka Kovai Bhagavan says that the self-awareness (sat-bōdha or being-consciousness) that exists and shines in all, as all, is the guru.

To be qualified for the fourth standard [in the school of bhakti] one must have wholehearted love for guru, and one must try to put his teachings into practice, at least insofar as one understands them. Unless one sincerely wants and tries to follow the guru’s teachings, one does not have the true guru-bhakti required to be in the fourth standard⁠3.

For example, although Devaraja Mudaliar said he had no brain for self-enquiry, Bhagavan was everything to him, so he followed the path of self-surrender as he understood it. One may be bottom of the class, but unquestioning faith in the guru can overcome all obstacles in a moment. Even if we do not succeed now in our attempts to abide as self, we should at least sincerely want and try to abide thus.

Progress can never be judged. Bhagavan knows exactly the right medicine required to mature each one of us, so he knows which vāsana (propensity) to release at each moment. Someone who is getting 5% today may get 100% tomorrow, whereas someone else who is getting 90% today may not seem to improve for years. A person may be always caught up in worldly affairs, but if he is always feeling, ‘This is all useless nonsense; when can I be quiet?” he may be doing better than someone who is always sitting in meditation.

A lady devotee who lived nearby complained to Bhagavan that she had not been able to come to his hall for fifteen days because she had to attend to relatives who had come to stay. He replied, ‘That is good. It is better that you were at home with your relatives and that your mind was here, than if you had been here and your mind had been thinking of them’.

Ramakrishna told the following story: A sādhu led a pure life and wanted to help a pious prostitute, so he counted the number of people who visited her house by placing stones in a pile, and after many years he told her that the pile of stones represented her sins, so in repentance she locked her door and starved to death. He also passed away, but she was taken to heaven because she was repentant, whereas he was taken to hell because his mind was always dwelling on her sins.

He also told a similar story of two friends, one of whom listened to the Bhāgavatam while the other went to a brothel. The first regretted his decision and envied his friend, who he thought was enjoying himself in the brothel, while the second felt disgusted with himself and would have preferred to be listening to the holy book. The first went to hell and the second went to heaven.

The moral of these stories is that our outward actions are not as important as our inner thoughts and attitude. Likewise, intense longing for self-abidance is essential, even if we fail in our efforts to abide as self.

In order to be free, we only need to experience our being as it really is for just one moment. When an aspirant is sufficiently matured through the school of bhakti, the guru will give the final tap, and thus he will be promoted to the fifth standard, which is liberation (mōkṣa). That may happen at any moment.

The love to abide as self is the real sign of guru-bhakti.

People want to leave something for the world when they die, but when the body dies this world, which is our projection, ceases to exist. If we care about the world, we haven’t understood Bhagavan properly.

In the English translation of Who Am I? in Words of Grace the world is said to appear or be perceived ‘as an apparent objective reality’ (which is a term that Bhagavan did not use in the Tamil original). What does ‘objective reality’ mean? Objects have the same degree of reality as the subject, but both are unreal. Reality is neither objective nor subjective.

Even Krishna talks of the earnest enquirer passing on to enjoy celestial worlds and then returning to do sadhana in this world, as if all these worlds existed in our absence.

Bhagavan said that not only does self not know other things, but it does not even know itself. Knowing is part of a dyad (knowing or not knowing) and a triad (knower, knowing and what is known), but self is just being, and hence devoid of all forms of doing, including knowing. Being is knowing, but not in the ordinary sense of this word, which refers to an action. Therefore when Bhagavan said that self does not even know itself, he meant that its self-awareness is not an action but its natural state of just being. He did not mean that it does not know ‘I am’, but that it is devoid of knowing as we commonly conceive it.

This world is nothing but a projection of our own vāsanas (dispositions), so anyone who reacts to it with feelings such as curiosity, desire, anger, fear or hatred is like a small child or monkey when it first confronts its own reflection in a mirror. At first it is curious, then it becomes angry, then it gives a blow, and finally it runs back to its mother in fear.

If we desire anything from God or guru, we do not have deva-bhakti or guru-bhakti [true love for God or guru] but only visaya-bhakti [love for objects or objective experiences]. Only when we desire nothing are we qualified for the third (b) or fourth standards [in the ‘school of bhakti’ described in The Path of Sri Ramana].

Of course, when they first come to the guru even sincere aspirants desire moksa, peace or whatever else they call it. Mumuksutva is necessary for the fourth standard [guru-bhakti], but what the guru makes the aspirant understand is that moksa [liberation] is not gaining anything but losing everything. To learn this is the purpose of the fourth standard, and when it has been learnt thoroughly we will be in the fifth standard [pure svatma-bhakti or love for self, which is the state of moksa].

Many like Muruganar and Natananandar came to Bhagavan for moksa alone and prayed accordingly. Their prayers purified their minds and gave them the discrimination to understand that complete loss of individuality is the only true moksa.

Bhagavan has taught us how to pray: in verse 30 of Aksaramanamalai he sang, ‘Destroying [my worldly] greatness and making [me] naked [in the state of nirvana], give me the greatness of [your] grace’.

He said that even surrender (as it is usually understood) is not true deva-bhakti, because everything is already God’s, so we can only return what was never ours, as he taught us in verse 486 of Guru Vacaka Kovai: ‘[Imagining our self to be separate from God] our lovingly offering that self to God, who exists as [our real] clearly experienced self, is just like breaking [a piece from] a sweet sugar [idol of] Ganapati and offering [it back in worship] to that Ganapati’. True deva-bhakti is not to rise as a separate self in the first place, even to surrender that self to God.

In verse 29 of Upadesa Undiyar he sang, ‘Abiding in this state [of self-knowledge], [which is] the way to experience supreme bliss devoid of [any thought of] bondage or liberation, is abiding in the service of God’. By abiding thus, without rising as a separate ‘I’, we are sparing God the trouble of having to save us from our own self-created ignorance. This is the best service we can do for him, and is therefore the only real deva-bhakti.

13th December 1977

Sadhu Om: The mind will always feel that self-attention is difficult, because it can never attend to self. Only self can attend to self.

When a French devotee told him that Swami Siddheswarananda [the founder and head of the Ramakrishna Mission centre in France] had said, ‘Very few have known who Bhagavan is’, Muruganar replied, ‘That is true. Bhagavan’s ashram is not confined within the four walls of this compound. The whole universe is his ashram. The whole universe is himself’. He later added, ‘Bhagavan alone exists’.

During his final illness, when some devotees suggested that he pray to Bhagavan to relieve his suffering, Muruganar replied, ‘You can pray to your God, but I cannot. My God doesn’t answer. My God cannot answer’.

Sastra-vasana (the disposition to study numerous spiritual and philosophical texts) is created only if one does no more than sravana (reading) and superficial manana (reflection). If a learned pandit who seeks name and fame did a little deep manana, he would reflect thus: ‘If brahman, the one self, alone exists, why do I want the appreciation of others? Where are any others? Who am I?’

If reflection on the guru’s words is done only as an aid to practical sadhana, it will not create any sastra-vasanas. The guru’s words will always turn the mind back to self-attention, because they all point only to self.

For a young and earnest aspirant whose mind is still fresh, only a little manana is needed. Whenever his mind strays outwards he will reflect, ‘All that is perceived through the five senses is known by me, so knowledge of anything only indicates that I am’, and thus he will easily restore his self-attention.

During nididhyasana (contemplation on self) a little manana (that is, just a few thoughts) can sometimes help to prevent the mind from straying away from self-attention, but ultimately all these aids must go. In Who Am I? Bhagavan says that a time will come when we will have to forget everything that we have learnt. To forget second and third persons (everything other than ourself) is peaceful; to remember them is troublesome.

When he was young, Natananandar once said to an older devotee who was asking Bhagavan many questions about how to practice atma-vicara: ‘When the infinite self-shining “I” is standing inside you like a rock, why do you have so many doubts?’

19th December 1977

Sadhu Om: Dispassion (vairagya) comes only through knowledge. It is cultivated by reflection (manana) and discrimination (viveka), and sustained by the clear conviction that everything is ‘I’, that nothing is independent of our own self-awareness, and that self alone exists.

Why to say that a mind or ego exists in sleep in order to know ‘nothingness’? Why not understand instead that it is self that knows that ‘nothingness’, and that that ‘nothingness’ itself is nothing other than self. If you can understand that, then you can understand that self also knows this ‘everythingness’, and that ‘everythingness’ is also nothing other than self.

In fact no ego or mind exists even now, so why to say it exists in sleep? There is only one ‘I’, so the ‘I’ that knows all this is only self. Why to admit the existence of an ego?

In Bhagavan’s path we cannot admit the existence of any state of ‘void’ or ‘nothingness’, because in order to experience such a state we would have to exist in it, and hence it would not be devoid of ourself, but only of other things. Since nothing else exists in it, it would be full of ourself, and hence purna, not sunya. To anyone who imagined they have reached a void, Bhagavan would say, ‘Investigate who experiences it’. However, even that would not be necessary if we firmly cling to self-attention.

In the mangalam verse of Ulladu Narpadu Anubandham Bhagavan says that everything is self: self is that in which, of which, from which, for which, by which and which everything actually is. To tell the truth, even this (our everyday activity) is self-attention. Why then are Bhagavan’s clues necessary? Only because we now mistake our natural state of self-awareness to be a state of awareness of many things other than ourself. It is only as a means to remove this mistaken experience of otherness and manyness that Bhagavan asked us to attend only to self.

An elderly devotee did not visit Bhagavan for a while because he thought he could become like Bhagavan on his own. After a long time he returned, just as Bhagavan was stitching some leaf-plates, and Bhagavan said to him, ‘See, we take so much care to stitch these plates, but after eating from them we throw them away. Bhagavan is like a leaf-plate: only when he has served his purpose should you throw him away’. Therefore Bhagavan and the clues he has given us are necessary until we experience the dawn of self-knowledge, and after that we will see that we – the one self – alone exist, and that Bhagavan and his clues are also only ourself.

Our mind experiencing objects is like sunlight falling on a mirror and being reflected onto a wall. The reflection (which is like the objects we experience) is light, the reflecting mirror (which is like our experiencing mind) is light – and when looked at directly it seems to be another sun – and the sun (which is like self, the source of our mind’s light of consciousness) is light. Everything is light, and the light is one. Likewise, we and all that we experience are only the one light of consciousness, which is self.

Can the mind rise without the support of self? Can it exist without self-awareness? It is all so simple, but immature minds think, ‘Then self-knowledge is only like the nothingness of sleep. It doesn’t look very tasty in comparison with all the interesting things outside in the world’. What can we say to them? We cannot change them, so we just have to let them suffer a bit more until they understand that oneness is peace and manyness is pain.

In the shade it is pleasant, in the sun it is scorching. We always have the freedom to turn within to see the light and thus enjoy the shade. When by force of old habit we wander out again, we say to Bhagavan, ‘That was only laya, I want nasa’, and he replies, ‘Turn again to the source and see if manyness exists there’. By repeatedly turning away consciously from the manyness in this way we come to see that it does not exist apart from us, and that it is therefore not something we need to fear. Some reach this realisation after just a few attempts, but for others it takes longer because their attention is not so sharp and clear.

23rd December 1977

Sadhu Om: Once a PWD inspector asked Bhagavan, ‘How can we live a pure life in this world?’ and he replied, ‘You know the nattan-kal [a standing stone fixed at a road junction] we have in our villages [in the Madurai district]. See how many uses it has: villagers place their head-loads on it when they take rest, cows use it as a scratching-post, betel-chewers wipe their surplus chunnam [lime-paste] on it, and others spit on it. We must live in this world like those nattan-kal’.

It is only in our view that Bhagavan appears to be compassionate. He actually has no compassion, because compassion entails the existence of others, and in his view there are no others. However, it is also true to say that he has perfect compassion, because he loves us all as himself, so he truly suffers with each of our sufferings. See the paradoxical nature of self-knowledge. It reconciles irreconcilable opposites. It makes having no compassion the same as having perfect compassion. Who can understand the state of self-knowledge?

‘Love is our being, desire is our rising’. Love wants oneness, desire wants manyness. The movement of love is towards oneness, and of desire is towards manyness. Love is ever self-contented, desire is ever discontented. The fulfilment and perfect state of love is self-love (svatma-bhakti), which is the experience of absolute oneness, but desire can never be fulfilled.

Therefore all yogas or sadhanas aim towards oneness (which is sometimes called ‘union’ with God or the reality), and one-pointedness of mind is their vehicle. Sadhana is a growth from desire to love, and self-love is the driving force behind this growth. The development of this growth towards love leads the aspirant to love just one God or one guru, which is the highest form of dualistic love, and the most effective aid to develop perfect self-love.

The guru shows the aspirant that the only means to achieve perfect self-love is self-attention. The aspirant therefore eagerly practises self-attention, but until his practice blossoms into true self-love, he continues clinging to his guru as the object of his love. His guru-bhakti is the stay and support that steadies and strengthens his growth towards self-love. This is the state that Bhagavan describes in verse 72 of Aksaramanamalai:

Arunachala, protect [me] as a support to cling to so that I may not droop down like a tender creeper without support.

The aspirant’s love for and faith in his guru constantly drives him back to self-attention, which is the path taught by the guru, and as a result he comes to be increasingly convinced that his own self is the true form of his guru. Thus his dualistic guru-bhakti dissolves naturally and smoothly into non-dualistic svatma-bhakti (love for self alone), which is his true nature. One-pointed fidelity to the guru and his teachings is therefore an essential ingredient in sadhana, and it alone will yield the much longed for fruit of self-knowledge.

In Sri Arunachala Stuti Panchakam Bhagavan teaches us the true nature of guru-bhakti. For example:

Arunachala, when I took refuge in you as [my only] God, you completely annihilated me. (Aksaramanamalai verse 48)

... Is there any deficiency [or grievance] for me? . . . Do whatever you wish, my beloved, only give me ever-increasing love for your two feet. (Navamanimalai verse 7)

… What to say? Your will is my will, [and] that [alone] is happiness for me, lord of my life. (Patikam verse 2)

It is necessary to attempt to practice self-attention before one can possibly write commentaries on or translate Bhagavan’s works. Only by repeatedly trying and failing can one begin to understand his teachings.

Take for instance the first sentence of Ulladu Narpadu: ‘Except what is, does consciousness that is exist?’ To a mind that is unaccustomed to the practice of self-attention this will seem a very abstract idea, because the first word ulladu (‘what is’ or existence) will immediately suggest the existence of things, so such a mind will understand this sentence to mean, ‘Unless things exist, can they be known?’ But Bhagavan is always pointing to self, so by the word ulladu he means nothing other than ‘I’, which is the sole reality, that which alone actually exists.

However this will be immediately understood only by those who are well-soaked in the practice of self-attention. Such a person will understand this sentence to mean, ‘Other than what is (namely ‘I’), can there be any consciousness of being (any awareness ‘am’)?’ which they will understand as implying, ‘My self-awareness (cit) is not other than my being (sat)’. It is so simple, but to ordinary people it seems abstract.

All scriptures and gurus aim at drawing our attention to ourselves, but as I said in the first part of The Path of Sri Ramana, up till now they have all started by conceding to our ignorant outlook of taking the ego to be real, and so they start their teaching from that perspective. But why not start from the source – from what is actually real? Bhagavan was a revolutionary, so he never conceded that our viewpoint was correct, but instead always pointed directly to the one self-evident reality, ‘I am’.

Nowadays people have so many strange ideas about yoga, but in Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan has given us a clear idea of what real yoga actually is.

It is to Muruganar that we owe the composition of Ulladu Narpadu. If it were not for him those twenty-one verses would have been ignored [a reference to the twenty-one stray verses composed by Bhagavan that Muruganar gathered together and asked him on 21st July 1928 to enlarge upon to form a work revealing the nature of reality and the means by which we can experience it, which prompted him to compose during the next three weeks Ulladu Narpadu, in which eventually only three of the original twenty-one verses were included (namely verses 16, 37 and 40), leaving the other eighteen to be relegated to the supplement (anubandham)]. Bhagavan was so confident of the power of his silence that he took no initiative to write or record his teachings, so it is to Muruganar that we owe the composition and compilation of the three principal sastras [scriptural texts] containing Bhagavan’s philosophy, namely Upadesa Undiyar, Ulladu Narpadu and Guruvachaka Kovai.

24th December 1977

Sadhu Om (when asked why Bhagavan when he rewrote Nan Yar? (Who am I?) as an essay omitted the first sentence of his reply to question 19 in the earlier thirty question-and-answer version: ‘God and guru will only show the way to attain moksha [liberation], but cannot⁠4 by themselves [or of their own accord] establish individuals in moksha’): What he said there is true, because unless we want moksha, God or guru will never give it to us. Wanting or desiring is love or priya, which is one of the three aspects of the reality, sat-cit-ananda (being-consciousness-happiness), which is also known as asti-bhati-priya (being-shining-love), so it is the nature of self, and hence a prerequisite for moksha. Perhaps he omitted this sentence so that people would not misunderstand it and be discouraged, because the grace of God or guru works in us by sowing the seed of desire for moksha and then cultivating it into its fully blossomed state of svatma-bhakti (love for self), which is itself the state of moksha.

26th December 1977

Sadhu Om: Thought, word and deed should always be in harmony, each consistent with the other two, because then only can grace flow in our heart. Grace will only flow freely when it has a clear and open passage. If thought, word, and deed contradict each other, each one following its own course, the flow of grace will be obstructed.

I don’t know how people can live like that [referring to the behaviour of a confidence trickster], because their mind could never be at rest. For such people grace can never flow until they reform their deceitful attitude and behaviour.

28th December 1977

Sadhu Om: Wanting is priya (love, affection or joy), the ananda aspect of ourself. Unless we want moksha, guru can never give it to us. Now we want manyness, so using our original freedom to will and act [which is a reflection of the infinite freedom of brahman, our real nature] we see manyness. Guru teaches us to want and love only oneness. He wins us over by love, and we love him so much that we believe that what he teaches us is correct, so in accordance with his teachings we want to remain as we really are. He says, ‘Just be’, so we try to remain as self, and our love eventually drowns us (the ego) in self.

Who wants manyness? The Vedas say, ‘You are that’. It must always come back to this ‘I’, so what is it? Guru’s work is only to make us interested in investigating and knowing this ‘I’ – to make us want to remain as self. People think that other factors such as meditation, tapas and so on are involved, but all that is actually required is to want just to be.

And who is guru? Truly God and guru are nowhere. You alone exist. When you wake up from this dream, you will find there is no God or guru, nor any ego striving for mukti.

Ramakrishna once said that God’s anugraha (grace) is ready, and guru’s anugraha is ready, but that one more person’s anugraha is required. That is, your own anugraha is what is now essential.

Once we have come to guru, there is no need to worry. Everything else follows in its own time. Once, during the Golden Jubilee celebrations in 1948, I was so confident of his grace that I composed ten enthusiastic verses saying, ‘Who can die? Can death ever touch me again? Let Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva all turn their backs on me! Brahma has now truly lost one of his creatures’, and so on. Bhagavan merely read it and put it aside. A few months later, however, I was again in a praying mood. I was depressed and felt helpless without his grace. I came before him in that mood, and found him reading my Jubilee verses. I felt ashamed of my mood. He didn’t have to say anything. That was his way of teaching me that there is no need for dejection.

People want a ‘living’ guru. I suppose they expect him to show them the way to a ‘living’ God. Guru wants us to see ourself as brahman, but we want to see brahman as a human form. Bhagavan always said that self alone is guru, and that his body is unnecessary. He proved this by giving the flash of true knowledge only after he had left his body. Muruganar said that Bhagavan always said that his body was a veil over the reality, and so the light only became clear when his body passed away.

People say to me, ‘It’s alright for you to say a living guru is unnecessary, but you had a living guru’. To them I say that what I learnt from my living guru is that a living guru is unnecessary, and everyone else can learn the same if they study Bhagavan’s works and do a little manana (reflection) on their import.

Unless you understand that self is guru, even a living guru cannot help you. Most people who were with Bhagavan didn’t get moksha because they didn’t want it. Bhagavan teaches us that sooner or later we must be satisfied with self, so why not be satisfied with it now?

People think that the guru must be a person, but guru is only the first person, the real ‘I’ within us. Not satisfied with this first person, they go seeking a second person to be their guru. Our aim, however, should only be to get rid of even the first person (our ego) – to drown our false personhood in self.

When our guru says that he cannot give us moksha unless we want it, we should think, ‘What, am I really such an important factor?’ and thus our attention should be drawn back to ourself. In fact, guru gives us moksha by making us want it, and therefore he always stresses the need for us to wish for it and to make effort for it.

Indeed, guru is all in all, so he is essential and he alone can give us moksha. He is however our own self, sat-cit-ananda, so he gives us moksha, which is our natural state of being (sat), by means of knowledge (cit) and love (ananda). He makes us know and love him as our own self.

29th December 1977

Sadhu Om (in reply to my question whether he was doing any sadhana in the years before he came to Bhagavan): I was longing for grace and always thinking of God. That is sadhana enough!

Some people say that the light seen at the time of Bhagavan’s passing was him returning to Skandaloka [the world of Skanda, the younger son of Lord Siva]. First they try to limit him as a body, and then they try to limit him as a light. Their minds are so bound up in limitations that they have to limit even the illimitable. Bhagavan always said: ‘Do not think this body is me. I am shining in each one of you as ‘I’. Attend only to that’.

How often and for how many lives have we fooled ourselves thinking that our social service is selfless? We did it only for our own self-satisfaction or glory. It is natural for each one of us to love ourself. We are all naturally selfish, so we should first find out what is self. When we know ourself as we really are, we will experience everything as not other than ourself, and thus our selfishness will then be the highest virtue. Only a jnani knows how to be truly selfish, because without knowing self we cannot know what real (unlimited) selfishness is.

In the path of surrender saints sing, ‘Send me to heaven or hell, but never let me forget you’, as if heaven and hell really exist. Their prayer only shows their total love for God alone. They teach us the right attitude, but they know that heaven and hell have no real existence. All these dualities – heaven and hell, good and bad, God and individual – exist only in the mind. So ultimately we must learn to make this mind subside.

When I first came to Bhagavan and heard him repeating constantly that everyone must eventually come to the path of self-enquiry, I wondered whether he was being partial to his own teaching, but I soon understood why he insisted that this is so. The final goal is only oneness, and to experience oneness our mind must subside, which will happen entirely only when we attend to nothing other than ourself.

So long as we attend to anything other than ourself, our mind cannot subside, because attention to other things sustains it, since that which experiences otherness is only this mind. When the mind subsides completely, only self-attention remains, and self-attention alone is the state of absolute oneness. Bhagavan used to repeat this teaching every day, maybe ten or twenty times, but still we didn’t change. He didn’t change his teaching either, because to him this truth was so clear.

The basic mistake we all make is to take a body to be ‘I’. This deeply entrenched feeling ‘I am this body called so-and-so’ is the root of all our trouble. If this tape-recorder is not working, we must attend to it and not to other things, because then only will we be able to repair it. Likewise, to rectify this mistaken identity, ‘I am so-and-so’, we must attend to it in order to know what it really is: what or who am I?

Only when we thus investigate ourself will the false adjunct ‘so-and-so’ drop off, and what will then remain is only the reality, ‘I am’. ‘I am so-and-so’ is the naivedyam [the food to be offered to God], and when Bhagavan has consumed the adjunct ‘so-and-so’, what remains is only ‘I am’, which is his prasadam [the purified remnant of God’s food, which is shared among devotees as a token of his grace].

‘I am’ alone really exists, so it is the true form of God and guru. To treat and cherish this filthy body as ‘I’ is therefore the worst kind of idol-worship. If we give up this idol-worship by knowing the truth of ourself, then we can worship anything as God, because we will know that nothing is other than him, our real self.

31st December 1977

Sadhu Om: Devotion to God or guru as a second or third person can never give knowledge (jnana); devotion can only lead to devotion. Knowledge alone can give knowledge. ‘I am’ is the only true knowledge, so attention to that alone can lead to knowledge. Self-attention is the only true means, the ultimate means.

1st January 1978

Sadhu Om: When we awake from sleep we experience a new clarity of knowledge before we become aware of the body and world. The practice of sadhana is trying to cling to this clarity.

Sitting in the Old Hall [where Bhagavan lived] is not essential if you are able to be aware of this clarity at other times. However, there is no harm in meditating in the Old Hall. If you should not be doing so, Bhagavan will prevent you from doing so; you need not worry about that. There is something special in the Old Hall that automatically reminds us of our own being, but of course we can be aware of our being anywhere else as well.

Effort is unnecessary for self, because self-attention is natural and effortless. Effort is only needed for the mind. It is the nature of self to attend to self, and it is the nature of the mind to attend to second and third persons. Sadhana is only for the mind, and the effort to attend to the feeling ‘I’ is only to keep the mind quiet – in its natural state of pure self-awareness.

It is not strictly true to say that self-enquiry begins with effort and ends with effortlessness, but for the sake of the sadhaka we may say so. Effort is required so long as the mind needs to be reminded of its true nature, ‘I am’, but when even awareness of second and third persons automatically reminds one of one’s own existence, ‘I am’ [because what is aware of them is ‘I’], then effort is no longer needed. When we can see only waves we must make some effort to notice the ocean underlying them, but when we know that the waves are nothing other than the ocean, effort is not needed.

All thoughts contain an element of the past or future in them. Can you make a thought about the present moment? If you seriously try to do so, all thoughts, including the thought ‘I’, will cease. This is another clue for self-attention. There are so many clues, you see.

Question: In practice we never actually attend to self. All the time we spend in the Old Hall we are only trying to do so. If we really attended to self for one moment, that would be liberation, would it not?

Sadhu Om: What, do you mean to say that even now you are not liberated? Are you not always attending to self? You know ‘I am’, and you only know something if you are attending to it. Even when you attend to second and third persons, it is ‘I’ that is attending, and that ‘I’ is always aware of itself.

Such manana [cogitation or deep reflection] is essential until you understand thoroughly that self-attention is natural and eternal, and that all else shines by the light of that self-awareness. This manana will lead you right up to the boundary. Nididhyasana [contemplation, the practice of pure self-attention] is actually only for a moment. When you really practise what you have heard and understood, you cross the boundary, and that is jnana.

Ignore the mind, it needn’t concern us. We are not the mind, so when we lose interest in it, it will die a natural death. This is why Bhagavan is always drawing our attention to self. He never allows us to become interested in the thinking mind or anything other than the feeling ‘I’: ‘What is this ‘I’? What is the source from which it appears?’ All that is required is that our interest in this feeling ‘I’ should increase. That is bhakti.

Enquiry, faith and bhakti are not contradictory. They are all necessary. Enquiry begins with faith. Unless we have faith in the guru who tells us that self-attention is the means to true happiness, we would not be interested in attending to the first person. And when we practise self-attention, our experience of inner clarity confirms our faith, and thus our love for the guru increases.

Some people think that they can practise self-enquiry, so they do not need faith or bhakti. Such people know neither what bhakti nor what enquiry actually is.

The purpose of the outer guru is to make us understand the need for self-attention and to enkindle love for it in our heart. A living person is of course not needed for that. Bhagavan’s books serve the same purpose, and he provides us with fellow devotees and other outer aids as and when necessary. The environment or circumstances in which we live are provided by the guru, who knows what the most suitable environment is for maturing us.

When we start trying to attend to the first person, the guru within, who is self, will start working. Whenever we attend to ‘I’, the guru’s work is going on. Once we have been given a taste for self-attention, our love for it naturally increases and matures, like the momentum of a rubber ball as it bounces down a flight of stairs.

To think of the real greatness of a jnani is a good means to quieten the mind. When Arjuna’s grandson, king Parikshit, was cursed that he would die in seven days, he went to his guru, Suka Brahmarishi. Suka told him that he was fortunate, because he was assured seven days, and then he started to tell him the story of Krishna. Parakshit was so absorbed in hearing the greatness of Krishna that six days passed by unnoticed, and when Suka reminded him that he would die that day, he replied, ‘Who will die, only this body!’ Hearing about Krishna had given him jnana. Sometimes, when I used to think of Bhagavan and his real greatness, hours would pass without my noticing them. Great jnanis are such that even thinking of them can quieten our mind.

2nd January 1978

Sadhu Om: Once we have wholeheartedly taken Bhagavan to be our guru, we have no need to worry: we are like the child in its mother’s lap. Of course, we cannot expect Bhagavan to choose us as his disciples, because in his view there are no others, so it is for us to decide that he is our only guru and protector.

Once we have wholeheartedly decided this, then we are truly having association or satsanga with him. This is really the satsanga that he refers to in the first five verses of Ulladu Narpadu Anubandham. Once we enjoy this satsanga, he will be working from within and without. From outside he will shape our physical circumstances suitably, and from inside he will work deep within our cittam, where he will root out our vasanas by burning, drying, churning out or dealing with them in whatever other way is most appropriate. We may not see any changes, of course, because the mind is not a suitable instrument for gauging its own development.

The influence of his silence is of course dependent upon [the receptivity of] us, the receiver set. As he says in Nan Yar? (Who am I?), we must unfailingly follow the path shown by the guru. We must be sincere in our love for him. He says that he is self-shining in each one of us as ‘I’, so if we really love him, we will naturally and happily attend to this ‘I’. When we are thus in his hands, he will make us do whatever is necessary. When we should attend to self, he will make us do so, and when we need some other experiences, he will provide them also.

If Bhagavan was truly a fit guru (our real self) when he was appearing as a body, then he must also be a fit guru now. But then he was with all his (brahman’s) five aspects, sat-cit-ananda-nama-rupa [being-consciousness-bliss and name-and-form], whereas he is now without nama-rupa, his false aspects, and hence he shines unimpeded as pure sat-cit-ananda. Therefore his power is now infinite.

He always used to say that his body was veiling his true nature, and that those that took that body to be guru would be disappointed. Now his body has gone, he has left us with no outward form to cling to, so we have no alternative but to accept that ‘I am’ alone is the guru. I have found that many disciples who have come to him after the passing of his body are more sincere and have clearer understanding than most of those who came earlier.

He now saves us from mistaking him to be the body, so what advantage would we gain from going to other bodies who are reputed to be great mahatmas? He has said that the greatest mahatma is within, so why not forget those other mahatmas and abide peacefully as this mahatma (our real self)?

Using the yardstick given to us by Bhagavan, we can now see that anyone who conducts classes and flies around the world, thinking that he is guiding others, is not a real guru, because the guru does not see any ignorant jivas to guide. Bhagavan never attempted to guide anyone, but just kept quiet, and it was always a great wonder to him when people came to him saying, ‘Bhagavan, I do not know myself, so please show the way to self’. What could he reply? He could only counter question: ‘Who does not know whose self? Who is this I?’

A mantra is a set of sacred syllables, and the word literally means ‘that which protects when meditated on’, coming from the same root as manas (mind) and manana (meditation or cogitation)’. Who is to be protected? The ego! A name of God will at least lead us to God, but a mantra will only protect us (our ego, mind or individuality) from God. There has been so much talk in India about mantras that nowadays people are not satisfied unless they are given a mantra. However, mantras are only for worldly things, so Bhagavan and Ramakrishna never initiated anyone with mantras.

Bhagavan’s instruction concerning mantra-japa was that we should watch the source from which the sound of the mantra rises. What did he mean? Since the sound rises only from oneself, who repeats the mantra, he meant that we should ignore the mantra and instead cling fast to self-attention.

The mind must be made one-pointed so that it will cling to one thing alone, but for that it is not necessary to practise concentration on any second or third person, such as our breathing, a mantra or a form of God. We can just as well start our concentration practice by attending to the first person, ‘I’. If we wish to learn to cycle in order to cycle to Tirukoilur, it is not necessary to practise in some open space here. Why not start our practice on the road to Tirukoilur? Likewise, since self is our goal, why not start by attending to self?

Some people may say that attending to ‘I’ is more difficult than attending to other things, but how can they prove their claim? In part one of The Path of Sri Ramana I have explained what is difficult and what is easy. Whatever you try to attend to, whenever your attention wanders you must draw it back to its target, and this is easy to do whether that target is ‘I’ or some object. Attending to the first person is the direct means, and attending to anything else is in no way any easier. Indeed, practising concentration on any object will only increase the outgoing tendency of the mind, and will thus hinder us when we turn towards self.

In Nan Yar? Bhagavan says, ‘... when the body dies, the mind seizes and takes the prana away’. This simply means that when the mind subsides into its source, the tendency or habit of breathing also subsides. Then as soon as the mind rises again, projecting a new body, the function of breathing restarts automatically and immediately. Whenever there is body-consciousness, there is breathing. Breathing is an ingrained habit of the mind, and if we try to see how breathing starts, the mind subsides. This is another clue for self-attention [because what breathing starts from is only ourself].

Scientists talk of an involuntary nervous system, but there is no such thing. If they looked to see how these ‘involuntary’ functions start, they would understand that all physical functions are volition-driven actions of the mind, so they can be controlled if they are scrutinized by a sharp and refined mind.

Bhagavan used to say that dream is the activity of a half-confused mind, and waking is the activity of a fully confused mind. In fact, the mind itself is confusion. We have so many confused beliefs – that we are born, that we have a past and a future, and so on – but if we really consider all such things, we will see that they are known only after we come into existence as this mind. If we carefully scrutinize the mind to see how and when all these thoughts arise, we will find that ‘I am’ alone is always shining. The past and future are only thoughts existing now, in the present moment.

Therefore I am a pukka atheist. I always say: don’t believe what you don’t know! The only thing we know directly and for certain is ‘I am’. We know of our birth only by hearing about it from others, but we know these ‘others’ only after knowing ourself. Our present knowledge of the past is only ideas obtained from memory or external sources, which are second or third persons, but we know second and third persons only after knowing the first person. Our belief in the future also relies upon a second or third person, namely the inferring faculty of our intellect. Even our experiences of the present moment are known only indirectly through our mind and senses. Hence, all knowledge is merely a reflection of our original knowledge, ‘I am’. It is all a flimsy reflection of our own self-awareness, and seems real and substantial only because of our mental confusion, which will disappear if we keenly scrutinize the first person or the present moment.

In Nan Yar? Bhagavan says that those who earn the gracious glance of the guru will surely be saved, but the guru’s glance is not just the glance of his physical eyes. If we wish to know if someone is looking at us, we must look at them, and since self is the guru, we must turn selfward to see if self is looking at us. Indeed the guru is always looking at us, so in order to be saved we only have to attend to him, who shines as ‘I’.

Many people say to me, ‘This self-enquiry is difficult, so please tell us what self-surrender is’, but in Nan Yar? Bhagavan says that self-attention alone is self-surrender:

Being completely absorbed in atma-nistha [self-abidance], giving not even the slightest room to the rising of any thought other than atma-cintana [self-contemplation], is giving ourself to God.

When people ask me what meditation Bhagavan taught, I reply that meditation means thinking, but Bhagavan instructed us not to think – to stop meditating. This is what he teaches us in the first mangalam verse of Ulladu Narpadu:

… Since the existing reality exists without thought in the heart, who can [or how to] meditate on [that] existing reality, which is called ‘heart’? Being as it is in the heart alone is ‘meditating’. Experience [thus].

The aim of all yogas is to make the mind one-pointed, so that it has the strength to abide firmly in its source. This is why I always recommend people to stick to one guru and wholeheartedly follow his teaching. Even if the guru is a bogus one, so long as your guru-bhakti is sincere, your one-pointedness of mind will soon give you the clarity to see that he is bogus. This is why Bhagavan criticised people going to many mahatmas. For example, in verse 121 of Guru Vacaka Kovai he says:

You who desire to see with wonder that mahatma and this mahatma! If you investigate and experience the nature of your own mahatma [great self] within you, [you will see that] every mahatma is only [that] one [your own self].

If you meet one real mahatma, he will teach you that the atma in you is the same as the atma in all mahatmas, and that it is therefore futile to go to any other mahatmas. One-pointed guru-bhakti is essential for the earnest practice of self-attention.

Another clue for self-attention is to try to see exactly when, how and from what thought arises. Such attention will automatically make the mind subside. Thought rises only when there is self-negligence (pramada), attention to anything other than self.

3rd January 1978

Question: Is attention to the present moment the same as self-attention?

Sadhu Om: Yes, or rather it is a clue leading to self-attention. Attention to any second or third person is not possible in the precise present moment, because thoughts, which are attention paid to second or third persons, are always moving. Such wavering attention can never result in knowledge of what is real, because to know what is real attention must stand still [since stillness is the nature of reality].

If you look for the present moment among second and third persons, you will find no such thing, but will find only a constant movement from past to future. However, if you attend to the first person, attention will stand still, and when attention is still it subsides into its source. You will then know that self is always present in the ‘now’, and that all else is non-existent.

When people are told to pay attention to the ‘now’, they find they cannot do so, because they are only attending to second and third persons. The clue of self-attention is essential, because then only can we understand what the present moment actually is.

In the first sentence of the first mangalam verse of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan asks: ‘Without [or except as] that which is, can there be consciousness of being?’ That is, if there were not that which is, namely ‘I’, could there be the awareness ‘am’? This awareness ‘am’, which is self-shining, shows clearly that something real does exist, and that real something cannot be other than this awareness [because the awareness ‘am’ is a first-person awareness – an awareness only of itself, not of anything else]. This sentence is clearly referring to the existence and awareness of ‘I’, and not to that of any object, because to be known objects depend upon ‘I’.

Since this reality ‘I’ exists beyond thought, in the heart, and is therefore called ‘heart’, how to meditate upon it? This clearly shows the absurdity of meditation. All religions teach that we should think of or meditate upon the reality or God, but since it exists beyond thought, how can we think of or meditate upon it? Bhagavan therefore teaches us that subsiding in the heart as it is – that is, as ‘I am’ – is alone ‘meditating’ upon it correctly. That is, the only way we can truly ‘meditate’ upon what is real is to remain as we are, without thought. Since what is real is beyond thought, thought can never take us to it. To attain it, we must give up all thought [including the first thought, the ‘I’ that thinks] and just be as it is.

4th January 1978

Sadhu Om: Now, in the waking state, we say so many things about the [deep] sleep state, because we have no clear idea of what sleep is. If we make proper research into sleep, we will discover that there is no difference between sleep and jnana. We can now take sleep as an example of the happiness that is enjoyed in the absence of the ‘I’, world and God. Our love of sleep proves our love of egolessness, as Bhagavan implies in verse 3 of Ulladu Narpadu: ‘[...] that state devoid of ‘I’ is agreeable to everyone’. What we now call sleep appears to be limited because on waking we rise again as ‘I’, but jnana has no such limitation, so the happiness of jnana is unlimited.

Nowadays people try to glorify Bhagavan by saying that he is great because he said something that Buddha said, something else that Christ said, and so on, as if his greatness could not stand by itself. Christ, Buddha, Sankara, Ramakrishna and others were all great examples of jnanis, but outwardly they roamed about arguing, teaching and founding religions, whereas Bhagavan is jnana itself, so he just kept quiet. It is absurd to try to show his greatness in the light of these jnanis, because his greatness is the self-shining source of all light. Doing so is like propping a bamboo at the foot of Arunachala and saying that we are helping the hill to stand, whereas in fact many such bamboos can grow on it.

We are told that we project the world, but this does not mean that the seer is the projector. We, the seer (the mind or ego), are part of the projection, as Bhagavan says in verse 160 of Guru Vachaka Kovai:

The false person [or soul] who behaves as ‘I’ occurs as one among the shadow pictures [in this world picture, which is like a cinema show].

Who is this ‘I’ we say is the projector? By our investigating ‘who am I?’ the non-existence of both the projector and its projection will be exposed.

Arguments about world and God are futile, as Bhagavan teaches us in verses 2 and 3 of Ulladu Narpadu. The manyness of the world allows for dualities such as real or unreal, conscious or non-conscious, and happy or miserable. Where there is duality there will be doubt. Self is one, devoid of duality, so self-knowledge will allow no room for dualities or doubts. Therefore, we should avoid doing research on God or the world, and should instead do research only on ‘I’. ‘I’ will then disappear along with both God and the world. The resulting ‘state of egolessness is agreeable to everyone’ (Ulladu Narpadu verse 3), as shown by our experience of sleep.

5th January 1978

Sadhu Om: If ‘I’ is taken to be a form, the world and God will also be experienced as forms (Ulladu Narpadu verse 4). Even the conception of a ‘formless’ God is a mental form or image. Nirguna dhyana or formless worship of God is a futile effort, like a person chasing the horizon in order to touch the all-pervading space (Sri Arunachala Ashtakam verse 3).

Reality cannot be found by meditation, which is attending to the mind and its images. It can only be found by non-meditation, which is self-attention. However, Bhagavan said we should not think that saguna worship [worship of God as a form] is useless. We should practice either saguna worship or self-attention.

In verse 4 of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan asks: ‘Can what is seen be otherwise than the eye [that sees it]?’ That is, the nature of what is experienced cannot be different to the nature of what experiences it. Therefore, the appearance of the world and God depends upon the appearance of the seer, ‘I’, and their forms depend upon the seer’s form.

‘Eye’ is also used in Tamil to mean jnana [knowledge or consciousness], so the ‘endless [limitless or infinite] eye’ is self, which – being limitless and formless – can see only limitlessness and formlessness. Therefore, self can never see any name or form, nor anything other than itself. It experiences only formless self-awareness, ‘I am’.

This is expressed by Bhagavan in verse 27 of Sri Arunachala Aksharamanamalai: ‘O Arunachala, sun of bright rays that swallows everything [the entire appearance of the universe] ...’ (see also Sri Arunachala Pancharatnam verse 1). That is, in the light of pure self-awareness, which is Arunachala, the ego-‘I’, the world and God will all disappear.

When there is body-consciousness there is world-consciousness. If none of the five sheaths were experienced as ‘I’, neither the world nor God could be seen (Ulladu Narpadu verse 5). The world and God are therefore created by our misidentifying a body to be ‘I’. Hence the creator of both the world and God is only the ‘I’ that mistakes itself to be a body, so we should investigate ‘who is this I?’ From this we can infer that the world and God are only as real as the idea ‘I am this body’, and since this body-identification is unreal, so too are this world and God.

How are vasanas [mental propensities or dispositions] to be erased? Now we take these vasanas to be ‘I’ or ‘mine’. This gross body is itself an expansion of them. In sleep we do not experience any of them, so we assume that they remain then in seed form, and in order to explain the seeming ignorance of sleep (which exists only in the view of our waking mind), we postulate a causal body, whose form is conceived to be the sum total of all vasanas. This causal body seems to veil or obscure our pure self-awareness, and hence it is conscious only of a state of dark ignorance.

However, by practicing self-attention in the waking state we will become more clearly conscious of our self-awareness in spite of the play of our vasanas, and thus we will be conscious of it even during sleep. The vasanas will then be seen as shadows created by the dim light of our mind, which is a reflection of the bright light of self-awareness.

So long as we attend to vasanas and their products (our thoughts and desires and the objects of the world), we will continue to take them to be ‘I’ or ‘mine’ and thus to be bound by them. However, if we ignore our vasanas and instead attend only to ‘I’, we will destroy them – that is, we will expose their non-existence.

We should not be put off by the strength of our vasanas and by their seemingly endless play. We should remember that they appear because I am, but they do not come to trouble us during sleep, even though we continue to exist then. Therefore I am real, and vasanas are unreal. With this strong conviction we should be courageous and remain disinterested in our vasanas, and thus we should carry on self-attention undisturbed.

Bhagavan gave us the following definition of reality: only that which is everlasting, unchanging and self-knowing is real. [Hence nothing other than ‘I’ is real, because everything else is transient, mutable and known not by itself but only by ‘I’.]

When we accept the existence of the world we see, we should accept the existence of a power – which we may call God – that is responsible for it and for ordaining our prarabdha, which is whatever we are to experience in this world. As Bhagavan says in verse 1 of Upadesa Undiyar:

Karma giving fruit is by the ordainment of God. Can karma be God, since karma is jada [devoid of consciousness]?

However, because God does not appear as an object perceived through the five senses, we say we do not believe in him. This is like saying that we see the pictures on the cinema screen, but do not see the light that illumines them. The world is those pictures, and God is the self-knowing light, ‘I am’, which makes the appearance of the world and the functioning of karma possible.

The world does not exist apart from the body or the mind, as Bhagavan says in verses 5 and 6 of Ulladu Narpadu. The world is merely an expansion of the mind projected through the five senses of the body. The world-picture is projected on the screen that is the mind; it is illuminated by the mind; and it is seen by the mind. Therefore, since this mind is nothing other than self, in verse 1 of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan says:

[...] The picture of names and forms [the world], the one who sees [it], the screen on which [it] depends, and the pervading light [of consciousness that illumines it] – all these are he [the ‘first thing’ or base], which is self.

To mistake a body, which is one of the pictures, to be ‘I’, and thus to feel that the world, which is all the other pictures, is other than and outside of ‘I’, is a delusion (maya). Without this delusion, ‘I am this body’, no world-picture would be seen. Because we thus limit ‘I’, thinking it to be within a body, the concepts of ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ arise.

So long as the delusion ‘I am this body’ is experienced as real, the world will also be experienced as real. Therefore the only way to experience the unreality and non-existence of the world is to investigate this feeling ‘I am the body’. When we do so, it will disappear, and then we shall no longer be troubled by the false appearance of this world.

6th January 1978

Swami Natanananda: What is meditation? Who can meditate? Can the body meditate? Can self meditate? Meditation is just a means of feeding the non-existent ‘I’. The true sadhana is to be vigilant, at all times, against the rising of this ‘I’.

One way to prevent the rising of ‘I’ is to try to behave [inwardly as well as outwardly] in every situation as you think Bhagavan would behave. If you practice this, there will be less and less of ‘I’ and more and more of Bhagavan, until finally you will be swallowed by him.

Whenever peace is disturbed, it is due to the rising of ‘I’. Peace cannot be enjoyed while ‘I’ is active. Therefore the only means to hold on to peace is to be self-vigilant, thus guarding against the intrusion of disturbing thoughts. Self-attention is not an activity, but a calm state of being vigilant, keenly watching ‘I’ and thereby preventing the intrusion of mental activity.

Meditation, which is a mental activity, is unreal, so it can never reveal what is real. Non-meditation, which is avoiding mental activity, alone can reveal the reality. In the first mangalam verse of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan says:

[...] Since the reality (‘I am’) exists without thought in the heart, how to meditate upon that reality, which is called ‘heart’? Being in the heart as it is [that is, as ‘I am’] is alone meditating [correctly upon the reality].

Since thought is paying attention to second or third persons, the only effective means to avoid thought is self-attention. The rising of ‘I’ is attention to second and third persons, so attention to the first person alone can make ‘I’ subside.

The reason why Bhagavan emphasises that the appearance of the world is dependent upon the delusion ‘I am this body’ is to kindle vairagya [desirelessness] by making us understand that ‘I am the body’ is the root of all misery, and that it must therefore be eradicated. Cutting the branches or even the trunk of the tree of delusion is futile, because its root, ‘I am the body’, must be destroyed. It is destroyed only by self-attention. This is why Bhagavan says in verse 26 of Ulladu Narpadu:

If the ego, which is the embryo [or root], comes into existence, everything comes into existence. If the ego does not exist, everything does not exist. The ego itself is everything. Therefore, know that investigating ‘what is this [ego]?’ is alone giving up everything.

We must fly on the two wings of viveka [discrimination] and vairagya [desirelessness].

Sadhu Om: We all have a clear knowledge of our own existence, ‘I am’. If we give importance only to that, and try to remain as it, that is self-attention, guarding against the rising of ‘I’, avoiding attention to second and third persons, and vigilance against the intrusion of thoughts.

In everything we do there is ‘am’-ness: I am walking, I am thinking, and so on. If we attend to this ‘am’-ness and try to abide as it, that is sufficient. There is no need to be concerned about thoughts: let them come or go. Thoughts are only thoughts because we attend to them. If we ignore them, they do not exist. Our sense of ‘am’-ness (asmitva) signifies our self-awareness or mere being. Mere being is the final goal. That is why Natananandar was saying that one day we will laugh at our present efforts.

7th January 1978

Sadhu Om: When waves of passion such as desire, lust or fear arise, either try to duck beneath them by self-attention, or else reflect on their uselessness and avoid them by discrimination (viveka) and dispassion (vairagya). If the waves continue to come more strongly and none of these methods help, pray to Bhagavan. Prayer coming from an agonized heart has its own power. Whenever we feel helpless, prayer is our best weapon. He is always ready to help the helpless if their prayer is sincere.

Meritorious actions (punya karmas) done with kamyata (desire for personal benefit) do not purify the mind. Actions done without such desire (nishkamya karmas) purify the mind, but they are the least efficacious means.

Unless worship and prayer are done with an attitude of ego-abasement, they will not purify the mind. Worshipping with pride only feeds the ego. Better than worship is sravana (hearing or studying the guru’s teachings) and manana (reflection on them). Reading about the lives of saints and reflecting on their behaviour and teachings will help us to subside our ego. Better than that is satsanga: in the company of real sadhus [jnanis], we cannot but act with humility. Satsanga purifies the mind in many ways, but the best satsanga is to remain quietly as ‘I am’. As Sankara says in Vivekacudamani [verse 364], a hundred times better than sravana is manana, but one lakh (a hundred thousand) times better than manana is nididhyasana (contemplation), which is just remaining attentively as ‘I am’.

The reality of whatever is seen is the same as that of what sees it. The God you see is only as real as you who see him. If you worship God in a name and form, your mind will be purified, and when it is sufficiently purified, he will appear as guru to teach you the practice of self-attention. The guru is not just to be worshiped – he is to be obeyed. In verse 274 of Guru Vachaka Kovai Bhagavan says:

Those who do not have [the clarity of] mind to recognise that the jnana-guru – who appears as a human form [though he is actually] abiding firmly as the supreme space [of consciousness, ‘I am’] – is formless, [thereby] bear the yoke of wicked conduct and sin.

This is not to say that guru-bhakti is wrong, but that our devotion is not true guru-bhakti unless we also practise what he taught us. Though the outward form of the guru and his teachings are a projection of our own vasanas, they will nevertheless wake us up, like a lion that an elephant sees in its dream.

Self-attention is the most effective means of purifying the mind. The more you try to attend to self and the more you thereby experience the happiness of self-abidance, the more clearly you will understand and be firmly convinced that all happiness comes only from self, and that rising as ‘I’ is misery. Thus your desirelessness (vairagya) will increase and your attachments to things will become less.

Whenever you have some moments free, reflect: ‘What is this ego-life? Now I take this body to be ‘I’ and this world to be real. I feel attachment to things, people and circumstances, but I have only experienced this life for a certain number of years, and some years from now I will cease experiencing it forever. Therefore why should I take interest in or be ambitious for this transient and futile life? All these things seem to exist only because I exist, so should I not try to find out the truth behind this ‘I’?’ The more you reflect in such a way, the more you will lose interest in your life and the more you will wish to remain just as ‘I am’.

When people used to say to me, ‘You are lucky because you were with Bhagavan’, I would sometimes find some ego rising in me with pride. However, by Bhagavan’s grace I thought of a good reply: ‘In a hospital there is an outpatient department to treat minor cases, but the worst cases are admitted into the inpatient department to be treated under the personal supervision of the doctor. The same happens in this spiritual line, so I am such a helpless case that Bhagavan had to admit me into his inpatient department to treat me under his personal supervision’. Those who were not in Bhagavan’s physical presence are lucky, because they are protected from the delusion of mistaking him to be his body.

Ignorance is of two types: ‘I know’ and ‘I don’t know’. Both depend upon the rising ‘I’, and both disappear when that rising ‘I’ is scrutinised. In verse 9 of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan says:

Dyads [pairs of opposites such as knowing and not knowing] and triads [the three factors of objective knowledge: the knower, the knowing and the known] exist [only by] clinging always to ‘one’ [namely our mind or ego, which alone experiences such knowledge or ignorance]. If [anyone] looks within the mind [to discover] what that ‘one’ is, they [the dyads and triads] will cease to exist [because the ego on which they depend will be found to be non-existent]. Only those who have seen [this non-existence of the ego] are those have seen the reality. See, they will not be confused.

In the state of true knowledge (jnana) no ‘I’ can rise either to say ‘I know myself’ or ‘I do not know myself’. This is the truth that Bhagavan teaches us in both verse 33 of Ulladu Narpadu and verse 2 of Sri Arunachala Ashtakam:

Saying ‘I do not know myself’ [or] ‘I have known myself’ is ground for ridicule. Why? To make oneself an object known, are there two selves? Because being one is the truth of everyone’s experience.

When within [my] mind I investigated who the seer is, [and] when the seer [thereby] became non-existent, I saw that which remained [namely beginningless, endless and unbroken being-consciousness-bliss]. The mind does not [now] rise to say ‘I saw’, [so] in what way can the mind rise to say ‘I did not see’? Who has the power to elucidate this [by] speaking, when in ancient times [even] you [as Dakshinamurti] elucidated [it] without speaking? Only to elucidate your state without speaking, you stood shining [from] earth [to] sky motionlessly [or as a hill].

To say ‘I know myself’ is as absurd as saying ‘I do not know myself’. In verse 12 of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan says:

That which is completely devoid of knowledge and ignorance is [true] knowledge. That which knows [anything other than itself] is not true knowledge. Since it shines without anything that is other [than itself] to know or to make known, self is [true] knowledge. Know it is not a void.

Bhagavan once told Muruganar: ‘It is not only that self does not know other things, it does not even know itself as “I am this”’. In verse 26 of Upadesa Undiyar he says: ‘Being self alone is knowing self, because self is devoid of two. …’. That is, there are not two selves so that one could be known by the other. Since self is indivisibly single, it can know itself only by being itself. And since being conscious of itself is its very nature, its being itself is itself its knowing itself.

In verse 8 of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan says:

Whoever worships [it] in whatever form giving [it] whatever name, that is the way to see that [nameless and formless] substance [the absolute reality or God] in name and form. However, know [that] knowing the reality of oneself [by] subsiding in and becoming one with the reality of that true substance is seeing [it] in reality.

Here ‘knowing the reality [or truth] of oneself’ may mean either knowing the non-existence of the ego or knowing what we really are. However, ‘knowing the non-existence of the ego’ fits better in this context, considering the phrase ‘subsiding in the reality of that true substance’, though both meanings amount to the same thing. Whichever way it is taken, ‘the reality of oneself’ can be correctly known only by our subsiding in and becoming one with the reality of that true substance, which is our real self.

Worshiping that true substance (which is also called ‘the supreme reality’ or ‘God’) in any name or form may be a means to see visions of it in that name and form, but it cannot be a means to experience knowledge of the true nature of that reality, which is devoid of any name or form. In order to know the true nature of the reality one must know the true nature of oneself, the knower. Therefore in verse 1073 of Guru Vachaka Kovai Bhagavan says:

Since the many [forms of] God that are obtained [as visions or other such dualistic experiences] by clear [pure-hearted] worship undergo appearance and disappearance and [thus] perish, only one’s own [true] nature, which always exists with clarity [or certainty], is the true form of God that exists immutably.

If God is experienced or known as other than the knower, he becomes an object of knowledge and as such he depends for his existence upon the knower. Since the knower is unreal, so too is whatever it knows. Therefore, the absolute reality or God can only be known truly by the knower being one with it. When the knower and the known are both resolved into the one reality, that is true knowledge.

8th January 1978

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan begins verse 13 of Ulladu Narpadu by saying: ‘Self, which is abundant knowledge (jnana), alone is real; knowledge that is manifold [that is, knowledge of multiplicity] is ignorance (ajnana)’. Self-knowledge shines as ‘am’. Multiplicity here includes the world, God and the ego. Since nothing exists unless it is known (experienced), our knowledge of multiplicity is itself the existence of that multiplicity.

He then continues the same verse by saying: ‘Even [this] ignorance, which is unreal, does not exist apart from self, which is knowledge. All the many ornaments are unreal; say, do they exist apart from the gold, which is real’. That is, even the knowledge and existence of multiplicity cannot exist apart from or independent of ‘I am’. Multiplicity is like the variety of gold ornaments, and ‘I am’ is like gold, their substance. Just as a goldsmith sees only the gold, so the jnani sees only ‘I am’, which is jnana. When a jnani says that the world is unreal, he means that multiplicity is ever non-existent, and when he says that the world is real, he means that ‘I am’ alone exists.

Religions try to make God, who is a third person, into a second person so that he may be known directly (sakshat), but even second persons are only known indirectly through the first person. When the light of ‘I am’ passes through the film of our vasanas, it appears in two forms: as both the seer (the first person) and the seen (the second and third persons). The first person, ‘I am so-and-so’, is one of the expansions of the vasanas – that is, it is one of the pictures (a name and form) projected on the screen of being by the light of consciousness. It is the first vasana, the root of all other vasanas.

In Tamil the first person is called tanmai-y-idam, which literally means the ‘selfness-place’, because each of the three grammatical persons is considered to be a ‘place’ (idam). The second person is called munnilai-y-idam, the ‘place that stands in front’, and the third person is called padarkkai-y-idam, the ‘place that spreads out’. Therefore Bhagavan is discussing these three ‘places’ when he says in verse 14 of Ulladu Narpadu:

If the first person (tanmai) exists, the second and third persons (munnilai- padarkkaigal) will exist. If the first person ceases to exist [because of] oneself investigating the truth of the first person, the second and third person come to an end, and tanmai [the real ‘selfness’], which shines as one [undivided by the appearance of the three seemingly separate persons or ‘places’], alone is one’s [true] state, which is self.

Therefore ‘I am’ is the true tanmai, and ‘I am so-and-so’ is a thief, a second person posing as if it were the first person or tanmai. True knowledge (jnana) is attained only when the body and person that were taken to be ‘I’, the first person, are recognised to be second persons, things that are not ‘I’.

One important point to note here in this verse is that Bhagavan does not say that this false first person, the ego, actually exists, but only says conditionally: ‘If the first person exists ...’. He never actually accepted its existence.

Until they come to Bhagavan, people generally believe that self will be experienced if they get rid of all thoughts, which are second or third persons. They don’t understand that the first person, which is the root of all thoughts, must also go. That is why when some people come and ask me what my experience is, I say that I do not have any experience, because in the absence of an experiencer there can be no experience.

True knowledge (jnana) does not change, but the methods of teaching it have to be adapted and modified to suit the needs of people at different times. In ancient times Dakshinamurti taught through silence. In later times, people sometimes had to serve their guru humbly for twelve years without receiving any spiritual instructions, but by then their mind had become so pure that on hearing just one word or phrase of instruction they experienced the reality. Later still, Adi Sankara established the truth of advaita in the minds of scholars who were learned in the ancient scriptures, but in the light of Bhagavan’s teachings we can see that he dealt inadequately with many subtle aspects of advaita. For our present times, it was necessary for Bhagavan to give us simple but refined explanations about everything in order to turn us selfwards.

Nowadays there are a thousand-and-one different meditations and a thousand-and-one different yogas, so Bhagavan had to introduce a new term: self-attention. However, only the term is new, because after some time you will understand that self-attention is ever going on. It is our eternal nature, because self is never unaware of itself.

Through his tapas, Bhagavan has stored up such a vast wealth that we, his children, need never worry about doing any tapas. Our only task is to enjoy our inheritance. When heroes like Bhagavan were thirsty, they took a crowbar and dynamite and dug a well singlehandedly. Now he has prepared a well, a pump-set, taps and tumblers to enable us to drink, but we are such useless creatures, we are just too lazy even to drink. He has given us this simple practice of self-attention, but we complain, ‘O Bhagavan, this ‘Who am I?’ is very difficult’.

9th January 1978

Sadhu Om [in reply to a question about celibacy]: Why seek happiness in anything but self?

In verse 14 of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan says:

If the first person [‘I’, the ego or subject] exists, second and third persons [‘you’, ‘he’, ‘she’, ‘it’, ‘this’, ‘that’ and so on] will exist. [Because of] oneself scrutinising the truth of the first person, if the first person ceases, second and third persons will come to an end, and the state [or ‘selfness’] that [then] shines as one [not divided as these three persons] is indeed the [true] state of self.

Verses 14, 15 and 16 of Ulladu Narpadu should be understood as a whole, because they discuss the reality of time and place. In Tamil the first person, second person and third person are called the ‘three places’ rather than ‘three persons’, so verse 14 considers these three divisions of ‘place’, whereas verse 15 considers the three divisions of time: present, past and future. Verse 16 concludes by re-emphasising the unreality of both time and place.

Throughout our waking and dream life, we generally ignore the first person and the present moment, and instead attend mostly to second and third persons and to past and future. All thoughts pertain to second and third persons and to past and future, but if we try to make a thought of the first person or of the present moment, the mind will subside, since ‘I’ and ‘now’ are not other than self. Hence, investigating ‘what (when or where) is the present moment?’ is the same as investigating ‘who (or what) am I?’

We are like a person in a triangular prison. Because we attend to only two of the three walls (second and third persons, or past and future), we think that we are imprisoned, but if we try to turn our attention towards the third wall (the first person or present moment), we will discover that there is no such wall, and that our bondage is therefore ever non-existent.

When we first discover that the third wall does not exist, we will desire to run in that direction in order to escape from the prison. This is similar to the experience of sphurana, the fresh clarity of self-awareness that arises when we investigate the first person or present moment. But guru then makes us see that since the third wall is actually non-existent, our imprisonment (bondage) is also non-existent, and thus our desire to run away will subside, and we will be perfectly contented to remain where we are. This is similar to the subsidence of sphurana, the state in which perfect clarity of self-awareness is found to be our real nature rather than something new. This is our natural state (sahaja sthiti), in which we are perfectly content to be just as we are.

The perpetual wandering of our attention from one second or third person to another, and to and fro between past and future, is like the swinging of a pendulum, whose central vertical axis is ‘I am’ or ‘now’. Just as a swinging pendulum is never out of contact with its vertical axis, yet never rests there, our attention is never out of contact with its centre, ‘I am’ or ‘now’, yet never rests there. The state in which our attention rests in ‘I am’ and in ‘now’ is known as atma-nistha or samadhi (which means sama-dhi: even, balanced, equipoised or equanimous mind), and is similar to a steadily resting pendulum.

Because our attention never rests, time never rests, and so the present moment is never truly experienced. Time is an incessant flow from past to future. If we try to know the truth of the present moment by attending to second and third persons, we would be like a man trying to step on the head of his own shadow [because second and third persons are experienced in the illusory flow of time and not in the precise present moment]. If we try to measure something without knowing the value of a single unit of our measurement (whether that be dollars, kilos or whatever), we would not know the value of what we had measured. It is equally futile to try to know the truth of the past or future without knowing the true nature of the present, as Bhagavan says in verse 15 of Ulladu Narpadu:

Past and future stand depending on the present. While occurring, they are both only the present. [Therefore] the present is the only one [time that actually exists]. [Hence] without knowing the truth of the present, trying to know the past or future is like trying to count without [knowing the value of the unit] one.

The truth of the present is that it is non-existent. If we know that, then we can judge the true value of all other knowledge.

The present place and time, the ‘here’ and ‘now’, is ‘I am’. No second or third person can truly exist in the here and now, because they are all objects known by the first person, which alone is ‘here’, and hence they occupy places other than ‘here’. Second and third persons are subject to change, and hence to time, so they exist only in the constant flow of time from past to future, never stopping in the present. Therefore they can never be experienced in the precise present moment, the ‘now’. Hence, ‘being in the here and now’ can only mean being in self, which is our natural state of self-attention. The ‘here and now’ is not an object; it is the subject, ‘I’, and hence it can only be known by non-objective attention.

10th January 1978

Sadhu Om: Nistha means ‘standing in’. A pendulum can stand only in its own centre; it cannot stand either to the right or to the left. Likewise the mind cannot stand by attending to second or third persons [because attention to anything other than itself draws it away from its centre]; it can stand only in its own centre, by attending only to itself. When it stands in its centre, it is no longer the mind, but is only self itself.

Presence implies knowledge. If we say that self is present, that implies that we know self. Bhagavan frequently reminded us that self is here and now, ever known or ‘realised’. Self-knowledge is the base of all other knowledge, as he says in verse 13 of Ulladu Narpadu:

Self, which is knowledge (jnana), alone is real. Manifold knowledge [knowledge of multiplicity] is ignorance (ajnana). Even [such] ignorance, which is unreal, does not exist apart from self, which is knowledge. All the many ornaments are unreal; say, do they exist apart from gold [their substance], which is real?

Other things can be known only if self is known. Knowing any object is knowing self. That does not mean that the object is experienced as ‘I’, but only that the object can be known only if ‘I’ is known, because in order to experience ‘I know this object’, ‘I’ must experience itself.

When people ask me if I know self, I always reply: ‘I know nothing that you do not know. I don’t know any wonderful and glorious self. I just know that I am’.

In Nan Yar? (Who am I?) Bhagavan says that unless perception of the world-appearance ceases, self cannot be known as it really is. However, even if the world is perceived, it shows that self is known, because it is perceived only because ‘I am’. This is why Bhagavan says in verse 6 of Arunachala Astakam: ‘[...] O Hill of Grace, let them appear or not appear [what does it matter?] Apart from you, they do not exist!’

It is the nature of the mind to wander and know many things, but why does that worry you? Because you identify this mind as ‘I’, you feel your attention is wandering. But are you this mind? You are that which knows the mind.

Bhagavan often used the term udasina bhava, which means an attitude of indifference, and it is necessary for us to have such an attitude towards the mind. What is required is a change of identification: instead of taking the mind to be ‘I’, take that which knows the mind to be ‘I’. I jokingly call this change of identity a ‘forgery’, though the actual forgery is our present false identification with the mind.

The mind’s attention is always knowing something, but what you must understand is that the mind has no power of attention of its own. The mind’s power of attention exists only because we attend to the mind. If instead you attend to that which knows the mind, how can the wandering of the mind affect you?

JK [J Krishnamurti] says, ‘Observe; observe and let the mind take its own course’, as if it wouldn’t do so anyway, even without our permission. In a way what he says is right, though I don’t know whether he means it in the right way or not. What he should mean is: remain just as the observer. If you do so the observing will immediately cease, because if you attend to the observer, the observing will not be attended to – it will not be known – and hence it will not exist. I have not heard him myself, and all those who tell me what he says seem to have a very poor understanding of what he means.

Most religions say that God created the world and that you are a small something in the world, but this only adds to our confusion. Bhagavan says, ‘You are, and the world appears only because you are’. This should not be taken to mean that the world really appears; it only seems to appear. That is, its appearance is not like the appearance of something that actually exists, such as the water that appears when we open a tap, but is on the contrary like the appearance of something that just seems to exist, such as the water that appears in a mirage.

Therefore cease identifying yourself with either the world or the knower of the world. Just try to remain as ‘I am’, without identifying ‘I am’ as anything else, such as the body or mind. You know other things only because ‘I am’ is identified as something else. This is how the false ‘I’ or mind arises. If ‘I am’ is not identified with anything at all, all thoughts and perceptions will cease.

There is truly no difficulty in turning your attention towards that third wall, but so long as you identify your mind as ‘I’ it will appear that you are not succeeding.

11th January 1978

Sadhu Om: In Tamil Bhagavan often used nam, the inclusive⁠5 first person plural pronoun, ‘we’, to denote self, as in verse 16 of Ulladu Narpadu:

Except we, on scrutiny where is time and where is place? If we are a body, we will be ensnared in time and place. [But] are we a body? Since we are one, now, then and always, one, here, there and everywhere in space, there is [only] we, the timeless and placeless we.

The first sentence of this verse should not be interpreted to mean ‘where are time and place apart from us?’ because this could imply that time and place are real. What Bhagavan means by asking this rhetorical question is that on scrutiny nothing exists except us: we alone are, and there is neither time nor place. This implied meaning is reiterated in the final sentence, which can mean either ‘there is [only] we, we who are devoid of time and place’ or ‘there is [only] we, we; time and place do not exist’.

When Bhagavan first wrote this verse he referred only to time, but then he modified it to refer to place also. In the original version, which is now verse 13 of Upadesa Tanippakkal (Individual Verses of Instruction), he wrote:

Except we, where is time? Without scrutinising ourself, if we think we are a body, time will swallow us. [But] are we a body? We are always one, now, in time past and [in time] to come. Therefore, there is [only] we, we who have swallowed time.

Time and place (or space) are the first manifestation of mind or maya, and without this conception of time and place the mind could not arise. Therefore to escape from this prison of time and place, we should attend to the first person or the present moment. Attention is the power which allows for the manifestation of everything. By turning it selfward, the same power of attention can be used to merge everything back into its source. We, that power of attention, alone are. Why identify yourself as a person? We are, but why add the adjunct ‘a person’? Simply find out what this ‘I am’ is.

There are two processes in spiritual practice (sadhana), one is ascending and the other descending. The ascending process is negating everything as ‘not I’ by refining our mere awareness ‘I am’, disentangling it from all its superfluous adjuncts, and this leads to the rising of sphurana, a fresh and intense clarity of self-awareness. The descending process is embracing everything as ‘I’, by recognising that ‘I’ alone exists and all else seems to exist only because I am. This descending process leads to the subsidence of sphurana, which is our natural state (sahaja sthiti).

12th January 1978

Sadhu Om: In Upadesa Undiyar, the second and third of the three lines of each verse ends with the word undipara, which is a compound of two verbs, undi, which means ‘rise’, and para, which means ‘fly’, so it can mean ‘rise and fly’, but also means ‘play undi’, an ancient game played by children, which probably involved jumping and singing. Undiyar is thus an ancient style of song composed in a particular metre, and such songs were originally composed to accompany that game. In this playful style of song Bhagavan expressed the highest truth, because such truth can be grasped only by a child-like mind⁠6. The mind of a child is like a clean slate, whereas the mind of an older person is like a well-scribbled slate, burdened with many deep-rooted beliefs and preconceived ideas.

13th January 1978

Sadhu Om: There are no outward signs distinguishing someone in the fifth standard [the state of non-dual self-love (svatma-bhakti), which is the highest stage in the school of bhakti described in chapter 2 of the second part of The Path of Sri Ramana]. They will usually appear to behave like pukka devotees in the fourth standard [the stage of guru-bhakti].

The four gurus of Saiva Siddhanta, Appar, Jnanasambandhar, Manickavachagar and Sundaramurthi, were all jnanis from the time they started composing verses, but they spent all their lives like second standard students [devotees who worship or pray to many different names and forms of God], visiting so many temples and writing verses in praise of the temple deities.

Even Bhagavan behaved like a good devotee of Arunachala. He did giri-pradakshina [circumambulation around the hill] and encouraged others to do so. He never allowed anyone to walk round him, garland him, or do puja to him. Instead, he always pointed to Arunachala as the form of the guru, saying that it is the true ‘Ramana Sadguru’, and he was often moved to tears on reading or hearing stotras [devotional songs]. On his last evening he hadn’t opened his eyes for two hours, but at about 8 pm when we started to sing Aksharamanamalai with its refrain, ‘Arunachala Siva’, he opened his eyes for a few moments, and from then till 8.47 tears of devotion were pouring down his cheeks. He left his body as we were singing verse 72:

Protect me, Arunachala, being the support for me to cling to, so that I may not droop down like a tender creeper without anything to cling to.

Once, while walking round the hill, Bhagavan did pradakshina of Durvasa’s shrine as an example to others, saying jokingly, ‘Even if we ignore other shrines, we should not ignore Durvasa’ [because Durvasa was an ancient sage who was noted for his hot temper]. However he never prostrated to any deity or person.

Muruganar also exemplified fourth standard bhakti. He always showed great reverence for Bhagavan in every possible way, such as keeping his picture at a high level, and never wearing shoes near any picture of him. At the mere mention of Bhagavan’s name he would shed tears. In doing so, he exemplified the teaching that Bhagavan gave in verse 39 of Ulladu Narpadu Anubandham:

Always experience advaita [non-duality] in [your] heart, [but] do not ever put advaita in action. O son, advaita is appropriate in the three worlds, but know that with guru advaita is not appropriate [this is, even if one can claim a non-dual status in the presence of any of the three Gods, Brahma, Vishnu and Siva, one should never claim a non-dual status with guru].

When people ask me why I do pradakshina and prostrate to Arunachala, I reply: ‘If you see me as an ego, then it is right that I do so, or if you see me as self, then it is not I but only this body that does so’. Advaita cannot be put into action, because it is the state that is completely devoid of action, since any action implies duality. However, no action can alter the fact that non-duality is the truth.

Someone once said to Bhagavan, ‘Bhagavan, this self-enquiry is very difficult. Can I instead practise such-and-such a yoga or meditation?’ to which he nodded in assent. After that person left, some of the devotees were wondering why Bhagavan seemed to give his consent to such practices, so he explained:

He says, ‘Self-enquiry is difficult’, which means that he does not want to practise it, so what can I do? Even if I tell him not to practise this other yoga or meditation, he still won’t practise self-enquiry. In a few months he will return and say that meditation is difficult, and ask whether he can do japa instead. And after practising japa for some time, he will find his mind still wanders, so he will then come and ask if he can sing stotras. All this will mean that he is unfit to do anything. If one is able to make even a little effort to sing stotras or do japa or any other sadhana, one can make the same amount of effort to attend to the feeling ‘I am’.

On another occasion, someone told Bhagavan that they were afraid that they would be wasting their time if they practise self-enquiry, because though they had tried to practise it, they found that they always became inattentive, and asked whether it would not therefore be better if they practised some japa instead. Bhagavan replied, ‘You have nothing to fear. You are like a person who is afraid to let go of a branch even though they are standing on the ground. Do you suppose that even when you lose your hold on self, self can ever lose its hold on you?’

14th January 1978

Sadhu Om: When Muruganar was once asked about other gurus, he replied, ‘I have been blinded by the sun, so I cannot see anything else’.

As Bhagavan explains in verses 17 and 18 of Ulladu Narpadu, an ajnani limits ‘I’ to the extent (the form) of the body, and limits reality to the extent of the world. As a result, ajnanis do not take ‘I’ and the reality to be one and the same. The jnani, on the other hand, sees that ‘I’ shines as the limitless self and that reality shines as the formless substratum of the world, and therefore knows that the reality is ‘I’.

Because the jnani knows that self alone really exists, he does not see anything as non-self, and hence he knows that even the body is ‘I’ and even the world is real. However, we should take care not to misunderstand the jnani’s statement that the world is real. What the jnani sees as real is just the ‘is’-ness of the world. Both a jnani and an ajnani will say, ‘This is a table’, but the ajnani sees only its form and therefore mistakes its ‘is’-ness to be a property of that form, whereas in the view of the jnani only ‘is’-ness [being or sat] is real, so the table is nothing other than that infinite, indivisible and hence formless ‘is’-ness.

Therefore, because the jnani experiences the body as ‘I’ and the world as real, he seems to behave just like ajnanis, but the difference between them lies in their understanding of ‘I’ and of reality. Though this difference in their perspectives is very subtle, it is actually vast, like the difference between a mountain top and a valley.

During sadhana, we have to reject everything other than ‘I’ as anatma [non-self or ‘not myself’], but when we experience ‘I’ as it really is, we will discover that nothing is other than it. The practice of rejecting everything other than ‘I’ by not attending to any such thing is sometimes described as an ascending process, whereas the state of true self-knowledge, in which everything is experienced as not other than ‘I’ is sometimes described as a descending process, though it is not actually a ‘process’ but our natural state of being.

Therefore, what Bhagavan describes in verses 17 and 18 of Ulladu Narpadu is this ‘descending process’, the state of ‘sahaja samadhi’, in which everything is embraced as ‘I’. This state is what is indicated in sastras by statements such as ‘All this is brahman’, but since pandits think of brahman as if it were a third person, they fail to grasp the true meaning of such hints.

Brahman should always be regarded as the first person, ‘I’, because it is our natural state of pure non-dual self-awareness. Only when one thus understands brahman to be only ‘I’ can one have the correct outlook (dristi) that such scriptural statements were intended to inculcate, which is the outlook required for the practice of sahaja samadhi. This outlook is the attitude: ‘All this is only because I am’ – that is, the firm conviction that everything that I experience, namely the mind, body and world, and all that happens in them, could not exist if I did not exist to experience them, so they are entirely dependent upon my being-consciousness, ‘I am’. By clinging firmly to this attitude, one can practise self-attention even while engaged in outward activities.

18th January 1978

Sadhu Om: The self-attention we practise in the midst of other activities will not be very deep or intense, so we should also set aside time to practise it more intensely. When we do so, our aim should be to turn our attention 180° away from other things towards self. If we once succeed in turning our attention 180° towards self, we will experience perfect clarity of self-awareness, unsullied by even to slightest awareness of any other thing. This is the state of true self-knowledge, which will completely destroy the illusion that we are this mind, so after this the illusion of experiencing anything other than ‘I’ can never return.

While trying to turn your attention 180° towards self, whenever you feel your self-attention is becoming slack, do not try to keep up the pressure. It is better to allow your attention to return to 0° for a while, and then to make a fresh attempt. If you wish to punch something, it is best to draw your fist right back, because then your punch will have maximum impact. Likewise, if you start your attempt to turn your attention selfwards from 0°, your effort will have maximum force.

By incessantly repeating such fresh attempts, you will gradually be able to turn your attention further and further towards self: 40°, 60°, 75° and more. In between each fresh attempt, you can usefully spend the time you are resting at 0° (that is, attending to second and third persons) by doing manana [thinking about Bhagavan’s teachings] or sravana [reading his teachings]. At all times between such attempts you should also take care to be indifferent to whatever experiences may come, because you can then build a strong foundation of vairagya [freedom from desire to attend to anything other than ‘I’] and bhakti [love to attend only to ‘I’], from which you will sooner or later be able to make your final leap, turning the full 180° towards self.

Some ripe aspirants do not need even to make such incessant efforts to turn selfwards, because they always remain vigilantly aware of self, waiting for the moment when they can take their final leap, the complete 180° turn towards self. Their practice is like the swinging of a shot-putter preparing to throw his shot.

When I was first taught by Janaki Matha to practise dualistic forms of meditation such as murti-dhyana [meditation upon a form of God], I found that continuous practice of such meditation caused me to have visions and other such divine experiences, but I soon understood that that was not the way to experience self. Only svarupa-dhyana [meditation upon self, which is another term Bhagavan used to describe the practice of atma-vichara] can enable one to experience self as it really is.

19th January 1978

Sadhu Om: It is difficult for us to mix with sadhakas who have other thought-currents. Hearing their ideas and their views about other gurus, we naturally feel lonely, since we love Bhagavan and like to think only of him and his teachings. But we should be careful not to preach. We should not express Bhagavan’s view to anyone unless we are asked.

Other gurus like Buddha and Sankara went to the world to teach their ideas, but Bhagavan has shown us that that is not necessary. The world is like your shadow, so if you go out towards it to teach it, it will recede from your grasp, but if you withdraw within yourself, it will follow you and subside there. If you quietly keep the fire of devotion to ‘I’, which Bhagavan has kindled within you, burning within your own heart by repeated sravana, manana and nididhyasana [studying, reflecting upon and practising his teachings], that is the best way to teach the world to follow him.

‘Act without desire for the fruit,’ says the Bhagavad Gita. Self-attention is not actually an action or karma, because it is a state of just being, not doing anything, but so long as we consider it to be something that we must do, it is the only ‘doing’ that will give no fruit or karma-phala. Therefore self-attention is the only true karma-yoga. This is why Bhagavan says in verse 10 of Upadesa Undiyar and verse 14 of Ulladu Narpadu Anubandham:

Being, having subsided in the place from which [we] rose – that is karma and bhakti, that is yoga and jnana.

Investigating to whom are these, karma, vibhakti, viyoga and ajnana, alone is karma, bhakti, yoga and jnana. When one investigates, without ‘I’ those [defects] do not ever exist. Remaining permanently as self is the reality.

If we rise as ‘I’, we will feel that we are entangled in action (karma) and in a state of non-devotion (vibhakti) or lack of true love for God, separation (viyoga) from God, and ignorance (ajnana) of our real nature. Therefore, subsiding back in self, the source from which we rose, by investigating who am I who experience such karma, vibhakti, viyoga and ajnana, is the correct practice of the four yogas or means of reunion: nishkamya karma (desireless action), bhakti (devotion), raja yoga and jnana (self-knowledge). When we investigate thus, the false ‘I’ will subside and disappear, and in its absence there will be no one to experience any karma, vibhakti, viyoga or ajnana. What will then remain is only the reality, which is the state in which we abide permanently as self without ever rising to be or to experience anything else.

Kunju Swami: In his later years, after all the court cases that he put against the ashram, Perumal Swami came to Bhagavan and complained, ‘When I was a young man I came to you for moksha [liberation], but you allowed me to be led astray by my weak buddhi [mind or intellect]. Now I shall surely go to hell’, to which Bhagavan replied, ‘Do you think I am not there also?’⁠7

On another occasion, having read Bhagavan’s biography, a new devotee angrily asked him, ‘Who is this fellow Perumal Swami?’ but Bhagavan replied affectionately, ‘That is our Perumal’, and continued to praise him, describing all the good service he had done. Not only did Bhagavan not feel any enmity towards anyone, but he also did not allow us to feel enmity towards anyone.

20th January 1978

Sadhu Om: During the waking state, whenever you do not feel love to attend to self, you cannot but attend to second and third persons [things that are other than oneself, the first person], so at such times it is best to resort to sravana [studying Bhagavan’s teachings] and manana [reflecting on them].

Making intermittent attempts to attend to self is the most effective way to proceed. It is useless to struggle constantly to attend to self, because that would be like standing deep in mud and trying to lift something out: the more you try to do so, the deeper you sink. A firm foothold is necessary, and it is provided by sravana and manana. The foothold is vairagya [dispassion], which is freedom from desire to attend to any second or third person object, and bhakti [devotion], which is love to attend only to the first person.

Our whole life should go on in this way, with our mind kept occupied in sravana, manana and nididhyasana [contemplation on self]. Sravana and manana may take a long time, depending on the individual mind, but the correct nididhyasana takes just a split second. We may be able to turn 179° away from everything else towards self, but even that is not perfect nididhyasana: it is just an attempt at perfect nididhyasana, and is like jumping nine-and-a-half feet across a ten-foot well. To land safely on the other side, we must jump the full ten feet. Likewise, to experience ourself as we really are, we must turn the full 180°.

One must also know what type of sravana will be effective. To be most effective, sravana must be focused and directed unswervingly in just one direction, so reading this and that from numerous different gurus is not proper sravana. You must first find a guru with whose thought-current you can agree, then discover what his real teachings are, and then practice them alone. Even reading books like Day by Day and Talks is not adequate sravana. There are many useful ideas in these books, but they are not presented there in a clear, coherent or sequential manner, so they are not sufficient to give you a firm foothold on Bhagavan’s teachings and to stop you from sinking into a mire of confused and uncertain ideas.

Moreover, many ideas in such books are answers that Bhagavan gave to questions that various types of people asked him from a wide variety of perspectives, so such answers often do not represent his real teachings, since he always tailored his answers to suit the needs, concerns and aspirations of each questioner and their ability or willingness to understand whatever he might say to them. Therefore to understand such answers in a proper perspective, we need to view them in the clear light of his actual teachings, so anyone who does not already have a clear and thorough understanding of his essential teachings will be liable to misunderstand or be confused by some of the answers recorded in such books. Therefore if we wish to do sravana correctly and effectively, we must carefully and repeatedly study and reflect upon Bhagavan’s own original writings such as Nan Yar? (Who am I?), Upadesa Undiyar, Ulladu Narpadu, Anma Viddai and Ekatma Panchakam.

Except these few short texts, no other books are really necessary to enable a sincere aspirant to understand Bhagavan’s essential teachings correctly. Even The Path of Sri Ramana should not be necessary, and it became necessary only because people made clear to me the extent to which they had failed to understand his teachings correctly, partly because they had not studied his original writings carefully enough, but also due to confusion caused either by other books that they had read or by their reliance on inadequate translations and interpretations of his teachings.

For example, some writers imagine sphurana to be some sort of ‘pulsation’, ‘throbbing’ or ‘vibration’ in the heart, so they have written that this is what we should hold on to. However, anything that pulsates, throbs or vibrates is obviously something other than the ‘I’ who experiences it, so it is only a second person. The experience of ‘I’, the first person, is such that it cannot be described in any way. When Bhagavan used the term sphurana, he meant only aham-sphurana [the clear shining of ‘I’], which is not a new knowledge of anything other than ‘I’, but only a new knowledge of ‘I’, our own self. That is, it is a fresh clarity of our self-awareness. It is awareness of the same ‘I’ that we always experience, but it is experienced with a fresh degree of clarity. Because it is such a clarity, when it is experienced no doubts will rise about it, just as when you are fully satisfied after eating a sumptuous meal no doubt can rise in your mind about whether or not you are still hungry. Once experienced, the clarity called sphurana can never be forgotten, and if we hold on to it firmly, it will automatically lead us to our sahaja sthiti [natural state].

Though we need to make intermittent attempts to attend to self, between such attempts we must also be vigilant at all times to avoid attending to any unnecessary thoughts. Most of the thoughts that we think each day are not actually necessary, and they serve only to distract our attention away from self, so we must gradually cultivate the habit of taking interest only in self-attention instead in anything else that we may think about. If every moment that we spend attending to unnecessary thoughts were spent attending to self, most of our time each day would be spent in self-attention. Therefore indifference towards thoughts of anything other than self is a powerful aid in our practice of self-attention.

Bhagavan was so unconcerned about everything that he did not experience even the actions of his mind, speech or body as his own, so he never felt ‘I am thinking’, ‘I am talking’ or ‘I am doing’. Because of his complete lack of doership, on behalf of Perumal Swami he wrote a verse in praise of himself as Lord Subrahmanya but signed it ‘Perumal’⁠8, and on behalf of Jagadiswara Sastri he wrote the verse hridaya kuhara madhye … (in the centre of the heart-cave …)⁠9, which he likewise signed ‘Jagadisa’.

In a quiet mind many truths about past and future events may be known, but this is not a siddhi [an attainment of a desired supernatural power] because it happens only in the absence of any volition or desire for such an experience. It is likewise only in a calm and quiet mind that Bhagavan’s silent teachings can be received. They are not received in words but only as an inner clarity of understanding, and they give us such a strong conviction that no one can ever shake our trust in what we discover through them. However much we may struggle to do so, we cannot find words to express the clarity we discover through the power of his silence.

21st January 1978

Sadhu Om: By allowing falsehood and injustice to thrive in this world, and truth and justice to be suppressed, Bhagavan is testing us. If we allow an ‘I’ to rise and object, he will laugh at us from within: ‘So you still believe this world to be real’. Therefore our duty is to keep quiet. If we are actually attacked, we must respond as if we were brushing away a wasp, but having taken whatever action is necessary, we should keep quiet, both inwardly and outwardly. We should not brood over the matter or bear a grudge towards anyone who does wrong to us.

26th January 1978

Sadhu Om: Like Bhagavan, Sri Ramakrishna also taught that we can know God only by trying to know who is this ‘I’ who wants to know God⁠10.

What is important in surrender is that we should desire only what Bhagavan desires for us. If our desires are contrary to what he wants for us, how can he give us moksha [liberation]? What he wants is to give us moksha, but moksha entails freedom from desire, so unless we are willing to give up all our desires, he will not give us moksha, because he will not force us to accept what we do not want.

If we only want whatever he gives us, then from this very moment we can live free from all cares and worries, because nothing can ever happen that is not his will, so we will happily accept whatever may happen. Thus there is no difference between self-abidance and complete self-surrender. If we abide as self, we will experience nothing other than self and hence there will be no identification with a body, so how can we then desire or pray for the removal of pain or for anything else? Likewise, if we surrender to him, we will have no desires or concerns, so how can we then pray for anything?

If our will and desires are perfectly attuned with his will, what can our vasanas [inclinations or propensities] do to obstruct his work? A genuine willingness to surrender to his will will effectively neutralise the power of all our other vasanas.

Therefore without the least hesitation we should sign over to him a blank cheque – that is, we should completely surrender to him our original freedom to will and act – because there is no one who loves us or cares for us more than he does. He loves us as his own self, so his love for us is even greater than our love for ourself, because he loves us as we really are, whereas we love ourself as a person, which is not what we really are.

The stronger our faith in his love and power is, the quieter our mind will be, and hence the more peaceful and pleasant our life will be. To save us from the bondage created by our own ego, he is working equally hard and effectively in each and every one of us. I am so confident about this that I do not worry myself about anyone. As our essential self, he is working in all of us, and he knows what is the best way to save each of us.

30th January 1978

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan has a peculiar way of leading his devotees: he will never let us know how advanced we are in our practice of self-abidance. He is such a masterful guru that he will never allow any ‘I’ to rise in pride within us by knowing ‘I am making progress in this path’. Though we may be very advanced, we will feel ourself to be the most worthless of all, as Bhagavan expresses in verse 39 of Sri Arunachala Aksharamanamalai: ‘O Arunachala, by what power can I, who am worse than a dog, seek and reach you!’

Though we may often succeed in turning 130° or 140° away from all other things towards self, we will still feel that our attempts are woefully inadequate. We are like small children, whose growth seems imperceptible to themselves or even to their parents, who see them daily, but we are growing nonetheless. Though we do not know what is best for us, Bhagavan does, and he is therefore maturing us in whatever way is best suited to our present stage of development.

When we first come to the path of Sri Ramana, a certain amount of reasoning is necessary to give us firm faith in the truth of what he has taught us, but once our faith is firmly established, we can entrust ourself blindly to him. Once we know that we are on a broad trunk road with strong barriers on either side preventing us from going astray, we can close our eyes and run blindly ahead! This is why I emphasise in the second part of The Path of Sri Ramana that one cannot become a yoga-bhrasta [a person fallen from the path of yoga] after entering the third (b) or fourth standards in the school of bhakti [the stages at which one has acquired one-pointed devotion to God or guru respectively]. We are now prey in the jaws of a powerful tiger, so we will never be forsaken.

Though we cannot by any means gauge our progress in the practice of self-abidance, by considering our own desires in an unbiased manner we can gauge in which standard we are in the school of bhakti. Relatively few people are actually in the third (b) or fourth standards, because to qualify to be in them one must be wholly devoted to either God or guru for their own sake and not for the sake of any personal benefit that one may gain from them. Even among the devotees of Bhagavan, many are at best in the third (a) standard, because though their devotion to him may be one-pointed (which is the basic requirement for the third standard), they still expect him to grant the fulfilment of their personal desires and pray to him accordingly. Thus their love for Bhagavan is not pure, because it is mixed with their love for whatever they desire to gain from him.

Even though many of our vasanas may be hidden from our view, so long as our greatest desire is only for the annihilation of ‘I’, we are in the fourth standard. Then only have we been truly caught in the guru’s glance of grace. Having thus been caught by him, we need not worry about our hidden vasanas, because if hidden desires rise in our mind, his hidden grace will certainly come to protect us.

Sravana, manana and nididhyasana [study, reflection and self-contemplation] should all go on hand-in-hand. Only by practicing an art do you experience whatever difficulties it entails, and such experience enables you to understand more clearly and deeply the instructions you have been given. Therefore each time you slip down from an attempt at nididhyasana, having failed to turn the full 180°, you can return to your sravana and manana, and then you will find that you are able to grasp more clearly what Bhagavan has taught us.

To emphasise the importance of sravana and manana, in some ancient advaitic texts it is said that even after the disciple has finally realised the truth, when he asks the guru how he should spend the rest of his life, the guru replies that he should continue in the same way as before, studying and reflecting upon the guru’s teachings. Because the guru tells us not to think, some people wrongly conclude that sravana and manana are unnecessary, but this is like someone who tries to eat without using his hands because he has been told that we cannot eat except with our mouth. If you can keep quiet without thinking for twenty-four hours every day, that is good, but if you cannot always avoid thinking, it is best to think only of Bhagavan’s teachings.

1st February 1978

Sadhu Om: We must understand that Bhagavan does not use the word ulladu [which means ‘what is’ or ‘that which is’] to denote some abstract concept of being or reality, as some philosophers do. He uses it simply to mean the one self-existing and self-evident reality, ‘I am’, which is always clearly known by everyone.

When ‘I’ remains as it is, without any adjuncts, it is the sole reality, but when it seems to rise as ‘I am this body’, it is as such unreal. That is, in the compound experience ‘I am this body’, ‘I am’ alone is real, and the adjunct ‘this body’ is unreal. Thus as a compound of the real and the unreal, the ‘I’ that feels ‘I am this body’ is itself unreal.

Since this ‘I’ is unreal, why should we worry about its defects: karma [action], vibhakti [lack of devotion], viyoga [separation] and ajnana [ignorance of self]? If we investigate the ‘I’ that seems to have these defects, we will find it to be unreal, and hence all its defects are likewise unreal. Therefore in verse 14 of Ulladu Narpadu Anubandham Bhagavan says:

Investigating to whom are these, karma, vibhakti, viyoga and ajnana, is itself karma, bhakti, yoga and jnana. [This is because] when [one] investigates [oneself], [it will be clear that] they [karma, vibhakti, viyōga and ajñāna] never exist without ‘I’ [which is itself not real]. Only being permanently as self is true.

The first and only duty we have is to find out the truth of this ‘I’. Bhagavan says in Nan Yar? (Who am I?) that even if one is the worst sinner, if one would cling firmly to self-attention (svarupa-dhyana), one would certainly be reformed and saved.

All the so-called ‘other paths’ are only intended to purify the mind, because they cannot actually annihilate the ego. This is why Bhagavan says in verse 3 of Upadesa Undiyar:

Desireless action (niskamya karma) done [with love] for God purifies the mind and [thereby] it shows the path to liberation.

The ‘path to liberation’ is only atma-vicara [self-investigation or self-enquiry], but only a mind that is to some extent purified will be able to recognise that this is the only means to annihilate the ego. If we have recognised this, we do not need to follow any other path, because vicara will not only annihilate our ego eventually, but will also in the meanwhile purify our mind far more effectively and efficiently than any other path could.

Therefore paths other than atma-vicara are only for those who do not understand that eradication of one’s individuality is the goal, and that vicara is the only means by which we can achieve this goal. Such people are not true aspirants, because we only become aspirants when we have genuine love to make this ‘I’ subside, for which atma-vicara is the only means. The only benefit to be gained from other paths is sufficient mental purity to be able to grasp that atma-vicara alone is the path by which we can reach our final destination, the state of liberation or true self-knowledge.

Atma-vicara appears to be ‘intellectual self-analysis’ only in the view of those who do not have sufficient mental purity to understand that we can know ourself only by attending to ourself, and consequently to have true love for self-attention, which alone is the correct practice of vicara.

2nd February 1978

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan repeatedly emphasised that atma-vicara is the only path, the direct path for everyone, and also the easiest path. For example, in Nan Yar? he says:

Only by [means of] the vicara [investigation] who am I will the mind subside [or cease to be]; […]

To make the mind subside [permanently], there are no adequate means other than vicara. If restrained by other means, the mind will remain as if subsided, [but] will emerge again. [...] Therefore pranayama [breath-restraint] is just an aid to restrain the mind, but will not bring about manonasa [the annihilation of the mind].

Just like pranayama, murti-dhyana [meditation upon a form of God], mantra-japa [repetition of sacred words such as a name of God] and ahara-niyama [restriction of diet] are only aids that restrain the mind [but will not bring about its annihilation]. […]

In verse 885 of Guru Vacaka Kovai he says:

Except [by] the path of investigating the vital awareness [‘I am’], whatever effort is made by other means beginning with karma, one will not attain and enjoy self, the treasure shining in the heart.

In verse 17 of Upadesa Undiyar he says:

When [anyone] scrutinises the form of the mind without forgetting, [it will become clear that] there is no such thing as ‘mind’. For everyone this is the direct path.

Likewise, in Maharshi’s Gospel (Book 2, chapter 1) it is recorded that he said:

Whatever form your enquiry may take, you must finally come to the one I, the Self. [...]

Self-enquiry is the one infallible means, the only direct one, to realise the unconditioned, Absolute Being that you really are. [...] every kind of sadhana [spiritual practice] except that of atma-vichara presupposes the retention of the mind as the instrument for carrying on the sadhana, and without the mind it cannot be practised. The ego may take different and subtler forms at the different stages of one’s practice, but is itself never destroyed. [...]

The attempt to destroy the ego or the mind through sadhanas other than atma-vichara is just like the thief assuming the guise of a policeman to catch the thief, that is himself. Atma-vichara alone can reveal the truth that neither the ego nor the mind really exists, and enables one to realise the pure, undifferentiated Being of the Self or the Absolute.

[...] To be the Self that you really are is the only means to realise the bliss that is ever yours.

Since self is aware of nothing other than itself, ‘I am’, ‘to be the self’ simply means to be aware of nothing but ‘I’ alone, which is all that the practice of atma-vicara entails. As Bhagavan says in verse 26 of Upadesa Undiyar: ‘Being self alone is knowing self, because self is not two. […]’.

Because of our desire to be constantly experiencing something other than just ‘I’, it may seem difficult for us to experience only ‘I’, but Bhagavan assures us that this is actually very easy – much easier than any other means by which we may try to attain liberation. This is emphatically affirmed by him in verse 4 of Atma-Vidya Kirtanam:

To untie the bonds beginning with karma, [and] to rise above the ruin beginning with birth, rather than whatever [other] path, this path [atma-vicara] is exceedingly easy. When [one] just is, having settled down without even the least action of mind, speech or body, ah, in [one’s] heart the light of self [will shine forth]. [This is our] eternal experience. Fear will not exist. The ocean of bliss alone [will remain]. ([Therefore] ah, the science of self is extremely easy, ah, extremely easy!)

Every other sadhana entails doing some action (karma) by mind, speech or body, whereas atma-vicara entails the mind subsiding without the least action by focusing its entire attention on its source, ‘I am’. Therefore, whereas any other sadhana is a practice of ‘doing’, atma-vicara is the practice of just being as we really are – with perfect clarity of self-awareness. Hence, since being is easier than doing, atma-vicara is the easiest of all paths.

The purpose of niskamya puja, japa and dhyana, and of all sadhanas other than atma-vicara, is only to purify the mind. Purification of mind is the sole benefit that can be gained from any such sadhanas, because none of them can ever by itself destroy the ego. The benefit of a purified mind is that ‘it shows the path to liberation’, as Bhagavan says in verse 3 of Upadesa Undiyar. That is, it enables the mind to discriminate, understand and be firmly convinced that atma-vicara alone is the path to liberation.

Thus, when Sri Bhagavan says in Maharshi’s Gospel (Book 2, chapter 1), ‘Atma-vichara alone can reveal the truth that neither the ego nor the mind really exists’, he is not being partial, nor is he criticising other sadhanas. He is merely asserting the truth that though other sadhanas can purify the mind, they cannot destroy it. Therefore, we should not confuse these paths for mental purification with ‘the path to liberation’, which is the ‘one path’ taught by Bhagavan – the path he describes as or vazhi [the ‘one path’ or the ‘path of investigation’] in verse 14 of Upadesa Undiyar.

A true aspirant is one whose mind is sufficiently purified to understand that atma-vicara alone can be ‘the path to liberation’, and therefore to love to practice it. Those who cannot understand this are at best just devotees of God.

Bhagavan says that atma-vicara is the direct path, not because he expects us to attack the mind directly, but because he expects us to turn directly towards self, ‘I am’, and by thus remaining in self to ignore the mind. Thus atma-vicara is, so to speak, avoiding and hiding from the mind instead of fighting it face to face. This is what is signified by Rama’s method of killing Vali.

Vali had a boon that he would receive half of the strength of anyone he faced in battle, so he was automatically more powerful than any opponent he had to face. Therefore even Rama could not have killed him in face-to-face combat, so he had to hide behind a tree and shoot him from behind. Just as Vali gained half the strength of his opponent, if we try to fight the mind in direct combat, we will be giving it half of our strength, because our attention is what sustains and nourishes it, so the more we attend to it (that is, to its constant flow of thoughts), the more we are giving it strength. Therefore the only way to destroy the mind is by attending only to ‘I’ and thereby ignoring all the other thoughts that constitute the mind.

All other sadhanas, which are only actions performed by ‘I’, attempt to destroy the mind using it as the means or instrument, and hence Bhagavan likens them to someone confronting Vali, or to a thief pretending to be a policeman trying to catch the thief, or to a person trying to get rid of his own shadow. Therefore Bhagavan advises us to ignore our shadow, the mind or ego, by turning our attention towards the sun, ‘I am’.

3rd February 1978

Sadhu Om: In 1949, when Bhagavan received a telegram from Manikkam Pillai informing him of the death of Sivaprakasam Pillai, he said with a twist of his hand, ‘Sivaprakasam has become Siva-prakasam [the light of Siva]’.

4th February 1978

Sadhu Om: When the reality is the truth of our own being, how can training the mind to attend to any second or third person (anything other than ourself) help us to attain that reality? Someone whose mind is thus attached to any name or form will not be able to understand even intellectually what self-attention actually is. Even if he can enjoy the company of the name and form of his beloved God, how does that help him? Ramakrishna once said that even if God wants to take us to self, he cannot unless we want him to. Only by our own liking and effort to practise self-attention can we attain true self-knowledge (atma-jnana).

The aim towards which the whole universe is striving is nothing but the subsidence of thought, because happiness is experienced only to the extent to which thought subsides. The complete subsidence of thought is experienced by all beings in sleep, and hence everyone is perfectly happy in that state, but because we attend only to second and third persons in the waking and dream states, we fail to discriminate properly and thereby to understand that what we are seeking is only the subsidence of thought. Bhagavan points out our mistake and tells us that we should try to experience in the waking state the happiness which we experienced in sleep. How can we do so? In sleep we did not attend to any second or third persons, but experienced only ourself, so we should try to do the same now.

Even scientists are only looking for happiness, but they wrongly discriminate and believe that happiness will be increased if the whole of mankind is able to enjoy more pleasures through the five senses. But once we are convinced that self alone is our goal, why should we attend to anything other than ourself? An independent and careful reflection on Bhagavan’s teachings should convince anyone that self alone is our goal, and will thereby give them the love to attend only to self.

All other spiritual practices (sadhanas) require blind belief in something that we do not know, because they need us to believe that something other than ourself can lead us to ourself. The practice of self-attention is the only path which is clearly charted and scientific, because it is the only path in which the [causal] connection between the practice (attending to self) and the goal (knowing self) is self-evident.

All religions and philosophies tell us that sleep is a mean state, and they all expect us to believe something other than ourself, but one Ramana alone stands to say that we shouldn’t believe anything but self, ‘I am’, because we who exist unchanging in all the three states are alone the real substance (mey-porul or sat-vastu). Once we have been convinced by Bhagavan, we should cease to be concerned whether this person or that person is a jnani. We should have faith in ourself, and should therefore press on towards our goal without being concerned about others.

If you doubt whether you can be one of the few who will reach the goal, remember that the Vedas assure us, ‘You are that’ (tat tvam asi), so you are the one who will succeed, because you are already that.

5th February 1978

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan does not ask us to believe anything new. He simply points out the obvious truth that we love only ourself, and that our love for other things (body, mind, God, and the things of the world) is a mere pretence, because we love them only for the sake of ourself. He says that if we want to be happy, we should stop pretending that we love anything other than self, and we should let our love for self be whole and not partial.

In the ninth paragraph of Nan Yar? (Who am I?) Bhagavan says:

Just like breath-restraint (pranayama), meditation upon a form of God (murti-dhyana), repetition of sacred words (mantra-japa) and regulation of diet (ahara-niyama) are mere aids for controlling the mind [but can never by themselves bring about its destruction]. By murti-dhyana and mantra-japa the mind gains one-pointedness (ekagra). Just as when a chain is given to an elephant to hold in its trunk, which is always wandering [here and there trying to catch hold of things], that elephant will go along holding only the chain instead of trying to catch any other thing, so also when the mind, which is always wandering, is trained to hold on to any one name or form [of God], it will cling only to that. Because the mind branches out into innumerable thoughts, each thought becomes very weak. As thoughts subside more and more, one-pointedness is gained, and for the mind which has thereby gained strength, self-enquiry (atma-vicara) will easily be accomplished. […]

There is a break here in the sequence of ideas between the sentence ending ‘it will cling only to that’ and the sentence beginning ‘Because the mind branches out’, because the first of these two sentences is specifically about the practices of murti-dhyana and mantra-japa, whereas the second is a general observation. If the meaning of this paragraph is carefully considered in comparison with what Bhagavan teaches us in Upadesa Undiyar and Ulladu Narpadu, it will be clear that he is not saying that if the mind becomes one-pointed through nama-japa or rupa-dhyana, it will thereby gain strength to abide in its source.

That is, in verse 8 of Upadesa Undiyar Bhagavan says that rather than anya-bhava (meditation upon anything other than ‘I’), ananya-bhava (meditation upon nothing other than ‘I’) is the best among all forms of meditation. What he means by ananya-bhava is only atma-vicara [self-investigation or self-enquiry], because atma-vicara is the practice of meditating only on ‘I’, whereas every other practice involves meditating on or attending to something other than ‘I’. Therefore though he says ‘avan aham ahum ananya-bhava’, which means ‘otherless meditation in which he [God] is I’, he does not mean that meditating on the thought ‘He is I’ (soham bhavana) is ananya-bhava, because that thought is something other than ‘I’. If we are really convinced that God is ‘I’, we should meditate only on ‘I’ and not on any thought about God. However, though soham bhavana is not ananya-bhava, it is at least based on the conviction that God is not other than ‘I’, so from this verse we can infer that it is superior to any meditation in which God is considered to be something other than ‘I’.

However, in verse 32 of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan says that practising soham bhavana instead of atma-vicara is ‘due to lack of strength’ (uran-inmaiyinal). Therefore, since practising even soham bhavana is due to weakness, practising meditation on God as if he were other than ‘I’ must be due to even greater weakness, so how can any such meditation be said to give our mind the strength it requires to practise atma-vicara and thereby to abide in its source?

Even in the case of Ramakrishna, his attachment to the name and form of Kali proved a hindrance, and only because of his exceptional maturity and the grace of Kali was he able to cut that name and form with the sword of knowledge (jnana). If one meditates upon a name and form, the mind will gain strength to see God in that name and form, as Bhagavan teaches us in verse 8 of Ulladu Narpadu, but that is not the mental strength that we require to abide in our source. If our mind becomes one-pointed in concentrating on any second or third person, that attachment will hinder us for many lives, preventing us from coming to the path of atma-vicara. Kavyakantha Ganapati Sastri had trained his mind so well in attending to mantras and other such second or third person objects that he was unable to practice self-attention, so Bhagavan remarked that he was like a race-horse that can gallop forwards at great speed but is unable to take even one step backwards.

However, if anyone practises nama-japa with genuine love for God, believing that it will take them to him, their effort will not be wasted, because after a number of lives the God whose name (nama) they have been repeating with love will appear to them in the form (rupa) of guru, who will tell them to leave such futile practices and to practise instead only self-attention. Therefore after we have come to Bhagavan, why should we train our minds in any practice other than self-attention? If anyone nevertheless wants to practise some sort of japa (repetition), Bhagavan suggested that the best japa is only to repeat ‘I, I’. If you do japa of God’s name, you will see God, whereas if you do japa of ‘I’, the name of yourself, you will know yourself alone.

12th February 1978

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan is performing a delicate operation which will radically change our long-accustomed outlook of mistaking a body to be ‘I’ and the world to be real, into the outlook that we alone are. If this change were to occur too fast, it would put too much pressure on our mind, upsetting our mental balance, and could either make us insane or even drive us to commit suicide. But Bhagavan is a very skilled surgeon, and so he knows the right speed at which to change our outlook. If we are going too fast, he sometimes has to disconnect the current for a while, which he does by making us feel disinterested in practicing self-attention. Therefore we should not be disheartened by such experiences, because they happen for our own good, and he can sometimes use such periods of apparent disinterest to push us right up to the boundary. Even Muruganar had a similar experience, feeling that he was a helpless case.

We should always have faith in Bhagavan’s assurance that we are like the prey in the jaws of a tiger, and that we can therefore never escape. If we strain too much, we might be obstructing Bhagavan in his work, so he sometimes even has to put an end to this life and make us take a new body. Death, suicide and insanity seem to be big things to us, but to him they are minor events which he uses for our own benefit.

The culture in India provides Hindus with many outlets when the pressure becomes too great. Even before I knew Bhagavan, I used to take days off work just to go to a lonely place to weep for God. To have sat-sanga with the right friends can also be a great help during rough periods. Sravana and manana (studying and reflecting on Bhagavan’s teachings) are also very important at such times. They are like a protective fortress.

When I say that intermittent attempts at self-attention are important, remember that the rests in between are as important as the attempts. Even if you attend to self for only a few seconds at each attempt, these attempts will have their effect unknown to you. Because of these attempts, occasionally at other times – say in the middle of some work – you will feel that you are being automatically reminded of your mere being, ‘I am’, but it is not the mind that is reminding you. It is similar to pricking a banana with a pin: you do not know how close the pin has come to the other side until you prick your hand.

Doing japa of ‘I’ is helpful for those beginners who are not able to recognise that our awareness of ‘I’ (that is, our awareness that I am) is something that is distinct from our awareness of our body or any other mental image. By practicing japa of ‘I’ they can begin to experience for one moment now and then the awareness of ‘I’ alone. Once they recognise this awareness of their mere existence, they can give up their japa of ‘I’ and instead practise simple self-attention.

‘Summa iru’, which means ‘just be’ or ‘be still’, is the correct way of describing self-attention, because self-attention is simply not attending to anything other than ‘I’, so it does not involve our attention moving anywhere away from its source, which is ‘I’. The Tamil adverb summa implies not doing anything, because any ‘doing’ or action always involves attending to something other than ‘I’. When we attend only to ‘I’, our attention remains in its source, as its source, ‘I am’, so self-attention is not an action but a state of just being. In one of his verses Arunagirinathar sings that when Lord Muruga told him ‘summa iru’, he ceased knowing anything, which means that he ceased attending to any second or third person.

When you correctly attend to self, then no doubts about it will arise, for your self-attention will then be as clear to you as is your present knowledge ‘I am’. On the other hand, we can also say that you will never know when you correctly attend to self, because from that moment all knowing will cease, and being alone will remain. Bhagavan once said:

Not only is self (atman) that which does not know other things, it is that which does not know even itself as ‘I am this’.

This idea was recorded by Sri Muruganar in verse 831 of Meyttava Vilakkam:

Self does not know not only its own nature but also anything else. Such a knowledge alone is the real ‘I’.

That is, self-knowledge is a knowledge quite unlike any other knowledge, because not only does self not know itself as an object of knowledge, but also its knowing itself is not an action or ‘doing’ but only being. Knowing anything else is an action, whereas self knows itself just by being itself. Therefore in verse 26 of Upadesa Undiyar Bhagavan says:

Being self alone is knowing self, because self is that which is devoid of two [a knowing subject and a known object]. This is tanmaya-nistha [abidance as ‘that’, the absolute reality called brahman].

14th February 1978

Sadhu Om (in reply to someone who quoted and asked questions about some ideas of J. Krishnamurti): At times JK seems to be describing the state of a jnani, but what use is that to us unless we are told how to attain that state? He says we should observe suffering, conflict and so on in the actuality of the present moment, but that is not possible, because suffering and conflict, which are second and third persons (things other than ‘I’, the first person), are constantly changing in the flow of time from past to future, so in the actual present moment there is no room for them. The actual present moment is infinitesimally brief , because it is the fine boundary between past and future, so there is absolutely no room in it for any movement or change, or even for the slightest rising the first person. Therefore in the actual present moment only the pure ‘I am’ can be observed. In effect he tells us to closely observe second and third persons, whereas Bhagavan tells us to have an attitude of indifference (udasina bhava) towards all second and third persons – to ignore them completely and to attend only to the first person.

The first sentence of the first mangalam verse of Ulladu Narpadu can be interpreted in several slightly different ways, but they all mean essentially the same thing. It can mean, ‘If there were not something that really exists [which is called ‘I’], could there be any awareness of being [which is called ‘am’]?’ or it can mean, ‘Can awareness of being [‘am’] be other than what is [‘I’]?’ The words ulla unarvu can mean either ‘awareness of being’ or ‘awareness to meditate’, so this sentence can also mean, ‘Other than what is [‘I’] can there be any awareness to meditate [on it]?’

Bhagavan wrote this verse to refute the popular myth in India that it is possible to meditate upon the reality. Initially he wrote only the last two lines, which mean: ‘How to [or who can] meditate upon the thing that [really] exists? Know that being in the heart as it is alone is meditating [upon it]’. However, when Kavyakantha saw that this verse had just two lines and all the other verses had four lines, he suggested to Bhagavan that he should add two more lines to it, so Bhagavan then composed the first two lines. The resulting verse means:

If there were not what is, could there be any awareness of being? Since the thing that is is in the heart devoid of thought, how to [or who can] meditate upon the thing that is, which is called ‘heart’? Know that being in the heart as it is [that is, without any thought] alone is meditating [upon it].

The whole of Ulladu Narpadu is an expansion of this one basic idea, so Bhagavan starts his teachings by disparaging the idea of meditation, but nowadays people call the hall where he lived the ‘meditation hall’ and they expect that everyone who comes to Ramanasramam should meditate. Self-attention is not meditation in the usual sense of the word, because it is not a mental activity. It may seem that trying to attend to self is an action, but in fact it is simply the effort to make the mind subside. When we attend to anything other than self, the mind rises and is active, but when we try to attend only to self, it subsides and ceases to be active.

We always know ‘I am’, so we are always aware of and therefore attending to self, but our self-awareness is usually mixed with awareness of other things, so Bhagavan tells us to try to attend only to self, because such an attempt is the only means to make the mind subside. In fact the mind that tries to attend only to self can never do so, because it is the nature of the mind to attend to second and third persons, which are non-self, but by trying to attend only to self it will merge in its source, our real self, and then self alone will remain to know itself, as it always does.

16th February 1978

Sadhu Om: In verse 1 of Ulladu Narpadu the term ser padam, which means the connecting, underlying or pervading screen, can be taken to mean time and space, which underlie, support and pervade the appearance of the world. The entire verse means:

Because we see the world, accepting one original thing that has a power that becomes many is certainly the one best option. The picture of names and forms [the world], the one who sees [it], the supporting screen [on which it appears], and the pervading light [of consciousness that illumines it] – all these are he [the one original thing], which is self.

18th February 1978

Sadhu Om: The verb uruppadu usually means to form or reform, because the basic meaning of uru is form, but uru can also mean svarupa, our ‘own form’ or real self, so in verse 33 of Sri Arunachala Aksharamanamalai the term uruppadu viddai means atma-vidya, the science and art of abiding as self. On the other hand seppadi viddai means a deceptive art or science, so it can means any worldly skill. Katru can mean either ‘learning’ or ‘one who is proficient’, and ippadi can mean either ‘this world’ or ‘in this way’. Thus this verse has two alternative meanings:

Arunachala, teach me the art of abiding as self, giving up this worldly delusion of learning deceptive skills.

Arunachala, giving up deluding me in this way [as] one who is proficient in the art of deception, teach me [instead] the art of self-abidance.

Sadhu Om (in reply to a letter): To quote your letter, “I was not able to meditate in the way I had always become accustomed to. In the past, meditation has been an active process of intense effort whereby the ego sought out some elusive ‘I-I’. I now feel less and less able to concentrate within – by that I mean directing my mental gaze inwards towards some subtle centre. In fact, I don’t feel that I understand the term ‘self-enquiry’, which seemed so crystal clear when I started on this path. I recall that once when somebody brought up the subject of kriya yoga, you said something to the effect that you were mystified how ‘action’ could lead to a state of ‘inaction’. This seems to be the situation in which I now find myself. The old idea of meditation being an active process of seeking within seems to have fallen by the wayside – for who is to do the seeking, and for what?”

Self-attention is not to be done with any strain. Any other contemplation may need effort, but though this is called self-attention, it is nothing but a mental rest, relaxing the mind from attending to other things. Though it is said ‘turn your mind towards self’, it is not an action done by the mind. When the mind does not do anything but keeps itself at rest, it is truly attending to self. Since this is an effortless state, how can there be any strain? The mind will have a reaction of insanity or jumping in a topsy-turvy way only if it is strained – that is, if it is compelled to concentrate on any other thing, whether in the name of self-attention or any other meditation.

In our path of abiding in self, the mind returns to its home and takes rest from its adventures in yoga. Though this is called ‘self-attention’, it is nothing but a complete rest of the mind, and if practiced, it will not be the cause of what you have complained about in your letter, namely ‘erupting into wild outbursts of anger and violence’. When, after a long period of effort and struggles to do sadhana, one gives up doing sadhana, then and only then does real sadhana – self-attention – begin.

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan once said, ‘They say it is very difficult to stop thoughts, and also that by tapas nothing is impossible, but however much tapas I do, I cannot think a single thought’. We think now that we must strain to withdraw our mind from second and third persons, but in fact we are straining ourselves to attend to them. To rest in our natural state of self-attention is effortless, but it seems to require effort because we prefer to attend to other things. Therefore we need to give up this liking to attend to anything else, because if we do so we will no more be troubled by thoughts. Through sravana [studying Bhagavan’s teachings] and manana [reflecting on them] we gain dispassion or indifference towards anything other than self, and by nididhyasana [contemplation on self] we gain love for self-abidance. Though these seem to be two different practices, they both lead in the same direction.

One of the many new ideas that Bhagavan has given us is that the real guru is a guru only in the view of the disciple. Though others may claim to be gurus, among Bhagavan and his real disciples you will find no one saying, ‘I am the guru’. Bhagavan always used to praise guru as God himself, but when asked who is guru, he pointed to Arunachala. He never accepted worship for his own form, but instead always encouraged people to direct their devotion (bhakti) towards Arunachala. When people praised him as the sadguru, he asked, ‘But who brought me here? It was Arunachala’.

Likewise his disciples will always point only to him as the guru, and not to themselves. Not only will they say that they are not the guru, but they will not even have the slightest feeling that they are the guru – that is the right sign of a true disciple. They will not allow any ‘I’ to rise as an obstacle between any other aspirant and Bhagavan.

When Alexander invaded north India, he was told about a great sage who lived in a cave on the nearby mountain, so he went to visit him early one morning, and found an elderly man dressed in rags crouching at the entrance of a cave warming himself in the morning sunshine. When Alexander asked him what service he could do for him, the sage at first kept quiet, but when Alexander persisted, saying that he was the most powerful emperor in the world and could therefore give him anything he wanted, he finally just waved his hand indicting to Alexander to step aside in order to stop obstructing the warmth of the sun. If we rise as an ‘I’ thinking ‘I can guide others’, we would be standing as an obstacle between those others and the shining of Bhagavan’s grace, just as Alexander was standing as an obstacle between the old sage and the warm sunshine.

Bhagavan often said self is the guru, so the guru has always been and will always be with us. Therefore we need not seek the guru, because he is already doing his part, so we should concern ourselves only with seeking our own real self. As Bhagavan said in Maharshi’s Gospel [Book 2, chapter 2]:

If you seek either [God or guru] – they are not really two but one and identical – rest assured that they are seeking you with a solicitude greater than you can ever imagine.

[...] God or the Guru is always in search of the earnest seeker. Were the coin a dud piece, the woman would not have made that long search. Do you see what it means? The seeker must qualify himself through devotion etc.

The mind can never imagine or understand what work the guru is doing within. If it tried, it would be like someone trying to remember where he was and what he was doing during his grandfather’s wedding.

Bhagavan was extremely subtle when he answered questions, but here we try to make it as plain and simple as possible. Since his answers were so subtle, we should be careful not to rush to hasty conclusions about what he meant. The answers he gave were not always recorded accurately, and even when they were, we can easily misunderstand the significance of what he said or the reason why he answered as he did.

19th February 1978

Sadhu Om: By clarifying that self is not the seer, perceiver or knower of anything, Bhagavan has given a correction slip to many of the sastras [ancient texts of vedanta]. If we had just read sastras, it would not have been sufficiently clear to us that self is not the seer, because in this regard many contradictory ideas are expressed in sastras. For instance, the word atman [self] is often used to mean jivatman [the individual or personal self], and paramatman [remotest, ultimate or supreme self] is used to mean our real self. In Sanskrit dictionaries you will find that atman means self, oneself or ‘I’, but it is used to mean the thought ‘I’ as well as the real ‘I’. The vague and ambiguous meaning of this word atman and the various senses in which it is used has created many controversies and became the main point of disagreement between Buddhists and Vedantins.

Bhagavan has avoided all this confusion and the resulting controversies by clarifying that in the sense in which he uses this term atman is the sole reality – the awareness of being (sat-cit) that shines as ‘I am’ in all the three states of waking, dream and sleep – and that the ego, mind or jiva [soul or individual self] is the thought ‘I am the body’, which rises and shines only in the waking and dream states. Moreover, he explained that what is seen cannot differ in nature from the eye that sees it, and that self therefore knows only sat-cit-ananda and can never know names and forms. As he says in verse 4 of Ulladu Narpadu:

If oneself is a form, the world and God will be likewise; if oneself is not a form, who can see their forms, and how [to do so]? Can the sight be otherwise [in nature] than the eye [that sees it]? The [real] eye is self, the infinite eye.

Since self is formless, it cannot see any forms, and hence it can never be a knower of otherness. Otherness consists of forms, so it can only be known by a form, and hence the knower or seer of otherness can only be the ego, the thought ‘I am the body’.

In this and in so many other ways Bhagavan has given us a spotlight that we can shine on other teachings to see what truth may be in them.

21st February 1978

Sadhu Om: When we read any teaching of Bhagavan, such as a verse of Guru Vachaka Kovai, we should then and there reflect over it and try to put it into practice by abiding as self. That is, our sravana [reading], manana [reflection] and nididhyasana [self-contemplation] should go hand-in-hand, because then only are we truly reading what he taught. This is the correct way to learn his teachings.

23rd February 1978

Sadhu Om: There is an old saying, ‘Think, think, until you can think no more’. It does not mean think of worldly things, but only think of the guru, his greatness and his teachings, until the mind can form no more thought.

When we first come to our guru, our love for him is so great that it occupies our whole mind, so we lose all interest in whatever else we previously desired. This is what Bhagavan referred to in verse 318 of Guru Vacaka Kovai when he said ‘the feet of guru-natha, who has taken us as his own by extinguishing the threefold fire [of desire for women, wealth and fame]’. However this peace and freedom from desires is only temporary, because the guru knows that in order for us to hold this peace permanently we must master it ourself, so after giving us a foretaste of the happiness of desirelessness, he puts us into the battlefield to face all that is within us.

As Bhagavan said in the third chapter of Maharshi’s Gospel in reply to a devotee who said that after he left his presence the peace he experienced there continued for a while as an undercurrent, but then faded away: ‘If you strengthen the mind, that peace will continue for all time. Its duration is proportional to the strength of mind acquired by repeated practice [of self-attention], and such a mind is able to hold on to the current [of peace]’.

What is important is not our ability to abide as self, but our love to do so. Such love is true bhakti, and unless we have it God and guru can do nothing for us. They will not absorb us into self until we wholeheartedly love to subside and be absorbed forever.

It is said that guru is greater than God, because whereas God will fulfil all our desires, guru will not, because his duty is to make us desire only liberation (moksha). Once we have been caught in the jaws of the tiger (that is, once the guru ‘has taken us as his own’), he will kindle within us the fire of love for self-abidance. He will make us experience all the outward-going tendencies (visaya-vasanas) that are within us, and will give us the love to overcome them by clinging firmly to self-attention, as he taught us to do in Nan Yar? (Who am I?):

Even though visaya-vasanas [inclinations or desires to experience things other than oneself], which come from time immemorial, rise [as thoughts] in countless numbers like ocean-waves, they will all be destroyed when svarupa-dhyana [self-attentiveness] increases and increases. Without giving room even to the doubting thought ‘Is it possible to dissolve so many vasanas and remain only as self?’ it is necessary to cling tenaciously to self-attentiveness. […]

This battle between our love to be self-attentive and our outward-going tendencies is the combat or warfare of grace that he sang about in verse 74 of Sri Arunachala Aksharamanamalai:

Arunachala, show [me] the warfare of grace in the public space devoid of going and coming.

He will not let us hide from this battle, but he is always by our side, and by his grace we will surely win. Nothing is impossible for him, as he assured us in verse 215 of Guru Vacaka Kovai:

There is no undertaking that is not possible by the power of self. What is called the power of self is the power of grace. […]’.

There are times when he will (for our own benefit) allow our vasanas to get the better of us, and we will then feel abandoned and pray to him, ‘Arunachala, for whose sake did you take me as your own? If you now forsake me, the world will blame you’ (Aksharamanamalai verse 4), and, ‘[…] What wrong has this poor wretch done? What small obstacle now [prevents you killing me outright]? For what do you torture me in this way, keeping me partially alive [suspended between life and death]? […]’ (Patikam verse 3). The verses of Sri Arunachala Stuti Pancakam are not just ordinary prayers or hymns for singing. They describe the actual experiences that every aspirant must go through. The more we progress in our sadhana, the more meaning we will find in them.

People complain that self-enquiry is difficult, but they would say the same about self-surrender or guru-puja (worship of the guru) if they knew the real meaning of these terms. But do we come here for something easy? The efforts people make to achieve worldly aims are nothing in comparison to the efforts that an aspirant must make to experience self-knowledge. As aspirants our whole life is a fight, a Mahabharata war, because we must always be on the alert, vigilantly guarding against the rising of the ego.

However, we need not worry about whether we will overcome our foes (our visaya-vasanas), because as Krishna replied when Arjuna asked him how he could hope to defeat his own archery gurus, ‘They are already killed by me. Fight your fight, and if you die in the process, what is the loss?’ This is the real spiritual life, fighting to conquer our visaya-vasanas by vigilantly watching their root, the ego, and thereby preventing it from rising. In comparison to this, posing as a great guru, getting up on platforms, giving beautiful lectures, blessings, vibhuti and so on, is all mere child’s play. We are not expected to serve Bhagavan outwardly or to propagate his teachings, but only to keep the fire of our own bhakti burning in our heart by constantly trying to attend only to ourself, the first person.

We should not try to discourage others who are intent upon chasing after false gurus. Let them go and find out for themselves. Even if we were to try to discourage them, they would only think that we are prejudiced or fanatical. If they claim that some other guru is another Ramana or as great as him, we should not be perturbed, because that would only show that they have not understood who Ramana actually is – that he is not a separate person but only the sole reality that shines as ‘I am’ within each one of us.

As Sri Krishna said, a wise person should not create confusion in the minds of ignorant people who are attached to karma (Bhagavad Gita 3.26). This is why Bhagavan often seemed to give his approval to practices other than atma-vicara [self-investigation or self-enquiry] and why whenever he was asked about such practices by people who were attached to them, he would always encourage each person to follow whichever practice they had faith in. It is also the reason why I ended the Bhakti chapter [in the second part of The Path of Sri Ramana] saying that unless a person is tired of whatever other sadhanas they have been practising and asks us of their own accord whether there is any better way, we should not interfere and disturb their faith in such practices but should encourage each of them to pursue their own path.

26th February 1978

Sadhu Om: When we read any teaching of Bhagavan – such as verse 323 of Guru Vacaka Kovai, in which he describes the guru as that which pervades everything, both ‘I’ and this, both inside and outside, both in this world and in the other world – we should reflect on its implications and try to understand what it means. All that is required is a simple change of outlook, and the appropriate manana [reflection on the guru’s teachings] at the appropriate time may be sufficient to trigger that change by turning our attention inwards.

28th February 1978

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan has introduced revolutionary meanings for many old and traditional words. For example, he was the first to reveal that ‘grace’ (arul) is nothing but self, and that ‘heart’ (hridayam) also means only self. He has revolutionised literature, philosophy, sadhana, the description of the state of self-knowledge, and so on. That is why we should not give any of his books for review, because very few people, no matter how learned they may be, will be able to appreciate and adequately understand his ideas or the way he uses words. It would be like giving scriptures such as the Bhagavad Gita for review. The world is not yet ready to receive his teachings as they are. This is why I say we must simply keep the glow of his teachings burning within ourself. We do not have to propagate them, but we must preserve them as best as we can.

Actions (karmas) are generally classified as those of body, speech and mind, but this is only a superficial classification, because our body and speech and all their activities do not exist independent of our mind. Our mind alone is what functions through our body and speech.

We also talk of triputi, the three factors of objective knowledge, namely the knower, the known and the act of knowing, but if we consider them carefully, we will find that they are all only an expansion of the ego, the one ‘I’ that rises to know anything other than itself. But how to stop the rising of this ‘I’? As Bhagavan explained to us, the only way to stop it rising is to watch it vigilantly.

When our understanding is sharpened by the resulting clarity of self-awareness, we will come to recognise that this ‘watching’ is merely being – that is, it is just being the pure self-awareness that we actually are. Bhagavan’s path is actually just total relaxation – doing nothing but just being as we really are. This is the sum and substance of the entire spiritual science.

1st March 1978

Sadhu Om: Many other old classifications, such as the three bodies (the gross, the subtle and the causal), the five sheaths and the four antahkaranas (the ‘inner faculties’ or mental components, namely the mind (manas), intellect (buddhi), will (cittam) and ego (ahankaram)⁠), are not actually necessary. When our aim is only to know what we ourself really are, such classifications tend to complicate matters and distract our attention away from what is essential, namely ourself, the first person.

As Bhagavan said in Nan Yar?, enumerating the tattvas [the various ontological principles or fundamental categories of things that are supposed to exist but are other than ourself], which are concealing ourself, is like analysing rubbish instead of throwing it away. All we need to know is what we ourself are, and when we know that, nothing else will remain to be known.

Bhagavan’s philosophy and the ideas he expresses in Ulladu Narpadu are all very simple. The purpose of sravana (hearing, reading or studying his teachings) and manana (reflecting on them) is not to increase our intellectual activity, but only to simplify and clarify our understanding of everything, and thereby to reduce the range of our thinking until we are left with nothing to think about. That is, when he teaches us that everything is just an expansion of our ego (verse 26), and that this ego will disappear if we attend to it (verse 25), there is nothing else that we need think about.

2nd March 1978

Sadhu Om: ‘Do not believe what you do not know’ is one of the fundamental principles of Bhagavan’s teachings. That is, he begins his teachings by asking us not to believe anything that we do not know by our own experience. The most self-evident experience and knowledge that we each have is only ‘I am’, so we should start by investigating what this ‘I’ actually is. As he says in verse 11 of Ulladu Narpadu:

Not knowing oneself, who knows, knowing [instead] other things is [only] ignorance; except [that], can it be knowledge? When one knows oneself [the ego], the basis (ādhāra) of knowledge and the other [ignorance], knowledge and ignorance will cease.

Here ‘oneself’ (tannai) means the ego, which alone knows other things and which is therefore the sole basis or foundation of both knowledge and ignorance about them. Since this ego does not really exist, ‘knowing oneself’ means experiencing the non-existence of the ego, and when one experiences this, knowledge and ignorance will cease to exist, because their seeming existence is based entirely upon the seeming existence of the ego.

We know that all pleasures and pains are experienced only by ‘I’, the ego, and that they are not experienced in sleep, where this ego – the knower or experiencer – does not exist. However, we know that we exist even in sleep, and that we experience there a happy state, unaffected by any pain or multiplicity. Since we thus know from our own experience that we can exist happily without the ego, the knower of multiplicity, Bhagavan recommends that we should try to attain that egoless state even now.

The ego is now being nourished and sustained only by attending to and experiencing things that seem to be other than itself, because we know that whenever it ceases to attend to any other thing it subsides in sleep. In sleep we know nothing other than ourself, ‘I am’, so what we are attending to in sleep is only ‘I am’. Therefore we know from our daily experience that our ego subsides whenever we attend only to ourself. Hence Bhagavan is simply pointing out to us what we already know from our own experience.

There can be no disappointment in Bhagavan’s path. Other gurus may tell us to come to them to experience the guru’s presence, but Bhagavan says: ‘Do not take this body to be the guru. Do not come here expecting the guru’s presence. Go within. The guru shines within you as ‘I am’, so he is always present in you as your own self’.

If we want to seek or rely upon anything outside ourself, we will certainly be disappointed, because whatever appears outside will sooner or later disappear. Hence Bhagavan advises us to attend only to ‘I am’ – to rely only on ‘I am’. Therefore since ‘I am’ alone is ever present, if we follow his advice, how can we ever be disappointed?

4th March 1978

Sadhu Om (in reply to someone who asked about a statement made by J Krishnamurti in chapter 10 of the third part of his Commentaries on Living: ‘Thought creates the thinker; it is the thinking process that brings the thinker into being. Thought comes first, and later the thinker; it is not the other way round’): The thinker and its thoughts arise simultaneously. They are mutually dependant. Therefore it is true to say that in a certain sense thought does bring the thinker into being, but it is equally true to say that the thinker brings thought into being. Neither can rise or stand without the other. Therefore it is absurd to say that thought comes first. To whom does it come? Who knows it? The thinker of thoughts is also the knower of thoughts. Who else but I, the thinker, knows thoughts?

As Bhagavan says in Nan Yar? (Who am I?):

Of all the thoughts that appear in the mind, the thought called ‘I’ alone is the first [original, basic or principal] thought. Only after this rises do other thoughts rise. Only after the first person appears do the second and third persons appear; without the first person the second and third persons do not exist.

If the thinker subsides, so will its thoughts, and vice versa. Thoughts nourish and sustain the thinker, so the thinker (the first person, the thought called ‘I’) will never subside by attending to thoughts (second and third persons). However if the thinker attends to itself, other thoughts are thereby ignored and hence they subside. Along with them, the thinker also subsides, because in the absence of thought, the thinker loses its nature as thinker and remains merely as ‘I am’, which is neither a thinker nor a thought.

This is why Bhagavan says in verse 25 of Ulladu Narpadu:

Grasping form, the formless phantom-ego rises into being; grasping form it stands; grasping and feeding on form it grows abundantly; leaving [one] form, it grasps [another] form. If sought [examined or investigated], it will take flight. Investigate [or know thus].

The thinker is the ego, the first thought called ‘I’, and the forms that it grasps are all other thoughts. Therefore when it stops grasping any thought by trying to grasp itself alone, it will take flight – that is, it will subside and disappear. This is the important secret that Bhagavan has revealed to us, because it is the only way to root out our ego, the root of all other thoughts.

To talk of ‘witnessing thoughts’ as if that were a sadhana (spiritual practice) is meaningless, because we are always witnessing our thoughts. It is the nature of the thinker to witness or be aware of its thoughts. No thought can arise unless it is experienced or witnessed by the thinker. Therefore the activity of ‘witnessing’ the mind is going on whenever there are any thoughts.

However, if we are told ‘to remain as the witness’, that means we should withdraw our attention from whatever is witnessed and from the act of witnessing it (both of which are second and third person thoughts) and should fix it only on the witness (the first person thought, ‘I’). Then thinking and witnessing will both cease, and the thinker or witness will merge into its source.

There is a fundamental difference between Bhagavan and us. In our view ‘knowing’ is an action (kriya), whereas in his view knowing is just being. It was to emphasise this that he once said:

Not only is self (atman) that which does not know other things, it is that which does not know even itself as ‘I am this’.

Sri Muruganar expressed this in verse 831 of Meyttava Vilakkam (the first volume of Sri Ramana Jnana Bodham):

Self does not know not only its own nature but also anything else. Such a knowledge alone is the real ‘I’.

And in verse 12 of Ulladu Narpadu Bhagavan said:

That which is devoid of knowledge and ignorance is [true] knowledge. That which knows is not true knowledge. Since it shines without anything that is other [than itself] to know or to make known, self is [true] knowledge. Know it is not a void.

What is implied by the sentence ‘That which knows is not true knowledge’ is not only that the mind, which knows things other than itself, is not true knowledge, but also that knowing as an action is not true knowing, because self knows itself just by being itself and not by any act of knowing, since its very nature or being is self-awareness. Knowing (as an action) is not the nature of self. Its nature is being, and only being is true knowing. This is why Bhagavan said (as recorded in Maharshi’s Gospel, Book 1, chapter 7 [2002 edition, p. 40], and in Maha Yoga, chapter 12 [2002 edition, p. 191]) that even the jnani is ignorant, because there is nothing other than himself for him to know.

It is because we are accustomed to considering knowing to be an action that we feel that we know nothing in sleep, whereas in fact in sleep we know ‘I am’ just as clearly as we do in waking and dream. Bhagavan expressed it nicely when he said that consciousness plus body and world is waking or dream, whereas consciousness plus nothing is sleep. Consciousness alone persists throughout all the three states, so it alone is real.

5th March 1978

Sadhu Om: In Who am I? Bhagavan says:

Since in every [spiritual] text it is said that for attaining mukti [liberation] it is necessary to restrain the mind, after knowing that manonigraha [mind-restraint] is the ultimate intention of [such] texts, there is no benefit [to be gained] by studying texts without limit.

However, though we should not read too many books, we should not think we can throw away all books before we are able to restrain the mind. When we are able to abide as self, books are unnecessary, but if our minds are still drawn outwards due to the power of our visaya-vasanas [inclinations or desires to experience things other than ourself], then Bhagavan’s teachings are necessary. Reading his works is sat-sanga [associating with what is real]. There is a Tamil saying that Bhagavan, his teachings and his devotees are one.

Ramakrishna told a story of a poor woodcutter who earned one or two rupees a day by going to the edge of the forest to cut firewood. One day he met a sadhu who told him, ‘Go further within’, so he went further into the forest and found better quality wood to cut, so he was able to earn more. After a few weeks he met the sadhu again and thanked him profusely for his good advice, but the sadhu just replied, ‘Go further within’. Each time he met the sadhu he repeated the same advice, ‘Go further within’, and every time he followed this advice he found something more valuable, such as sandalwood, until eventually he found a goldmine. Likewise, whenever our mind goes outwards, sat-sanga, sravana [hearing, reading or studying Bhagavan’s teachings] and manana [reflecting on them] encourage us, ‘Go further within’.

When a fisherman throws his net into the water, the net may feel, ‘What can I do? I am doomed. My nature is to be weighed down by stones, so I have to sink’, but the fisherman will draw it out again with the single rope he has attached to it. Similarly, whenever our minds go outwards, Bhagavan draws us back to the shore by the single rope of his teachings, the study of which is sat-sanga, sravana and manana.

6th March 1978

Sadhu Om: We are not just told to seek self, but rather to seek the truth of the ego. The truth of the ego is that it does not exist, so if we try to attend to it, it will subside and disappear, and along with it all other thoughts will also cease. If we try to think of the first person (which is ‘here’) or the present moment (which is ‘now’), the mind will certainly subside and eventually merge back into ourself, its source, because no such thing as the first person or present moment actually exists.

Time and place are each like a triangular prison. The three walls of the time prison are the past, present and future, whereas the three walls of the place prison are the first, second and third persons (which in Tamil are called mu-v-idam, the three places). We seem to be bound within these triangular prisons because we are always attending only to the past or future or to second or third persons, but never try to attend either to the precise present moment or to the first person alone. This is like trying to escape through the two solid walls of the prison without ever turning to see the third wall. If we turn to see the third wall, the first person or precise present moment, we will find that no such wall exists, and that we were therefore never actually imprisoned. Therefore to ‘escape’ from the triangular prison of time and place, all we need do is to turn our attention back towards the non-existent first person or present moment, because we will then find that we have always been only in the vast open space of pure self-awareness.

17th March 1978

Sadhu Om: When our sravana and manana are complete, then our nididhyasana [self-contemplation] or atma-vicara [self-investigation] will also be complete, and we will never again leave our natural state of self-abidance. If one leaves the shade and goes out into the sun, then one has not yet adequately understood what heat is, so more sravana and manana on heat are required.

However, unlike other arts and sciences, which each require a vast amount of study (sravana), in the spiritual path the amount we need to study is very little. All we need to understand is that whatever we see outside is only our own being-consciousness projected through the lens of our mind and senses. But for us to grasp this, repeated sravana, manana and nididhyasana are required. Those who are fortunate to come to Bhagavan and to study his teachings deeply will learn more from them than they could learn from studying all other sacred texts.

What is important is not to attempt to practise nididhyasana for a long duration, but to make many short but frequent attempts. If we try for a long time our attempt will merely become feebler and feebler. What is required is strong and fresh attempts, and for that we need not sit continuously for a long time. We can make frequent attempts while doing sravana and manana.

When Bhagavan tells us repeatedly that the problem is our wrong outlook, our delusive experience ‘I am the body’, how is sitting all day going to change that outlook? The strength of conviction we gain from sravana, manana and nididhyasana is what gives us love for self-abidance. If our love for self-abidance is weak, that is because our love for other things is strong, and therefore we need more sravana, manana and nididhyasana. Sravana must go on till the end – that is, until self-abidance becomes natural.

23rd March 1978

Sadhu Om: There was once a guru who had many disciples, most of whom were householders (grihasthas). When they came to him and asked him how to see God, he replied that what they were already doing was the right thing, and that to have a wife and children and to lead a good life was the best way. Among his younger disciples were three brothers, the eldest of whom once asked him, ‘You tell all your older devotees that the grihastha way of life is the best, so should I also get married?’ ‘Yes, certainly, that is the best thing you can do’, replied the guru. A year or two later the second brother asked him, ‘You advised my elder brother to get married, but I want you to tell me the truth: is it actually good to be married or not? Please give me the correct answer, and do not afterwards advise others to the contrary’. ‘Certainly, marriage is the best thing. I would not advise anyone differently’, the guru replied.

After a few years the two elder brothers asked him, ‘You advised us both to get married, so why is it that you have not yet given the same advice to our younger brother?’, to which he replied, ‘Because he has never asked me. You asked me and so I gave the appropriate answer for you, but he has never had any such doubt, so he seems to be fit to remain a celibate (brahmachari). He is contented just to be, so he has no inclination to get caught in the maya of family life’.

Such is the nature of a true guru. He never tells anyone to do anything unless he is asked, but nor does he ever discourage anyone from doing what they wish. That is why Bhagavan was never worried if people misunderstood or misinterpreted his teachings. He never corrected them unless they said that they did not understand. To him all this talk of ignorance and of not knowing self was like a game played by children. He could see clearly that all are only self, and that all therefore know self.

We can jokingly say that he was being hard-hearted, but it was actually his supreme grace. The greatest grace he can bestow on us is to see us as none other than himself, and his silence is the most powerful weapon he uses to remove the false ignorance of his devotees. Such blessing by silence (mouna diksha) is far more effective than blessing by thought (sankalpa diksha). In his view sacred texts (sastras) were just a game for children, because he knew that what is real can never be expressed in words, and that even his own Ulladu Narpadu could not express it adequately. This is why he often said that his real teaching is only silence.

If we can understand this, we can understand why he answered certain questions in the way he did. For example, as Swami Natananandar recorded in Sri Ramana Darsanam, a young boy once told Bhagavan that his father had asked him to repeat a certain ‘sakti panchakshari’ mantra, and asked him whether he could attain liberation thereby, as his father had told him. Bhagavan replied, ‘Yes’, so the boy then asked him whether he was also repeating the same mantra, to which Bhagavan also replied, ‘Yes’.

We should not worry ourselves about those devotees who were with Bhagavan for many years yet failed to understand his teachings, nor about those who seem to have stagnated. If anyone is now stagnant, they were never really flowing. Everyone who comes to Bhagavan will typically say, ‘I have come only for moksha [liberation]’, but how many actually want to lose their individuality? In the spiritual battlefield, even if a thousand soldiers fall around us, we should not concern ourself, but should rise up and go forwards. Such courage and faith are necessary. If we sincerely follow the path taught by Bhagavan, we will never be abandoned.

No one need tell us when we should give up sravana and manana. When we are able to abide permanently as self, then we will not even think of reading or reflecting, but as long as we feel unable to remain constantly as self, we must continue to do sravana and manana. If we give up atma-vicara [self-investigation], our mind will turn to loka-vicara [investigating the world], and thus we will bind ourselves still further.

Ramakrishna illustrated this with a story about three thieves in a forest, called Sattva, Rajas and Tamas. Tamas wanted to kill the lost wayfarer whom they had robbed, but Rajas persuaded him that they should just tie him securely and leave him there. However Sattva returned later to untie him, and took him to the edge of the forest near his village. There the wayfarer thanked him profusely and invited him to come to his house and be his guest, but Sattva declined saying, ‘I am a thief, so I cannot leave the safety of this forest’.

Bhagavan’s teachings are like Sattva. They lead us safely to the edge of the forest, but there we must leave them. In the end, we must leave even our dearest friend behind, and must return home alone.

For an extremely mature aspirant, written or spoken words are unnecessary, because they can receive Bhagavan’s upadesa in silence. Many subtle truths can be learnt only in silence.

25th March 1978

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan begins the second verse of Ekatma Panchakam with the words, ‘Even though one always exists as self’, so what he says in that verse is intended primarily for those who are content with their natural awareness of their own existence, ‘I am’. If we are perfectly happy with the simple knowledge ‘I am’ and therefore desire nothing else, we will not attend to anything other than ‘I am’, so what need would there be then for us to enquire ‘who am I?’ or ‘whence am I?’? However, so long as we feel ‘I am a body’, ‘I am a doer’, ‘I have desires’ and so on, we will not be content with simply being aware that ‘I am’, so in such a condition it is necessary for us to enquire ‘who is this I?’ or ‘from where does this I arise?’

The self-shining existence, ‘I am’, which is known by one and all, is the ultimate truth, so it is all that we need ever know. No sadhana is needed to know it anew. Therefore Bhagavan repeatedly said, ‘You know that you exist, and that is all you need know’, because he wanted us to be content with this knowledge. There is nothing we need do, so it was only to those who asked ‘What can I do?’ that he suggested, ‘Find out who this ‘I’ is or from where it rises’.

Our outward behaviour and more importantly the behaviour of our mind can indicate how much strength we have to attend to self. If we are much concerned about what others think or say about us, we will not be able to free ourself from the tyranny of thoughts even when we try to attend to ourself. Courage is needed. If we are able to believe firmly, ‘Other people are only my own mental projections, so what does it matter what they seem to think or say about me?’, then we will have the faith and strength to abide as self, and hence we will be indifferent to praise and blame. Until then we must persevere in trying to attend to ourself, because our concern for the world will thereby fade away naturally. Such indifference is called udasina.

We are never actually the doer, because all actions are done only by God. Therefore there is no need for us to give up the sense of doership. All we need do is avoid assuming any doership. This is the path of surrender, and so it is an attitude that accepts the existence of God and the world. However, if we sincerely try to follow this path, then from our own experience we will gain a type of knowledge and conviction that God is doing everything, and thus our thoughts and attachments will slowly drop off. Therefore even in this path of devotion (bhakti marga), it is only knowledge that gives our mind peace and quiet. In verse 2 of Atma Bodha it is said that without knowledge one cannot gain peace, which is the state of liberation.

The one essential qualification is not the ability to subside and keep quiet, but only sincere love to do so. Such love is real bhakti, and bhakti is the mother of jnana. For guru it is not a problem to give us liberation (mukti), just as the ocean loses nothing when one bubble is burst.

31st March 1978

Sadhu Om: Shortly before he left his body, seeing that everyone was weeping Bhagavan remarked, ‘It is said that the sole purpose of all that is taught in scriptures is removal of misery (duhkha nivritti) and attainment of happiness (sukha prapti), but how to remove misery, which never exists, or to attain happiness, which alone ever exists?’ That is how much weight he gave to all our misery and our sadhanas to overcome it.

In the ‘Guru’s Grace’ chapter of Maharshi Vaymozhi [the Tamil version of Maharshi’s Gospel] it is recorded that someone asked Bhagavan whether he knew anything about a group of invisible rishis who are looking after the affairs of the world, to which he replied, ‘If invisible, how to see them?’, but the questioner answered, ‘In jnana-dristi’, so Bhagavan explained to him that in jnana-dristi (the view of self-knowledge) there are no others to see. If he had been asked how he was able to enlighten others through his silence, he would have answered in a similar way: ‘In silence there are no others to be enlightened’.

Even in Vivekacudamani the guru’s final instruction to the disciple is to go and teach what he had been taught to other ripe souls, so we are very fortunate to be born in Bhagavan’s time and to learn from him that there are no others for us to teach. For a jnani, standing on a platform delivering a lecture is as meaningless as locking oneself in a room and repeating to oneself all that one has learnt. Even for an aspirant, it should seem absurd to want to inform anything to others.

5th April 1978

Sadhu Om: Why should we try to classify every action as either prarabdha or agamya? We cannot know which action is which, so we will surely go wrong. If we like to do something that we believe to be good, such as coming to live in Tiruvannamalai, we should try to do it, and should not worry ourselves thinking that it may not be in our prarabdha. We can do whatever we consider appropriate – the main thing is just not to allow anything to agitate our minds.

Once Niranjanananda Swami was facing a critical problem, so he asked Bhagavan what he should do, to which Bhagavan replied, ‘Do whatever you think is best, only remember that your principal duty (dharma) is to keep your mind at peace. Whatever you may decide or whatever may happen, don’t let it disturb your mind’. Whatever may happen, we should regard it as being for what is ultimately best.

We should maintain pravilapa dristi, which means considering everything to be ourself, because it is all an expansion of our ego, like everything that we see in a dream. Whatever we experience is according to the divine plan, the sole aim of which is that we should awaken from this dream as soon as possible.

22nd April 1978

Sadhu Om: There is in us a power of knowing or attention, which is called cit-sakti and which is actually nothing other than cit [pure consciousness] itself, whose real nature is to be aware of itself alone. When this power is directed towards other things, we call it ‘mind’, whose function is thinking, but when it is directed towards ourself, it remains as our real self⁠11, whose nature is just being. Therefore nistha [dwelling] on any second or third person is thinking, whereas thinking of ourself is nistha [being or abiding as we really are].

12th May 1978

Sadhu Om: I was once trying to puzzle out why every creature, whether human or non-human, makes the same mistake of identifying a body as ‘I’. In all of them we see the same defects, such as desire, greed, lust and anger, and all of these are rooted in this one mistaken notion, ‘I am this body’. Then I understood that if there were many creatures there would be many mistakes, but there is only one. Because I take my body to be ‘I’, I see this ‘I am the body’ identification in every creature I project. Because I have a desire for something, I see the same desire in others. It is just like in a dream, where we see our own desires and fears in all the dream-creatures. The defects we see in others are only our own defects. If we wish to remove the ‘I am the body’ idea in other creatures, we only have to remove it in ourself. Then we will see that no one has this mistaken notion.

Reflecting in this way, I remembered Bhagavan once saying (with reference to a certain devotee who had asked another devotee to seek his approval for the construction of a certain building in the ashram, saying that everyone wants it), ‘Who says that everyone wants it? It is only he who wants it’.

When Bhagavan said that we should not carry on reading innumerable books, he was referring to those books that analyse and discuss the non-self. So long as we do not have sufficient desirelessness (vairagya) to attend constantly to ourself, we must continue to read books that encourage vairagya. For encouraging vairagya, which entails giving up attention to second and third persons, Bhagavan’s own works are quite sufficient. Even just one of his works, such as Nan Yar? (Who am I?), is sufficient. Vairagya is the only thing that is lacking, and when it becomes established in our heart all problems will be solved.

16th May 1978

Sadhu Om [parting advice to some new visitors]: Think carefully over the fact that self-knowledge is the basis of all other knowledge, and that therefore what is most necessary is to gain correct knowledge of what you yourself are. The more you reflect along these lines, the more you will love to know yourself. If you cultivate such love, you will certainly also attain self-knowledge. Love and knowledge are inseparable. In fact, they are one and the same thing.

22nd May 1978

Sadhu Om: Some people complain of a heated brain, emotional outbursts or such like as a result of practising atma-vicara [self-investigation or self-enquiry]. This shows that they are not practising it properly. If we practice self-attention correctly, we will find it to be a great relief and relaxation from our normal mental activities.

However, so long as our vasanas [outward-going propensities] are strong, our minds will be frequently drawn outwards, so our repeated efforts to be introverted will create some friction and tension. This is why continuous nididhyasana [practice of self-attention] is not recommended, and why we are advised instead to intermittently rest for a while and do some sravana [reading] or manana [reflection]. Our vasanas are strong only because of our strong attachment to this life, but while doing sravana and manana we are constantly reminding ourself of the worthlessness of this ego-life, which helps to weaken our vasanas, thereby making the practice of self-attention increasingly easy and habitual. This is why alternating sravana, manana and nididhyasana are recommended.

In his answer to question 2 of chapter 2 of Upadesa Manjari Bhagavan said that practising this path of vicara is possible only for pakvis [those who are spiritually ripe or mature], and that others should practise sadhanas that are suited to their own particular state of mind. In this context we should take pakvi to mean anyone who wants to give up their ego or separate individuality. The sadhanas that he says others should practise are not means to attain manonasa [annihilation of the mind or ego] but only to attain other aims, such as citta-suddhi [purification of mind], divine visions, heavenly experiences, worldly enjoyments or whatever else they may desire. Atma-vicara is only for those who want to close the chapter, being tired of repeatedly projecting pictures of ego, world and God. If one is not attracted to atma-vicara, one obviously does not want to close the chapter, so one should follow whichever other path appeals to one. In Sadhanai Saram I make it clear that atma-vicara is only for those who wish to lose their egos, and that only such people should read it.

26th May 1978

Sadhu Om: A quiet mind is not our aim. Our aim is to gain correct knowledge of ‘I’. The mind is quiet in sleep, under general anaesthesia and in all other forms of manolaya [temporary subsidence of mind], but it again jumps into activity. Only by self-knowledge is it destroyed entirely. Therefore let us ignore the mind, not concerning ourself with whether it is quiet or active, and instead direct all our attention only towards knowing ‘I’. If we do that, the mind will eventually merge within ourself forever, so there will then be no scope for it to be either quiet or active.

To learn the secret of the three states, which comprise the whole of our present life, we must learn to abide in a state between waking and sleep. The only practical way to achieve this is to attend exclusively to ‘I’.

[In reply to someone who asked, ‘Should we try to attend to ourself while eating, talking, walking and so on?’] I cannot advise you to do so, because as I have learnt from discussing this with my friends, most aspirants generally do not like to do so. If you like, you can certainly try, because where there is a will, there is a way, but I suggest that you should try this practice at least when you are not engaged in other activities.

Begin by mentally saying ‘I’, and then try to cling to the self-awareness evoked by this word. You may be able to cling to it for only a few seconds at a time, but even that is beneficial. When you notice that your attention has become extroverted, you should try again, and should continue trying repeatedly until you find your interest in doing so is slackening, and then you should take a rest for a while.

The important thing is to begin trying, even if only for a few minutes a day. The efficacy of trying at least a little but persistently can be illustrated by the story of the camel and the tent. In Arabia a man was sleeping in his tent, and his camel was sleeping outside, but it was very cold. At first the camel put its nose in the tent, and the man allowed it, thinking ‘Yes, poor creature, it is cold outside’. Then slowly the camel pushed its whole head inside, and still the man allowed it. Gradually it edged more of its body inside, until eventually it occupied the whole tent and the man found himself lying outside. Likewise, if we attempt to be self-attentive for at least a few moments here and there during each day, that will gradually push out our interest in everything else and thereby lead us eventually to our goal.

The important thing is to have a liking to practise self-attention. By sat-sanga, which means reading, discussing, reflecting on and practising Bhagavan’s teachings and constantly remembering that self-knowledge is the only worthy aim in life, we gain more and more liking for it. This liking will lead us to our goal.

[In reply to someone who asked, ‘So does that mean that we must develop will-power?’] Call it will-power, love, bhakti or whatever: it is there one hundred per cent in all creatures, so it need not be developed. Even an ant has will-power for achieving whatever it wants. What we must do is not develop our will-power but direct it in the proper direction, namely to experience what we ourself actually are. We now want so many other things, but what we must learn to want is only to know who this ‘I’ is.

The problem is that although we all say we want to know ourself, as soon as we begin attending to ourself some other attraction pops up in our mind and our attention becomes extroverted. We must therefore learn to like self-attention more than we like anything else. Bhagavan once said, ‘Everyone who comes here says that they want moksa and moksa alone, and that they have no other desires in this world or the next, yet if I were to show them one minute sample of moksa, all the crows would fly away and I would be left sitting here alone’.

No one need fear the death of the body. After all, we all know from experience that we can leave this body and take another one, as we do every day in dream. Indeed we are great siddhas, because in dreams we take so many different bodies, since the mind can function only when it experiences itself as a body. Many ordinary people are ready to give up their bodies for the sake of their family, country or language, because we all tend to identify ourself with something more than whatever body we now experience as ourself. Real death is the death of our ego, but intense fear of such death only comes to mature souls, as happened in the case of Bhagavan.

3rd June 1978

Sadhu Om: People have many different types of attachments – to sense pleasures, wealth, family, nationality, caste, creed, social status, name, fame and so on – but Bhagavan has correctly diagnosed that the root of all attachments is our ego, which is our dehabhimana or fundamental attachment to a body as ‘I’. That is why he often used to advise us, ‘Investigate who it is who is longing and crying out for liberation (moksa)’, because if we investigate this, our ego will disappear along with both its body-attachment and its idea of liberation, which it was longing for so much.

[In answer to someone who remarked, ‘This brahmastra [supreme weapon] called ‘who am I?’ that Bhagavan has given us is so clearly the most powerful of all weapons, but because of our lack of vairagya [desirelessness] we don’t have the strength to wield it’, Sadhu Om replied:] That may be true for the present, but he who has been so compassionate to give us this weapon will certainly also give us the strength to use it. When a child is first given a slate and chalk he doesn’t even know how to hold either of them, so his teacher holds his hands and guides them to write A, B, C and so on. Similarly, Bhagavan has given us this brahmastra, so he will certainly enable us to make full use of it.

5th June 1978

Sadhu Om: Knowledge is power or strength. We can see this even on a gross level: for example, human beings are more powerful than all other creatures only because of their knowledge. Likewise our vasanas [outward-going inclinations or tendencies] seem to be strong only because of our wrong knowledge about the world. That is, because we mistake the world to be real, our tendency to be attracted towards it is very strong. Therefore our vasanas can only be destroyed by correct knowledge.

What is actually real is only ourself, so true knowledge is only awareness of ourself as we really are, and since our awareness of ourself is nothing other than ourself, we ourself are true knowledge. Therefore to gain true knowledge we must attend only to ourself. The more we practice self-attention, the more we will gain a correct knowledge about ourself and the world.

Since real knowledge is only self-awareness, which is called cit, and since knowledge is power, which is called sakti, it is said that cit is the only real sakti, and that cit-sakti is the source of all other forms of power, which seem to exist and be real only because of it. Therefore, whatever Bhagavan says about true knowledge in verses 10 to 13 of Ulladu Narpadu applies equally well to true power. For example, when he says in verse 10, ‘Only the knowledge that knows oneself, who is the first, [by investigating] to whom are that knowledge and ignorance, is [true] knowledge’, he implies that only knowledge of the non-existence of the ego, who is the first to rise and who alone experiences knowledge and ignorance of other things, is not only true knowledge but also true power; when he says in verse 11 that knowing other things instead of knowing oneself is not true knowledge but only ignorance, he implies that it is also not true power; when he says in verse 12 that that which knows (namely the ego or mind) is not true knowledge and that oneself alone is true knowledge, he implies that the ego (which alone knows anything other than itself) is not true power and that we ourself alone are true power; and when he says in verse 13, ‘Oneself, who is knowledge (jnana), alone is real’, he implies once again that we ourself alone are real power.

Likewise, since the term ‘siddhi’ means ‘attainment’ and since it is also used to refer to any special power that one may attain, what he says regarding real siddhi in verse 35 of Ulladu Narpadu applies equally well to real knowledge. That is, when he says, ‘Knowing and being porul [the one real substance, which is oneself], which exists as siddham [what is always attained], is [real] siddhi’, he implies that knowing and being oneself alone is real knowledge.

This is why he says in the sixth paragraph of Nan Yar? (Who am I?), ‘When one practises and practises in this way [turning one’s mind or attention back towards oneself, its source or birthplace, whenever it is distracted away by any other thought], for the mind the power (sakti) to stand firmly established in its birthplace will increase’. The more we attend to ourself, the more we will gain clarity of self-awareness, which alone is real knowledge, and in the bright light of such clarity the power of our visaya-vasanas (outward-going desires or inclinations) will fade away, because they derive their power only from our ego, which is the illusory knowledge ‘I am this body’. This fading away of our vasanas is what he refers to in the tenth paragraph of Nan Yar? when he says, ‘they will all be destroyed when svarupa-dhyanam [self-attention] increases and increases’.

When we first start to practise turning our attention back towards ourself, the power of our self-attention will be relatively weak, so we will be able to notice the rising of any vasanas in the form of thoughts only after they have already swept us away. However with practice the power of our self-attention will increase, and the more it increases the more easily we will be able to cognise the exact moment that any vasana arises as a thought. If our self-attention is firm, our experience at that moment will be that this thought arises only because I know it, so our attention will cling to ourself, the ‘I’ that is aware of the thought, and thus the thought will subside, being deprived of the attention that it needs to survive. Each time that we deprive any thought of our attention by holding fast to self-attention in this way, we are weakening the vasana that gave rise to it, and strengthening our love and ability to hold on to self-attention.

When practising self-attention in this manner, we should not be waiting or looking out for the next thought to rise, but should be focusing our entire attention only on ourself. If we look out for thoughts, they will definitely arise, because the nature of our mind is to expand in the form of numerous thoughts whenever we are not attending solely to ourself. If we try to attend only to ourself, whenever our self-attention falters even a little a thought about something else will arise, but if we are vigilant in our practice, we will immediately notice any faltering in our self-attention and the consequent rising of a thought, so we will immediately be able to turn our attention back to ourself before it is swept away.

Therefore self-attention is the only direct means by which we can gain the strength to abide firmly in and as ourself, the source from which we have arisen as this ego, and only by abiding thus can we weaken and eventually destroy all our vasanas. Our vasanas would be difficult to subdue and destroy only if they were real, but since they do not exist in sleep they are not real, and hence if we have sincere love to know who we really are, we can easily destroy them all merely by clinging firmly to self-attention.

As Bhagavan says in verse 18 of Upadesa Undiyar, our mind is just a collection of thoughts, and its root is only our ego, the primal thought called ‘I’. And as he says in verse 25 of Ulladu Narpadu, this ego rises, stands and flourishes only by clinging to ‘forms’, which is another name for its thoughts about anything other than itself, so the only effective means to prevent the rising of our ego and its expansion in the form of numerous thoughts it to attend to it alone. That is, since we cannot rise and stand as this ego without attending to other things, if we attend only to ourself, this ego, we will subside and disappear. This is what he means when he ends verse 25 of Ulladu Narpadu by saying, ‘If sought [or attended to], this formless phantom-ego will take flight’.

Since this ego is unreal, like an illusory snake, it seems to exist only when we do not look at it carefully enough. Just as the snake will disappear if we look at it carefully, because it is really only a rope, our ego will disappear if we look at it carefully, because it is really only our formless and hence infinite self. Therefore it is only by attending to our ego, which is the root and first thought of our mind, that we can know it correctly – that is, know that it does not really exist – and only by knowing it correctly can we control or subdue it.

Thus the knowledge gained by self-attention is the supreme power by which we can conquer our mind, and since the entire world-appearance is just a projection of our mind, conquering our own mind means conquering the entire world – both this world and every other imaginable world. Therefore self-attention is the supreme undertaking, but since it is within the power of each one of us to attend to ourself, it is ‘the direct path for everyone’, as Bhagavan says in verse 17 of Upadesa Undiyar.

It is sometimes said that to conquer our mind we need to control all our desires, but we can control them only by knowing what desire really is. It is actually impossible to control desire entirely, because desire is love, which is the priya or ananda aspect of our real nature. That is, what manifests in our mind as numerous desires is only our love to be happy, and this love is the very nature of our real self, so it can never be controlled or conquered. Therefore the only way to conquer all our desires is to fulfil our fundamental love to be happy, which we can do only by knowing what we really are.

The desires we have for things other than ourself are endless, because whenever one such desire is satisfied, another will rise to take its place. Therefore we can never be satisfied by trying to fulfil our desires one by one. The root of all our desires is only our love for ourself, so we should redirect all our desires for other things back towards ourself by desiring and trying to experience only what we ourself really are. At present our self-love is scattered about in the form of numerous desires, so it has become weak and fragmented. Therefore to make it whole and strong once again, we should focus it on its real target, which is ourself. By doing so, we will know what we really are, and then we will find that there is actually nothing else for us to desire.

Prayer is not futile, nor is it even just a temporary benefit. Our prayer is to our own self. It is the longing of ourself for ourself, and it will certainly bear fruit. After all, all this – the world, our life and so on – is only a result of our past desires or longings. However, some people get dejected because they pray for specific things and find that such prayers seldom seem to be answered, but eventually all our prayers will be answered in a better way than we can ever imagine, because all our longings will ultimately be fulfilled only when we know what we really are.

In the Bhakti chapter of part two of The Path of Sri Ramana I say that so long as a person in the third (a) standard is praying with one-pointed devotion to his beloved God for the fulfilment of all his desires, God may appear to him in form, but as soon as he is promoted to the third (b) standard – that is, as soon as he understands that he should give up praying to God to fulfil his petty desires and instead pray to him to give only himself – God will cease appearing to him in form. This is because God can give himself to his devotee only by teaching him that he is not any form but only the devotee’s own formless self. Therefore God can often fulfil our longing more perfectly and effectively by not granting whatever we may pray for than he could by granting it.

So long as we are self-ignorant, we do not know what is really good for us, so rather than praying for whatever we think is good for us, we should pray only for what God wants for us, because he alone knows what is really good for us. As Bhagavan sings in verse 2 of Sri Arunachala Padikam, ‘Your wish is my wish; that is happiness for me, Lord of my life’, and in verse 7 of Sri Arunachala Navamanimalai, ‘Whatever be your thought [or will], do that, my beloved, only give [me] increase of love for your pair of feet’. In one of the verses in Sri Ramana Sahasram [a thousand verses praying for jnana] I sing that he has given me more than I ever prayed for.

6th July 1978

Sadhu Om: King Vajrangada Pandya, who first discovered the greatness of Arunachala-pradaksina, went round the hill three times a day for three years. What gave him a taste for it at first was his expectation that he would thereby once again become Indra [the ruler of svarga or heaven], but after three years discrimination (viveka) dawned in him, so he prayed to Arunachaleswara only for union (sayuja) with him. Thus as a result of his doing Arunachala-pradaksina his kamya bhakti matured into niskamya bhakti, and the discrimination he gained thereby made him ripe enough to attain Siva-sayuja. Such maturity of discrimination is the benefit we can expect to derive from walking round Arunachala.

10th July 1978

Sadhu Om: Many people believe that their progress in sadhana can be measured by the amount of time they are able to remain without thoughts, but remaining without thoughts for some time is not the true aim of sadhana. Its aim is only knowledge, which means clear awareness of oneself. What is the use of remaining for five hours without thoughts if all one’s desires, anger and other such defects return during the sixth hour? One may remain for three hundred years without knowing the body, but if one does not know oneself, what benefit can one derive from it?

Therefore when we practise sadhana our aim should not be to remain without thoughts for as long as possible, but should only be to know ourself. We investigate ‘who am I?’ in order to gain knowledge of ourself. Having understood that all our problems are due to our incorrect knowledge ‘I am the body’, we must strive only to obtain correct knowledge of ourself.

15th July 1978

Sadhu Om: Merely withdrawing our mind from second and third persons is not atma-vicara [self-investigation or self-enquiry], but just a secondary effect of it. Attending to ourself alone is atma-vicara, and when we attend only to ourself our mind is thereby withdrawn from other things. In verse 16 of Upadesa Undiyar Bhagavan says:

Leaving aside external phenomena, the mind knowing its own form of light is alone real knowledge.

‘Leaving aside external phenomena’ means withdrawing our attention from second and third persons, but that by itself is not real knowledge, because we leave all external phenomena whenever we fall asleep. In order to know what is real, we must know our own ‘form of light’, which is the fundamental awareness that illumines our mind. Therefore in this verse the main clause is ‘the mind knowing its own form of light is alone real knowledge’, whereas ‘leaving aside external phenomena’ is just a subsidiary clause, because when our mind attends to its own self-awareness, ‘I am’, its attention is thereby automatically withdrawn from external phenomena.

Remaining for a while without thoughts is no doubt a peaceful and pleasant experience, but it is not the ultimate solution to our problems. What needs to be rectified is our illusory awareness ‘I am this body’, and since it is a mistaken knowledge of ourself, it can be rectified only by correct knowledge of ourself.

People generally assume that only the time they spend sitting in meditation is sadhana, whereas in fact sadhana is going on throughout the waking and dream states, and has been for countless births. Everything that we experience in our life, which is all given by the grace of guru, and our repeated reflections on the miseries of life, together with our repeated attempts to find the root of these miseries within ourself, are sadhana, because by all these means we gradually gain the power of correct discrimination, and thereby the maturity of our mind is increased, making us ripe for self-knowledge.

Self-abidance and self-attention are one and the same thing. Abidance is being (sat), whereas attention is knowing (cit), and as Bhagavan says in verse 26 of Upadesa Undiyar, being oneself is knowing oneself, because oneself is not two, and because as he says in verse 23, there is no awareness other than what is to know what is, so what is (sat) is itself awareness (cit). A worldly-minded person abides in the world because he attends to the world, whereas a spiritual person abides in himself because he attends to himself.

18th July 1978

Sadhu Om: Guru alone knows all the vasanas that are lying hidden within us. He knows which ones he can allow to sprout as thoughts in order for us to destroy them with the power of discrimination that he has given us, that is, by investigating to whom they have appeared. He also knows which ones he must not yet allow to sprout, because they would be too powerful for us to destroy.

If allowed to marry, some aspirants would become immersed in worldly pleasures and desires, whereas others would develop detachment (vairagya), reflecting inwardly, ‘What are these carnal pleasures? Just two filthy bodies of flesh and bones trying to find pleasure in each other’. However, those in whom such vairagya quickly blazes forth in married life may not be able to gain it if they were not given a taste of such a life, because they would then be hankering for such pleasures, thinking how wonderful it may be to experience them.

Providing circumstances that prompt our vasanas to sprout as desires or thoughts is like watering the seeds in a garden. By watering our less powerful and dangerous vasanas in this way, and by enabling us to conquer them by means of viveka and vairagya, guru enables us to gradually gain the strength to face and conquer more powerful and dangerous ones. However, there are some vasanas that are so dangerous that he will never allow them to emerge, but will instead allow them to dry up by not being attended to so that they become like dry firewood, which will be consumed along with their root, our ego, when the fire of jnana eventually blazes forth.

Only guru can do all this for us. He knows not only all our present thoughts but also all that we could possibly think, do or experience. It is necessary for us to reflect and convince ourself of this, lest our ego proudly raises its head thinking ‘I can conquer maya’. Humility is essential. By the strength of our own ego we can do nothing. We cannot even think without his grace. As Bhagavan says in verse 170 of Guru Vacaka Kovai:

If even the gods Vayu and Agni [the gods of wind and fire] were unable either to move or to burn a trivial small straw, alas, who can or how to do [anything] egotistically by their own strength?

It is always better to be humble and lie low. Let anything trample over us, because we cannot fall any further. In one of my verses I give the following illustrations: an eagle with its strong claws and beak can be chased away by crows; a mighty elephant will stand up and move aside for a line of black ants lest they enter its trunk; the sun can dry the ocean, but we can be protected from it by a small umbrella; a train can pull huge loads, but it cannot resist being stopped by a break operated by one finger of its driver; the Ganga can sweep away elephants in its current, but it cannot stop small fish swimming against its current. Likewise, even great yogis cannot conquer this maya, but we can simply by surrendering ourself to the grace of Bhagavan.

When we think more and more along these lines, our discrimination and longing to cling to his feet will increase, and we will therefore not be inclined to rise thinking ‘I can do’. This battle between the viveka and vairagya given by Bhagavan and our tendency to rise as this ego must go on throughout this waking state. In this battle we often feel like a ship tossed about in a violent storm, but he is our helmsman, so we should pray to him as he taught us in verse 79 of Sri Arunachala Aksaramanamalai: ‘Arunachala, protect me so that I may not be like a ship tossing in a great storm without a helmsman’.

28th July 1978

Sadhu Om: Strength lies in our being, not in our thinking. Therefore real strength comes only from self-abidance. Time is not an important factor in self-abidance, because we gain no spiritual benefit by remaining without thought for eight hours in sleep. Attention (which is a focusing of our awareness, cit) is the only important factor in self-abidance (which is a state of just being, sat), because the intensity of our self-attention is what determines the firmness and depth of our self-abidance. Knowing ourself alone is being ourself, and that alone is true strength (sakti).

If someone, after doing some tapas and thereby gaining a little power over others, takes people as his disciples, then as Ramakrishna said he is like a small water-snake catching a big frog. He will not be able to swallow them, but he will not let go of them, so both will have to suffer. Having taken responsibility for the disciple’s vasanas, such a ‘guru’ will himself be overpowered by the disciple’s desires.

The real guru is not a person, but is only our own unlimited and hence non-personal self, because our infinite self alone can manipulate and destroy all our vasanas without itself being affected by them at all.

8th August 1978

Sadhu Om: In the first verse of Sri Arunacala Navamanimalai Bhagavan sings:

Though actually acalan [the motionless one], in that assembly hall [in Chidambaram] he [Lord Siva] dances in front of the mother, who is acalai [the consort of acalan]. When that Sakti [the divine mother] becomes tranquil in [his] acala form, know that he shines exalted as Arunacalam.

Lord Siva is our own real self, which is immutable and hence eternally motionless (acala), yet it is said that in Chidambaram he assumed the form of Nataraja to dance in front of Kali in order to pacify her frenzied dance. Here Kali, who is Sakti, the divine mother of the entire universe, represents our ceaselessly active mind, which is the progenitor of all things. Kali is called acalai, the feminine form of acalan, the motionless Lord Siva, because in essence she is nothing other than him, just as our mind is in essence nothing other than our real self.

Just as the frenzied dance of Kali needed to be pacified in order for her to regain her original state of motionlessness, the ceaseless rising and activity of our mind needs to subside in order for us to regain our original state as perfectly calm and motionless self-awareness. In other spiritual paths, which are represented in this verse by other holy places such as Chidambaram, our mind is given a single activity in order to subdue its other activities, so in order to cling to that single activity it needs to make strenuous effort, which is arduous tapas and which is therefore represented here by the dancing of Nataraja, whereas in the path of atma-vicara, which is the path of complete self-surrender and which is represented here by Tiruvannamalai, no arduous activity or tapas is necessary, because simply by calmly clinging with love to ourself, our mind will merge motionlessly back into ourself, just as Sakti became calm in Tiruvannamalai simply because of her overwhelming love for Lord Siva in his motionless form as Arunachala.

Therefore this verse signifies the fact that in order for us to regain our original state of motionless self-abidance, no activity (dancing) of our mind is necessary, because ultimately we can remain as we really are only by completely giving up all activity, which we can do only by clinging firmly, steadily and peacefully to self-attention.

Jnanasambandhar praised Arunachala as ‘ஞானத் திரளாய் நின்ற பெருமான்’ (jnana-t-tiralay nindra peruman), ‘the great Lord who stands as a dense mass of jnana’ [Tēvāram 1.69, verse 3], and Bhagavan used to explain this saying that Arunachala is jnanagni, the fire of self-knowledge that will destroy the false awareness ‘I am this body’⁠12. When Sundaramurti was in Tiruvanaikka he sang a verse saying that Annamalai can be known only by those who have lost their ego, thereby illustrating that by merely thinking of Arunachala from afar great saints can understand its secret. And when Adi Sankara was travelling in these parts he approached Arunachala from the eastern side but did not enter the town, because he saw every grain of sand here as a Siva-linga, so he did namaskara [paid obeisance] from a distance. Referring to this Bhagavan used to say that the very ground here is jnana-bhumi, the soil of jnana.

People generally take sat-sanga to mean the company of good people, but Bhagavan clarified its true meaning, explaining that real sat-sanga is only association with sat, and since sat is nothing other than atma-svarupa, our own real self, abiding in ourself as ourself is the correct and most perfect form of sat-sanga⁠13. However, until we are able to abide in sat as sat, the next best form of sat-sanga is to associate with those like Bhagavan who abide as sat.

However, so long as we experience ourself as a body, anyone who abides as sat will seem to us to be a body, so when their body dies we will seem to lose their sat-sanga. Therefore Bhagavan taught us that Arunachala is the very embodiment of sat, so since Arunachala is always present here, sat-sanga with it is always available to us. Moreover, since we can associate with Arunachala merely by thinking of it, sat-sanga with it is not restricted by either time or place.

However, when we are able to be here, a special way to have sat-sanga with it is to do pradaksina [circumambulation] around it. Just as a moth is attracted to a candle flame and will fly around it until it eventually comes too close and is consumed by it, if we are attracted to Arunachala and walk around it, we will eventually be consumed by it. Therefore sat-sanga is a suicide policy.

When a needle is stroked by a magnet, its previously unaligned molecules are aligned, and thereby the magnetic property of each molecule becomes manifest in the needle as a whole. Therefore the magnetism induced in a needle by such stroking is not a property that it newly acquires, but one that was already inherent in it, albeit in a hitherto concealed manner. Though magnetism is the true nature of a needle, it is revealed only by its association with a magnet.

Likewise by sat-sanga we do not acquire anything that we did not already possess, but our real nature is revealed to us. Just as the natural magnetism of a needle is revealed by repeated contact with a magnet, by repeatedly doing pradaksina around Arunachala or by frequent association with a jnani – whether by being in his physical presence or better still by studying, reflecting on and practising his teachings – we are enabled to see that our real nature is sat.

9th August 1978

Sadhu Om: The best way to celebrate Bhagavan’s birth centenary would be to prevent the rising of the ‘I’ who rises to celebrate it in so many other ways. If we make this ‘I’ subside, then we will be truly celebrating his centenary in the way he would want us to do so.

10th August 1978

Sadhu Om: Reading, reflecting on and trying to practise Bhagavan’s teachings is essential, because this is the means by which he prepares us and ignites the flame of his sphuraṇa (fresh clarity of self-awareness) in our heart. If we do not constantly study, reflect on and practise his teachings, we would thereby be raising an inner barrier between him and ourself, obstructing the flow of his grace and preventing it from entering our heart.

16th August 1978

Sadhu Om: In verse 31 of Ulladu Narpadu Anubandham Bhagavan says:

To the mey-jnani [the knower of reality], who is asleep within the fleshy body, which is like a cart, activity [of mind or body], nistha [steadiness, inactivity or samadhi] and sleep are just like, to a person sleeping in a cart, that cart moving, standing or the cart remaining alone [with the bullocks unyoked].

Just as a person who is sleeping in a cart is not aware of the cart or whether it is moving, standing or remaining unyoked, the jnani is not aware of the body and mind or whether they are active, in nistha (a state of steadiness or inactivity) or asleep.

In one of his answers recorded in the first chapter of Maharshi’s Gospel Bhagavan uses this analogy but describes it in a more detailed manner. However when reading what is recorded there we should bear in mind that the purpose of this analogy is only to make it clear to us that the jnani, who is nothing other than our own real self, is not at all aware of the body or mind or of any of their alternating states, because as he often explained, these exist only in the view of ajnanis (those who are ignorant and therefore mistake themself to be a body and mind). Therefore we should not read more into this analogy than it is intended to convey. For example, when it is recorded in Maharshi’s Gospel that he said that the traveller sleeping in the cart ‘does not know these events but finds himself in a different place after he wakes up’, we should not take this to mean that the jnani will eventually wake up from the ‘wakeful sleep’ of jnana and become aware of the body once again.

Regarding the portion, ‘samadhi is their standing still (because samadhi means jagrat-sushupti, that is to say, the person is aware but not concerned in the action; the bulls are yoked but do not move)’, the explanation given in brackets is not what Bhagavan actually said but was added by whoever recorded it, because it confuses the sense in which he used the term samadhi in this context. That is, the jnani is always in jagrat-sushupti, the state of ‘wakeful sleep’, because he is what Bhagavan refers to here as the ‘ever-wakeful Self’, which is awake in the sense that it is always aware of itself and asleep in the sense it is never aware of anything else – any mind, body or world – so when he compares samadhi to the cart standing still, what he means by samadhi is not the permanent state of jagrat-sushupti but only the temporary state of self-absorption in which the body and mind of the jnani sometimes seem to be. In the view of an ajnani, the body and mind of a jnani like Bhagavan may sometimes be active and may at other times go into and later come out of a motionless state of inactivity, which is what he calls nistha or samadhi in this context, but as he explains by means of this analogy, the jnani is completely unaware of the coming and going of all such states, because in his view the only state is jagrat-sushupti, which is eternal and immutable.

However, what is particularly significant about this answer of Bhagavan’s recorded in Maharshi’s Gospel is the context in which he used this analogy, because he usually used it to illustrate the fact that the jnani is not aware of any mind or body and hence of any of their activities or states, whereas on this occasion he used it to explain that if we attend only to ourself and not to anything else, our body and mind will nevertheless do whatever actions they are destined to do, but we will not be aware of them. Since atma-jnana or jagrat-sushupti is a state in which we are aware of nothing other than ourself, in order to attain it here and now we should attend only to ourself and thereby refrain from being aware of anything else.

This is what he meant when he said that we should practise sahaja samadhi even in the midst of other activities, and in his introduction to Drig-Drisya-Vivekam he explained that practising sahaja samadhi means ‘தன்னையே பாஹ்யாந்தர திருஷ்டிபேதமின்றி எப்போதும் நாடுதல்’ (tannaiye bahyantara dirusti-bhedam-indri eppodum nadudal), ‘always investigating [or attending to] oneself without the distinction of seeing outside or inside’. Being eternally aware of nothing other than oneself is sahaja samadhi (which is another name for manonasa, atma-jnana or jagrat-sushupti), and trying to be always aware of nothing other than oneself is practising sahaja samadhi. Sahaja samadhi is our goal, and the only way to attain it is to practise it here and now.

In this first chapter of Maharshi’s Gospel Bhagavan implies that the actions our body and mind are destined to do will continue whether we attend to them or not. The reason why he implied this was to encourage us to attend only to ourself and not to be concerned about anything else (which is what he also implied in verse 31 of Bhagavad Gita Saram, which is his translation of Bhagavad Gita 9.22). However we should not infer from this that the body and mind and their actions are real or that they actually exist when we do not attend to them, because their appearance is just a dream, and things that appear in a dream seem to exist only when we are aware of them. This entire world is an imagination or mental fabrication (kalpana), so when our mind ceases to imagine or project things, they cease to exist.

However this should be told only to those who are mature enough to accept it. For others it should be said that the world will continue unaffected if we attend to ourself. Whenever anyone asked Bhagavan whether they should give up their job or whether their family would be taken care of if they renounce, he would generally reply, ‘Who asked you to renounce? Whatever work you are destined to do you will be made to do’, because by asking such questions they exposed that they were not yet ready to renounce.

When Osborne asked Bhagavan whether brahmacharya is necessary, what he meant by brahmacharya is celibacy, but Bhagavan replied, ‘Celibacy is not necessary. If you abide in brahman, that is real brahmacharya’. If Osborne had been mature enough to be celibate, he would not have asked that question. But people ask such questions and then write books saying that Bhagavan said that brahmacharya and renunciation are not necessary for those who follow the path of atma-vicara. To understand Bhagavan’s attitude regarding such matters, we should not ask questions but should carefully observe what he replies to questions asked by others. To understand his view is not easy unless one’s mind is mature enough.

When I decided to resign my job, Janaki Mata came to know of my intention, so she asked Bhagavan whether I should do so, and he replied as usual saying that outward renunciation is not necessary, so for more than a year I had to wait. However when I finally decided to write my letter of resignation, I put it in a stamped but unsealed envelope and gave it to him, and he read it, put it back in the envelope and returned it to me without any comment.

From this I learnt that we should not mention what we intend to do even to our friends, but should just do it. If we act with the confidence that this entire life is just a dream and that what matters is only attaining self-knowledge, grace will take care of everything else. But until we are mature enough to have such confidence, working to earn a living will seem to be necessary.

19th August 1978

Sadhu Om: The rishis who were practising ritualistic actions in the Daruka Vana believed that there is no God except action (karma), so in the first verse of Upadesa Undiyar Bhagavan explains that since karma is insentient, it cannot be God and cannot decide which action is to give which fruit when, so the way and time in which each action is to give fruit is determined only by God. In the second verse he explains that even after the fruit of an action has been experienced the seed of that action, which is the tendency (vasana) to do the same kind of action again, remains, thereby causing one to become ever more deeply immersed in the ocean of action, so karma can never give liberation.

However in the third verse he explains that if we do action without any desire for its fruit but simply because of love for God, offering its fruit to him, that will purify our mind and show us the way to liberation. This means that karma done in such a spirit is not itself the path to liberation but can lead us to the path by purifying our mind, because only a purified mind will be able to grasp the fact that liberation cannot be achieved by any action but only by surrendering oneself entirely to God, and that one can surrender oneself only by turning within to vigilantly watch one’s ego and thereby prevent it from rising to do any karma.

In verses 4 to 7 he then explains the relative efficacy of the different types of action that one can do for the love of God. In verse 4 he says that puja, japa and dhyana are respectively actions of body, speech and mind and that in this ascending order each is superior to the preceding one, meaning that they are increasingly effective in purifying our mind. In verse 5 he says that if one considers all things to be forms of God and reveres them accordingly, that is good puja or worship of God. In verse 6 he describes different types of vocal worship and japa (repetition of a name of God or a mantra sacred to him), saying that japa done in a loud voice is more effective (in purifying one’s mind) than praising God by singing hymns, that japa whispered faintly within one’s mouth is still more effective, and that japa done mentally is most effective of all and is a type of dhyana or meditation. And in verse 7 he says that steady and uninterrupted meditation on God, like the steady flow of clarified butter, is better than meditation that is frequently interrupted by other thoughts. This is because the more we love God the more our mind will be drawn to think only of him, and what purifies our mind is not the action itself but the love with which we do it.

Up to verse 7 Bhagavan was discussing actions, which all involve an outward flow of our mind, but in verses 8 and 9 he shows us how we can divert our love for God to go beyond action to our natural state of just being, which is the state of complete self-surrender and hence the most perfect expression of love for God. In verse 8 he says that rather than anya-bhava (meditation on God as something other than oneself) ananya-bhava (meditation on him as not other than oneself) is ‘the best of all’, meaning that it is the best of all practices of bhakti and of all forms of meditation, and in verse 9 he says that by the strength or intensity of such ananya-bhava being in sat-bhava (one’s natural state of being), which transcends meditation, is para-bhakti tattva, the true state of supreme devotion.

So long as we consider God to be something other than ourself, when we meditate on him our attention is moving away from ourself towards our thought of him, and this outward movement of our mind is an action or karma. On the other hand, when we consider him to be ourself and meditate on him accordingly, we will no longer be meditating on a mere thought of him but only on ourself, so our attention will not be moving away from ourself but will just rest motionlessly on ourself, its source, so this self-attentiveness is not an action or karma but our natural state of just being (summa iruppadu). This is why Bhagavan says in verse 9 that by the intensity and firmness of ananya-bhava we will remain in sat-bhava, and that by being so we will transcend all bhavana, imagination, meditation or thinking.

Thus what Bhagavan implies in these first nine verses is that though we cannot attain liberation by any action or karma, if our actions are motivated only by love of God and not by any desire for temporal gains, they will gradually purify our mind and enable us to understand that God is what shines in us as ‘I’, so the best way to meditate upon him is to meditate on nothing other than ourself, and that if we meditate only on ourself, all actions will cease, and thus we will subside back into the source from which we rose.

Therefore in verse 10 he say that subsiding and being in the source from which we rose (which is ourself as we really are) is itself karma, bhakti, yoga and jnana, meaning that it is the most perfect practice of all spiritual paths, which are generally classified in four categories, namely karma yoga (the practice of desireless action), bhakti yoga (the practice of devotion), raja yoga (the practice of disciplines such as breath-control as a means to control and subdue the mind) and jnana yoga (the practice of knowledge, which Bhagavan explained is only atma-vicara or self-investigation).

In verse 8 Bhagavan included a relative clause to describe ananya-bhava more fully, namely ‘avan aham ahum’, which means ‘in which he is I’, and which implies that since he (God) is ‘I’, by meditating on ‘I’ (which alone is ananya, ‘not other’ than oneself) one is meditating on him. However, in Sanskrit he translated this clause as ‘soham iti’, which means ‘thus: he is I’, and because of this some people interpret ‘avan aham ahum ananya-bhava’ to mean soham bhavana, meditation on the thought ‘he is I’. This interpretation is not correct, however, because ananya-bhava means ‘otherless meditation’ or ‘meditation on what is not other’, so it cannot mean meditation on the thought ‘he is I’, since any thought is something other than oneself.

Moreover, in verse 9 Bhagavan explains that by the strength or intensity of ananya-bhava one will be established in the state of being (sat-bhava), which he describes as bhavanatita, which means ‘transcending (or gone beyond) meditation’, and which therefore implies being beyond any kind of thinking, so from this we should infer that what he means by ‘avan aham ahum ananya-bhava’ is not meditation on the thought ‘he is I’ (soham bhavana), because meditation on any thought is a mental activity, so like any other action it would tend to be self-perpetuating, as Bhagavan implies in verse 2. In order to go beyond thinking our mind must subside, and since it rises, stands and flourishes by attending to anything other than itself, it will subside only by attending to itself, the one who rises to think anything.

When aspirants start to follow the path of bhakti, they generally do so with the idea that God is something other than oneself, so they worship, pray to and meditate on him as if he were another. However, since God is not other than ourself, we can never reach him so long as we consider him to be other, so we eventually need to be told that he is actually just ‘I’, which is what Bhagavan refers to when he says in verse 8 ‘avan aham ahum’, ‘in which he is I’. However, when we are told that he is ‘I’, what we should infer is not that we should meditate on the idea ‘he is I’, but only that we should meditate on ourself alone.

As Bhagavan often used to say, why should we meditate on God as someone distant and unknown when in fact he always exists within us and is clearly known by us as ‘I’, our own self? Since ‘I’ is our nearest and dearest and what we are always clearly aware of, the simplest way and most effective way to love God and to meditate on him is to love him and meditate on him only as ‘I’.

22nd August 1978

Sadhu Om: Arunachala works by kindling clarity of discrimination (vivēka) in our hearts. Therefore even though some people do giri-pradakṣiṇa for the fulfilment of worldly desires, the more they do it the more clarity will dawn in their hearts, and hence they will begin to reflect on their desires and ask themselves whether happiness can actually be gained from the fulfilment of any such desires. However, the speed at which such clarity dawns depends on how strong their desires are, because desires for anything other than self-knowledge (ātma-jñāna) are what clouds our mind and thereby obstructs the clarity that naturally shines deep within each one of us.

Even though many people came to Bhagavan, very few had really intense love to attain ātma-jñāna, because their ability to discriminate and recognise that true happiness lies in nothing else was hampered by their other desires and attachments. Therefore the speed at which each devotee developed true love for ātma-jñāna was inversely proportional to the intensity of their desires and attachments. However, anyone who has come into contact with Bhagavan and his teachings, whether in his bodily lifetime or since then, will thereby certainly gain a steadily increasing clarity of discrimination, even if it does not manifest immediately or even in their present lifetime.

Bhagavan’s teachings and the power of his presence in our life are like a seed sown by a diligent gardener. Having sown the seed in our heart, Bhagavan will water it, fertilise it, protect it and nurture it until it grows into the mighty tree that bears the precious fruit of jñāna. If the soil he plants it in is already rich, fertile and deep, it will grow and bear fruit relatively quickly, whereas if the soil is dry, barren, stony and shallow, more time will be required to enrich, fertilise and deepen it in order to allow the seed to geminate, grow and develop strong and deep roots.

However, whatever may have been the condition of our heart when Bhagavan sowed his seed in it, we should not think in terms of the time it might take for his seed to grow into a tree and eventually bear fruit, because time is just an illusion created by our deceptive mind. What seems to be a hundred years in one state may seem like ten minutes in another state. This is why it is said that brahman is neither near nor far. As Bhagavan says in verse 781 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai:

Thinking ‘When will I become one with yōgānanda [the happiness of union], which is the state of self-abidance?’ do not be distressed [or disheartened]. There in the real state of self-knowledge, which is always one [single, non-dual and unchanging], any place [or time] that is far or near does not ever exist.

Like everything else, time and space are a creation of our mind, and the very nature of our mind is to deceive us. In its ability to do so, the mind is indeed an atiśaya śakti (an extraordinary and wonderful power), as Bhagavan says in Nāṉ Yār?, but it is not real, so if we diligently investigate what it is by vigilantly observing the ego, the thought called ‘I’, which is its fundamental and essential form, we will find that there is actually no such thing, as Bhagavan teaches us in verse 17 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

When one investigates the form of the mind without forgetting, [it will be found that] there is not anything called ‘mind’. This is the direct path for everyone.

25th August 1978

Sadhu Om: Real sādhus are very rare. Once there was a sādhu called Buddha, and after a few hundred years one called Jesus, and then another one called Sankara, and more recently one called Ramakrishna, but in this century the one real sādhu came and told us: “I am not this body. I am the one real awareness that shines blissfully as ‘I’ in the hearts of all living beings, beginning with God”. In this unique embodiment of his, Bhagavan revealed many subtle truths like this in a fresh and refined manner.

Previously we used to believe that sādhus such as Buddha, Jesus and Sankara each lived in a limited time and place in the distant past, so they are no longer with us. Since we believed that sādhu-saṅga (association with a sādhu) meant being in the bodily presence of a sādhu, we thought that we could not have saṅga with any sādhu whose body was no longer alive. But now we have no reason to believe this, because Bhagavan has explained to us that he is not a body but is always present within each one of us, so to have his sat-saṅga all we need do is to turn within and see that he is always shining clearly in us as ‘I’. Since he is not limited to any time or place, his sat-saṅga is available to us always and everywhere.

Question: Is that the significance of saying that jñāna can be attained just by thinking of Arunachala from afar? Does it mean that wherever we may be, just by our attending to Bhagavan shining in our heart as ‘I’ he will root out our ego?

Sadhu Om: Yes, in the first verse of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai he indicates that Arunachala is ‘I’, and whatever he says about Arunachala applies to him also, because he himself is Arunachala, so at any time wherever one may be, the best way to have sat-saṅga with him is to attend only to ‘I’. Therefore what he implies in that verse is that if one meditates deeply on ‘I’ alone, he will root out one’s ego. This is his assurance to us.

Question: But what if we think of Arunachala or Bhagavan as other than ourself, as they seem to be? Is such anya-bhāva (meditation on God or guru as other than oneself) also sat-saṅga?

Sadhu Om: Yes, that is also sat-saṅga, and it is more effective than merely being in the physical presence of Bhagavan yet thinking of other things. Being in his physical presence is physical sat-saṅga, whereas thinking of him with love is mental sat-saṅga, and as he says in verse 4 of Upadēśa Undiyār, what is done by mind is more effective in purifying one’s mind than what is done by speech, which in turn is more effective than what is done by body.

People whose attention is habitually turned outwards tend to attach undue importance to outward sat-saṅga, because they are unable to see what is happening within. The most important work being done by guru does not lie in any outward forms, actions or events, but only deep within the heart of each one of us. Shining within us as the clarity of self-awareness, guru is moulding and preparing us so that we can derive the greatest benefit from his outward sat-saṅga, whether in the form of being in his bodily presence, which is still available to us in the form of Arunachala, or in the form of associating with his teachings.

The nature and importance of the vital work that he is constantly doing within us is beyond all human comprehension, but without it no one would ever be fit to obtain any benefit from outward sat-saṅga, because it alone can purify and clarify our mind, thereby making us fit to yield to the subtle influence of his physical presence and to absorb and assimilate his outward teachings. If one is not inwardly prepared and ripe, one will not gain so much benefit from any form of outward sat-saṅga, but if one’s mind is already to a large extent purified and hence clear, one will very quickly gain the full benefit of outward sat-saṅga, namely the blossoming of intense love to turn back within and drown forever in Bhagavan, who is the clear light of awareness that illumines our mind.

* * * * *

Sadhu Om: Free will is our real nature. Since we alone exist, what can ever limit our freedom? It is only when we limit ourself as a body that we seem to have only limited freedom, and when our freedom seems to be limited, we also seem to be bound by its opposite: fate. However, even when our freedom seems to be limited, there is actually nothing other than ourself, so there is nothing that could ever limit our freedom in anyway. Therefore we are always free either to see ourself as one and indivisible, as we always actually are, or to see ourself as many, as we seem to be whenever we rise as the ego.

Therefore neither karmas nor vāsanās can actually ever prevent us from experiencing self-knowledge (ātma-jñāna), because self-knowledge is our real nature, whereas karmas and vāsanās are just illusory appearances that seem to exist only in the view of the ego that we now seem to be and not in the view of ourself as we actually are. They seem to exist only because having risen as this ego we are now looking outwards, but if we turn back and look within to see what we actually are, the ego will disappear along with all its karmas and vāsanās, because it is not what we actually are. Since it rises and stands only by grasping outward appearances, it will subside and disappear if it lets go of all appearances by trying to see itself alone, as Bhagavan says in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

Grasping form, the formless phantom-ego rises into being; grasping form it stands; grasping and feeding on form it grows abundantly; leaving [one] form, it grasps [another] form. If sought, it will take flight. Know [thus].

If we lack discrimination (vivēka), we will continue to rise and stand as this ego in waking and dream, and whenever we do so we will project the threefold appearance of soul, world and God. However, since we seem to be this ego and therefore project such appearances only in waking and dream but not in sleep, we are like a foolish person who instead of sheltering from the intense heat of the sun by resting under the shade of a tree, wanders out into the scorching sunshine until he can bear it no longer, then retreats to the cool shade for a while before again wandering out into the sunshine.

However, we have now been drawn to Bhagavan, so if we follow the path that he has shown us, our mind will gradually be purified and thereby we will gain a steadily increasing clarity of discrimination, as a result of which we will become increasingly disgusted with this habit of rising as the ego and projecting this appearance of soul, world and God, and hence we will reflect: ‘Why should I repeatedly wander out into the scorching sunshine by rising as this ego in waking and dream and then return temporarily to the shade of the tree by subsiding in sleep? Why should I not just remain peacefully in the cool and comfort of the shade?’

When our discrimination thereby becomes clear and deeply rooted, we will turn back within and merge forever in our source, and thus we will discover that we have always been free to just to be as we are and thereby to stop projecting any illusory appearances. Our infinite freedom was only seemingly limited, and what seemingly limited it was our foolish liking to wander in the sunshine by projecting the appearance of soul, world and God. That is, it was seemingly limited only due to our misusing it to see ourself as many instead of as the one infinite whole that we actually are, so we are always free to stop misusing it and to remain just as we always are.

29th August 1978

[Mey-t-Tava Viḷakkam, the first volume of Śrī Ramaṇa Jñāṉa Bōdham, a compilation of all of Muruganar’s previously unpublished verses, which had been painstakingly collected, preserved, arranged and edited by Sadhu Om, was due to be released at a function in front of Bhagavan’s shrine on 3rd September, so the ashram president asked K. Natesan to go to invite Sadhu Om to attend the function as a guest of honour. However, since Sadhu Om preferred to avoid the limelight he politely declined, saying that all credit for the book should go only to Muruganar, as the author, and to Bhagavan, as the sole source of his inspiration, but Natesan persisted, saying ‘You must come, because you are the mūlam [root] of this project’, to which Sadhu Om replied:]

Yes, but the root should never be exposed. What should be exposed and seen by people is only the trunk, branches, leaves and flowers of a tree, because if you expose the root, the whole tree will die. Therefore it is appropriate that this function should be attended by all the important people in the ashram, but you should not endanger all of us by inviting me and exposing me to the world. It is good to paint a building in order to make it look nice in the eyes of people, but you should not dig out the foundations in order to paint them, because the whole building would then collapse. What should be exposed alone should be exposed, and what should be kept hidden should always be kept hidden.

Instead of exposing the roots of a tree, one should pack more mud on top of them in order to keep them buried deep out of sight, so that they can spread and do the work that they are intended to do, nourishing, sustaining and strengthening the whole tree. Likewise, instead of exposing me to the world, you should help me do my work by packing mud in my mouth [an allusion to an idiom used by Bhagavan in verse 88 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai] and keeping me well hidden from the eyes of the world. In this way we will all flourish, and each of us will do the work for which we have come here.

[For a while Natesan continued trying to persuade him that he should attend the function, and finally he said, ‘You should come, and you can bring all your friends with you’, to which Sadhu Om replied:] Everyone is free to do as they like, so whichever friends wish to attend will do so. And who are my friends? All are friends in my eyes, but no one is mine. As is said in verse 49 of Jñānācāravicārapaṭalam [the chapter of Dēvikālōttaram that Bhagavan translated into Tamil], no one belongs to me, and I belong to no one.

[Later that day, in reply to another friend who asked him, ‘How is the life of a sādhu?’ Sadhu Om said:] A sādhu is like a cloud that rains its waters directly into the ocean [implying that the attention of a real sādhu is always flowing back to its source and is never diverted away towards the world].

30th August 1978

Sadhu Om: In the purāṇas it is said that those who do aṅga-pradakṣiṇa [rolling around a deity or temple] around Arunachala will gain the siddhi of vajra-kāya [a body as hard or resilient as diamond]. We can see examples of this today in people such as Esaki Doctor, who once did aṅga-pradakṣiṇa around Arunachala and is now able to do pradakṣiṇa every day in the hot sun, leaving at nine in the morning and returning at noon. But we have come here for something different, because Bhagavan has taught us that such siddhis are transient and worthless, and that the only real siddhi [accomplishment] is ātma-siddhi [the accomplishment of self-knowledge].

Sooner or later Arunachala will remove all other siddhis from his devotees, but in most cases he will not give any such siddhis at all, and to all of us he will gradually give buddhi [clarity of mind] to understand that all siddhis other than ātma-siddhi are worthless. See what happened in the case of Esaki Doctor: at first he had a liking for name and fame, but after being given a taste of it for a while, he gained the buddhi to see that it was worthless, so now that it has been removed he continues to do pradakṣiṇa quietly and humbly without attracting any undue attention.

Therefore even if we begin to do pradakṣiṇa around Arunachala for any reason other than the ultimate annihilation of our ego, Arunachala will gradually purify our mind and thereby give us the clarity to see that eradicating our ego is the only worthwhile goal. He will never abandon any of his devotees, particularly those who do pradakṣiṇa, because in the end he will make each one of us see what needs to be seen by turning our attention inwards, as Bhagavan implies in verse 44 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai:

Arunachala, [in silence] you said: ‘Turning back inside, see yourself daily with the inner eye [or an inward look]; [thereby] it will be known’. What [a wonder]!

31st August 1978

Sadhu Om: After coming to Bhagavan and taking him as our guru, we have to be ready to give up many of our previous beliefs, and to modify and refine other ones. He has given so many correction slips to old ways of thinking. That is, like a teacher correcting the errors in a student’s essay, he has corrected errors in the way that people have interpreted ancient texts, and he has also expressed in a more refined yet clearer manner many of the truths that were formerly concealed within the often obscure or indirect wording of such texts.

For example, by asking questions such as ‘How can meditation on any name or form enable one to reach that which is beyond all name and form?’ and ‘How can meditation on anything confined within time or space enable one to transcend time and space?’ he has pointed out the limitation of many practices that we were formerly led to believe would take us directly to our ultimate goal.

Every name and form is confined at each moment within a particular place in space, and whatever is confined within a place is also confined within a period of time. Therefore meditation on a particular place or on something located in particular place can only be done in one state, because time and place differ from one state to another, since the time and space of our present state do not exist in dream, and the time and space of a dream do not exist in this state, and in sleep no time and space exist at all. Therefore how can any meditation on something that is restricted within time and place and that can be done in only one or two states of the three states enable us to go beyond time and place or the three states?

This is why he said in verse 8 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

Whoever worships [the nameless and formless substance, namely brahman, the ultimate reality] in whatever form giving [it] whatever name, that is the way to see that substance in name and form. However, knowing the reality of oneself and [thereby] subsiding in and becoming one with the reality of that true substance is alone seeing [it] in reality. Know.

The Tamil word meaning ‘substance’ that he uses in each of the two main sentences of this verse is poruḷ, which like the Sanskrit term vastu means substance, essence, what is real or what actually exists, and the nature of this poruḷ was explained by him in the previous verse:

Though the world and mind arise and subside simultaneously, the world shines by the mind. Only that which shines without appearing or disappearing as the base for the appearing and disappearing of the world and mind is poruḷ [the real substance], which is pūṉḏṟam [the infinite whole or pūrṇa].

Since the poruḷ is the infinite whole that shines without ever appearing or disappearing, it is the base or foundation from which and in which the mind and everything perceived by it, namely all names and forms, appear in waking and dream and disappear in sleep. Though the poruḷ is therefore what appears as all names and forms, it itself is nameless and formless, so in order to see it as it is we must see it stripped of all names and forms.

However, though it is nameless and formless, the mind can attribute any name or form to it and worship it accordingly, and by doing so it is possible for the mind to see it in name and form, as he says in the first sentence of verse 8. However, since it is not actually any name or form, seeing it in name and form is not seeing it as it really is but is only seeing it as a ‘maṉōmayam-ām kāṭci’, a mental vision or mind-constituted image, as he says later in verse 20 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu.

Therefore in the second sentence of verse 8 he explains how we can see it ‘in reality’ or as it actually is. Since the mind can rise and stand only by grasping form, as he says in verse 25, so long as it exists it will always see the one real substance as the multitude of names and forms that constitute this or any other world, so we cannot see the one real substance or poruḷ as it is so long as we mistake ourself to be this form-perceiving mind.

Therefore in order to see the poruḷ as it actually is we must see ourself as we actually are, and hence in the second sentence he says: ‘However, knowing the reality of oneself and [thereby] subsiding in and becoming one with the reality of that true substance is alone seeing [it] in reality’. What we actually are is only the nameless and formless poruḷ, so when we see the reality of ourself, the mind that we now seem to be will subside and merge forever in and as the poruḷ, and this alone is seeing it as it really is.

It was previously believed that the term ‘heart’ refers to a place in the body where the Lord or ātman dwells, and since the heart is also referred to metaphorically as guhā [the cave or hiding-place], one of the names of Lord Subrahmanya is Guhēśa [the Lord of the cave or the cave-dwelling Lord]. However Bhagavan pointed out that ‘heart’ means the core, centre, interior or innermost part of ourself, as implied by the Sanskrit term hṛdaya [which in some cases becomes hṛd or in compound hṛt], and therefore refers not to any physical place but only to our real self. For example, in verse 2 of Śrī Aruṇācala Pañcaratnam he explained clearly that what is called ‘heart’ or ‘hṛdaya’ is actually just Arunachala, the infinite space of pure awareness, in which this entire world appears and disappears like a picture on a cinema screen, and which shines eternally within each one of us as ‘I’:

Red Hill [Arunachala], all this [world-appearance], which is a [mental] picture, arises, stands and subsides only in you. Since you dance eternally in the heart as ‘I’, they say your name itself is heart.

Likewise Bhagavan pointed out that whereas various other hills, holy places and temples are said to be abodes of Lord Siva, Arunachala is not merely his abode but he himself. That is, just as the heart is not just the dwelling-place of ātma-svarūpa [our own real self] but ātma-svarūpa itself, so Arunachala is not just the dwelling-place of Siva but Siva himself. This is an important clue for those who seek to go beyond time and place and name and form: though Arunachala seems to be a hill, a name and form located in a finite place, it is actually what dances eternally in our heart as ‘I’, the one infinite and hence formless space of pure self-awareness, which is the real import of the term ‘heart’.

1st September 1978

Sadhu Om: So long as we ask for a path to follow, the guru can only point us to the path of awareness (cit), ‘Attend to yourself’, or the path of happiness (ānanda) or love (priya), ‘Love God or guru, who is yourself’. What all jñānis have taught through words is only these two paths, jñāna and bhakti, self-enquiry and self-surrender.

Even Dakshinamurti taught only these two paths so long as he was answering the questions of the four Sanakadi sages, but finally he had to merge back into himself in order to teach them how to merge within and just be, which is the path of being (sat), and which can be taught only through silence and not through words. This is why Bhagavan often said that silence is the highest teaching, and it is ever going on in our heart, because it is our real nature.

To learn what silence is always teaching us, we must turn our entire attention within, for which intense and all-consuming love is required. That is, without love (bhakti) we cannot follow the path of jñāna, which is the practice of attending only to ourself, and without attending keenly and persistently to ourself, we cannot learn what silence is always teaching us in our heart, which is just to be. Therefore the path of love (priya or ānanda) culminates in self-attention, which is the path of cit, and self-attention results in just silently being, which is the path of sat.

It is only through silence that our real nature can be made known to us, as Bhagavan implies in verse 5 of Ēkāṉma Pañcakam (kaliveṇbā version):

What always exists by its own light is only that ēkātma-vastu [one self-substance]. If at that time the ādi-guru [the original guru, Dakshinamurti] made that vastu known [by] speaking without speaking, say, who can make it known [by] speaking?

Likewise, it is only to reveal itself through silence that our real nature is manifested outwardly in the motionless form of Arunachala, as Bhagavan explains in verse 2 of Śrī Aruṇācala Aṣṭakam:

When [the seer] investigated within the mind who the seer is, I saw what remained when the seer [thereby] became non-existent. The mind did not rise to say ‘I saw’, [so] in what way could the mind rise to say ‘I did not see’? Who has the power to elucidate this [by] speaking, when in ancient times [even] you [as Dakshinamurti] elucidated [it] without speaking? Only to elucidate your state without speaking, you stood as a hill [or motionlessly] shining [from] earth [to] sky.

And what Arunachala teaches us through silence is just to be — to stand still without rising as an ego to do anything by mind, speech or body — as Bhagavan says in verse 36 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai:

Arunachala, saying without saying, ‘Stand [stop, stay or remain] without speech’, you just were [without doing anything].

The path of being (sat) cannot be taught in words, because the nature of this path is no different to the nature of its goal, and since the goal is absolute silence, untainted by the rising of the ego, it can be made known only by silence. In other words, in this path there is nothing to be done, so there are no exercises that can be prescribed. In order just to be, the ego does not need to do anything, and must not do anything. All that is required of it is just to die: that is, to subside and disappear forever.

In verse 27 of Tirutteḷḷēṇam (Śrī Ramaṇa Sannidhimuṟai, 3rd edn, 1974, verse 1578) Muruganar sings that as soon as he came to the presence of Bhagavan, who is sat-tattva (that which actually exists), he died without dying. That is what we must do in order to just be.

How then are we to die without dying? Since we rise and stand as this ego only by attending to things other than ourself, we can forever cease rising only by attending to ourself alone, and for that we must have all-consuming love to surrender ourself completely to him. Therefore the only means to achieve our natural state of just being (sat-bhāva) is to follow the twin paths of cit and ānanda: jñāna and bhakti, self-enquiry and self-surrender.

This is what Bhagavan implied in verses 8 and 9 of Upadēśa Undiyār, in which he says that ananya-bhāva (attending to nothing other than oneself) is the best of all practices of bhakti, and that by the intensity of such self-attention we will be established in sat-bhāva (the state of being), which is beyond all mental activity:

Rather than anya-bhāva [meditation in which God is considered to be other than I], ananya-bhāva, in which he is [considered to be none other than] I, is certainly the best among all [practices of bhakti and varieties of meditation].

By the strength [intensity, firmness or stability] of [such] meditation [ananya-bhāva or self-attention], being in sat-bhāva [one’s ‘state of being’ or ‘real being’], which transcends [all] bhāvana [thinking, imagination or meditation], alone is para-bhakti tattva [the real essence or true state of supreme devotion].

Through words the ego can be instructed to attend, look, seek, investigate, see, know, be aware, love, surrender and so on, but it is only through silence that it can effectively be taught just to be.

* * * * *

Sadhu Om: All that is required is to find out how any world-picture comes into existence and is dissolved. In waking and dream we have the power to see ourself as many, whereas in sleep we lose this power and therefore see nothing other than ourself. This power is what we call mind, and it is what produces the appearance of multiplicity in waking and dream. Trying to find out what this power is and how it arises to produce one dream world after another is what is called ātma-vicāra (self-investigation or self-enquiry), because we can find out what it is and how it rises only by keenly attending to ourself, who now seem to be this mind, the one who sees all this multiplicity.

This practice of self-attention is so simple, and it is the only means to find how any world or anything other than oneself seems to exist, but in the name of sādhana or spiritual practice so many other exercises are taught. All other spiritual practices entail attending to something other than oneself, whereas ātma-vicāra entails attending to oneself alone, so by definition it is the simplest of all spiritual practices, and hence it does not require any aid. In fact any aid would be something other than ourself, so it would distract our attention away from ourself, thereby defeating its very purpose. Therefore what Bhagavan has taught us is the simple, direct and only effective means for us to know ourself as we really are and thereby eradicate our ego or mind, which is just a false knowledge of ourself.

6th September 1978

Sadhu Om [in reply to someone who referred to section 49 of Talks, in which it is recorded that Bhagavan said, ‘An ‘I’ rises forth with every thought and with its disappearance that ‘I’ disappears too. Many ‘I’s are born and die every moment’, and also to Chadwick’s statement that ‘the egos with which we associate ourselves change’, and asked whether there are actually many egos or just one]: The ‘I’ that rises is the ego, and there is only one ego. When Bhagavan said that it rises and subsides with each other thought, he did not mean that a different ego rises with each thought, but only that the same ego rises and subsides along with each of its thoughts.

When Chadwick wrote that ‘the egos with which we associate ourselves change’ (A Sadhu’s Reminiscences, 3rd edn, 1976, p. 9), what he should have said is that the adjuncts with which the ego associates itself change, because whatever we associate or identify ourself with is an adjunct (upādhi), and the ‘we’ who associate ourself with any adjunct is the ego, because our real self (ātma-svarūpa) never associates or identifies itself with anything other than itself, since in its clear view nothing other than itself exists.

That is, as Bhagavan often explained, ātma-svarūpa is always aware of itself only as ‘I am’, whereas the ego is what is always aware of itself as ‘I am this’ or ‘I am that’, in which ‘this’ and ‘that’ refer to whatever adjuncts the ego currently takes itself to be. In other words, the pure self-awareness ‘I am’ is what we really are, which is what is called ātma-svarūpa (the ‘own form’ or real nature of oneself), whereas the adjunct-mixed self-awareness ‘I am this’ or ‘I am that’ is the ego.

This is why the ego is described as cit-jaḍa-granthi, the knot (granthi) formed by the entanglement of awareness (cit) with adjuncts, which are all insentient (jaḍa). The ego is the false ‘I’ that is always aware of itself as ‘I am this body’, which is a mixture that consists of a real element and an unreal element. The real element is ‘I’ or ‘I am’, which is pure self-awareness (cit), and the unreal element is ‘this body’, which is non-aware (jaḍa).

The fact that the ego is one and not many is made clear by Bhagavan in verses 23 and 24 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu by his referring to it as ‘நான் ஒன்று’ (nāṉ oṉḏṟu), which means ‘the one [called] I’ or ‘one [that rises as] I’:

This body does not say ‘I’ [that is, it is not aware of itself as ‘I’]. No one says ‘In sleep I do not exist’ [even though one was not aware of any body then]. After the one [called] ‘I’ rises, everything rises. Investigate [consider, determine or find out] with a subtle mind where this ‘I’ rises.

The jaḍa body does not say ‘I’; sat-cit does not rise; [but] in between [these two] one [spurious entity] rises [as] ‘I’ [limited] as the extent of the body. Know that this [one limited self-awareness that rises as ‘I am this body’] is cit-jaḍa-granthi [the knot that binds the conscious and the non-conscious together as if they were one], bandha [bondage], jīva [life or soul], the subtle body, the ego, this saṁsāra [wandering, perpetual movement, restless activity, worldly existence or the cycle of birth and death] and manam [the mind].

As he says in verse 33 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu: ‘Being one is the truth, [as is known by] the experience of everyone’. Therefore, since we are always one, there can only ever be one ‘I’, so the ego is always the same ego, even though the adjuncts with which it identifies itself are constantly changing.

If the ego were not always one and the same ego, but was instead a different ego at each moment, the karma theory would not be valid, because the ego that experiences the fruit of a past action would not be the same ego that did that action. However this is not the case, as Bhagavan clearly implies in verse 38 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

If we are the doer of action, we will experience the resulting fruit. [However] when one knows oneself by investigating who is the doer of action, doership will depart and all the three karmas [āgāmya, sañcita and prārabdha] will slip off. [This is] the state of liberation, which is eternal.

The ‘we’ who does action and the ‘we’ who experiences the resulting fruit are one and the same ego. Though the karma theory is not the ultimate truth, it holds true so long as we appear to be the ego, the one who experiences both the sense of doership (kartṛtva), ‘I am doing this’, and the sense of experiencership (bhōktṛtva), ‘I am experiencing this’. Therefore, since the ego is not what we really are but only what we appear to be, if we investigate ourself, who now seem to be this one ego, and thereby know what we really are, this ego along with its kartṛtva, its bhōktṛtva and all its karmas will cease to exist, and what will then remain is only our natural state, which is eternally free from the bondage of karma.

Though it is sometimes said that the ego in dream is different from the ego in waking, what is actually meant is that the body that the ego identifies as itself in each of these two states is a different body. If our body is injured in a dream, when we wake up we find that our waking body is uninjured, but neither of these bodies is ourself, because they are each just a temporary adjunct. However we are what was aware of ourself in dream as ‘I am injured’, and this same we are now aware of ourself as ‘I am not injured’, so though the bodies are different, we, the experiencer of both of them, are undoubtedly the same. This experiencing ‘we’ is the ego or mind.

The rising (birth) and subsiding (death) of this ego happen too fast to be cognised by it, and that is why our life in each state of waking or dream seems to be an unbroken series of experiences, just as a movie appearing on a cinema screen seems to be an unbroken series of activities and events because the rate at which each individual picture appears and disappears on the screen is too fast for our eyes to cognise them as separate pictures with a brief gap between each. We can understand this more clearly by considering thus:

Suppose someone were to ask us ‘Do you remember your birth?’ We would reply ‘No’, and then the conversation may continue as follows:

‘Then how do you know you were born at a particular time and in a particular place?’

‘Because my parents told me.’

‘Do you need your parents to tell you that you exist now?’

‘No, I myself know that I am.’

‘Then why must you rely on your parents’ testimony to know that you were born? If the knowledge ‘I was born’ were as clear as the knowledge ‘I am’, would you need anyone else to tell you that you were born?’

‘Though I cannot remember my birth, I know I was born. I need others to tell me when and where I was born, but I don’t need anyone to tell me I was born, because if I wasn’t born I wouldn’t be here now.’

‘How far back in your life can you remember?’

‘My earliest memories may be from my third year or so.’

‘If you were asked the same question in a dream, would you not give the same answer?’

‘Yes, I suppose I would, because when I am dreaming I think I am awake, so I remember the events of my waking life as if they were events that had occurred in that dream life.’

‘So while dreaming you experience yourself as a dream body, and even though you cannot remember the birth of that dream body, you believe that you (that body) were born, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but obviously that was a mistaken belief, because my dream had only lasted for a short while.’

‘Now in this present state you say that the dream lasted only a short while, but while dreaming you had memories going back as far as your third year or so, so at that time your dream life seemed to have lasted for so many years. Now you know that your memories in dream deceived you, because what you remembered then about your childhood had never occurred in that dream, yet while dreaming both your memories and all that you experienced in that dream seemed to be true. Based on what you remember your parents telling you, in dream you believed not only that you were born but also that you were born at a particular time and in a particular place, didn’t you? But after leaving that dream you now know that those beliefs were all mistaken, because your dream body was just a mental projection, so how can you be sure that your beliefs about your birth in this state are not equally mistaken? Can you be sure that this body is not likewise just a mental projection? Now you have memories of your childhood and of subsequent years, but can you be sure that any of those events actually happened?’

‘No, I can’t be sure of anything but the present moment.’

This is why Bhagavan wrote in verse 15 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu that the present is the only one, meaning that the present moment is that only moment that actually exists. The past and the future are just ideas that occur in the present moment, but like all other ideas or thoughts, they can occur only because of the illusion of a continuously passing time. Without such an illusion, nothing would seem to happen, because happenings entail change, and change can seem to occur only in the passing of time.

If time did not seem to pass, nothing could appear or disappear, so what would exist and shine is only what always exists and shines, namely ‘I am’. Everything else appears and disappears, including the ego, so its appearance and disappearance entails the illusion of passing time. In the actual present moment – that is, in the infinitesimally small and ever unchanging space between the moment just past and the immediate future moment – nothing can appear or disappear, so what shines is only ‘I am’, our awareness of our own existence.

Returning to our imaginary conversation, the person questioning us may then ask:

‘Then how can you be sure that you were born or that you will die? In the present moment you exist, so neither your birth nor your death is happening now. Therefore your ideas that you were born and that you will die are both just blind beliefs, are they not?’

‘I cannot deny that they are both beliefs, but it is not clear to me where this is leading.’

‘That will become clear at the end. In the meanwhile, let us consider a bit further about death. You do not remember your birth, but will you at least know your death?’

‘I don’t know, because I haven’t yet died, so I have no experience of dying.’

‘Consider what happens when a dream comes to an end: you leave your dream body, but are you aware of that body’s death? Do you wake up only after it has died? Do you suppose that the people in your dream have now buried or cremated it?’

‘No, of course not. It just disappears and I find myself in this body.’

‘Yes, either you wake up and find yourself in this body or in some other dream body, or you fall asleep and cease to be aware of any body at all. The same will happen when your present dream comes to an end. Either you will fall asleep for a while, or another dream will begin, in which you will find yourself to be some other body, from the perspective of which the life of this body will seem to be a dream. You will never be aware of yourself as ‘I am dead’, because all thoughts, including one such as ‘I am dead’, can arise only when you are aware of yourself as a body. In sleep you are not aware of yourself as a body, so you are not aware of any thoughts, whereas in waking and dream you are aware of yourself as a body, and consequently you are aware of thoughts.’

If we consider along these lines, it is clear that we cannot experience either our birth or our death, so why do we fear birth and death? We fear death because we do not want to be separated from this body, since we mistake it to be ourself, but we are separated from it every time we fall asleep, yet we do not fear to fall asleep. We welcome sleep as peaceful respite from all the ceaseless mental activity of waking and dream, and we do not fear it because we believe that we will wake up again as this same body.

Bhagavan often used to say, ‘Do not believe what you do not know’. We believe that we were born and that we will die, but we never experience either our own birth or our own death. All we know for certain is that we exist now, so why should we believe anything else? Birth, death and all other things may seem to exist, but do any of them actually exist? Since the only existence we can be sure of is our own, why should we believe in the existence of anything else? Before we can know whether anything else is real, we must first know the reality of ourself: who am I? Investigating anything else is futile until we have investigated and known what we ourself actually are.

Since we cannot experience either the birth or the death of this body, which is a gross object, how can we experience either the birth (rising or coming into existence) or the death (subsiding or cessation) of this ego or mind, which is the subtle subject?

Until we rise as the ego, we are not aware of anything else, because as Bhagavan says in verse 26 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, everything else comes into existence only when the ego comes into existence, and nothing else exists when the ego does not exist. Our real nature is not aware of either the appearance or the disappearance of the ego – in fact it is not aware of the ego at all, because the ego is just a wrong awareness of ourself, whereas our real nature is clear self-awareness undefiled by the appearance of anything else. Therefore what is aware of the ego is only the ego itself.

However, the ego can never be aware of its non-existence, because it must exist in order to be aware of anything. Since it was not aware of itself before it came into existence, it becomes aware of itself only when it comes into existence, but by the time it has become aware of itself it has already come into existence, so it can never be aware of its actually coming into existence. Either it does not exist, in which case it is not aware of itself, or it is aware of itself, in which case it already exists, so it can be aware of the change from being non-existent to being seemingly existent only after that change has taken place. Likewise it can never be aware of its ceasing to exist, because by the time it has ceased to exist it is aware of nothing.

Therefore the ego can never be aware either of its coming into existence or of its ceasing to exist, and this is why we can never cognise the exact moment when we wake up or the exact moment when we fall asleep. However Bhagavan asks us to try to find out how the ego comes into existence, even though we can never see it actually coming into existence. In order to see when or how it comes into existence, or when or how it ceases to exist, we must attend to it very keenly, and when we look at it carefully enough we will see that no such thing actually exists, because what actually exists is only our own real nature, which is pure self-awareness.

Therefore we should not imagine that if we practise self-attention keenly enough our power of attention will become so sharp and subtle that we will be able to cognise the rising and the subsiding of our ego every fraction of a moment, because if we attend to ourself keenly enough it will not rise at all. That is, if we fix our attention very keenly on ourself, the source from which the ego rises, what will become clear to us is: I alone exist, so no such thing as the ego has ever come into existence.

Vivarta vāda [the contention that the ego and everything perceived by it is just a false appearance] can hold true only so long as the ego seems to exist, but when we see the reality of the ego, namely our true nature, we will see that no ego has ever existed, so ajāta [the fact that nothing has ever been born or come into existence, even as a false appearance] will then shine as the only truth, because since the ego has never existed, nothing else has ever actually existed, since according to vivarta vāda everything else depends for its seeming existence upon the seeming existence of the ego.

In some books that record Bhagavan’s answers to questions he seems to accept the existence of the causal body in sleep, but in Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu he makes it clear that in the absence of the ego there is no body or anything else at all. For example in verse 26 he says that if the ego comes into existence everything comes into existence, and if the ego does not exist nothing exists. Moreover in verse 5 he clarifies that the body is a form of five sheaths, so all five together are included in the term ‘body’, and that no world exists without such a body. These five sheaths are usually divided into three bodies, the gross, subtle and causal, and a prevalent view in advaita texts is that the body we experience as ourself in the waking state is the gross body, the body we experience as ourself in dream is the subtle body, and what we experience in sleep is the causal body, but Bhagavan has pointed out that this view is not correct.

Firstly he says that there is no actual difference between waking and dream, and that while dreaming we seem to be awake, so the body we experience as ourself in dream seems to be as gross or physical as the body in waking. Therefore whatever body that we experience as ourself, whether in waking or in dream, is a form composed of all the five sheaths.

Secondly he says that sleep is not a state of ignorance but one of pure self-awareness. Only from the perspective of the ego in waking or dream does sleep seem to be a state of darkness or ignorance, but in sleep the ego does not exist, and in its absence what remains is only pure self-awareness. Therefore the causal body is said to exist in sleep only as a concession to the self-ignorant view of the ego.

The ego is the wrong awareness ‘I am this body’, so it seems to exist only when we are aware of ourself as a body, as we are in waking and dream. Therefore it does not exist in sleep, because we are then aware of ourself only as ‘I am’ without any adjuncts. As Bhagavan says in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, the ego comes into existence, stands and flourishes only by grasping forms, and the first form it grasps is whatever body it currently experiences as ‘I’, so since no forms seem to exist in sleep, the ego does not exist then.

In the same verse he says that when the ego leaves one form, it grasps another form, and an analogy he sometimes gave for this is a worm, leech or caterpillar, which leaves one hold only after grasping another one [as recorded, for example, in Maharshi’s Gospel, Book 1, Chapter 5, Day by Day 21-11-45 Night, and Talks section 286]. However we should not take this analogy to mean that that the ego leaves one body only after grasping another one, but rather that as soon as it leaves one body it grasps another one, because at any given moment it experiences itself as only one body.

Moreover, by saying this he does not mean that the ego grasps a form even in sleep, firstly because it does not exist then to grasp anything, and secondly because there are therefore no forms in sleep to be grasped, since as he says in the next verse, everything else comes into existence only when the ego comes into existence. Therefore it is only when the ego seems to exist, namely in waking or dream, that whenever it leaves one form it grasps another one. When it subsides in sleep it leaves all forms, and it begins to grasp them again only when it rises from sleep in either waking or dream.

When Bhagavan says in verse 5 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu that the body is a form of five sheaths (pañca kōśa), he means that whenever we experience ourself as a body, we are experiencing all five sheaths as ourself. This is because whatever body we experience as ourself is always a living body and always seems to be awake, so it consists not only of the physical form (annamaya kōśa) but also of the life that animates it (prāṇamaya kōśa), the thinking mind (manōmaya kōśa) and the discerning intellect (vijñānamaya kōśa), and it seems to be ourself only because of our self-ignorance, which is what is called the ānandamaya kōśa or causal body. Therefore we never experience ourself as any of these five sheaths without experiencing ourself as all of them.

The ego itself is not any of these five sheaths, but it cannot come into existence or stand without grasping all five of them as itself. Though they are described as five ‘sheaths’ or ‘coverings’ and are compared to the layers of an onion, which if peeled off leave nothing inside, they are not actually five distinct layers, but are closely interwoven and in our experience of them they are inseparable from one another. Just as we peel off all five of them whenever we fall asleep, if we investigate the ego, the ‘I’ that experiences them as itself, and thereby experience our real nature, we will peel off all of them simultaneously and forever.

The grossest of these five sheaths is the physical body, and each of the other sheaths is progressively more subtle, so since all five of them form one body, we can say that the subtlest form of this body is the darkness of self-ignorance (ānandamaya kōśa), and that a grosser form of that darkness is the intellect, a grosser form of the intellect is the mind, a grosser form of the mind is the life or prāṇa, and a grosser form of the life is the physical body. This is why Bhagavan says in Nāṉ Yār? [eighth paragraph]: ‘The prāṇa is said to be the gross form of the mind’.

None of these five sheaths are ‘I’, but that which experiences them all as ‘I’ is the ego, so to investigate what we really are we need to separate ourself from all of them, including the subtle darkness of self-ignorance, and we can separate ourself from them only by attending to nothing other than ‘I’. Since the ego cannot stand without grasping these five sheaths as itself, when it tries to grasp itself alone, it will subside and disappear. This is why Bhagavan concludes verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu by saying that if one searches for it, the formless phantom-ego will take flight.

The darkness of self-ignorance is called the causal body because none of the other four sheaths can appear without it, so we can permanently separate ourself from all the five sheaths only by eradicating this fundamental darkness. Just as darkness can be removed only by light, the darkness of self-ignorance can be removed only by the clear light of pure self-awareness (ātma-jñāna), and we can see that light only by keenly attending to the ego, the one to whom self-ignorance and the other four sheaths appear.

That is, what is enveloped in the darkness of self-ignorance is only the ego, and since the ego is just a false awareness of ourself as ‘I am this body’, we can free ourself from the darkness of self-ignorance only by eradicating the ego, and we can eradicate the ego only by seeing ourself as we really are. Therefore from whichever angle we may consider the matter, we can eradicate the ego and thereby separate ourself permanently from all the five sheaths only by keenly attending to ourself alone.

So long as the ego is in contact with anything other than itself, its real nature is concealed from it, so in order to find its real nature it must attend to itself alone. This is why Bhagavan said: ‘Its true nature is known when it is out of contact with objects or thoughts’ and ‘The ego in its purity is experienced in the intervals between two states or between two thoughts’ (Maharshi’s Gospel, Book 1, Chapter 5). Therefore we should withdraw our attention completely from everything else by fixing it firmly on ourself alone, as he implies in verse 16 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

Leaving aside external viṣayas [phenomena], the mind knowing its own form of light is alone real awareness [or knowledge].

That is, when we attend to ourself alone, awareness of everything else will recede and disappear, and in the bright light of pure self-awareness that then remains the ego will dissolve and be consumed entirely, as Bhagavan says in verse 193 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai:

If the ego-mind, which wanders about attending to other things, begins to attend to its own nature, then [all] other things departing, ‘I’, the limited awareness, will be annihilated by the real awareness of oneself, which shines without limit as the nature of the heart.

9th September 1978

Sadhu Om: In verse 803 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai Bhagavan says:

The mey-jñāni [knower of reality], who, ‘I’ [the ego] being annihilated, abides firmly in the state of self, which is jñāna [knowledge or awareness], giving ātmānubhava [direct awareness of self], the power in which the delusion of flesh [the false awareness ‘I am this body’] is annihilated, to devotees [those with intense yearning and trust] who, suffering distress [and hence seeking salvation], take refuge [in him], is jīva-karuṇā [compassion for and kindness to living beings]. Other [acts of compassion and kindness] are defective.

The only act of true jīva-kāruṇya (kindness to living beings) is to give them self-knowledge (ātma-jñāna) and thereby annihilate their ego or sense of individuality (jīva-bhōda), which is the root cause of all suffering. All other acts of kindness, including even giving heavenly pleasures to all living beings or ‘heavenising’ this world, are not real kindness, because they do not solve the root problem, the ego, so they are just burying it deeper in its own ignorance, the delusion of jīva-bhōda.

What all living beings actually want is just happiness, but no one can ever be satisfied with partial happiness, so knowingly or unknowingly all are seeking infinite happiness, untainted by even the least sorrow or dissatisfaction. However the finite ego can never enjoy infinite happiness, so it is doomed to perpetual dissatisfaction. Indeed, since the ego or individuality (jīvatva) is the cause of all dissatisfaction and consequent misery, it is itself misery, so to bestow śivatva (the beneficient state of being śiva, the infinite whole) by annihilating jīvatva is alone true jīva-kāruṇya.

And who can give śivatva? Only one who is dissolved in śiva as śiva, as Bhagavan implies in the previous verse, verse B15 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai (verse 10 of Upadēśa Taṉippākkaḷ):

Only one who is saved can save living beings in the world; whereas anyone else is like a blind person who is [trying to be] a guide to [another] blind person.

11th September 1978

Sadhu Om: Sphuraṇa is not something that we do not already know, because it is always shining in us as ‘I’. It is the simple awareness ‘I am’, so it is never unknown to us, because even when we attend to other things we do not cease to be aware that I am.

However, because we are so accustomed to attending to other things whenever we are either awake or dreaming, when we try to attend only to the awareness ‘I am’ it seems to shine with a fresh clarity, and this fresh clarity of self-awareness is what is generally called sphuraṇa. When we attend to other things the awareness ‘I am’ is mixed up and confused with awareness of a body and other such adjuncts, so instead of shining just as ‘I am’ it shines as ‘I am this body’, but when we try to attend only to our basic self-awareness, ‘I am’, the adjuncts recede into the background and self-awareness begins to shine more clearly and prominently. The more keenly we attend to ‘I am’, the more awareness of all other things fades away, until eventually we remain shining as ‘I am’ alone.

Whenever we attend to anything other than ‘I’ we seem to be a body, but when we try to attend only to ‘I’ we begin to recognise that ‘I’ is actually something quite distinct from whatever body I seem to be. We can make this more clear by considering an example. Suppose we hear that a close friend of ours has just died. We go to his house and see his corpse lying there. Yesterday we were talking with him, but today we see his body lying lifeless. What is the difference between this lifeless body and the person we were talking with yesterday? Surely that person who was talking and laughing with us was something other than just this body, which is now a corpse. So who was it who was talking to us through the medium of this body? Who was seeing us and hearing our jokes? Who was recollecting the good times we had together in the past? Since the one who was talking, seeing, hearing and remembering is something other than this corpse, who am I who now talks, sees, hears and remembers through this corpse-like body that now seems to be myself?

To know this ‘I’ as it really is we must attend only to the awareness that always shines as ‘I’, thereby ignoring all other things, including the corpse-like body that we now mistake to be ‘I’. This is why in the kaliveṇbā version of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan extended verse 29 by adding before it the clause ‘uḍalam piṇam pōl tīrndu’, which means ‘leaving the body like a corpse’, so with this clause the first sentence of that verse means: ‘Leaving the body like a corpse, not saying ‘I’ by mouth, investigating by an inward sinking mind where one rises as ‘I’ alone is the path of knowledge’.

Likewise in the first sub-section of section 1 of Vicāra Saṅgraham he says:

If one asks how to investigate [this impure self-awareness that rises as ‘I am this body’], [the reply is:] can this body, which is jaḍa [non-conscious] like a block of wood, shine and behave as ‘I’? It cannot. Therefore, setting down the corpse-body as a corpse, and remaining without uttering ‘I’ even by [physical or mental] voice, if one keenly investigates what it is that now shines as ‘I’, then in [one’s] heart a kind of spurippu [a fresh clarity] alone will itself appear to itself [or to oneself] without sound as ‘I am I’. Without leaving that [fresh clarity of self-awareness], if one just is, it will completely annihilate ahaṅkāra-rūpa jīva-bhōda [the sense of individuality in the form of ego], which is called [that is, which experiences itself as] ‘body is I’, and [then], like fire that catches on camphor, it will itself also be extinguished. This itself is said by sages and sacred texts to be mōkṣa [liberation].

The term spurippu, which means shining or clarity, is a Tamil equivalent of the Sanskrit term sphuraṇa, and they are both verbal nouns derived from the Sanskrit verb sphur (spuri or puri in Tamil), which means to shine, be clear, shine forth, appear clearly or make itself known, so when Bhagavan says, ‘if one keenly investigates what it is that now shines as I, then in the heart a kind of spurippu alone will itself appear to itself without sound as I am I’, what he means by spurippu is a fresh clarity of self-awareness. That is, if we keenly attend to ‘I’, a fresh clarity of self-awareness will shine forth within us.

So long as we attend to anything other than ‘I’, we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, and this adjunct-mixed self-awareness is what is called ego (ahaṅkāra) or the sense of individuality (jīva-bhōda). However, if we attend to ‘I’ keenly enough, we will thereby separate ourself from all adjuncts, and hence instead of shining as ‘I am this body’ our self-awareness will shine clearly as ‘I am just I’.

If we cling fast to this fresh clarity of self-awareness, without leaving or letting go of it, that steady state of unwavering self-attention is what is called ‘just being’ (summā iruppadu), because it is the state in which the ego does not rise to attend to anything else, and hence it is the state of absolute silence, stillness or inactivity. By remaining unswervingly in this state of just being, in which we do not let go of self-attention even to the slightest extent, the last remaining traces of the ego will be consumed by the clarity of self-awareness, and then the freshness of that clarity will subside, after which pure self-awareness will shine forever as our natural, eternal and immutable state.

This is what Bhagavan refers to when he says: ‘Without leaving that [spurippu or fresh clarity of self-awareness], if one just is, it will completely annihilate the sense of individuality (jīva-bhōda) in the form of ego (ahaṅkāra), which is called [that is, which experiences itself as] ‘body is I’, and [then], like fire that catches on camphor, it will itself also be extinguished’. What is extinguished when the ego is annihilated is not the clarity of self-awareness but only the freshness of it, because it will then be experienced as the real nature of oneself (ātma-svarūpa), which is eternal and immutable.

However, unless we have all-consuming love to attend to ourself alone, and unless our viṣaya-vāsanās or outward-going tendencies are consequently greatly diminished, we will not be able to cling to the fresh clarity of self-awareness without ever leaving it, so during the course of our practice this fresh clarity (spurippu or sphuraṇa) will fade whenever we attend to other things and will shine again only when we renew our effort to attend only to ourself. That is, to the extent that we attend to other things, our self-awareness will again become clouded by being mixed with adjuncts, and to the extent that we attend only to ourself, the adjuncts will fade and self-awareness will shine clearly. In other words, the more keenly we attend to ourself, the more the appearance of adjuncts will subside, and consequently the more clearly the sphuraṇa will shine, until finally the ego and all its adjuncts will be dissolved forever in the absolute clarity of pure self-awareness.

Therefore once we have ignited the sphuraṇa or fresh clarity of self-awareness by trying to attend only to ourself, we should then try to cling as firmly as possible to this sphuraṇa until it consumes our ego entirely like a flame that catches and consumes a piece of camphor.

12th September 1978

Sadhu Om: The first question that Sivaprakasam Pillai asked Bhagavan was ‘nāṉ yār?’, which means ‘Who am I?’, to which he replied ‘aṟivē nāṉ’, which means ‘Awareness alone is I’, so Sivaprakasam Pillai then asked, ‘aṟiviṉ sorūpam eṉṉa?’, ‘What is the nature of [such] awareness?’, to which Bhagavan replied ‘saccidāṉandam’, ‘Being-awareness-bliss’. From this we should understand that what ‘I’ really is is neither the ego nor any of the five sheaths [the physical body, life, mind, intellect and will, or the darkness of self-ignorance in which the will resides] that constitute the body or person that the ego takes to be itself.

This is why Bhagavan advised us to investigate ‘who am I’ in order to experience what we really are, namely pure awareness or sat-cit-ānanda [being-awareness-bliss]. However, not understanding that what ‘I’ really is is nothing but pure awareness, people often asked him, ‘When you ask us to investigate who am I, which is the I we are to investigate?’, to which he would generally reply, ‘It is the ego’ [as recorded, for example, in Day by Day with Bhagavan, 21-11-45 Night and 3-1-46 Afternoon]. Why did he answer in this way?

After being told that what ‘I’ really is is just sat-cit-ānanda, no matter whatever else it may seem to be, asking this question, ‘Which ‘I’ am I to investigate?’, is like after being told that what seems to be a snake is actually just a rope and advised to look at it carefully to see for oneself, asking, ‘Which ‘it’ am I to look at, the snake or the rope?’ The appropriate answer to give anyone who asks this question is ‘the snake’, because they obviously have not understood clearly enough that there are not two different things there, a snake and a rope, but just one thing, a rope that seems to be a snake. Likewise there are not two different ‘I’s, a real ‘I’ and an ego, but just one real ‘I’ that seems to be the ego.

Those who ask which ‘I’ is to be investigated have not understood that there is only one ‘I’, so they imagine that the real ‘I’ is some other thing that is now unknown. Therefore whenever anyone asked this question, Bhagavan generally replied that the ‘I’ they should investigate is the ego, because they believed that that is the only ‘I’ they know.

There is also a deeper reason why he often described ātma-vicāra [self-investigation or self-enquiry] as investigating the ego. We need to investigate ourself only because we have risen as ego, so it is only as this ego that we are to investigate who or what we actually are. Our real nature (ātma-svarūpa) does not need to investigate itself, because as our real nature we are always aware of ourself as we actually are. Therefore ātma-vicāra is the ego investigating itself.

Though our aim is to know our real nature, we are now aware of ourself as the ego, so we cannot attend to our real nature as it is but only as the ego that it seems to be. However, this does not mean that we cannot attend to our real nature, which is what is always shining within us as ‘I’, but only that we cannot attend to it except as the ego, because that is what ‘I’ now seems to be.

However, since there is only one ‘I’, if one investigates this one ‘I’, which is what now seems to be the ego, its real nature will be revealed, just as if one looks carefully enough at what seems to be a snake one will see that it is just a rope. When one sees that it is actually just a rope, the snake in effect disappears or takes flight. Likewise when one investigates oneself keenly enough to see what one actually is, the ego will disappear or take flight. This is why Bhagavan says in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and elsewhere that if one seeks or scrutinises the ego, it will take flight.

What remains when the ego takes flight is just our real nature, which as he says in verse 21 of Upadēśa Undiyār is always the true import of the word ‘I’, because we do not cease to exist in sleep, even though there is then no ego. This true import of the word ‘I’ is not something new that we did not know before, but is just the one ‘I’ that we have always known clearly, because whether the ego appears, as in waking and dream, or does not appear, as in sleep, we are always aware of ourself, our own existence, ‘I am’. However, though we have never been not aware of this one real ‘I’, we were previously aware of it as ego, the spurious ‘I’ that rises as ‘I am this body’, so when this imposter takes flight, we know only what we have always known, namely the one real ‘I’, but instead of knowing it as ego, we know it as it really is.

The ‘I’ that we are to know is not anything other than ourself, so when we know what we really are we will know that we have always known ourself. This is why Bhagavan says in verse 33 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu: ‘To make oneself an object, are there two selves? Because being one is the truth, the experience of everyone’.

The ego is just a wrong knowledge or awareness of ourself, which is superimposed on our awareness of our real nature, just as the snake is just a misperception, which is superimposed on our perception of the rope. Therefore when the wrong awareness called ‘ego’ is removed, what remains is the real awareness that we actually are, unobscured by the appearance of the ego, just as when the misperception called ‘snake’ is removed, what remains is our perception of the rope, unobscured by the appearance of the snake.

Just as the snake is nothing other than a rope, the ego is nothing other than our real nature. Therefore to see our real nature we just have to look at the ego very carefully. So long as we mistake ourself to be this ego, we need to investigate it, but our aim is not to know the ego but only to know what we actually are. If we clearly understand the oneness of the ego and our real nature, we will understand that looking at the ego is nothing other than looking at our real nature.

However, if someone is unable to doubt the reality of their jīva-bhāva or sense of individuality, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, they will not be able to understand even at an intellectual level that what seems to be the ego is nothing other than their real nature. For such people it is necessary to say that the ‘I’ that should be investigated is only the ego, because they believe the real ‘I’ is something other than that, whereas for those who can understand that the ego is just a false appearance, like an illusory snake, it will be clear that there is actually no difference between investigating the ego and investigating one’s real nature.

In the question ‘Whence am I?’ what ‘I’ refers to is only the ego, because the ego alone is the rising ‘I’, the ‘I’ that appears and therefore just seems to exist, so investigating whence am I means investigating the source from which the ego has risen or appeared, namely one’s own real nature. In the question ‘Who am I?’, however, though what ‘I’ refers to may seem to be the ego, if one has a more mature and therefore a clearer and more subtle understanding it will be clear that from a deeper perspective what ‘I’ refers to is actually one’s real nature, because one’s real nature alone is the being ‘I’, the ‘I’ that actually exists, so it alone is what seems to be the ego, and hence though investigating who am I may seem to mean investigating the ego, what it actually means is investigating one’s own real nature.

This is what I explained in The Path of Sri Ramana, but one person came to me recently and argued that what I had written there is wrong because Bhagavan said that the ‘I’ in the question ‘Who am I?’ is only the ego. Even when I explained to him why Bhagavan said so and that the ego and our real nature are not two different things, just as the snake and the rope are not two different things, he could not understand or would not accept my explanation.

What this person argued is like arguing that we should not look at the rope because Bhagavan said that we should look only at the snake. But how can we look at what seems to be a snake without looking at the rope? We may not recognise that it is a rope, but even when we look at it thinking it is a snake, what we are actually looking at is only a rope. Likewise, even when we do not recognise it as our real nature, when we attend to the ego what we are actually attending to is only our real nature, because what seems to be this ego is nothing other than that.

No such thing as ego actually exists. We seem to be this ego only because we do not look at ourself carefully enough, so the ego seems to exist only when we do not attend to it keenly enough. This is why Bhagavan asks us to investigate ourself by keenly attending to the ego, which is what we now seem to be. Therefore understanding clearly that what seems to be this ego is nothing other than our real nature is necessary for us to go deep within.

How can we see what we actually are so long as we cling to the belief that the ‘I’ we are investigating is only the ego? The very purpose of investigating ourself is for us to see that we are not actually this ego, which we seemed to be till now, but are only beginningless, endless (limitless or infinite) and unbroken (undivided or unfragmented) sat-cit-ānanda, as Bhagavan says in verse 28 of Upadēśa Undiyār, so when we attend to ourself we need to give up all ideas about two different ‘I’s, one of which we know, namely the ego, and the other of which we do not know, namely our real nature.

There is only ever one ‘I’, which is our real nature, but because we have not investigated it keenly enough, it seems to be this ego. This is why investigating this ego with eagerness to know what it is is the only means to know what we actually are. We cannot know what we actually are so long as we continue to believe that the real import of the word ‘I’ (what this word actually refers to) is the ego, so the sooner we give up this wrong idea the better.

Therefore we should think carefully and deeply about Bhagavan’s teachings in order to understand why he said whatever he said, and we should not assume that every answer he gave in reply to the wide variety of questions he was asked, often by people who were far from being able to grasp his teachings in a deep and subtle manner, was the final word he had to say on that subject. He answered at many different levels to suit the needs of those who asked him questions, so not everything he said represents the real depth and subtlety of his teachings.

26th September 1978

Sadhu Om: Among the various bhāvas or devotional attitudes towards God, one is to take him as our faithful friend and servant who is willing to do everything for us. This is why I often say: ‘Why should you think that you should serve God? Who are you to serve him? He is always serving you, fulfilling every need of yours, so why should you do anything? He is all-loving, all-knowing and all-powerful, so he knows all your needs and fulfils them far better than you could for yourself. So when he is doing everything for you, why should you plan anything or even think of anything? Why don’t you just keep quiet, resting with full faith in him? Leave it all to him and be calm. This is the only way you can truly serve him’.

This is what Bhagavan implies when he says in Nāṉ Yār?:

Even though one places whatever amount of burden upon God, that entire amount he will bear. Since one paramēśvara śakti [supreme ruling power or power of God] is driving all kāryas [whatever needs or ought to be done or to happen], instead of we also yielding to it, why to be perpetually thinking, ‘it is necessary to do like this; it is necessary to do like that’? Though we know that the train is going bearing all the burdens, why should we who go travelling in it, instead of remaining happily leaving our small luggage placed on it [the train], suffer bearing it [our luggage] on our head?

If we train ourself to cling fast to this attitude, giving up all our cares and concerns by trusting him entirely to provide whatever we need, that will save us the trouble of thinking so many countless thoughts that we would otherwise believe are necessary for us to think. Only when we are firmly established in this attitude will it be possible for us to surrender ourself entirely, because self-surrender is not complete until we give up thinking of or attending to anything other than ourself, as Bhagavan says in the first sentence of the same paragraph of Nāṉ Yār?: ‘Being ātma-niṣṭhāparaṉ [one who is steadily fixed in and as oneself], giving not even the slightest room to the rising of any cintana [thought] other than ātma-cintana [‘thought of oneself’, self-contemplation or self-attentiveness], alone is giving oneself to God’.

This is the bhāva that Sundaramurthi [a renowned Tamil poet and one of the sixty-three saints whose stories are recounted in the Periya Purānam] had towards God, whom he considered to be his friend and servant, believing that he would take care of all his needs. This is a very safe and sure bhāva to have towards God. Other bhāvas, such as the nayaka-nāyaki bhāva [that attitude that God is one’s bridegroom or husband and that one is his bride], are not suitable for everyone. Only the very purest devotees like Bhagavan are fit to take God to be their lover and bridegroom. That is why he sang Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai [the ‘Garland of Imperishable Marriage to Arunachala’] whereas I sang only Ramaṇākṣara Malar Mālai [the ‘Flower Garland of Letters for Ramana’], because for most of us it is better to consider Bhagavan to be our beloved father and guru rather than our bridegroom.

2nd October 1978

Sadhu Om: In one verse in Śrī Ramaṇa Varuhai [a poem of 361 verses that he composed in July 1955 pouring out all his anguish and praying to Bhagavan to come to him once again in name and form] I sang that though I know that all Gods such as Rama, Krishna, Siva, Devi and Subrahmanya are none other than Bhagavan, I do not want to see any of them; the only divine form I wish to see is that grey-haired old man with a walking-stick. That is the only form that is dear to my heart and that I will always revere.

18th October 1978

Sadhu Om: Mind has three powers, the powers of icchā [liking], kriyā [doing] and jñāna [knowing]. Of these, kriyā-śakti [the power of doing] is a distortion of sat [being] and is the function of manas [mind], jñāna-śakti [the power of knowing, which in this context means the power to know things other than oneself] is a distortion of cit [awareness] and is the function of buddhi [intellect], and icchā-śakti [the power of liking] is a distortion of ānanda [happiness] and is the function of cittam [will]. In essence these three powers are one and inseparable, just as sat, cit and ānanda are one.

If we truly know that something is good, we will like it and do it. If, however, we say that we know it is good but do not like it or will not do it, we are not really convinced that it is good. In other words, we lack the strength of conviction, which is jñāna-śakti [the power of knowing, understanding, discernment, discrimination or judgement]. For example, if we say that we know that touching fire is harmful, yet we like to touch it or do not avoid touching it, we have not truly understood how harmful it is.

Likewise, if we were deeply and firmly convinced that our real nature is happiness and that everything else is misery, we would not like to attend to anything other than ourself, and we would have the power to do nothing but attending only to ourself. If, on the other hand, we find that we are unable to attend only to ourself, that means that we do not yet have sufficient liking to do so, and the reason why we do not have sufficient liking is that we are not truly convinced that happiness is our real nature and therefore cannot be found in anything other than ourself.

However, even if we lack the ability to cling to self-attention firmly and steadily, we should not be disheartened, because what is more important than our ability is our liking to do so. If we truly like to do so, the ability will certainly follow in the tracks of our liking. Therefore we should pray to Bhagavan with all our heart to give us unshakeably firm conviction that happiness is our real nature, because the more we are convinced of this, the more we will like to attend only to ourself, and the more we like to do so, the more we will be able to do so. To succeed in this path, therefore, bhakti [liking or love], vivēka [discernment, discrimination or judgement] and the practice of self-attention must all go hand in hand. If we truly like to follow this path and thereby surrender ourself entirely to Bhagavan, who is God, guru and our own real nature, he will do everything else for us.

19th October 1978

Sadhu Om: As Bhagavan said, the mere presence of a jñāni on earth benefits all people. However, very few jñānis have what Ramakrishna called the ‘badge of authority’ to be guru, as Bhagavan had. Of course, there are no differences in jñāna, but since jñānis appear to be individuals, outwardly there seem to be differences between them, so they each have their own role to play, and some seem to play no particular role at all.

However, acting as guru is not the only way in which a jñāni can help others. Even if a jñāni acts just as a simple disciple, the full power of grace will flow through them. There is so much we can learn from a true disciple.

Though Bhagavan never considered himself to be guru, because in his view there were no others, his outward role was clearly to be guru, but he nevertheless also exemplified the role of a humble devotee and disciple of Arunachala. Because he is the guru of all who are attracted to his teachings and aspire to follow the path he has shown us, there is no need for any disciple of his to act as guru, and anyone who does act as guru is not a true disciple of his.

This was exemplified by Muruganar, who was his foremost disciple, yet who never accepted for himself the role of guru. Whenever anyone told him that they considered him to be their guru, he would respond passionately: ‘Who am I to be guru? Bhagavan alone is fit to be guru for all of us. He alone can save us, so take him alone to be your guru’.

20th October 1978

Sadhu Om: Though Seshadri Swami was a jñāni, it was not his role to be guru. This is illustrated by the following story. He had one devotee who often begged him to give him brahma-jñāna, and though he told that devotee that he was not yet ripe enough, the devotee persisted saying, ‘I may not be fit enough, but I know that you can nevertheless give it to me’. One day, perhaps to make him understand his unripeness, Seshadri touched him, but though his touch induced in him a blissful experience of detachment from his body, it toppled his balance of mind, so he ran out of the temple, tearing off his clothes and behaving like a lunatic.

Hearing about this, his friends and family were very upset, because he was a rich man and widely respected, so they caught him and brought him back to Seshadri Swami, asking him to cure him of his madness. He explained that he had been asking for jñāna, and by coming too close to the fire of jñāna he had eventually caught fire, but since he was not ripe enough, it had resulted in this seeming madness. He said he could not do anything to cure him, but assured them that within a few days he would return to normal. After returning to normal, the devotee told Seshadri Swami that he now understood that he was not mature enough to receive brahma-jñāna, but prayed to him to first give him the necessary maturity and then give him brahma-jñāna.

Such an experience and loss of mental balance will never happen to those who take refuge in Bhagavan and his teachings, because he is the perfect guru, so he is working within us, rectifying our vāsanās and preparing us to be willing to surrender ourself entirely. Since he knows us so well, he will not give us anything until he knows we are ready for it, so if we rely entirely on him, he will lead us gently, smoothly and as quickly as possible to our final destination without ever letting us lose our balance of mind.

When he finally reveals himself within our heart as the light of pure awareness, he will have prepared us perfectly, so it will happen so smoothly and naturally that it will seem as if nothing has happened, and instead we will see that we are just as we have always been.

Question: Since Bhagavan has always been the one guru in the heart of everyone, now that he has appeared in the name and form of Ramana, what special benefit do we get by taking this name and form to be our guru?

Sadhu Om: Ramakrishna used to say that though milk pervades throughout the body of a cow, in order to obtain it we need to take it from the udder. Likewise, though grace is shining in all places, at all times and in the heart of each one of us, so long as we are looking outwards we can obtain it only from appropriate outlets. From some outlets, such as Seshadri Swami, the flow is not so strong or well regulated, because they have a different purpose, but because the sole purpose of the name and form of Ramana is the eradication of ego, he is the perfect outlet from which grace flows eternally, steadily, with full power and perfect control. If we rely entirely on this one outlet, we will be consumed by him in the quickest possible manner and without undergoing more than the least amount of trouble.

24th October 1978

Sadhu Om: If japa [repetition of a name of God or some other mantra] or mūrti-dhyāna [meditation upon a form of God] is done just to gain one-pointedness of mind, there is not much spiritual benefit to be gained thereby, because name and form are mithyā aṁśa, the false aspects of brahman. For japa or mūrti-dhyāna to be spiritually efficacious, a satya aṁśa [one of the three real aspects of brahman, namely sat-cit-ānanda, existence-awareness-bliss, also known as asti-bhāti-priya, being-illumination-love] must be combined with them, and that satya aṁśa is love, which is the ānanda or priya aspect. To the extent that they are done with heart-melting love, japa and mūrti-dhyāna are powerful aids on the path of self-surrender, because they are each a means by which love can be focused and directed back to God or guru, who is its source, and the more our love is focused on God or guru, the more willing we will become to give ourself entirely to him.

If japa of a name of God or meditation on a form of God is done to gain one-pointedness of mind, it would be spiritually beneficial only to the extent that it helps to enkindle love for God in one’s heart, but if it does not enkindle such love, it can become more of a hinderance than a help on the path of self-surrender, because it would strengthen the mind’s outgoing power, its ability to focus its attention on second and third person objects. The more one does japa or dhyāna with true heart-melting love, the less one will have interest in other things, and thereby desire for and attachment to anything other than God will gradually drop off. Thus as one’s love for God grows, so surrender blossoms in one’s heart. Hence the love with which we do japa or dhyāna will eventually enable us to merge in the reality of the object of our love.

Even though initially we may consider God or guru to be a second or third person, the more our love for him grows, the more our love for ourself as a person, whom we consider to be the first person, will diminish, and consequently the more we will yield ourself to him. When our love and surrender thus grow sufficiently, it will be easy for God in the form of guru to turn our mind back within to face ourself alone, thereby eradicating our ego.

Of all the names and forms of God, the names and forms of Arunachala and Ramana have a unique power to enkindle love for self-attention in our heart. The only second person that will automatically turn our attention back to the first person is Arunachala-Ramana, as Bhagavan himself indicates in verse 10 of Śrī Aruṇācala Padigam:

I have seen a wonder, the magnetic hill that seizes [or forcibly attracts] the soul. Subduing the mischievous activity of the soul who thinks of it once, pulling [dragging or attracting] [that soul] to face towards itself, the one [or peerless] [infinite self-awareness that shines within the heart as ‘I’], and [thereby] making it acala [motionless] like itself, it accepts [and consumes] that sweet [spiritually ripened and pure] soul as bali [food offered in sacrifice]. What [a wonder] this is! O souls, be saved [by] thinking of the great Aruna Hill, this killer of the soul, who shines in the heart [as ‘I’].

2nd November 1978

Sadhu Om: Egolessness is perfect humility, so the more humble we are the closer we are to eradicating the ego. This is why Bhagavan strongly emphasised the need for us to be humble, as he did, for example, in the final paragraph of Nāṉ Yār?:

If oneself rises [or appears] [as ego or mind], everything rises [or appears]; if oneself subsides [disappears or ceases], everything subsides [disappears or ceases]. To whatever extent sinking low [subsiding or being humble] we proceed [or conduct ourself], to that extent there is goodness [benefit or virtue]. If one is [continuously] restraining [curbing, subduing or reducing] mind, wherever one may be one can be.

When he says, ‘To whatever extent sinking low we proceed, to that extent there is goodness’, he uses the term tāṙndu, [an adverbial participle] which means sinking low, subsiding, declining, bending, bowing or worshipping, so it implies being humble and submissive. The lower ego sinks or subsides, the more humility and surrender take over.

Humility is divinity. In verses 494, 496 and 497 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai Bhagavan says that one becomes great to the extent that one becomes humble, and that the reason why God is so great that he is worthy to be worshipped by all living beings is that he is so humble and free of ego that he considers himself to be the servant of even the lowliest of creatures. He is supreme because he is humbler than even the most humble.

3rd November 1978

Sadhu Om: What we are seeking is always present and has never been lost, because it is our own real nature. To illustrate this Bhagavan often used the analogy of a woman who was searching everywhere for her necklace without noticing that she was already wearing it. Seeing her frantic search, a friend of hers pointed out that it was around her own neck and had therefore never been lost. The friend who thus points out to us that the happiness we are seeking is ourself is guru.

We can elaborate on this analogy by saying that instead of pointing out that the necklace is around her neck, her friend gives her a mirror and suggests that if she looks in it that may help her to find her necklace. She then has a choice whether to look in the mirror or not. If she looks in it, it will enable her to see where she should look to find her necklace, namely on her own neck. The mirror is like Bhagavan’s teachings. If we study them carefully, they will show us where to look to find the happiness we are seeking.

Having looked in the mirror and seen where the necklace is to be found, the woman gives up searching for it in other places and feels her own neck, where she finds it was all along. Likewise, having studied Bhagavan’s teachings, we should give up seeking happiness outside ourself, and should instead look within to see that it is our own real nature.

When the woman feels her own neck and finds her necklace there, she no longer needs the help of the mirror, because she is now clearly aware that she has always been wearing it. Likewise, when we look within and thereby see that we ourself are infinite happiness, we will no longer need the help of Bhagavan’s teachings, because we will be clearly aware that the happiness we were seeking is what we always actually are and can therefore never have been lost.

Sadhu Om [in reply to a lady who asked whether the mantra-japa she had been doing was an obstacle to following Bhagavan’s path]: Suppose that you start to ride a cycle in order to reach a certain destination, but after riding a short distance you find that the ground beneath you is moving, and when you look to see why, you find that you are on the deck of a ship that is carrying you to your destination. Your japa is just like your riding a cycle on the deck of that ship. It seemed to be necessary before you knew you were already on a ship carrying you faster to your destination than your cycle ever could, but once you know you are traveling on that ship, you will understand that there is no need for you to cycle anywhere.

The only thing you need to be sure of is that you want to reach the destination towards which the ship is carrying you. If that is the destination you want to reach, all you need do is relax and enjoy the journey. However, if you want to reach some other destination, you are free to get off the ship and row a small boat towards wherever you want to go.

The ship is Bhagavan’s grace, which is carrying us along the path of self-enquiry and self-surrender towards the eradication of ego. Relaxing and enjoying the journey is surrendering ourself to his grace.

In order to surrender ourself we must avoid rising as ego, which we can do most effectively and completely by vigilantly attending to ourself, thereby giving no room to the rising of any other thought, as Bhagavan teaches us in the thirteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Yār?:

Being ātma-niṣṭhāparaṉ [one who is completely fixed in and as oneself], giving not even the slightest room to the rising of any cintana [thought] other than ātma-cintana [‘thought of oneself’, self-contemplation or self-attentiveness], alone is giving oneself to God. Even though one places whatever amount of burden upon God, that entire amount he will bear. Since one paramēśvara śakti [supreme ruling power or power of God] is driving all kāryas [whatever needs or ought to be done or to happen], instead of we also yielding to it, why to be perpetually thinking, ‘it is necessary to do like this; it is necessary to do like that’? Though we know that the train is going bearing all the burdens, why should we who go travelling in it, instead of remaining happily leaving our small luggage placed on it [the train], suffer bearing it [our luggage] on our head?

Doing any sādhana other than self-enquiry and self-surrender is either like cycling on the deck of the ship, which is an unnecessary effort, or like rowing a small boat in order to go to some other destination. Like a passenger on a train or a ship, we should surrender to the power of Bhagavan’s infinite love, which will unfailingly carry us to our destination, unlimited happiness. To the extent that we are willing to surrender ourself to Bhagavan all other sādhanas will naturally drop off.

4th November 1978

Sadhu Om [in answer to someone who asked whether one’s sat-vāsanā (inclination to just be) will be strengthened by one’s cultivating love for God as a second person]: Yes, it will, by the power of association (saṅga). That is, God is sat (what is real), so even when one thinks of him in a particular name and form, provided one does so with heart-melting love, one is thereby associating with what is real, so that association is what is called sat-saṅga, and sat-saṅga strengthens sat-vāsanā.

An effective practice in the path of bhakti is to think constantly and lovingly of God, his greatness, his incarnations, his līlas and so on. For example, when Parikshit was cursed to die within a week, he asked Suka for guidance, so Suka narrated to him the life of Krishna, and while doing so he also taught him the path of jñāna. Parikshit listened to Suka’s narration (which later became the Bhāgavatam) with so much devotion that after six days his mind had been purified sufficiently for him to surrender himself entirely, thereby crossing the ocean of saṁsāra and attaining liberation. Such is the efficacy of listening to and contemplating on the life of a great sage or incarnation of God, and this is why I have written several songs narrating the life of Bhagavan.

If the second person we think of is truly a jñāni or an incarnation of God, like Bhagavan or Krishna, our thinking of them with love will certainly sow and nurture the seed of sat-vāsanā in our heart. By thinking repeatedly of that one second person, we will exclude thoughts of other more worldly second and third persons from our mind, thereby reducing the strength of our other outward-going vāsanās, and thus our mind will be progressively purified.

Moreover, by thinking often of Bhagavan we will naturally come to think of his teachings. How long can we think of Ramana without thinking of ‘who am I?’? Can one think of Rama without thinking of his bow? ‘Who am I?’ is the bow of Ramana, the supreme weapon he has given us to conquer ego and all its progeny.

17th November 1978

Sadhu Om [while suffering from typhoid]: When I was explaining the meaning of each verse of Guru Vācaka Kōvai, I was not satisfied with my explanation of verse 558 [in which Bhagavan says, “If it is asked, ‘[When the dream-body and the waking-body are thus different,] how does the semen in the waking-body drip out when one sees in dream that the dream-body has contacted a woman?’, the answer will be that it is due to the speed of attachment with which one springs from the dream-body to the waking-body”], because I had never had such an experience, and I do not like to explain what I have not actually experienced. However, last night Bhagavan gave me a similar experience, showing me how an experience in a dream-body can be carried over into the waking-body, so I am now confident that I can explain the meaning of that verse correctly.

I was dreaming that some friends had bought a piece of land and were cultivating it to grow paddy. They had a powerful pump that was pumping a large quantity of water from the well, and while working to divert the flow of water from one trench to another I was drenched by the jet of cold water. Since I was working hard in the hot sun, the sudden shower of cold water made me shiver so violently that the shock woke me up, whereupon I found my waking body shivering violently with a high fever. The force with which the shivering of the dream body was carried over into this body caused a feverish fit of shivering that lasted two hours.

With our way of life we are not given to have certain experiences that are usual for other people, so when Bhagavan refers to such experiences in his teachings we are not able to understand such teachings from our own experience. However, as in this case, if he wants us to understand any such teaching, he will give us some other experience that illustrates it equally well.

21st November 1978

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan explained that in the story of Arunachala appearing as a column of fire in order to subdue the pride of Brahma and Vishnu, Brahma represents intellect (buddhi) and Vishnu represents ego (ahaṅkāram). That is, Vishnu taking the form of a boar and burrowing deep down to find the foot of the mysterious column of fire represents ego diving deep within to find the source from which it had arisen, whereas Brahma taking the form of a swan and flying high to find the top of the column represents intellect going outwards in order to know and understand things other than itself.

Neither ego nor intellect can ever know what is real, so both Vishnu and Brahma failed in their attempts to find the lower or upper limits of the column of fire. However, because Vishnu was humbly going downwards in search of its foot, when he failed he readily acknowledged his defeat, whereas because Brahma was proudly flying upwards in search of its top, when he failed he was not willing to accept defeat, so he foolishly thought that it would be wise to tell a lie by claiming success, believing that there was no one who could expose his lie.

Scientists, philosophers, theologians and others who believe that they can know what is real by directing their intellects outwards, towards anything other than themself, are like Brahma flying upwards to reach the top of the column. They will surely fail, because they are looking in the wrong direction. What is real is only oneself, so we can know it only by looking within and thereby subsiding back into the source from which we have risen. Therefore, though such people believe that whatever they seem to know as a result of their research on second and third persons is the truth, it is actually a lie, because it is all entirely unreal.

However, all knowledge about anything other than ourself can be exposed as a lie only by true knowledge of ourself, which will shine forth from within, swallowing the ego and everything else, when the ego turns inwards and thereby subsides deep into the heart, the source from which it arose. This shining forth of true knowledge is represented in that story by Lord Siva appearing out of the column of fire to bestow his own state on Vishnu and to shame Brahma for telling a lie.

28th November 1978

Sadhu Om: Complete self-denial is self-realisation. That is, what is called ‘self-realisation’ or ātma-sākṣātkāra is nothing but annihilation of ego, so the mark or lakṣaṇa of one who has attained that state is that they will never give even the slightest importance to themself as a person.

Bhagavan said that there is nothing worth learning that we do not already know, so of his own accord he did not teach anything. In his view there is never anyone who is ignorant, because we already know ourself, and there is nothing else that needs to be known. What is required is not to know anything that we do not always know, but only to remove the wrong knowledge that seemingly obscures our knowledge of ourself as we actually are. This is why he often used to say that in this path what is needed is not to learn anything but to unlearn everything.

All learning is only for the ego, because our real nature need not and cannot learn anything. Therefore so long as there is any learning or anything learnt, there is ego, so in order to surrender ego we must be willing to give up all that has been learnt. That is, we need to give up all our beliefs, opinions, ideas, memories, hopes, aims, aspirations, desires, fears, likes, dislikes and so on, because all these have been learnt in waking and dream, and none of them exist in sleep, so they are alien to our real nature, and we can exist, be aware and be happy without any of them. In sleep there is no ego, and therefore no awareness of anything other than ourself. This is why he says in Nāṉ Yār? [in the final sentence of the sixteenth paragraph]: ‘At one time it will become necessary to forget all that one has learnt’.

He also said there is no need to give anyone initiation, because to initiate means to start, and each and every one of us has already started, because we are all seeking happiness, which is the sole aim and purpose of all spiritual practice. What we all want is ‘duḥkha nivṛtti, sukha prāpti’, ‘removal of misery and achievement of happiness’, but we cannot find that outside ourself. We are all looking for the right thing, but in the wrong direction. To find it we must look within ourself, so the ultimate purpose of all spiritual teachings is to redirect our seeking from outside to inside.

Therefore, though he did not outwardly give any initiation or formally accept anyone as his disciple, he is always giving true initiation and teaching within our heart, silently drawing our attention back within and thereby gradually weakening the impetus with which we rise as ego. His true teaching is only silence, which is always shining as pure awareness in our heart, so the sole aim of all that he taught us by words is to turn our mind back within to subside in and become one with that silence.

He is fulfilling his role as guru in a very silent, secretive and stealthy manner. He is always teaching us in the truest, deepest and most effective way, but so long as we are looking outwards we are not aware of his silent teaching, which is ceaselessly going on in our heart, so to become aware of it and to listen to it deeply and attentively we must turn back within and subside into the source from which we arose.

29th November 1978

Sadhu Om: In verse 31 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan says:

For those who are [blissfully immersed in and as] tanmayānanda [happiness composed of that, namely brahman, one’s real nature], which rose [as ‘I am I’] destroying themself [ego], what one [action] exists for doing? They do not know [or are not aware of] anything other than themself [their real nature]; [so] who can [or how to] conceive their state as ‘[it is] like this’?

However, people imagine that they can understand Bhagavan and the actions he seemed to do, and that he would have acted only as they would expect him to do. In many cases, however, he acted in a way that most people would not expect and that few if any could understand. An example of this is the story of the fictitious Malayalam biography that Kunju Swami often narrates.

Before BV Narasimha Swami wrote Self-Realization, the only published biography of Bhagavan was a Tamil poem by Sivaprakasam Pillai called Śrī Ramaṇa Carita Ahaval, so when a Malayali hagiographer visited the ashram and said he had written biographies of many saints and wanted to write one of Bhagavan, some devotees were eager to tell him all that they knew about Bhagavan’s life. However, his main interest was in stories about miracles, so the stories he heard from close devotees did not seem to him to be sufficiently interesting, and hence he went to the town to ask local people for stories about Bhagavan, which he hoped would be more interesting. Having gathered stories of the kind he wanted to hear, he wrote a biography in Malayalam in a notebook, and when he finished it, he gave it to Bhagavan, who read it and corrected all the spelling and grammatical errors that he noticed in it.

Since the devotees who were there at that time saw him reading and correcting it, they assumed that he approved all that was written in it, so they wanted to read it, but Kunju Swami was away for a while and none of the rest of them knew Malayalam. However, after a few days he returned, so they told him about the biography and asked him to read it and tell them what was written in it. When he read it, however, he was horrified to see that most of it was entirely fictitious. For example, it said that Bhagavan was a lawyer in Madurai, married with three children, but that by doing intense tapas he gained supernatural powers, by means of which he flew from Madurai to Tiruvannamalai, and then went on to describe many miracles that he had supposedly done after coming here.

Kunju Swami could not understand how Bhagavan could have read all of this and corrected only the spelling and grammatical errors without pointing out that the stories were not true, so he approached him, pointed to his corrections and asked, ‘Bhagavan, were these corrections not made by you?’, to which he answered, ‘Yes’. ‘But is all this true?’ asked Kunju Swami, to which Bhagavan replied, ‘Is all this true?’ pointing to the surroundings, ‘And is this alone false?’ pointing to the notebook.

Seeing that Kunju Swami was puzzled by his reply, he explained further by asking, ‘If someone were to write that Ramana was the son of a lawyer, that he attained self-knowledge at the age sixteen and then travelled by train from Madurai to Tiruvannamalai, would you say that that is true?’, to which Kunju Swami replied ‘Yes’. ‘No’, said Bhagavan, ‘even that would be false. So long as you mistake that body to be yourself and this body to be Ramana, whatever you think, see, hear, read or know about Ramana, or about anything else, is false. Because you mistake yourself to be a body, you mistake me to be this body and you mistake this world to be real, but none of these are real. What is real is only yourself. Know yourself, and you will see that nothing else is true.’

When they hear this story, some people say that it makes it seem that Bhagavan was showing a disregard for the truth, but if we think like that, it is we who are showing a disregard for the truth, because we are unwilling to accept the truth of his teachings. He is the truth itself, and he can never disregard himself. This world is just a mental fabrication, like whatever world we see in a dream, so if we take this world to be real, we are disregarding the truth.

Some people think a jñāni is someone who will always fight for what is right and against what is wrong, but the jñāni sees neither right nor wrong. He sees only himself, so he sees everything as himself. For him there are no others. People want Bhagavan to fit neatly into their limited conception of him. They want a Bhagavan they can understand, but who can truly understand him? He alone can understand himself, so only by losing ourself in him can we understand him.

When I first came to Bhagavan I received many shocks and disappointments. I saw that he often did not support what seemed to me to be right, and sometimes he even seemed to condone what I considered to be wrong. In this way he taught me that he is beyond our comprehension. He is unfathomable. He is beyond the mind. He sees only himself both in what seems to us to be right and in what seems to us to be wrong.

Lakshmana Sarma told me that Bhagavan pointed out to him many errors in both Sat-Darśana and Sat-Darśana Bhāṣya, but that whenever a dispute arose because he (Lakshmana Sarma) disagreed with the followers of Kavyakantha and Kapali Sastri about their interpretation of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and other teachings, Bhagavan looked on passively without interfering or supporting either side. Even when people asked him whose interpretation of his teachings was correct, Kavyakantha’s or Lakshmana Sarma’s, he would not take sides, but would reply: ‘Each of them says what he believes. You may believe whatever you like’.

Bhagavan is the very embodiment of grace, and grace always shines equally on all, both the good and the bad alike, but each of us makes use of grace in our own way. Grace is his very nature, because it is the infinite love that he has for himself, and since he sees us all as himself, he loves each one of us as himself. How can we understand such love so long as we see multiplicity and otherness? His view is so completely different to ours that we can never understand him until we merge within and become one with him, after which we will see no multiplicity or otherness.

We use his grace according to our own likes and dislikes, so as long as we have even the slightest likes or dislikes we are misusing his grace. This is why he says in Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?): ‘Likes and dislikes are both fit to be disliked’. To use his grace correctly, as he wants us to, we must surrender our will entirely to his will, which means that we must have no likes or dislikes of our own. However, so long as we rise as ego, we cannot completely avoid having any likes or dislikes, so to surrender our will entirely to his will we must surrender ourself entirely to him. Since he has infinite love for us as himself, his will is that we should merge in him forever, because only when we are one with him can we experience infinite happiness, which is our real nature.

Not only did he teach us that we must be free of likes and dislikes, but he showed us by his own example how it is to live without likes or dislikes. One particularly notable way in which he emphasised the need for us to give up all our likes and dislikes was that whenever anyone complained to him about the behaviour of some other person, he would always pass judgement against the person who raised the complaint, and would never say anything against the person they complained about, thereby indicating that the fault lies not in whatever we may complain about but only in the likes and dislikes that cause us to complain about it.

Once Devaraja Mudaliar raised an objection saying that sacred texts are not always fair and impartial, because they say, for example, that mukti [liberation] cannot be attained without great dedication and effort, but they also say that anyone who looks at Arunachala or even thinks of it from afar will attain mukti. There are many bad people in Tiruvannamalai, he said, criminals and even murderers, and they must all have looked at and thought of Arunachala. ‘How can such people attain mukti?’ he asked, in reply to which Bhagavan smiled and said: ‘What is the loss for you? If you receive the Lord’s grace and attain mukti, what do you lose if others also attain it? It is Śiva-vākyam [a statement or command of Lord Siva]. He himself says that he will give mukti to all who think of Arunachala, so if he bestows mukti even upon bad people, will he not also bestow it on you?’

People say that Bhagavan was equal to all. It is true that he sees only himself in everyone, so he loves all equally as himself. However, he never said that the mind is equal in all, and he did not say that we should expect to see equality in the world. So long as there are minds and there is a world, there will always be inequality, because such is the nature of multiplicity. This is why he once said to someone who argued that there should be equality in the world: ‘Then go to sleep. In sleep all are equal’.⁠14

In ātma-svarūpa [our real nature] there are no differences, but in mind there are. In terms of purity, some minds are superior, and others are inferior. To the extent that impurities are removed from the mind, to that extent it is elevated.

Sadhu Om [in reply to someone who asked about the relationship between Bhagavan and Sri Ramakrishna]: Whenever I mention Sri Ramakrishna, I always depict him as a real guru. I show the same respect to him that I show to Bhagavan. We must see beyond any superficial differences in personality. In essence they are one. However, they each had their own unique role to play. Sri Ramakrishna’s role was to prepare many people for Bhagavan and his teachings. He was like a schoolteacher carefully preparing students to go to college. When students have completed their study in his school, they are ready to come to Bhagavan’s college. Before I came to know about Bhagavan, I was a devotee of Sri Ramakrishna, and so were many other devotees of Bhagavan.

Sadhu Om [in reply to someone who asked what Bhagavan meant when he said in reply to a devotee who remarked that the world is like an ocean and that a salt-doll diving into the ocean will not be protected by a waterproof coat, ‘The mind is the waterproof coat’, as recorded on the first page of Maharshi’s Gospel]: He meant that the mind cannot save us from being lost in saṁsāra [the state of ceaseless activity and cycle of rebirth]. However, if we take ātma-svarūpa [our real nature] to be our waterproof coat and therefore cling firmly to svarūpa-dhyāna [self-attention], it will save us. It alone is our real refuge.

[On an earlier occasion Sadhu Om had said in this regard: Grace is the real waterproof coat that can alone save us from saṁsāra.]

5th December 1978

Sadhu Om: If we worry about other people or what is happening in this world, even if our concern is motivated by the sāttvika qualities of love and compassion, that shows that we still have a satya-buddhi [sense of reality] regarding the world. So long as we take this world to be real, we will be concerned about it and the people we see in it, and our concern will prompt us to face outwards, away from ourself. This is why Bhagavan taught us that whatever world we see is no more real than any world we see in a dream. It is just a mental fabrication, so it seems to exist only when we are aware of it.

Only if we are willing to accept this will we have sufficient vairāgya [freedom from desire, attachment and so on] to be able to dive within deep enough to obtain the ātma-muttu [the pearl of self-knowledge]. Therefore ultimately we must be willing to give up even the sāttvika feelings of love and compassion for others.

When Bhagavan said [in the nineteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?)], ‘Likes and dislikes are both fit [for one] to dislike [spurn or renounce]’, he implied that we need to give up all concern about anything other than ourself. Only when we do so will we be willing to turn within and surrender ourself entirely.

Sadhu Om [while discussing intense yearning for Bhagavan’s grace and the prayers that come welling up out of one’s heart as a result of such yearning]: Ignore the one who complains, lamenting the state of separation from him. There is a great power that is working within us rectifying our defects. The more we come to know of its working, the more ego will yield itself to that, thereby withdrawing from activity and subsiding. Finally peace alone will remain. It was in such a state of yearning and complaining that Ramaṇa Sahasram [a thousand verses that Sadhu Om wrote praying for jñāna] came out. The mind will complain and complain about its state of separation until finally it no longer remains to complain about anything.

Sadhu Om: When I first came to Bhagavan and thought deeply about his teachings, I came to three important conclusions.

The first of these conclusions is that of the three characteristics that he said define reality, namely eternal, unchanging and self-shining, self-shining (svayamprakāśa) is the one essential characteristic.

Neither eternal nor unchanging on their own, nor both of them together, can be sufficient to define what is real, because if we try to decide what is real without considering whether or not it is self-shining, we could conclude that something insentient is real. For example, we could argue that physical space is eternal and unchanging, so it is real. But how do we know that it is eternal or unchanging? How do we know that it even exists? It seems to exist only because we are aware of it, so its seeming existence is dependent upon our awareness of it. How can anything that depends for its seeming existence upon some other thing be real? Therefore nothing that is insentient and hence not aware of its own existence can be real.

In order to be real, a thing must be aware of its own existence, and this is what Bhagavan means by being self-shining. Whatever is not self-shining cannot be real, even if it seems to be eternal and unchanging.

If we carefully consider the meaning of self-shining, it will be clear that whatever is self-shining must also be eternal and unchanging, so the characteristic of being self-shining includes within itself these other two characteristics of reality. We can understand this by considering some examples.

Some people may consider the sun to be self-shining, for instance, but we can repudiate such an idea by pointing out that the sun is not aware of its own existence, so to make its existence known it must depend upon another light, namely the light of the mind that perceives it. Therefore whatever is insentient (jaḍa) is not truly self-shining in the sense that Bhagavan uses this term.

Since the seeming existence of all insentient things is illumined by the mind, is the mind self-shining? No, it cannot be, because if it were self-shining it would shine even in sleep. Since it does not shine in sleep, it does not exist then, because existence and shining are one and the same thing. Existence is uḷḷadu or sat, and shining is uṇarvu or cit, and as Bhagavan explained in verse 23 of Upadēśa Undiyār, uḷḷadu [what exists] is uṇarvu [awareness]:

Because of the non-existence of [any] awareness other [than what exists] to be aware of what exists, what exists (uḷḷadu) is awareness (uṇarvu). Awareness alone exists as we.

Whatever seems to exist at one time but not at another time does not actually exist even when it seems to exist. Therefore, since the mind seems to exist only in waking and dream but not in sleep, it does not actually exist at all. Its existence is just a seeming existence, so its awareness (shining) is just a seeming awareness and not real awareness.

Since the mind does not shine in sleep, the property of shining (awareness) is not natural to it. In other words, shining is not the svabhāva [own nature] of the mind. The light by which it shines is one that it borrows from some other source, namely ātma-svarūpa [the real nature of ourself], which is the light of pure awareness.

What actually shines by its own light, therefore, is only our real nature, because we alone exist and shine in sleep, and we do so without the aid of any other light, because nothing other than ourself exists then. Everything else appears and disappears, but we exist and shine by our own light of pure awareness at all times and in all states without ever undergoing any change, so we alone are eternal, unchanging and self-shining. Therefore what is real is only ourself, as Bhagavan says in the first sentence of the seventh paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, ‘yathārthamāy uḷḷadu ātma-sorūpam oṉḏṟē’, ‘What actually exists is only ātma-svarūpa [the real nature of oneself]’, and in verse 13 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, ‘ñāṉam ām tāṉē mey’, ‘Oneself, who is jñāna [awareness], alone is real’.

By considering thus, we can see that unless a thing is eternal, it cannot be self-shining, because though it sometimes seems to exist and shine, it does not always exist and shine, so even when it does shine it must do so by whatever light illumines both its appearance and its disappearance. Likewise, unless it is unchanging, it cannot be eternal, because it is one thing before each change and another thing afterwards, and since it is not eternal, it cannot be self-shining. Whatever is truly self-shining, therefore, must necessarily be eternal and unchanging.

The light of pure awareness, which is our real nature, is what illumines both the mind in waking and dream and its absence in sleep. However, what the word ‘illumines’ means in this context is not ‘knows’ but ‘makes known’, and it is important to understand this distinction, because what knows the seeming existence of the mind in waking and dream is not pure awareness but only the mind itself. Without the background light of pure awareness, the mind could not know anything, either itself or anything else, but in the clear view of pure awareness there is no mind at all. The mind as such is a shadow, and light can never know a shadow.

However, though the mind is a shadow, it is not only a shadow, but a mixture of light and shadow, because it is cit-jaḍa-granthi, a knot (granthi) formed by the seeming entanglement of awareness (cit) with a body, which is insentient (jaḍa). The cit element of the mind is pure awareness, which is never aware of anything other than itself, but it is what illumines the mind, enabling it to know both itself [the subject or perceiver] and everything else [the objects or phenomena]. All the phenomena known by the mind are just shadows, because they are jaḍa, so they are not known by the clear light of pure awareness, but they are known by the mind, because the mind is not a pure light but a mixture of light and shadow, cit and jaḍa.

Therefore, though the light of pure awareness makes the mind known, it does not make it known to itself [pure awareness] but only to the mind. The mind exists only in its own view and not in the view of our real nature. Hence, our real nature is not aware of the presence of mind in waking and dream, so it is not aware of its absence in sleep. In its view it alone exists, so it is not aware of any changes, nor is it aware of any state other than its own eternal and unchanging state of pure awareness.

Who then is aware of the absence of the mind in sleep? In sleep no one is aware of its absence, because the fact that it is absent in sleep is just an idea that exists in its view in waking and dream. Therefore when it is said that the light of pure awareness illumines the presence of the mind in waking and dream and its absence in sleep, what that means is that it lends its light to the mind, thereby enabling the mind to know both that it [the mind] is present in waking and dream and that it was absent in sleep.

The mind borrows its light of awareness from our real nature, but it misuses this light to know things other than itself. This is like directing the beam of sunlight reflected from a mirror into a dark cave and thereby using it to know whatever objects are in that cave. If instead that reflected beam of light were directed back to its source, the sun, it would merge and be lost in the bright light of the sun. Likewise, instead of using the light of the mind to know anything other than ourself, if we were to direct it back to its source, ourself, it would merge and be lost in the bright light of pure awareness, as Bhagavan implies in verse 22 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

Consider, except by, turning the mind back within, completely immersing it in God, who shines within that mind giving light to the mind, how to fathom God by the mind?

What he refers to here as pati, the Lord or God, is our real nature (ātma-svarūpa), which is the light of pure awareness. If in this way we turn our entire mind or attention away from all phenomena back to face the light of pure awareness, which is its essential cit element, what will remain shining is only real awareness, which is what we actually are, as Bhagavan implies in verse 16 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

Leaving aside external viṣayas [phenomena], the mind knowing its own form of light is alone real awareness [true knowledge or knowledge of reality].

The second and most important of the three conclusions I reached after reflecting carefully on Bhagavan’s teachings is that ego will be destroyed only when it attends to itself alone, because as he says in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, ego is a formless phantom that comes into existence, stands and nourishes itself by grasping form, which means by attending to anything other than itself, so if it tries to grasp itself alone, it will dissolve back into the source from which it arose, which is what he means by saying, ‘tēḍiṉāl ōṭṭam piḍikkum’, ‘If sought, it will take flight’. This is why he implies in so many other places, such as in verses 22 and 27 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, that we cannot know our real nature and thereby eradicate ego by any means other than turning our attention back within to investigate the source from which we have risen.

The third conclusion I reached, which logically follows on from the second one, is that the more we attend to ego the more it will subside. In other words, in order to keep ego in check we must watch it vigilantly, and in order to surrender ourself entirely we must persevere in our attempts to attend to ourself as keenly and as constantly as possible.

6th December 1978

Question: If this waking state is a dream, how to explain the fact that each time we wake up we are in the same surroundings that we were in when we fell asleep, whereas in each dream we are in different surroundings?

Sadhu Om: We should not consider each period of waking to be a separate dream. The whole of our present waking-life, from birth to death, is one long dream, not many short ones. In this one dream we dream that we are now awake, but that this waking state is regularly interrupted by periods of sleep, and that sleep is sometimes interrupted by dreams. Those dreams are subsidiary to the one long dream of our present waking life. They are dreams occurring within a dream.

The fact that dreams occur within a dream is illustrated by what many of us have experienced, namely waking up from one dream into another. That is, sometimes a dream comes to an end and we find ourself lying in our bed, so we think we have woken up and begin to go about our daily activities, but then we wake up again and realise that the first ‘waking’ was from one dream into another dream. Within a dream we can dream any number of subsidiary dreams, and within each subsidiary dream we can dream other dreams. Therefore whatever dreams we may dream during our present life are just dreams within a dream.

Question: A friend told me that you had once explained to him that in a dream it is not the seer of the dream who projected it but the one who is sleeping, because the seer of the dream is part of the projection, but this does not seem to me to be correct, because we are both the dreamer and the seer. Is this what you actually said?

Sadhu Om: He misunderstood what I said. I did not say that the seer of a dream has not projected it but that the person we seem to be in a dream has not projected it. That person is not the seer but an object seen by us, so it is part of the projection. However, because we mistake ourself to be that person so long as we are dreaming, it seems to us that that person is seeing the dream world.

The same is the case in our present dream. We who are seeing this dream now seem to be a person in it, so this person seems to us to be the seer, even though it is actually an object seen by us. This is why we need to distinguish the seer from everything that is seen. Whatever person we seem to be is just a body and mind, which are objects seen by us, so as the seer of these objects we are distinct from them.

The dreamer of any dream is only ego. As ego we project each dream and see it. Projection and seeing are actually one and the same thing. This is why Bhagavan taught us dṛṣṭi-sṛṣṭi-vāda, according to which seeing (dṛṣṭi) is itself creation (sṛṣṭi). Whatever we see is just our own thoughts, which we create and see simultaneously, because we create or project a dream merely by seeing it in our own mind.

However, this explanation is not agreeable to everyone, because if we are strongly attached to the person we seem to be, we will not be willing to accept that this person and the world of which it is a part are all just thoughts projected by us. Therefore different levels of explanation need to be given to suit different levels of spiritual maturity. For the more immature it is said that this world is created by God, and we are just a part of this creation, so it exists whether we see it or not. This is sṛṣṭi-dṛṣṭi-vāda, the contention that the world is first created and subsequently seen by us.

Many advaita texts and commentaries seem to support this view, and sometimes even Bhagavan gave replies that seem to support it, but they did so only to suit the needs of less mature minds. This is why many who claim to be advaitins do not accept that our present waking life is just a dream, and they can find plenty of support for their beliefs in ancient texts and commentaries.

For example, in the Māṇḍūkya Upaniṣad it is said that this ātman is brahman, but that it has four quarters. The first quarter is called vaiśvānara, whose domain is waking and who is aware of external objects, whereas the second quarter is called taijasa, whose domain is dream and who is aware of internal objects. This implies that waking is not just a dream, and that what experiences waking and what experiences dream are in some way different, even though they are said to be two quarters of the same ātman.

If we consider our experience carefully, it will be clear to us that we who are now experiencing this present state, which seems to us to be waking, are the same ‘I’ who experienced all the dreams that we now remember, so why does the Māṇḍūkya Upaniṣad imply that the experiencer of this state is different to the experiencer of dream? Though we are the experiencer of both these states, we are now aware of ourself as if we were this body, whereas in any other dream we were aware of ourself as if we were some other body. Therefore, for those who are very strongly identified with their body and who consequently believe that what is perceiving this world is this body, the Māṇḍūkya Upaniṣad says that what perceives a dream is something other than the person we now seem to be. However, to indicate that the experiencers of each of these two states are not entirely different, it says metaphorically that what experiences waking is one quarter of ourself and what experiences dream is another quarter of ourself. This is therefore a preliminary teaching, intended to prepare people to accept deeper and subtler teachings in due course.

Unlike the Māṇḍūkya Upaniṣad, which distinguishes the experiencer of dream from the experiencer of waking, when I explained to that friend that the person we seem to be in a dream has not projected it, I did not imply that the experiencer of dream is in any way different to the experiencer of waking, firstly because what we now take to be waking is actually just a dream, and secondly because we who experience all dreams are one and the same ego. This one ego is the dreamer of all dreams, and dreaming entails both projecting and perceiving a dream. The point I was making is that we, the dreamer, are not whatever person we dream ourself to be. The person we seem to be in a dream is a part of our dream, so it is not the dreamer but something dreamt by us.

This is what Bhagavan implies in verse 160 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai:

The spurious being who roams about as ‘I’ is just something that occurs as one among the shadows [images or pictures].

The term he uses here to mean ‘spurious being’ is ‘pōli uyir’, in which pōli means spurious, false, imitation or seeming, and uyir means more or less the same as the Sanskrit term jīva, namely life, living being or soul, but here it is not used in the sense of ego but in the sense of a living being or person, because ego is the formless seer whereas the person it mistakes to be ‘I’ is an object seen by it, so Bhagavan says here that this person is ‘one among the shadows’, thereby comparing it to one among the shadow pictures on a cinema screen.

It is necessary for several reasons to clearly understand this distinction between ourself, the dreamer, and whatever person we dream ourself to be. Firstly, it explains why, though we are the creator of all that we see, we seem to have no control over what we are creating, because as soon as we begin to dream any dream, we mistake ourself to be a person in our dream, and thus we seem to be just a small part of our creation. In other words, instead of experiencing ourself as the creator, we now experience ourself as a creature, and as such we have no control over our own creation.

Secondly and most importantly, we need to distinguish ourself, the seer, from everything we see, including the person we seem to be, because unless we do so, we will not be able to effectively investigate what we actually are. In order to investigate ourself, we need to focus our entire attention on ourself, thereby withdrawing it from everything else, so to do so we need to understand clearly that we are just the seer and not anything seen by us.

By attending to anything that is seen, we are nourishing and sustaining ego, whereas if we attend to ourself, the seer, ego will subside and dissolve back into its source. Then we will see that we are not even the seer, but only the pure awareness from which the seer and everything seen by it appear and into which they disappear.

Sadhu Om: Someone once asked Bhagavan whether devotees who had spent time with him but later left him or even turned against him, such as Perumal Swami, who put a court case against him, had wasted the precious opportunity they had been given. He replied that their association with him cannot go in vain. Even the worst of people will be benefitted by such association, because the seed of bhakti and vairāgya will thereby be sown in their heart, so though it may not sprout immediately, in due course it will certainly sprout, grow and bear fruit. It may take more time, but it can never fail.

Sadhu Om [talking to a devotee of Bhagavan who understood very little about his teachings]: We all read about Bhagavan’s teachings in various books, and thereby we understand something, but mere casual reading is not sufficient. We need to think about them very carefully and deeply. This is called manana, which is a necessary prerequisite for effectively practising what he taught us. The more deeply we immerse ourself in his teachings, the more we will learn from them. What he has taught us is very simple but nevertheless extremely deep and subtle, so we can understand them only to the extent that we think deeply about them and put them into practice.

The more we think about his teachings and try to practise them, the more clarity he will give us from within, and thus we will gradually come to understand from our own experience that his silent teaching is always going on in our heart, but that we need to turn within to experience it. Even though he has left his body, he is still guiding us as effectively as he did during his bodily lifetime. We come to understand this clearly as a result of his silent presence in our heart.

If we spend our whole life studying and thinking about his teachings, our life will not have been wasted. Even if we are unable to go sufficiently deep in the practice of self-investigation and self-surrender, if we go deep in contemplating his teachings, that will be a worthwhile and fruitful way to spend our life. Meditating on his teachings is a good practice of guru-bhakti, second only to actually practising them, because the more deeply we think about them, the more clearly we will understand them, and the more we understand them, the more our love to put them into practice will grow.

If we truly love Bhagavan, we will love his teachings. From love comes knowledge. The more we love him and his teachings, the more we will dwell on them; the more we dwell on them, the more we will understand them; the more we understand them, the more effectively we will be able to practise self-investigation and self-surrender; and the more effectively we practise them, the more clarity of true knowledge will shine brightly in our heart. This is why he said that bhakti [love] is the mother of jñāna [true knowledge].

Sadhu Om: Why do we have desire? Once when someone asked me this question, I replied, ‘Because desire is our real nature’, and I explained this as follows:

Suppose there is a table whose surface is perfectly flat and horizontal, and onto a point at the centre of that table water is falling drop by drop. When the first drop falls it will spread out a little to form a small circular pool, and then with each subsequent drop the pool will spread out further. If we are able to see the whole pool, we will see that what is happening is that as each drop falls in the centre of the pool it settles down, and its settling is what causes the spreading.

However, if we cannot see the whole pool but can view it only through a narrow slit cut in a sheet of metal fixed horizontally a few inches above it, and if the slit enables us to watch a line of water from near the centre of the pool to its outer edge and beyond, what we will see is what seems to be a steady stream of water flowing in one direction. Whereas the water is actually just settling (being), our limited view of it makes it seem to us to be flowing (moving).

Likewise, when our view is limited by our rising as ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, love, which is our real nature, is experienced by us as desire for things that seem to be other than ourself, namely objects of the world or God. Love is the priya or ānanda aspect of brahman, so it is one and indivisible, but when it shines through the prism of the mind it is seemingly dispersed into multiple desires and all the progeny of desires, namely likes, dislikes, hopes, fears, attachment, aversion, love, hatred, greed, envy, anger and so on. That is, when we rise as ego, we see ourself, the one infinite and indivisible whole, as ‘I’ and others, and consequently we experience love flowing from ‘I’ towards others in the form of desire or aversion. When we remain as we actually are, love is experienced as our being, but when we rise as ego and thereby limit ourself within the confines of a body, love is experienced as flowing in the form of desire or aversion towards other things.

Thus the root cause of desire is our rising as ego and thereby limiting ourself as the extent of a body, as a result of which we see the appearance of others. Love takes the form of desire only when it is directed away from ourself towards something else. Since its nature is being, true love needs no expression and does not involve any action or movement, whereas desire is expressed through action or movement, because it is always for something that seems to be other than oneself. For example, a mother expresses her love for her baby by cuddling and rocking it, because her love for it is a form of desire, being for something other than herself, but she does not express her love for her hand in such a way, because she does not experience her hand as something other than herself. Therefore to overcome desire, aversion, fear and so on, all we need do is to eradicate ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, which we can do only by investigating and finding out who am I.

Such is the greatness of Bhagavan’s teachings. Like a skilful mechanic, he has located precisely where the fault in the whole machine of life lies. All that is required is to tighten one small screw and the machine will run perfectly. The loose screw is our false awareness ‘I am this body’, and we can tighten it simply by being aware of ourself as we actually are. Since all other problems in the machine are caused by this loose screw, once it is tightened all other problems will cease.

So long as we rise as ego, we cannot avoid having desire, because our real nature is both infinite happiness and love for such happiness, so we can never be satisfied by any means other than knowing our real nature. The driving force behind every desire is love for happiness, but happiness does not exist in any of the things that we desire but only in ourself, so desire always leads to dissatisfaction. Even when a desire is satisfied, that satisfaction is only temporary, because it is not complete and hence dissatisfaction quickly follows in its wake. Only complete satisfaction can be permanent, and complete satisfaction is only the satisfaction of self-knowledge.

Until we know ourself as we actually are, we will always be dissatisfied to a greater or lesser extent, and dissatisfaction gives rise to desire. Desire for happiness is not wrong, because it is our real nature, as Bhagavan implies in the first sentence of Nāṉ Ār?:

Since all living beings want to be always happy without what is called misery, since for everyone the greatest love is only for oneself, and since happiness alone is the cause for love, [in order] to obtain that happiness, which is one’s own nature, which one experiences daily in [dreamless] sleep, which is devoid of mind, oneself knowing oneself is necessary.

What is wrong is not our love or desire for happiness but only our seeking it in anything other than ourself, because happiness is our real nature and can therefore be found only within ourself, not in anything else. What is required, therefore, is not that we give up all desire, which we cannot do, but only that we redirect our desire away from all other things back towards ourself. The more we desire to know and to be what we actually are, the more our desires for anything else will wither and fade away.

7th December 1978

Sadhu Om: Why is it that men are attracted to women and women are attracted to men? When a friend asked me this question, at first the only answer I could think of was the one that Bhagavan would usually have given, namely: “Why do you think you are a man? Because you mistake yourself to be a body, you feel either ‘I am a man’ or ‘I am a woman’. But is this body what you actually are? Investigate yourself and find out”.

This is the most useful and practical answer that can be given to such questions. However, since the friend who had asked this question had asked it sincerely, I felt that some further explanation would be appropriate. For a few days I could not think of any suitable explanation, because it is hard for me to imagine the attraction that most people feel. After about four days, however, a suitable explanation came to me while I was having a bath:

In every magnet there are two opposite poles, north and south. Likewise, in every jīva there are two opposite genders, male and female. However, each body that we identify as ‘I’ is generally either male or female, so if we identify a male body as ‘I’ we feel ‘I am a man’ and consequently feel attracted to female bodies, and if we identify a female body as ‘I’ we feel ‘I am a woman’ and consequently feel attracted to male bodies. That is, just as each pole of a magnet is attracted to the opposite pole of another magnet, even though both magnets contain both poles, each gender that we identify as ourself causes us to be attracted to people of the opposite gender, even though all people contain the seeds of both genders.

As we learnt in physics class at school, if iron filings are spread evenly on a card under which a magnetic bar has been placed, the filings will form a pattern showing where the magnetic attraction is strongest, where it is weaker and where it is non-existent. It is strongest around each of the two poles, but in the exact centre between them it is non-existent. A little to either side of the centre there is a slight attraction to the nearest pole, and that attraction increases as the distance from the centre increases.

Likewise, in the centre of every jīva there is a point at which sexual attraction is non-existent. What is that centre? It is the point that is common to both men and women, namely ‘I am’. Whether we are aware of ourself as either ‘I am a man’ or ‘I am a woman’, we are all aware of ourself as ‘I am’, so ‘I am’ is devoid of gender. ‘I am’ is the centre of all that we experience, and everything else is just an adjunct and therefore peripheral. So long as we identify ourself with adjuncts, we experience pairs of opposites such as male and female, attraction and repulsion, desire and aversion, pleasure and pain. If we cling firmly to ‘I am’, on the other hand, we thereby free ourself from all such pairs.

Therefore if we want to be free of sexual attraction and craving, all we need do is remain in the centre by clinging to ‘I am’. This is why Bhagavan teaches us: “Come to the centre. Come to the heart. Remain only as ‘I am’. Then only can you be free from sexual attraction and all other desires”.

When we remain in the centre, we are aware of nothing other than ‘I am’, but as soon as we move away from the centre even to the slightest extent, we become aware of ourself as ‘I am a man’ or ‘I am a woman’ and thus we become a prey to sexual desire. Therefore we cannot overcome sexual attraction by any means other than remaining in the centre. If we try to forcibly overcome sexual desire by fighting against it whenever it arises, we will thereby only strengthen it, because by fighting it we are attending to it, and attention is what nourishes and sustains any desire. We can overcome it only by ignoring it, but however much we try to ignore it, it will continue rising intermittently, so the only way to ignore it permanently is by clinging firmly to ‘I am’.

Fighting against sexual desire is like cutting a magnet in two. As soon as a magnet is cut in the centre, what was the centre becomes two opposite poles. This is why celibacy is suitable only for those who are sufficiently mature. Others may struggle to be celibate, but they will be overwhelmed by powerful sexual desires. If someone who is not yet sufficiently mature tries to be celibate, it would be like forcibly plucking an unripe fruit from a tree. Such a fruit will dry up and wither away without ever ripening.

The root cause of sexual desire is the mistaken identification ‘I am a man’ or ‘I am a woman’, so the correct way to treat the disease of sexual desire is to rectify its cause, which we can do only by investigating who am I. Sexual desire is just a symptom of the disease, and we cannot cure any disease by treating only its symptoms. Only by treating its root cause can we get rid of the disease along with its symptoms. This is why Bhagavan did not recommend celibacy but only self-investigation and self-surrender.

Question: What exactly do you mean when you say that in each individual there are the two opposite poles, male and female? Do you mean that we each have the capacity to project and identify ourself as either a man or a woman?

Sadhu Om: Yes.

[Then after some further discussion, Sadhu Om remarked:] This is an explanation I have given on several occasions to male friends who have asked me about this subject, but I would not normally discuss this subject in the company of ladies, because unless they are able to see me as one who is neither male nor female, they may misunderstand me and think ‘How does he know about such things?’ The truth is that whatever clarity has been given to me about any subject has been given only by Bhagavan.

Sadhu Om: When we follow the spiritual path, māyā, which is nothing but our own mind, tries to distract us in so many ways in order to divert our attention away from ourself. Even in the case of such a great soul as Buddha it is said that shortly before he attained nirvāṇa, māyā appeared before him in the personified form of the demon Māra and tried to entice him by offering him various sense pleasures and even lordship over the whole world in order to distract him from his effort to turn deeper within. However, despite all the efforts of Māra to divert him from the path, Buddha used his keen power of vivēka [discrimination, discernment or clear judgement] and his steadfast vairāgya [desirelessness] to avoid being swayed by any of Māra’s temptations or threats.

That is, because of his keen vivēka he clearly recognised that true happiness lies only within and that we can therefore experience it only by just being, without rising to experience anything else, so as a result of this clarity he had steadfast vairāgya, which enabled him to cling unwaveringly to self-attentiveness and thereby avoid being distracted by anything else.

What this story signifies is that though Buddha had cultivated a strong sat-vāsanā or liking just to be, so long as ego survives its viṣaya-vāsanās will persist to a greater or lesser extent, so he still had a residual liking to rise and experience things other than himself. However, instead of allowing himself to be swayed by his viṣaya-vāsanās, he clung firmly to self-attentiveness and thereby eventually merged back forever in the source from which he had risen.

That is, until ego is eradicated, at every moment we are faced with the choice either to just be by remaining keenly and steadily self-attentive or to rise and be aware of things other than ourself. The more persistently we cling to being self-attentive, the more forcibly our viṣaya-vāsanās will sprout in the form of thoughts, but to the extent that we persevere in being steadfastly self-attentive, thereby not allowing ourself to be distracted by anything else, our viṣaya-vāsanās will be weakened and our sat-vāsanā will be strengthened. However, like a wounded tiger trapped in a corner, our weakened viṣaya-vāsanās will make a final desperate attempt to fight back by forcibly drawing our attention outwards, as is graphically depicted by the story of Māra attempting to distract Buddha from his efforts to turn within so deeply that he would merge forever in nirvāṇa, the state in which ego is extinguished along with all its vāsanās.

When even at the final stage of his spiritual practice Buddha had to ward off the attempts of māyā to distract him from turning within, it is natural that other spiritual aspirants find themselves being dragged this way and that by their viṣaya-vāsanās and therefore have to learn to ward them off as he did by clinging firmly to self-attentiveness with the aid of vivēka and vairāgya.

8th December 1978

Sadhu Om [in reply to someone who asked ‘Why are some people able to sit for hours together in meditation, whereas others are not able to do so?’]: The term ‘meditation’ is used in various senses, but generally it means trying to fix the mind on one thing. That one thing can be either oneself or something else. If one tries to meditate on anything other than oneself, it may be possible to train the mind to remain fixed on that one thing for a prolonged period of time, because the existence of the mind is not threatened so long as it is grasping anything other than itself.

However, if one tries to meditate on oneself, the mind begins to dissolve back into its source, which is the pure awareness ‘I am’, and if one meditates on oneself so keenly that one thereby ceases to be aware of anything else whatsoever, the mind will die, because its dissolution in pure awareness will be complete and permanent. Therefore, until we are willing to surrender ourself completely, whenever we try to attend to ourself alone an internal conflict will arise between our liking to subside back into our source and our liking to rise and experience other things. The more we try to attend to ourself, the more forcibly our viṣaya-vāsanās [likings or inclinations to be aware of other things] will rise to divert our attention away from ourself.

Therefore in order to succeed in the practice of self-attentiveness a gentle but persistent approach is required. We cannot force ourself to be keenly self-attentive for a prolonged period of time, so rather than trying to do so, we need to try as frequently as possible to turn our attention back to ourself. Every time we try, we will be able to hold on to self-attentiveness for a short while before our viṣaya-vāsanās again draw our attention away from ourself towards other things. However, every attempt we make to be self-attentive will gradually strengthen our sat-vāsanā [liking just to be as we are] and weaken our viṣaya-vāsanās, so it is only by gentle and patient perseverance that we can succeed in this path of self-investigation.

Therefore if we are following this path taught by Bhagavan, sitting for prolonged periods of meditation is not necessary. Even if we are able to sit for a long time, we will not be able to keep our attention fixed firmly on ourself, and the longer we struggle to do so, the weaker our attempts will become. Rather than struggling for a long time, therefore, trying frequently in the midst of other activities will be more effective. If we have a busy life, setting aside brief periods to try to go deeper within may be beneficial, but we should try to take advantage of every opportunity we have to be self-attentive, no matter how brief each opportunity may be.

When practising self-investigation, our aim is to be so keenly self-attentive that we thereby cease to be aware of anything else, because when we succeed in being aware of ourself alone, we will be aware of ourself as we actually are, and thereby our mind will be annihilated. However, if one practises meditating on anything other than oneself, one cannot thereby achieve manōnāśa [annihilation of mind], so those who practise such meditation generally seek to achieve only a relative calmness of mind.

That is, the mind becomes tired by wandering about in ceaseless activity, so if it is trained to meditate on just one thing, it can thereby rest in a state of relative calmness, and eventually it may become so calm that even its activity of meditating on one thing ceases, whereupon it will subside in a sleep-like state of manōlaya [temporary dissolution of mind]. However, the amount of time that the mind is active and the amount of time that it can rest is determined by prārabdha, so no one can sit calmly in meditation or remain in manōlaya any longer than is allotted in their prārabdha.

Moreover, no matter how long one may sit calmly meditating on anything other than oneself or even remain in manōlaya, one cannot thereby attain mey-jñāna [true knowledge or real awareness]. To understand why this is so, we need to understand what is meant by the term mey-jñāna. When used on its own, in some contexts the term jñāna may refer to mey-jñāna, but in other contexts it can refer to other kinds of knowledge, such as bhautika-jñāna [knowledge of the physical world], saṅgīta-jñāna [knowledge of music] and auṣadha-jñāna [knowledge of herbs and medicine]. However knowing anything other than oneself cannot be mey-jñāna. Knowing oneself as the one ever-existing reality alone is mey-jñāna, whereas knowing anything else is only ajñāna [ignorance]. Therefore to attain mey-jñāna we must attend only to ourself and thereby cease knowing anything else, as Bhagavan implies in verse 16 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

Leaving external phenomena, the mind knowing its own form of light [the light of pure awareness, ‘I am’] is alone real awareness [true knowledge or knowledge of reality].

According to your prārabdha you now have to engage in the hard work of running a business, and you may not be able to free your mind immediately from all its attachments, so until your mind is given rest by prārabdha you should try to practise self-attention whenever you can in the midst of your busy life. You cannot avoid doing whatever work you are destined to do, but you should not for that reason forsake the practice of self-attention. No matter how much work you are destined to do, if you are sufficiently interested in knowing your real nature you will be able to find enough time to practise self-attention, even if it is only for brief moments here and there. Until and unless you are relieved of the burden of responsibility for business and family, your mind will come and go in and out of self-attentiveness, but so long as you are trying to be self-attentive as much as you can, you need not be concerned about how much time you spend in meditation.

The prārabdha we experience in each life is a selection of the fruits of the countless actions that we have done in previous lives, and it is selected by Bhagavan for our own spiritual benefit. That is, Bhagavan is our real nature, and as such he just is and does not do anything, but in his role as God and guru he allots whatever prārabdha will be most conducive to our spiritual development.

He is always guiding us from within, but so long as we allow our attention to go outwards we are ignoring his guidance, so to the extent that we follow his path of self-investigation and self-surrender we are thereby yielding ourself to his guidance. This is all that is required on our part, because by yielding ourself to him we are allowing his grace to work unhampered, and it will do all that is necessary to loosen the bonds of our attachments.

Therefore the more we surrender to him, the more our mind will be purified, and in a purified mind peace will naturally prevail, so there will be no need to sit in meditation in order to be inwardly at peace. Whatever activities your mind and body may be engaged in, your peace will remain undisturbed. When your surrender is complete, what will remain is only your own real nature, which is infinite and eternal sat-cit [existence-awareness]. This is the state of mey-jñāna [true knowledge].

It is said that the activities of the body and mind of the jñāni will continue until the prārabdha of that body comes to an end, but that the jñāni is not affected by such activities, because the identification with the body and mind has ceased. Just as a fruit remains attached to the tree so long as it is unripe and falls down only when it ripens, the body and mind will remain attached to the jñāni until the prārabdha that brought the body into existence at birth comes to an end at death, whereupon they will drop off. However, this seems to be the case only in the view of the ajñāni, because in the clear view of the jñāni there is no body or mind at all, so even when the body and mind seem to be attached to the jñāni, the jñāni is not attached to them. For the jñāni there is neither any prārabdha nor any activity but only the eternal peace of sat-cit-ānanda.

Therefore if you want to experience peace and be free from activity, sitting for a long time meditating on anything other than yourself is at best only a temporary solution. In order to experience eternal peace and freedom from activity, even in the midst of worldly activities you need to surrender yourself by turning your attention within as much as possible.

Sadhu Om [in reply to a friend who had written about his intense longing to return to Tiruvannamalai]: ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’. This is perhaps why Bhagavan often sends you back to Hawaii, so that your homesickness for Arunachala, our original home, may increase all the more.

Sadhu Om [in reply to some friends who were talking about someone who had very vivid likes and dislikes]: We cannot say anything to such a person, because we would thereby hurt their feelings to no avail, but if we want to follow Bhagavan’s path we need to avoid likes and dislikes as much as possible. We should try to be indifferent to everything: to whatever is happening in our life, to the good and bad qualities of other people, and to everything other than our own self-awareness, ‘I am’. Let anything happen as it is to happen, let anyone have any good or bad qualities, what is it to us?

To the extent that we cling firmly to ‘I am’ and thereby surrender ourself to Bhagavan we will be indifferent to all other things. Such indifference (udāsīna) is the hallmark of his grace, and it will unfailingly protect us and lead us to our goal.

10th December 1978

A friend called Ramanachalam told Sadhu Om and me about an answer he once heard Bhagavan giving. Someone had asked him, ‘What is the lakṣaṇa [indicative quality, mark, sign or characteristic] of a jñāni?’, to which he replied:

The jñāni is like a fan or a veena. If a fan or veena is left untouched, it will remain still and silent, but if anyone waves a fan, it will give a cool and pleasant breeze, and if anyone plays a veena, it will make beautiful music. Likewise, if no one asks the jñāni anything or disturbs him in any other way, he will remain quiet, but if anyone kindles him in an appropriate manner, he will reveal many wonderful truths.

Hearing this, Sadhu Om composed a Tamil verse expressing this idea, and then remarked:

The jñāni is like a calm pool of water. Left undisturbed, the pool remains still, but if a stone is thrown in it, ripples will begin radiating from the point the stone touches the surface. Likewise, of his own accord the jñāni will not say anything, but if he is asked any questions, apt answers will emerge from him.

On a previous occasion Sadhu Om told me that Bhagavan sometimes compared the jñāni to a radio. We hear a radio talking or singing, but if we open it we will find no one inside.

Once when Bhagavan used this analogy, a devotee asked him, ‘If there is no one inside, then from where do your answers come?’, to which he replied: The answer comes from the same source as the question.

Sadhu Om [referring to a story in the Aruṇācala Māhātmyam and Aruṇācala Purāṇam]: King Vajrangada Pandiyan walked barefoot around Arunachala three times a day for three years, and by doing so he achieved citta-śuddhi [purification of mind]. Therefore, though he started to do so in order to regain his former position as Indra, when his mind was purified he thereby gained vivēka [discrimination, discernment or judgement] and vairāgya [freedom from desire], so he lost all desire to become Indra and longed only to surrender himself completely to Arunachala. Thus his ego was eradicated and thereby he attained śiva-sāyujya [union with Lord Siva].

This story illustrates that citta-śuddhi is the benefit to be gained by doing Aruṇagiri-pradakṣiṇa [circumambulation of Arunachala].

18th December 1978

Sadhu Om: Just as there are certain fundamental principles on which the practice of self-investigation is based, there are also certain fundamental principles on which the practice of self-surrender is based. The fundamental principles on which the practice of self-investigation is based are that the nature of ego is to rise, stand and flourish to the extent that it ‘grasps form’ or attends to anything other than itself, but to subside and dissolve back into its source to the extent that it attends to itself, as Bhagavan points out in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, and that it will therefore die only when it attends to itself so keenly that it thereby ceases to be aware of anything else whatsoever. Likewise, the fundamental principles on which the practice of self-surrender is based are that God or guru is all-knowing, all-powerful and all-loving. Since he is all-knowing, nothing can happen without his knowledge, and since he is all-powerful, nothing can happen without his consent, so whatever happens is according to his will, and since he is all-loving, whatever happens is what is best for ourself and all concerned. Only when we are able to recognise clearly and without doubt that such is the nature of God will we be willing to let go of everything else and entrust ourself wholly to his care.

21st December 1978

Sadhu Om [when asked to explain what Bhagavan meant when he said ‘The answer comes from the same source as the question’]: Bhagavan sometimes used the analogy of a radio to explain the actions of the mind, speech and body of the jñāni. We hear sounds such as singing and talking coming from the radio, even though there is no one inside it singing or talking. Likewise, we see the mind, speech and body of the jñāni answering questions or writing verses, even though there is no ego inside that mind or body doing anything.

On one occasion when he said this, a devotee asked him, ‘If there is no one inside, then from where do your answers come?’, and it was in this context that he replied, ‘The answer comes from the same source as the question’. That is, even though sounds such as singing and talking seem to be coming from a radio, the source from which those sounds originate is elsewhere. It cannot be found inside the radio but only in the transmitting station. Likewise, even though answers and verses seem to come from the mind, speech and body of the jñāni, the source from which those answers and verses originate can be found only in the heart of each one of us.

Though in our view Bhagavan seemed to be a person existing outside ourself, what he actually is is only the bright light of pure awareness, which is always shining clearly in our heart as ‘I am’. That light is the original light, the light that illumines all other lights, because physical light is illumined only by the mind-light, which is itself just a reflection of the original light of pure awareness, which is the svarūpa [real nature] of Bhagavan.

He is the original source of all clarity and love. Therefore the clarity and love we saw shining through the person whom he seemed to be originated only from within ourself, and this is why he was constantly turning our attention back towards ourself, telling us that the real guru and God is what is always shining in our heart as ‘I am’.

Therefore what he implied when he said ‘The answer comes from the same source as the question’ is not only that the source of whatever answers he has given us through his written or spoken words lies deep within our own heart, but also that we can find whatever answers we may need just by turning back within and thereby sinking deep inside. The more we turn our attention within to face the original light of awareness, which is always shining brightly in our heart, the more that light will clarify our mind, and in that clarity the answers to all questions will become clear, so much so that the intervening media of thoughts and words will no longer be necessary.

The real answer to all questions can be found only in silence, and that silence can be found only deep within our own heart. This is what Bhagavan meant when he said that the real teaching is only silence. The teachings he gave us in words are only to turn our attention back within, where his real teaching is always shining clearly as the profound silence of pure awareness. Only by looking deep within and thereby knowing what we ourself actually are will we know the one true import of all the answers that he ever gave in written or spoken words.

Sadhu Om [when asked to explain what Bhagavan meant when he asked rhetorically, ‘Who can say that the dream passed off of its own accord?’, as recorded in Day by Day with Bhagavan, 8-9-45 Morning]: Our present life is one long dream, and in the midst of this long dream we experience many other shorter dreams. Just as a certain prārabdha [fate or destiny] has been allotted to us for the duration of this life, a prārabdha is allotted to us for each of our other dreams.

Normally a dream will come to an end only when the prārabdha allotted for it comes to an end, and when it ends we either fall asleep or begin to dream another dream, whether that other dream be either a continuation of our present life or some other shorter dream within it. Likewise, the dream of our present life will normally come to an end only when the prārabdha allotted for it comes to an end, and when it ends we will either fall asleep or begin to dream another dream.

If we fall asleep at the end of this dream or any other dream, that sleep will last only for a limited duration before we rise and begin to dream again, because the dreamer of all dreams is ourself as ego, so we will continue dreaming one dream after another until ego is eradicated, and in the midst of all our dreams we will intermittently find respite in brief periods of sleep, because dreaming is a tiring activity, so we cannot continue dreaming for long without needing rest, which we can find only in sleep or some other such state of manōlaya [temporary dissolution of mind].

However, though a dream normally comes to an end only when the prārabdha allotted for it comes to an end, we can bring any dream to a premature end at any time simply by turning our attention back within to face ourself alone. How keenly we need to attend to ourself in order to bring our current dream to an end depends upon the strength of our dēhābhimāna, our attachment to our current body as ‘I’. Except when we are very sleepy, our attachment to our body in this dream we call our life is generally very strong, so in order to bring this dream to an end we need to attend to ourself very keenly, whereas our attachment to whatever body we experience as ‘I’ in most other dreams is relatively weak, so even a slight degree of self-attentiveness will be sufficient to bring such dreams to an end.

If we bring any dream to an end by means of self-attentiveness, it has obviously not come to an end of its own accord, but when Bhagavan asked rhetorically, ‘Who can say that the dream passed off of its own accord?’, he was referring not only to dreams that come to an end as a result of self-attentiveness but also to those that come to an end in accordance with prārabdha. Whatever is to happen according to prārabdha will certainly happen until and unless ego is eradicated, but that does not mean that it happens without any effort on our part, firstly because prārabdha is a selection of the fruits of actions that we have done in previous lives by our own will and effort, but more importantly because we cannot experience anything happening unless we attend to it, and attending to anything requires effort. Therefore effort on our part is entailed both in the production of the fruit that we experience as prārabdha and in our experiencing those fruit, so nothing actually happens without our making effort. If we did not rise as ego, we would not be able to do any āgāmya [action done in accordance with our will] or to experience the fruit of any āgāmya that we had done in past lives, and even our rising as ego requires effort, so whatever happens, including the ending of any dream, happens as a direct or indirect result of our effort.

However, it is not sufficient just to bring a dream to an end. What we need to bring to an end is the fundamental sleep of self-ignorance in which all dreams appear, and we can bring self-ignorance to an end only by being aware of ourself as we actually are. In order to be aware of ourself as we actually are we need to attend to ourself so keenly that we thereby cease to be aware of anything else at all.

Self-ignorance is the very nature of ego, so bringing self-ignorance to an end means eradicating ego. Since ego is the dreamer of all dreams, so long as it survives it will continue dreaming one dream after another, and when it is eradicated there will be no one to dream anything. Therefore, since we cannot eradicate ego without attending to ourself so keenly that we thereby see what we actually are, effort is certainly required in order for us to eradicate ego and thereby put an end to the sleep of self-ignorance in which all dreams appear.

However, what needs to make the effort to be keenly self-attentive is only ourself as ego, but when we attend to ourself keenly enough we will see that no such thing as ego has ever existed, so there never was anyone making any effort, as Bhagavan implied in his previous answer recorded in Day by Day:

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 jñāna 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.

Therefore effort is necessary only from the perspective of ego and not from the perspective of our real nature, which is immutable and therefore always remains as it is, without ever being aware of anything other than itself. When we know our real nature, therefore, we will see that there never was any ego, so it never dreamed any dreams or made any effort. Until then, effort is certainly needed to eradicate ego and thereby put an end to all its dreams.

Sadhu Om: What are called the first person, second person and third person in English are respectively called taṉmai, muṉṉilai and paḍarkkai in Tamil. Taṉmai literally means ‘selfness’, so though in some contexts it means the first person, in other contexts it can mean nature, essence, inherent quality, character, condition or reality. Muṉṉilai literally means ‘what stands in front’, and paḍarkkai literally means ‘what spreads out’, so one way in which we can interpret these two terms in the context of Bhagavan’s teachings is that ‘second person’ (muṉṉilai) refers to whatever we directly perceive by our senses at this present moment whereas ‘third person’ (paḍarkkai) refers to anything else we may think of.

In the fifth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?) Bhagavan says:

Of all the thoughts that appear in the mind, the thought called ‘I’ alone is the first thought [the primal, basic, original or causal thought]. Only after this arises do other thoughts arise. Only after the first person [ego, the primal thought called ‘I’] appears do second and third persons [all other things] appear; without the first person second and third persons do not exist.

Likewise in verse 14 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu he says:

If the first person [ego] exists, second and third persons [everything else] will exist. If the first person ceases to exist [by] oneself investigating the reality of the first person, second and third persons will come to an end, and [what then remains alone, namely] the nature [selfness, essence or reality] that shines as one [undivided by the appearance of these three persons] alone is oneself, the [real] state [or nature] of oneself.

When I first read these two passages, I thought deeply about the implications of what Bhagavan teaches us in them, and I was struck by how he explains in such a simple and logical manner not only the entire appearance of multiplicity but also the means to get rid of it, and how apt is his use of these three terms, taṉmai, muṉṉilai and paḍarkkai, to explain this. The first person is ‘I’, the ego or subject, which is the knower or perceiver, whereas second and third persons are all other things, which are objects, things that are known or perceived by the first person. Since second and third persons appear only in the view of the first person, they cannot exist without it.

When he says ‘If the first person exists, second and third persons will exist’, and ‘without the first person second and third persons do not exist’, he implies not only that second and third persons depend for their seeming existence upon the seeming existence of the first person, but also vice versa. That is, the first person cannot stand without clinging to the appearance of second and third persons, so the first person is no more real than second and third persons, and they are no more real than it. However, though they are mutually dependent, and therefore arise and subside simultaneously, logically what must arise first is the first person, because the first person is the cause whereas second and third persons are its effects. As soon as we rise as the first person, we bring second and third persons into existence along with us. Therefore the first person is the root, whereas second and third persons are what instantly sprout from it.

That is, the first person is the subject or knower whereas second and third persons are objects or things known by it, so only when we rise as ego do other things come into existence. We can understand this from our own experience. In sleep we do not rise as ego, and consequently nothing else appears, but as soon as we rise from sleep, whether in waking or in dream, other things appear, and they seem to exist until we subside again in sleep. However, though this is what we experience every day, we generally overlook the significance of it until Bhagavan points it out to us.

We overlook its significance because we assume that the things we perceive in our current state continue to exist even when we do not perceive them, but Bhagavan teaches us that this assumption is incorrect. When we are dreaming we assume that the world we then perceive exists whether we perceive it or not, but as soon as we wake up we recognise that the dream world was just a creation of our mind and therefore does not exist now that we do not perceive it. Our assumption that this present world exists whether we perceive it or not is just like the assumption we had about the dream world so long as we were dreaming. Just as our experience in dream did not support what we assumed then, our experience in this state does not support what we assume now.

Why do we not perceive the dream world now? Because it does not actually exist, and therefore seemed to exist only so long as we perceived it. Likewise, we do not perceive this present world while we are dreaming any other dream, because our present state is just a dream, so this world seems to exist only so long as we perceive it. In sleep we do not perceive any world at all, even though we are aware of our own existence then, because no world exists then for us to perceive.

Why do we perceive a world in waking and dream but not in sleep? What is the fundamental mistake that we make in waking and dream but do not make in sleep? In what way are we different in sleep to how we are now or in dream? In sleep we are aware of ourself just as ‘I am’, and consequently we are aware of nothing other than ‘I am’, whereas in waking and dream we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, and consequently we are aware of numerous other forms, so it is only when we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’ that we are aware of any world or anything other than ourself, as Bhagavan implies in verse 4 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

If oneself is a form, the world and God will be likewise; if oneself is not a form, who can see their forms, and how [to do so]? Can what is seen be otherwise [or of a different nature] than the eye [the awareness that sees or perceives it]? The [real] eye is oneself [one’s real nature, which is pure awareness], the infinite [and hence formless] eye [so it can never see any forms or phenomena, which are all finite].

What we call the world is nothing but a collection of forms of various kinds, and we perceive such forms only when we mistake ourself to be the form of a body consisting of five sheaths. What we actually are is just pure awareness, which is infinite and hence formless, so as pure awareness we are never aware of any forms. How then do we mistake ourself to be the form of a body? What is aware of itself as ‘I am this body’ is not ourself as we actually are but only ourself as ego, which is what Bhagavan refers to as taṉmai: the first person. Only when we rise as ego and thereby mistake ourself to be a body do other forms seem to exist, so as he says in the fifth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?: ‘Only after the first person appears do second and third persons appear; without the first person second and third persons do not exist’.

Therefore the root cause for the entire appearance of multiplicity is only our rising as ego and consequently mistaking ourself to be a body. How then can we avoid rising as ego? As ego we are always aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, which is not what we actually are, so ego is a false awareness of ourself, and hence it can be eradicated only by correct awareness of ourself: that is, by our being aware of ourself as we actually are.

Since the nature of ego is to be aware of itself as the form of a body and consequently to be aware of other forms, so long as our attention is directed towards forms of any kind whatsoever we are thereby nourishing and sustaining ego, as Bhagavan implies in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

Grasping form it comes into existence; grasping form it stands; grasping and feeding on form it grows abundantly; leaving form, it grasps form. If sought, it will take flight. [Such is the nature of] the formless phantom-ego. Investigate.

Ego is a formless phantom because it has no form of its own, so it seems to exist only when it grasps the form of a body as itself, and having grasped the form of a body as itself, it stands and flourishes by constantly grasping other forms. Since grasping form is the very nature of ego, and since it has no form of its own, if it tries to grasp only itself, it will subside and dissolve back into the source from which it rose. This is what he implies when he says: ‘tēḍiṉāl ōṭṭam piḍikkum’, ‘If sought, it will take flight’.

That is, since ego is formless, ‘grasping form’ means directing our attention away from ourself towards other things, so in order to eradicate ego we need to turn our entire attention back within to face ourself alone. Turning our attention back within to see what we actually are is what Bhagavan means when he says ‘if sought’ (tēḍiṉāl), and it is also what he refers to as ‘investigating what this is’ (yādu idu eṉḏṟu nādal) in verse 26 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

If ego comes into existence, everything comes into existence; if ego does not exist, everything does not exist. Ego itself is everything. Therefore, know that investigating what this is alone is giving up everything.

That is, since ego ‘takes flight’ and ceases to exist when it investigates itself keenly enough, and since ‘if ego does not exist, everything does not exist’, we can give up everything only by investigating what this ego actually is. This is why he says in the second sentence of verse 14 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu: ‘If the first person ceases to exist [by] oneself investigating the reality of the first person, second and third persons will come to an end, and the nature that shines as one alone is oneself, the state of oneself’.

What he refers to here as ‘the nature that shines as one’ (oṉḏṟāy oḷirum taṉmai) is our real nature (ātma-svarūpa), which is pure awareness, because when we investigate ourself keenly enough, we will see that what we actually are is just pure awareness, which is one and indivisible, and it is only when we see ourself as such that ego will be eradicated, whereupon everything else will cease to exist along with it.

4th January 1979

Sadhu Om: In the first verse of Ēkāṉma Pañcakam Bhagavan says:

[After] forgetting oneself, considering a body alone to be oneself, and taking innumerable births, finally knowing oneself and being oneself is just [like] waking up from a dream of wandering about the world. See.

When reading this verse we need to consider carefully to what extent knowing oneself and being oneself is like waking up from a dream. Our present state and any other state in which we are aware of ourself as a body and are consequently aware of other forms is a dream, so when we know and remain as our real nature (ātma-svarūpa) this and all other dreams will come to an end. It is in this sense that knowing oneself and being oneself is like waking up from a dream of wandering about the world.

However, there is an important difference between knowing ourself as we actually are and waking up from a dream. When we wake up from a dream we are often able to remember what we dreamt, because we are waking up from one dream to another dream, and the dreamer of both these dreams is the same, namely ego, whereas when we know ourself as we actually are ego is thereby eradicated, so since it was only as ego that we experienced this or any other dream, there will be no one remaining to remember what ego experienced.

When we wake up from the state of ego into the state of pure awareness, which is what we always actually are, we will know nothing other than ourself, because there is nothing other than ourself for us to know, as Bhagavan says in verse 27 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

Only knowledge [in the sense of awareness] that is devoid of knowledge and ignorance [of anything other than oneself] is [real] knowledge [or awareness]. This [alone] is [what is] real [or true], [because in one’s real state of pure awareness] there is not anything to know [that is, there is nothing other than oneself for one either to know or to not know].

Therefore as pure awareness we will have no memory of having once dreamt, because as pure awareness we have never dreamt. What dreams any dream is only ego, not pure awareness, so when ego is eradicated, all its memories of its dreams will be eradicated along with it. This is why Bhagavan once said, ‘Everyone who comes here says they have come only for mōkṣa [liberation], but if I show even a small sample of mōkṣa, all the crows will fly away and I will be left sitting here alone’.

When people come here and say they want to know about Bhagavan’s path, I sometimes wonder whether they would still want to know about it if they understood that in order to follow it to its conclusion we must be willing to give up everything other than the mere awareness ‘I am’. If we truly embrace his path, we are stepping straight into the jaws of a tiger, a tiger who will never rest till he has swallowed us entirely. By the death of the body we do not really lose anything, because we are sure to project another body and world and thereby dream other lives like this one after another, whereas by the death of ego we lose everything completely and forever.

Therefore in order to console people and avoid frightening them off, Bhagavan sometimes said things that implied that the jñāni knows names and forms and experiences dyads and triads just as an ajñāni does. However, the truth is that the jñāni is nothing other than jñāna [pure awareness], and jñāna does not know anything other than itself. It is the state of perfect happiness, but this does not mean that it experiences happiness as something other than itself, because it is itself infinite happiness.

5th January 1979

Sadhu Om: A true devotee of Bhagavan will never think ‘I must be an instrument of his grace’ or ‘His grace must work through me for the benefit of others’, because as ego we ourself are the primary obstacle to his grace. If we want his grace to flow without any obstruction, we need to subside, because to the extent that we subside we are thereby removing all obstacles that obstruct the working of his grace.

This is why he always recommended the simple practice of attending to the first person, ‘I’, because the more we attend to the first person, the more we will thereby subside; the more we subside, the more freely his grace will flow; and the more his grace flows, the more love and strength we will gain to attend only to the first person. On the other hand, if we rise thinking ‘His grace must work through me and my actions’, we would thereby be obstructing the flow of his grace.

This can be illustrated by a popular story about Alexander meeting a sage in north India. Having heard that a wise man lived in a cave in some nearby hills, Alexander went to meet him early one morning. When he arrived he saw an old man crouching outside the mouth of a cave, so he approached him and said, ‘I have conquered half the world, so I am the most powerful emperor the world has ever seen. I can give you whatever you want, so just ask and I will give it’. The old man ignored him and just kept quiet, so he repeated his offer twice, and after the third time the old man simply waved his hand indicating that Alexander should step aside. Alexander then said, ‘What is this? I offered you anything you want to ask for, and you just ask me to step aside’, to which the old man replied, ‘I don’t want anything you could give me, but I am an old man and it is cold sleeping in this cave at night, so when the sun rises I crouch here to warm myself in its light. But you came here and stood between me and the sun, so all I can ask you to do is to step aside and thereby stop obstructing the sunlight’.

Just as Alexander was obstructing the sunlight by standing in front of the old man, thinking he could help him, we obstruct Bhagavan’s grace by rising as ego, so all that we need do is to subside back within. Doing anything else whatsoever is not aiding grace but obstructing it.

Sadhu Om [when asked some questions regarding the portion of chapter 8 of The Path of Sri Ramana in which he discussed how the awareness ‘I’ that is spread throughout the body through the nāḍīs is withdrawn back to the heart when we attend to ourself]: Though it is described there how the awareness ‘I’ is withdrawn through the nāḍīs, we should not try to see how this happens, because if we allow ourself to attend to anything other than ourself, the awareness ‘I’ will again spread out through the nāḍīs. Its withdrawal will occur only to the extent that our attention is fixed firmly only on ourself.

If we walk towards the sun, our shadow will follow us, but if we turn round to see it following us, it will stop. Likewise, so long as we are keenly self-attentive, the awareness ‘I’ will be withdrawing through the nāḍīs, but if we try to verify that this is happening, our attention will thereby be diverted away from ourself towards the body, and hence the withdrawal will be interrupted.

In order to investigate ourself, we need to attend only to ourself, the first person, and so long as we are attending to ourself we will not notice whatever may be happening in the body. If we try to see what is happening, our attention will thereby be diverted away from the first person towards second and third persons, so we will end up knowing neither our real nature nor what happens in the body as a result of our being self-attentive.

You ask how it can be known that this withdrawal is actually happening. It cannot and need not be known by most of us, but to a few sages like Bhagavan and Patanjali such things are revealed even without their seeking to know them, because they have a divine mission to guide others.

Moreover, it is important for us to understand that all such explanations are only as true as the body, and if we want to know what is real, we need to give up the idea that there is actually any such thing as a body at all. The body seems to exist only in the view of ego, so all explanations about nāḍīs, cakras, kuṇḍalinī and what happens in the body as a result of self-investigation or any other form of spiritual practice need not concern us if our only aim is to know what we actually are and thereby eradicate ego. The body is just a mental fabrication, like all other objects, so we should not be concerned with knowing anything about it at all. In order to know what we actually are, we need to withdraw our attention entirely from the body and all other phenomena by focusing it only on ourself, the first person.

Question: Why then did you write about this subject in The Path of Sri Ramana?

Sadhu Om: Different levels of explanation need to be given to suit people of different levels of spiritual maturity, and also to suit those who have come to Bhagavan’s path from different backgrounds. Some who come to his path have previously practised yōga, so they ask questions about such matters, and this explanation about the withdrawal of the awareness ‘I’ through the nāḍīs needs to be given to satisfy them that whatever can be achieved by yōga practices is achieved more effectively and easily by means of the simple practice of self-investigation. It was therefore in answer to questions asked by such people that I gave these explanations, which later came to be included in The Path of Sri Ramana.

Bhagavan also sometimes gave such explanations when questioned by people who were interested in such matters, as has been recorded, for example, in chapter 9 of Śrī Ramaṇa Gītā, in his answers to questions 12 and 16 of the second chapter of Upadēśa Mañjari, in some portions of Vicāra Saṅgraham and in Day by Day 14-9-45.

6th January 1979

Sadhu Om: In verse 15 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan says:

Past and future stand holding the present. While occurring, they too are actually the present. The present is the only one. Not knowing the reality of now, trying to know the past or future is trying to count without one.

Though a dividing line seems to separate the edge of table from the empty space beyond it, if we try to find whether any such line actually exists, we will find no such thing, because where the table ends the empty space begins, so there is no gap between them. Likewise, though something called the present seems to separate the past from the future, if we try to find whether any such thing actually exists, we will find no such thing, because if we consider it carefully enough, we will see that where it is supposed to be, one moment before is past and one moment after is future. Where the most recent past moment ends, the most immediate future moment begins, so between them there is no room for any such thing as the present to exist.

Though there is no time that could be called the precise present moment, the entire appearance of time is built upon the appearance of such a moment, because without its appearance no such thing as the past or future would seem to exist. That is, it is only from the perspective of what seems to be the present moment that the past and future seem to exist, as Bhagavan points out by saying in the first sentence of this verse, ‘Past and future stand holding the present’, thereby implying that the past and future depend upon the present for their seeming existence.

Each moment, both past and future, seems to be present while it is occurring, as he says in the second sentence, but it is only so long as we are caught up in the flow of time from past to future that there seems to be a present moment, because if instead of attending to anything that occurs in the flow of time we try to attend to the precise present, we will find no gap at all between the moment that has just past and the next future moment. That is, the precise present is so fleeting and infinitesimally brief that it has no duration whatsoever, so since any moment must have some duration, even to call it a moment in time is not correct.

What then is the present, and why does he say in the third sentence, ‘nihaṙvu oṉḏṟē’, which means ‘The present alone [exists]’ or ‘The present is the only one’? To understand this, we need to consider what is actually present. What is always actually present is only our own existence, ‘I am’, so it is only the presence of ourself as ‘I am’ that makes any time or place seem to be present. So long as we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, our presence seems to be limited to a particular place, ‘here’, and a particular time, ‘now’, but if we were aware of ourself as just ‘I am’, we would be aware of no such limitation in either place or time.

Time and place both seem to exist only when we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, and it is only from the standpoint of the time and place in which we now seem to be present that all other times and places seem to exist. However, so long as time seems to exist, we never stand still in it, because we seem to be constantly moving from past to future, and hence time itself seems to be a ceaseless flow from past to future.

Everything other than ‘I am’ appears and disappears, so all such things seem to exist only in the flow of time. Therefore, since the precise present has no duration, there is no room in it for anything to appear, so what exists in it is only the presence of ourself, not as ‘I am this body’ but just as ‘I am’. Therefore we can attend to the precise present only by attending to ‘I am’, which is always standing still and immutable, and is therefore never touched or affected in any way by the seeming flow of time.

What Bhagavan means, therefore, when he says that the present alone exists is that it exists not as a moment in time but as the one ever-present reality, ‘I am’, from which the appearance of a present moment derives its seeming existence. Without the eternal presence of ‘I am’, the present moment would not seem to exist, and without the present moment no other time would seem to exist, so the entire appearance of time derives its seeming existence from the seeming existence of the present moment, which in turn is derived from the seeming existence of ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, which is derived only from what alone actually exists, namely ‘I am’.

Time seems to exist only in the view of ourself as ego, so in order to know the reality of time we need to know the reality of ego, and in order to know the reality of ego we need to investigate ourself, who is what now seems to be ego. If we investigate ourself keenly enough, we will find that we are just the one fundamental awareness ‘I am’, so ‘I am’ alone is the reality of ego and hence of the entire appearance of time. In other words, what actually exists is only ‘I am’ and not either ego or time.

Since ego does not actually exist, neither does time nor anything else other than ‘I am’, but until we investigate ourself keenly enough, we will continue to be aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’ and will consequently be aware of the seeming existence of time and whatever appears in time. However, not knowing the unreality of time and hence of whatever appears or happens in time, we try to know things other than ourself, including what happened in the past and will happen in the future, but trying to do so is futile, as Bhagavan implies in the final sentence of this verse: ‘Not knowing the reality of now, trying to know the past or future is [like] trying to count [calculate or evaluate] without one’.

If we are asked to count how many measures of rice a sack can hold, we cannot do so without knowing the size or weight of one measure. Likewise, we cannot know the reality of the past or future, or of anything that appeared or happened in the past and will appear or happen in the future, without knowing the reality of the present. As a moment in time, the present is unreal, so the reality of the present is only ‘I am’, which is the one real presence that underlies the appearance of the present moment and makes it seem to be present. Therefore, since the appearance of past and future depends on the appearance of the present, ‘I am’ alone is the reality not only of the present but also of the past and future, and of anything that appears or happens in time.

All thoughts, phenomena, actions and events appear and disappear only in the flow of time, but none of them can occur in the precise present, because the precise present is too fleeting to have any duration, so nothing can ever happen in it. Therefore, if we try to attend to the precise present, the mind will come to a standstill and all thoughts, including the first thought, namely the false awareness ‘I am this body’, will cease to exist. What will then remain is only the one eternal, immutable and self-shining presence, ‘I am’.

When Bhagavan says in the third sentence of this verse, ‘nihaṙvu oṉḏṟē’, which means ‘The present alone [exists]’ or ‘The present is the only one’, this can be interpreted in two senses: Either we can take it in a relative sense to mean that among the three times, past, present and future, the present is the only time that has at least some degree of reality, because it is the time in which the one reality, ‘I am’, is always existing and shining; or we can take it in a deeper sense to mean that what is ever present, namely ‘I am’, is the only thing that actually exists, so none of the three times are real even to the slightest extent.

The latter is what he goes on to imply in verse 16 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

When we investigate, except we, where is time, where is place? If we are a body, we will be ensnared in time and place. Are we a body? Since we are the one, now, then and always, the one in place, here, there and everywhere, there is we, we. Time and place do not exist.

In this verse he reveals the ultimate truth that neither time (past, present or future) nor place (the first, second and third persons) actually exists, because what actually exists is only we, the one reality that always exists and shines as ‘I am’.

The first sentence of this verse, ‘nām aṉḏṟi nāḷ ēdu, nāḍu ēdu, nāḍum kāl?’, is a rhetorical question that means ‘When we investigate, except we, where is time, where is place?’, which implies that when we investigate ourself, we will find that there is neither time nor place but only ourself. The key to understanding that this is the implication is the word aṉḏṟi, which is an adversative conjunction for which there is no single equivalent in English, but which depending on the context can be translated either as ‘except’ or ‘besides’ or as ‘but only’.

For example, in English one could say ‘There is no furniture in the room except a table’ or ‘There are no chairs in the room but only a table’, whereas in Tamil aṉḏṟi would be used in both cases, in the first case to mean ‘except’ and in the second case to mean ‘but only’. In English ‘except’ is used in the first case, because a table is a piece of furniture, but could not be used in the second case, because a table is not a chair. This is why ‘but only’ is used in the second case but could not be used in the first case.

In the first sentence of this verse aṉḏṟi is used in the sense of ‘but only’, because we are neither time nor place, but in English we cannot say ‘Where is time, where is place, but only we?’, so we have to use ‘except’ in such a question, even though the implied meaning is that there is neither time nor place but only ourself. As Bhagavan says in the seventh paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, ‘What actually exists is only ātma-svarūpa [the real nature of oneself]’, so all other things, including time and place, are just mental fabrications, like silver seen in a shell.

Time and place seem to exist only when we rise as ego and consequently mistake ourself to be a body, which is bound within the limitations of time and place, so in the second sentence he says, ‘If we are a body, we will be ensnared in time and place’, but then he asks, ‘Are we a body?’, thereby implying that we are not a body. What we actually are is not a body, which is confined within a certain time and a certain place, but only the one fundamental, immutable and unlimited sat-cit (existence-awareness), ‘I am’, in which time, place and all other things appear and disappear, and which therefore remains unchanged and equally present in all times and all places, so he concludes this verse by saying in the last two lines: ‘Since we are the one, now, then and always, the one in place, here, there and everywhere, there is we, [only] we. Time and place do not exist’. Thus in these last two lines he reiterates what he implied in the first sentence, namely that what actually exists is neither time nor place but only ourself.

Though he implies in this verse that we are not a body, as he repeatedly taught us either explicitly or implicitly in so many other passages of his teachings, on superficial observation it may seem that he contradicts this fundamental principle of his teachings in the next verse (verse 17), in which he seems to answer the second rhetorical question he asked in this verse, namely ‘Are we a body?’, by saying that the body is only ‘I’ not only for those who do not know what they actually are but even for those who do know:

For those who do not know themself [their real nature] and for those who have known themself, the body is actually ‘I’ [or only ‘I’]. For those who do not know themself, ‘I’ is [limited to] only the extent of the body, [whereas] for those who have known themself within the body, oneself, ‘I’, shines without limit. Consider that the difference between them is only this.

There is a deliberate touch of humour in Bhagavan’s decision to place this verse immediately after verse 16, because what he says in the first sentence of this verse seems to fly in the face of what he said in that verse. If time and place do not actually exist, no body or any other phenomenon can exist, so why does he say that the body is actually ‘I’ and only ‘I’ for those who know what they actually are? In what sense is the body only ‘I’ for them?

As Bhagavan often explained, ‘jñānamē jñāni’ (jñāna alone is the jñāni), and jñāna alone is what actually exists, so in the clear view of the jñāni nothing other than jñāna exists, as he implies in verse 31 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu: ‘taṉṉai alādu aṉṉiyam oṉḏṟum aṟiyār’ (They do not know anything other than themself). Therefore in the clear view of the jñāni there is no time, space, world or body, but in the body-bound view of the ajñāni all these things seem to exist.

Since nothing other than jñāna actually exists, whatever else seems to exist cannot be anything other than jñāna, which is what the jñāni experiences as ‘I’. Therefore what the ajñāni sees as time, space, world, body and all other phenomena is what the jñāni experiences as ‘I’, so in this verse Bhagavan explains that whereas for the ajñāni ‘I’ is limited to the extent of one particular body, for the jñāni ‘I’ shines without limit, and hence it includes within itself not only the body but also everything else that seems to exist in the view of others.

In other words, the experience of the ajñāni is ‘I am only this body’ whereas the experience of the jñāni is ‘I am also this body’. It was from this perspective that Bhagavan replied when he was asked whether he was not experiencing pain as a result of his cancer: ‘Yes, there is pain, but it is not other than me’.

Therefore the difference between the jñāni and the ajñāni is that for the former ‘I’ is not limited in any way whatsoever, so no other limitations of any kind exist, whereas for the latter ‘I’ is limited to the extent of a body, so countless other limitations of all kinds seem to exist. Thus if we understand this verse correctly, we will see that in it Bhagavan is encouraging us by pointing out that the difference between the jñāni and the ajñāni is actually only a very slight difference of perspective, and that all that we need to do, therefore, is to give up the fundamental limitation ‘I am just this body’, because when we give up this limitation all other limitations will cease to exist along with it, and what will then remain is only the one unlimited ‘I’, other than which nothing exists.

Likewise in the next verse (verse 18) he says:

For those who do not have knowledge [of their real nature] and for those who have, the world is real. For those who do not know [their real nature], reality is [limited to] the extent of [the forms that constitute] the world, [whereas] for those who have known [their real nature], reality pervades devoid of form as the ādhāra [support, foundation or container] for [the appearance of the forms that constitute] the world. This is the difference between them. Consider.

What the ajñāni sees as a world consisting of numerous names and forms is what the jñāni sees as the one formless and hence indivisible reality, which is what he described in the previous verse as the ‘I’ that shines without limit. All forms are limited in various ways, so what is unlimited is formless. What is unlimited and therefore formless alone is real, and hence that alone is what we actually are.

Why then do we see ourself as this world of names and forms? Only because we have limited ourself as the extent of a body, as Bhagavan says in verse 4 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

If oneself is a form, the world and God will be likewise; if oneself is not a form, who can see their forms, and how [to do so]? Can what is seen be otherwise [or of a different nature] than the eye [the awareness that sees or perceives it]? The [real] eye is oneself, the infinite [and hence formless] eye.

If we see a rope and mistake it to be a snake, the rope is the ādhāra (support or foundation) and the snake is just an illusory superimposition. Likewise, we are the ādhāra and all names and forms are just an illusory superimposition. Just as the snake is actually nothing other than a rope, the world of names and forms is actually nothing other than ourself, the one and only reality.

The snake is unreal as a snake but real as a rope. Likewise, the world is unreal as the world but real as ourself, so this is why Bhagavan says that the world is real not only for the ajñāni but also for the jñāni. However, whereas for the ajñāni the world is real as the world, for the jñāni the world is real as ourself, the one unlimited and therefore formless reality, so this is what he means when he says: ‘For those who do not know, reality is the extent of the world, [whereas] for those who have known, reality pervades devoid of form as the ādhāra for the world’.

14th January 1979

Sadhu Om: In the fifth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār? Bhagavan says:

Of all the thoughts that appear in the mind, the thought called ‘I’ alone is the first thought. Only after this arises do other thoughts arise. Only after the first person appears do second and third persons appear; without the first person second and third persons do not exist.

Likewise in verse 14 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu he says:

If the first person exists, second and third persons will exist. If the first person ceases to exist [by] oneself investigating the reality of the first person, second and third persons will come to an end, and the nature that shines as one alone is oneself, the state of oneself.

The first person is ego, the thought called ‘I’, whereas second and third persons are all other things, namely all objects or phenomena, which like ego are all just thoughts. Since second and third persons seem to exist only in the view of the first person, he says ‘Only after the first person appears do second and third persons appear; without the first person second and third persons do not exist’, thereby implying that ego is the root cause for the seeming existence of all other things.

This is why he describes ego in verse 24 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu as ‘bondage’ and ‘this saṁsāra’, because there can be no bondage without ego to be bound by it and no saṁsāra without ego to experience it. Therefore if we want to be free from bondage and this saṁsāra, we need to cease rising as ego, and to cease rising as ego we need to investigate ourself, who now seem to be ego.

Whenever we rise and stand as ego, we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, so this false awareness ‘I am this body’ is what is called ego or the first person. What is real in this adjunct-mixed awareness ‘I am this body’ is only the fundamental awareness ‘I am’, which alone is what we actually are, so what Bhagavan refers to in verse 14 as ‘the reality of the first person’ is only ourself as this fundamental awareness ‘I am’.

Therefore we ourself are the reality of ego, the first person, and to the extent that we attend to ourself, ego will subside and dissolve back into ourself, so if we attend to ourself keenly enough ego will cease to exist, and when it ceases to exist everything else (all second and third persons) will cease to exist along with it, as he implies when he says: ‘If the first person ceases to exist [by] oneself investigating the reality of the first person, second and third persons will come to an end, and the nature that shines as one alone is oneself, the state of oneself’. What he means by ‘the nature that shines as one’ is our real nature (ātma-svarūpa), which is the one, indivisible and immutable whole, so it is never actually divided as the first, second and third persons, and hence they are all just an illusory appearance.

That is, the nature of ego is to rise, stand and flourish by attending to anything other than itself (any second or third person), but to subside and dissolve back into ourself, its source, by attending only to itself (the first person), as he implies in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

Grasping form it comes into existence; grasping form it stands; grasping and feeding on form it grows abundantly; leaving form, it grasps form. If sought, it will take flight. The formless phantom ego. Investigate.

Therefore we cannot put an end to our rising as ego by attending to anything other than ourself, the reality and source of the first person, as he implies in the second sentence of verse 27 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu: “Without investigating the place where ‘I’ rises, how to reach the annihilation of oneself, in which ‘I’ does not rise?” This is why he never of his own accord recommended any practice other than this simple practice of self-investigation.

However, some people wrongly believe that self-investigation is too difficult and that it is therefore necessary to first practise some other sādhana in order to gain the strength required to practise self-investigation. This is a mistaken belief, firstly because self-investigation is actually the easiest of all sādhanas, as Bhagavan taught us in Āṉma-Viddai, and secondly because the strength required to practise self-investigation is the strength to be self-attentive, whereas the strength that can be gained by practising other sādhanas is the strength to concentrate on something other than oneself. These two kinds of strength are fundamentally different, so the latter does not necessarily lead to the former.

If self-investigation seems to be difficult, that is because of the strength of our viṣaya-vāsanās, which are inclinations to attend to anything other than ourself, so in order to gain the strength required to practise self-investigation we need to weaken our viṣaya-vāsanās, which we can do directly and most effectively by self-investigation, because by holding fast to self-attention we are not allowing ourself to be swayed by any viṣaya-vāsanās. Any practice other than self-investigation entails attending to something other than ourself, so though it may weaken some viṣaya-vāsanās, it cannot weaken all of them.

That is, self-investigation is attending only to the first person, whereas any other practice entails attending to one or more second or third persons. Attending to the first person is nivṛtti, withdrawal of the mind from all activity by retreating inwards, so it causes the subsidence and eventual dissolution of ego, whereas attention to any second or third person is pravṛtti, engagement in mental activity by going outwards, so it nourishes and sustains ego. In other words, second or third person attention is a doing or karma, whereas first person attention is not doing anything but just being.

When we attend to any second or third person, we do so under the sway of viṣaya-vāsanās, so we are thereby strengthening whichever viṣaya-vāsanās we are allowing ourself to be swayed by, and those strengthened viṣaya-vāsanās will be obstacles to us when we try to turn our attention back towards ourself, the first person. When we attend only to the first person, on the other hand, we are not being swayed by any viṣaya-vāsanās but only by sat-vāsanā, the inclination just to be as we actually are, so we are thereby strengthening sat-vāsanā and weakening all viṣaya-vāsanās.

The strength required to practise self-investigation is the strength of sat-vāsanā, whereas viṣaya-vāsanās are what weaken our ability to be firmly self-attentive, so the only direct and most effective means to gain the strength required to practise self-investigation is to patiently and persistently try to be self-attentive, as Bhagavan implies in the sixth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:

If other thoughts rise, without trying to complete them it is necessary to investigate to whom they have occurred. However many thoughts rise, what [does it matter]? Vigilantly, as soon as each thought appears, if one investigates to whom it has occurred, it will be clear: to me. If one investigates who am I [by vigilantly attending to oneself, the ‘me’ to whom everything else appears], the mind will return to its birthplace [namely oneself, the source from which it arose]; [and since one thereby refrains from attending to it] the thought that had risen will also cease. When one practises and practises in this manner, for the mind the power to stand firmly established in its birthplace increases.

Though other practices can be a means to cultivate strength of mind, the strength gained thereby is the strength to focus attention on things other than oneself, which is a strength of pravṛtti, whereas the strength required for self-investigation is the strength to focus attention on oneself alone, which is a strength of nivṛtti. These are therefore two quite different forms of strength. One is the strength to go outwards, and the other is the strength to go inwards.

As Bhagavan used to say in this context, a racehorse that is bred and trained to gallop forwards at great speed will not be useful for drawing water from a well, for which a backward movement of the horse is necessary. This is why he advised all true spiritual aspirants to practise self-investigation from the very start. Even if our viṣaya-vāsanās are still relatively strong, the most effective means to weaken them is to try as much as possible to be self-attentive, as he assured us in the tenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:

Even though viṣaya-vāsanās, which come from time immemorial, rise in countless numbers like ocean-waves, they will all be destroyed when svarūpa-dhyāna [self-attentiveness] increases and increases. Without giving room even to the doubting thought ‘So many vāsanās ceasing [or being dissolved], is it possible to be only as svarūpa [my own real nature]?’ it is necessary to cling tenaciously to self-attentiveness. However great a sinner one may be, if instead of lamenting and weeping ‘I am a sinner! How am I going to be saved?’ one completely rejects the thought that one is a sinner and is zealous [or steadfast] in self-attentiveness, one will certainly be reformed [transformed into what one actually is].

Even if our efforts to be self-attentive are relatively feeble at first, such feeble efforts will be far more efficacious in weakening all viṣaya-vāsanās and thereby strengthening our ability to cling firmly to self-attentiveness than any amount of effort made to practise any other sādhana, so with firm trust in the words of Bhagavan and the assurances he has given to us, let us each try our best to practise being self-attentive as much as we can.

Though we cannot gain the strength to focus our entire attention steadily on oneself alone by trying to focus it on anything else, the strength and clarity that we gain by trying to focus it on ourself alone will make our mind a very sharp and subtle instrument, which can therefore be used effectively for any other purpose. For example, this is how it became so easy for me to learn Carnatic music in a relatively short time and with relatively little practice.

When I was living in Ramanasramam in the late 50s and early 60s some friends who came to visit the ashram were surprised to see the skill I had gained in Carnatic music. ‘When we met you two years ago you said you knew very little about Carnatic music, so how have you gained so much proficiency in such a short time? Normally it would take at least twelve years of dedicated study and practice to gain the level of mastery that you now have, but you haven’t spent all your time practising, so how do you now have so much knowledge and skill in such a difficult art?’ they asked, to which I replied that it was all thanks to Kannappa, my blind music teacher, but they were not satisfied with this reply. ‘He is no doubt a very good teacher’, they said, ‘but that does not explain how you have learnt so much in such a short time and with so little practice’.

I did not say anything further, but the only explanation can be that this ability was an unintended by-product of practising self-attention. It is only by the reflected light of awareness (cidābhāsa) that the mind is able to know anything other than itself, so when we focus our mind on any other thing we are using only this reflected light. However, to know ourself this reflected light is not necessary, because we know ourself naturally by our own original light of pure awareness. By attending to ourself we are immersing our mind in this original light, so the power and clarity of mind gained by self-attention is far greater and more refined than any power or clarity that can be gained by attending to anything other than oneself. This is why Adi Sankara says in verse 364 of Vivēkacūḍāmaṇi that the potency of nididhyāsana, which means the practice of self-attention, is a hundred thousand times greater than that of manana, which is a hundred times greater than that of śravaṇa.

15th January 1979

Sadhu Om [in reply to a visitor who asked him how he got his name]: It is not just my name, it is everyone’s name. Om is the name of brahman. I have no name of my own.

16th January 1979

Sadhu Om: The whole of our life as this body is one dream. This dream is interrupted by periods of sleep, and sleep is interrupted by other dreams, so such dreams are dreams within this dream. For each dream there is a prārabdha, so what we experience in each dream is determined by whatever prārabdha Bhagavan has allotted for it. Since the dreams that interrupt our sleep are parts of the dream of our present life, the prārabdha of each such dream is a part of the prārabdha of this life.

People often ask whether Bhagavan can change the prārabdha of our present life, and some even expect that, since he is guru, he should change our prārabdha after we come to take refuge at his feet. Yes, he can certainly change it, because he is the one who has allotted it. For example, he may choose to exhaust some more fruit from our sañcita by allotting it to be experienced by us in dream, or he may even allot the fruit of some āgāmya done in this lifetime to be experienced in this life itself. However, he would very rarely make such changes, because the prārabdha that he has allotted for the dream of our present life is the one that is most conducive to our spiritual development, so why would he decide to change it? And even if he does decide to change it, we can never know that he has done so, because we know what our prārabdha is only when we experience it, which would be after any change had been made by him.

However, why should we want or expect him to change our prārabdha? He has already allotted whatever prārabdha is best for us, so we should accept it wholeheartedly as his sweet will, and should not even think that it requires any change. If we think that he should change it, or wonder whether he might change it, that shows that we are not yet willing to surrender our will and accept his will wholeheartedly. And how can we surrender ourself to him if we are not even willing to surrender our will to him? The path of surrender begins with our surrendering our will, because we will be willing to surrender ourself only to the extent that we are willing to surrender our will.

Since we cannot free ourself from the bondage of karma without surrendering ourself entirely to him, we must be willing to wholeheartedly and joyfully accept whatever prārabdha he has allotted for us, so we should not give even the slightest room in our heart to any desire or thought that he should change it in any way. Therefore we should follow the example that he has set us in verse 2 of Śrī Aruṇācala Padigam: ‘நின் இட்டம் என் இட்டம்; இன்பு அது எற்கு, என் உயிர் இறையே’ (niṉ iṭṭam eṉ iṭṭam; iṉbu adu eṟku, eṉ uyir iṟaiyē), ‘Your will is my will; that is happiness for me, Lord of my soul’.

Sadhu Om [in reply to someone who asked him to explain what Bhagavan said about krama mukti (gradual liberation) as recorded in section 513 of Talks]: When the Vedas explain creation, they sometimes say that the world is created from the mind of Brahma, and this is further explained by saying that Brahma slept, and while sleeping he projected this world as a dream. Whenever we dream, we mistake ourself to be a body in that dream, and we do so because we have forgotten our identity as the body that is then supposedly asleep. Likewise, if Brahma is dreaming this world, he must have forgotten his identity as Brahma, who is then asleep, and mistaken himself to be a body in this dream, through which he is seeing this dream world.

If we ask, ‘Who in this world is the dreaming Brahma?’, the answer is whoever is now seeing this world, because the dreamer of any dream is the ego who sees it. In other words, we who see this world are the dreamer, so we ourself are the Brahma who has created this world. Therefore instead of attending to this dream or anything in it, we should attend only to ourself in order to see who am I, the dreamer who is dreaming this dream.

If we attend keenly to the first person in a dream, we will thereby separate ourself from the dream body, so the dream will end and we will wake up. Likewise, if we attend to the first person keenly enough in the dream of this waking state, the false awareness ‘I am this body’ will be dissolved forever and we will wake up in our real state of pure awareness. Since pure awareness is brahman, this state in which we remain as pure awareness is called brahma-sākṣātkāra, direct experience of brahman. This alone is real liberation, and it is attained instantaneously, as soon as ego is swallowed in the light of pure awareness

Those who believe in krama mukti (gradual liberation), however, say that pure souls who are free of desire do not attain liberation immediately but only gradually, because after leaving this world they go to brahma-lōka, the world of Brahma, from which there is no return, and only after living there for a long time do they finally attain liberation. That is, they believe that brahma-lōka is real, and that it exists so long as Brahma lives, so they say that souls who live there will finally attain liberation only when Brahma dies and his world ceases to exist.

Bhagavan teaches us, however, that all such beliefs are false, because in order to experience any world we must identify ourself as a body in that world, so experiencing brahma-lōka would be just another dream. Whatever world we may experience is just a dream, and so long as the dreamer exists, when one dream comes to an end another will sooner or later begin, because the nature of the dreamer is to dream, so it will not stop dreaming until it ceases to exist. Even if we dream that we are in brahma-lōka, after that dream ends we will continue to dream other dreams. We cannot attain liberation merely because one of our dreams has come to an end. As he says in verse 40 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, ‘The ego-form perishing [or being destroyed] is mukti [liberation]’, so since ego is the dreamer of all dreams, liberation can be attained only by eradicating the dreamer.

Saying that this world is Brahma’s dream is just a metaphorical way of saying that it is ego’s dream. If it were true that this is Brahma’s dream, then whoever is now seeing this world, namely ego, is Brahma, so if ego turns its attention inwards to see who am I, it may thereby wake up as Brahma in brahma-lōka, but even that would be just another dream. Therefore if ego experiences itself as ‘I am Brahma’, that is just another false identification, so it should again turn its attention back within to see what it actually is. Only when we attend to ourself so keenly that we thereby cease to be aware of ourself as anything other than ourself will we wake up into our real state of pure awareness.

So long as we are aware of any world, we are not aware of ourself as we actually are, because we can perceive a world only when we take ourself to be a body within that world. This is why Bhagavan says in the third paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, ‘Just as unless awareness of the imaginary snake goes, awareness of the rope, [which is] the adhiṣṭhāna [basis, base or foundation], will not arise, unless perception of the world, which is kalpita [a mental fabrication], departs, darśana [seeing] of svarūpa [one’s own real nature], [which is] the adhiṣṭhāna, will not arise’, and in the fourth paragraph, ‘When the mind comes out from ātma-svarūpa [the real nature of oneself], the world appears. Therefore when the world appears, svarūpa does not appear; when svarūpa appears (shines), the world does not appear’.

All ideas about brahma-lōka or any other world are unnecessary distractions, because all worlds are equally unreal. Since any world seems to exist only in the view of ego, it cannot be any more real than the ego who sees it, so we need to investigate the reality of ego by focusing our entire attention on ourself, the one who now seems to be ego. That is, any world is just a collection of ever-changing objects or phenomena, which are what are otherwise called second and third persons, and as Bhagavan points out in the fifth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, ‘Only after the first person [namely ego] appears do second and third persons [all other things] appear; without the first person second and third persons do not exist’. Since we seem to be ego only so long as we do not attend to ourself keenly enough, if we attend to ourself keenly enough to see what we actually are, ego will thereby cease to exist, and all worlds will cease to exist along with it, as he implies in verse 14 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

If the first person [ego] exists, second and third persons [everything else] will exist. If the first person ceases to exist [by] oneself investigating the reality of the first person, second and third persons will come to an end, and [what then remains alone, namely] the nature [or reality] that shines as one [undivided by the appearance of these three persons] alone is oneself, the [real] state [or nature] of oneself.

The first person is the adjunct-mixed awareness ‘I am this body’, and the reality of the first person is the pure awareness ‘I am’. Therefore, if we keenly attend to our fundamental awareness ‘I am’, the adjunct ‘this body’ will drop off and we will thereby remain as ‘I am’ alone. This is why he says that if we investigate the reality of the person, the first person will cease to exist. That is, if we keenly attend only to the essential ‘I am’ in the mixed awareness ‘I am this body’, we will see that ‘I am’ alone is real and the adjunct ‘this body’ is just an illusory appearance, so ego as such was never real. In other words, if we keenly investigate ego, we will find that ego as such is ever non-existent, and what actually exists is only the pure awareness ‘I am’, which is ātma-svarūpa, the real nature of ourself.

Even if we fail to see clearly that our fundamental awareness ‘I am’ alone is what actually exists, and instead wake up as Brahma in brahma-lōka, we should just continue the same investigation until we see ourself as we actually are. That is, we should investigate ourself, the ‘I’ who is aware of itself as ‘I am Brahma’ and who is consequently aware of brahma-lōka. This is the only means by which even Brahma can attain liberation.

If we consider it carefully, the very idea of krama mukti is absurd, because ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, is itself bondage, so as long as we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’ we cannot be partially liberated. Destruction of ego alone is real liberation, so there is no such thing as partial or gradual liberation. Ego is either dead or alive. It cannot be partially dead and partially alive.

If we try to jump over a well, we will either land safely on the other side or fall in the well. Likewise, we are either liberated or in bondage. Whether we jump 50% or 99% across the width of the well, we would still fall in the well, so to be safe we need to jump across its full width. Likewise, if we say that ego is partially dead, that means it is still alive, so to be safe we need to eradicate it entirely. Since ego itself is bondage, there can be no such thing as a partially liberated ego. It is liberated only when it is dead.

Sadhu Om: The grace of Bhagavan is always shining in our heart as our own being, ‘I am’, and its nature is to draw our mind inwards to merge it in him, as him. However, instead of submitting ourself to the sway of his grace by willingly turning within to attend to him in our heart, we generally submit ourself to the sway of our viṣaya-vāsanās [inclinations to attend to phenomena], allowing our attention to go outwards and thereby obstructing the work of his grace. Therefore, if we sincerely wish to avoid obstructing his grace in this way, we must surrender ourself wholeheartedly to him by trying to be steadfast in clinging fast to self-attentiveness.

To illustrate that his grace will do everything for us, provided that we surrender ourself to him with all-consuming love, Bhagavan would sometimes tell the story of Rukmini. She was the daughter of a powerful king, and having heard about the heroic deeds of Krishna, she had fallen in love with him and decided that she would not marry anyone else. When she told her parents of her love for Krishna and wish to marry him, they were happy at first, but her eldest brother was a friend of one of Krishna’s enemies, so he opposed her marriage to him and persuaded his parents to arrange her marriage with one of his friends. Rukmini was distraught, but was powerless to oppose her parents and brothers, so she sent a message to Krishna, opening her heart to him, telling him of her love for him, her desire to marry him and her plight. She also told him that on the morning of her wedding she would go to worship in a particular temple, and she begged him to come and rescue her at that time. Hearing the prayer of his devotee, on the pretext of attending her marriage Krishna at once came to save her, and when she went to worship in the temple, he eloped with her, taking her back to his kingdom, where he married her.

As Bhagavan pointed out, this story illustrates that God will do everything for us provided that our love for him is so wholehearted that we are ready to give up everything else for him. Rukmini was powerless to escape the marriage planned for her by her parents and brothers, but her love for Krishna was so great that to marry him she was willing to give up everything else that she held dear, including her parents and brothers, so he intervened and came to her rescue.

Likewise, we are powerless to escape the bonds of saṁsāra without the help of his grace, but so long as we are unwilling to cease rising as ego and consequently attending to anything other than ourself, we are thereby obstructing the work of his grace, just as Rukmini would have obstructed Krishna’s act of rescuing her if she had been unwilling to leave her parents and brothers. Therefore our love to know and to be what we actually are must be so strong that it leaves absolutely no room in our heart for any liking to know or to be anything else.

24th January 1979

Sadhu Om: Lakshmana Sarma was once asking Bhagavan about the way in which some people had misinterpreted his teachings, and Bhagavan remarked: ‘According to the purity of the antaḥkaraṇa [the ‘inner instrument’ or ‘inner organ’, the various functions of which are classified in four divisions, manas (mind), buddhi (intellect), cittam (will) and ahaṁkāram (ego)] the same teaching reflects in different ways. If you think you can write a better commentary, you may write your own’. Taking this prompting to be Bhagavan’s blessings, Lakshmana Sarma wrote his Tamil commentary on Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu and his English book Maha Yoga.

There are various stories in the Upaniṣads and Purāṇas that illustrate what Bhagavan said, namely that according to the purity of the antaḥkaraṇa the same teaching reflects in different ways. One such story is as follows: Indra and a rākṣasa [demon] both received the teaching ‘tat tvam asi’ [that you are] from a guru. The rākṣasa understood this to mean that his body is ‘that’ [brahman, the ultimate reality], so he began to do tapas to make his body immortal and to gain power and pleasures for himself. Indra, however, carefully considered the meaning of this teaching for one hundred years, and finally concluded that his body could not be brahman, so he returned to the guru and asked whether his prāṇa [life] could be brahman, to which the guru replied: ‘No, you are not the prāṇa; you are that’. After another hundred years of manana [deep and careful consideration] he decided that perhaps his mind is brahman, but when he asked the guru he was told: ‘No, you are not the mind; you are that’. After a further hundred years of manana he decided that perhaps his intellect is brahman, but the guru told him: ‘No, you are not the intellect; you are that’. After yet another hundred years of manana he decided that the ānandamaya kōśa [the will, which consists of vāsanās] must be brahman, but the guru said: ‘No, you are not the ānandamaya kōśa; you are that’. After carefully considering this, he understood that he is the awareness in which all these five sheaths appear and disappear, so he turned his attention back within to investigate awareness itself, and thereby he merged forever in that, as that.

Since the mind of the rākṣasa was very impure, he did not pause to think carefully about the teaching he was given, so he hastily concluded that his body is brahman. In other words, he stopped at the stage of śravaṇa [hearing the teaching] and did not go on to do manana, so he failed to understand the deep import of the teaching. Indra’s mind, on the other hand, was more pure, so he did not jump to any hasty conclusion, but carefully considered what the teaching actually meant, and as a result of his careful and patient manana his mind was further purified, so he eventually understood the correct meaning and practical implication of the teaching, and hence he did nididhyāsana [deep contemplation], turning his attention back within to investigate and know who am I.

From beginning to end, the teaching of the guru remained the same: ‘tat tvam asi’. However, because of his dedicated manana Indra’s mind was progressively purified by meditating on the words of his guru, so he steadily came closer to understanding the correct import and practical implication of the teaching.

Another story is one that Natananandar refers to at the beginning of his nūṉmukham [foreword] to Śrī Ramaṇa Vaṙi [the Tamil original of The Path of Sri Ramana]. The ēkākṣara [single syllable] mantra ‘da’ was given to dēvas [gods], asuras [demons] and men. The dēvas, who enjoyed indulging in sensual pleasures, took it to mean ‘control yourself’. The asuras, who were cruel, took it to mean ‘be kind’. And men, who were avaricious, took it to mean ‘give’. Each of them interpreted the same one syllable in a different way in accordance with the nature and maturity of their mind.

Likewise, people understand and interpret Bhagavan’s teachings in various different ways, each in accordance with the purity of their own antaḥkaraṇa. For example, in verse 8 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan says:

Whoever worships [it] in whatever form giving [it] whatever name, that is the way to see that poruḷ [the real substance, namely brahman] in name and form. However, [by] investigating the reality of oneself, [and by thereby] dissolving in the reality of that true substance, becoming one [with it] alone is seeing [it] in reality. Know.

The first word of the second sentence of this verse is ‘āyiṉum’, which means ‘however’, so Bhagavan is contrasting what he says in the first sentence with what he says in the second one. Obviously the means mentioned in each of these sentences is different. In the first one the means is worshipping name and form, whereas in the second it is investigating the reality of oneself. However, the contrast between these two sentences lies not only in the means but also in the result. In the first the result is ‘pēr-uruvil a-p-poruḷai kāṇ’, which means ‘seeing that poruḷ in name and form’, whereas in the second the result is ‘uṇmaiyil kāṇal’, ‘seeing [it] in reality’.

The suffix ‘-il’ in both ‘pēr-uruvil’ (in name and form) and ‘uṇmaiyil’ (in reality) is the locative case ending, so it means ‘in’, and hence the contrast is between ‘seeing in name and form’ and ‘seeing in reality’, with the obvious implication that seeing in name and form is not seeing in reality. However, ‘-il’ can also be taken to be a poetic abbreviation of either ‘illāda’ or ‘illāmal’.

The former, namely ‘illāda’, is a negative adjectival participle that means ‘which is without’, so ‘pēr-uru-v-illāda a-p-poruḷai’ means ‘that poruḷ, which is without name and form’ or ‘that nameless and formless poruḷ’. This meaning is not wrong, because the one real substance is nameless and formless, but it is not the meaning intended by Bhagavan, because ‘illāda’ is an adjectival participle, so it modifies ‘a-p-poruḷai’ [that poruḷ] and not ‘kāṇ’ [seeing], and hence if we interpret ‘pēr-uruvil’ to mean ‘nameless and formless’, it leaves open the question whether worshipping that nameless and formless poruḷ in name and form is the way to see it in name and form or in reality.

However, some devotees take the ‘-il’ in ‘pēr-uruvil’ to mean ‘illāmal’, which is an adverb that means ‘without’, so ‘pēr-uru-v-illāmal a-p-poruḷai kāṇ’ means ‘seeing that poruḷ without name and form’. This is not the correct meaning, because seeing it without name and form is seeing it as it really is, which is what Bhagavan means by ‘uṇmaiyil kāṇal’, ‘seeing [it] in reality’, in the second sentence. Therefore, if we take it in this sense, there would be no significant contrast between the first and second sentences, in which case the word ‘āyiṉum’, ‘however’, would become redundant. That is, if we take ‘pēr-uruvil’ to mean ‘without name and form’, taken together the two sentences would imply that there are two alternative ways to see the real substance in reality, that is, without name and form, namely worshipping it in name and form or investigating the reality of oneself. That this is not the meaning intended by Bhagavan is made clear not only by the word ‘āyiṉum’, ‘however’, but also by his teachings as a whole.

Though this is clearly not the correct meaning, it appeals to those whose minds are drawn to nāma-rūpa upāsanā [worship of name and form], so the fact that such devotees prefer to interpret it in this way illustrates what Bhagavan said about the same teaching reflecting in the minds of different devotees in different ways according to the purity of the antaḥkaraṇa of each of them.

Worshipping God in name and form cannot be the direct means to see him as he really is, namely without name and form, but it can be an indirect means to do so, because if we worship him in name and form without desire for anything else but only for the love of him, that will purify the mind and thereby give it the clarity to recognise that the only means to see him in reality is to become one with him by investigating the reality of oneself and thereby dissolving in him, as Bhagavan implies in verse 3 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

Niṣkāmya karma [action not motivated by desire] done [with love] for God purifies the mind and [thereby] it will show the path to liberation [that is, it will make one recognise what the correct path to liberation is].

27th January 1979

Sadhu Om: We should always be able to withdraw ourself from thoughts. If we are following any train of thoughts and see that it is not leading us anywhere that is conducive to our spiritual progress, we should immediately leave it by bringing our attention back to ourself.

There is a game that children used to play. From a broken mud pot they would make a disc, on top of which they would place a coloured piece of paper of the same size and shape. They would then throw the disc up in the air, so up to a certain height it would push the paper, until it began to fall back to earth, whereupon it would leave the paper floating in the air.

As ego, the first thought, we are like the disc, and all other thoughts are like the piece of paper being pushed upwards by the disc. So long as we rise as ego, we allow our attention to go outwards, away from ourself towards other things, so we are thereby pushing thoughts in front of us, like the upward-moving disc pushing the piece of paper. However, as soon as we turn our attention back to ourself, we begin to subside, sinking back within towards the source from which we rose, being drawn back there by the pull of grace, like the disc that has lost its upward momentum and therefore begins to fall back to earth, being drawn back there by the pull of gravity. Just as the falling disc leaves the paper drifting in the air without any support, the inward-sinking ego leaves all other thoughts behind, so without the support of our attention all other thoughts drift away into oblivion.

That is, what impels other thoughts to rise is only the attention we give them, so when we seem to be following any thoughts, we are actually driving them with our attention, like the rising disc pushing the paper upwards. Therefore, when we turn our attention back to face ourself alone, we thereby deprive all other thoughts of our attention, and since they seem to exist only in our awareness, when we thereby cease to be aware of them, they cease to exist, as Bhagavan implies in the sixth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?):

If other thoughts rise, without trying to complete them it is necessary to investigate to whom they have occurred. However many thoughts rise, [so] what? Vigilantly, as soon as each thought appears, if one investigates to whom it has occurred, it will be clear: to me. If one investigates who am I [by vigilantly attending to oneself, the ‘me’ to whom everything else appears], the mind will return to its birthplace [namely oneself, the source from which it arose]; [and since one thereby refrains from attending to it] the thought that had risen will also cease. When one practises and practises in this manner, for the mind the power to stand firmly established in its birthplace increases.

30th January 1979

Sadhu Om: Once in the presence of Bhagavan a devotee asked what the benefit of the mantra ‘namō ramaṇāya’ [which means ‘obeisance [prostration, salutation, adoration, subsidence or surrender] to Ramana’] is, and since Bhagavan did not answer, several devotees started to offer their own views. In the course of the ensuing discussion one devotee said, ‘namō ramaṇāya manō maraṇāya’, which means ‘namō ramaṇāya is for the death of the mind’. Hearing this, Bhagavan laughed and expressed his approval.

[When I heard this, I asked Sadhu Om who said this, in response to which he just smiled and said, ‘Some devotee, it doesn’t matter who. The idea would anyway have been given only by Bhagavan’, but later I was told by another devotee, who was present at the time, that it was Sadhu Om himself who said this.]

The efficacy of mantras lies largely in the fact that particular sounds have particular effects on the mind, so mantras have been revealed by sages who have observed the effect of each sound by meditating deeply upon them. For example, the mantra ‘aruṇācala śiva’ has the effect of making the mind turn back within and thereby subside into the source from which it rose, so this is the purpose for which Bhagavan gave us this mantra. In my experience the syllable ‘ṇā’ in both aruṇācala and ramaṇā is particularly powerful in its ability to draw our attention back to ourself, the first person, thereby withdrawing it from all objects, which are second and third persons. However, the power of these two names, aruṇācala and ramaṇa, lies not only in their respective sounds, but more importantly in what these names refer to, namely our own real nature (ātma-svarūpa), which is what has appeared in the forms of Arunachala and Bhagavan in order to turn our mind back within to see what we actually are.

The power of these names, therefore, will be recognised by us and will have their effect on us to the extent to which we love what they refer to. This is generally true of any name of God, not only because such names derive their power primarily from God himself, to whom they refer, rather than from their sounds, but also because the power of true heart-melting love is far greater than the power of any sound, since love is the very nature of God. Since he himself is love, love for him is the only means by which we can know him as he actually is, namely as our own real nature.

However, no particular sound or combination of sounds, and not even any other name of God, has power to make the mind turn back and subside within equal to the unique and natural power of the first person pronoun, ‘I’. As Bhagavan often said, ‘I’ or ‘I am’ is the first and foremost name of God, so no other mantra can equal it in power and efficacy. Unlike other mantras, the power of ‘I’ or ‘I am’ is not derived from its sound but only from what it refers to, namely awareness of one’s own being, because it is equally powerful and efficacious in whatever language it may be expressed, provided that one is sufficiently familiar with that language to recognise whatever sound or sounds in it mean ‘I’ or ‘I am’.

So long as we use ‘I’ or ‘I am’ to refer to anything other than our own being, it will not turn our mind back within, but if we carefully consider what these words actually refer to, it will be clear that ultimately they refer only to our awareness of our own being, so by meditating on their true import we are automatically turning our attention back towards our own being. Therefore, more than any other mantra, the mantra ‘I’ or ‘I am’ has the power to help us fix our mind on what God actually is, because his own being and our own being are one and the same poruḷ [substance or reality], as Bhagavan explains in verse 24 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

By [their] being nature, God and soul are just one poruḷ. Only awareness of [their] adjuncts is [what makes them seem] different.

This is why he often said [as recorded, for example, in Day by Day with Bhagavan, 28-6-46] that ‘I’ is the greatest and most powerful of all mantras, greater even than ōm. As he sometimes expressed it, ‘I’ is the elder brother and ōm is the younger brother. Whereas ōm derives its power from its unique sound, ‘I’ derives its power from the fact that it is the natural name of ourself.

In verse 13 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai he sings:

Arunachala, poruḷ [substance, reality, import or referent] of ōṁkāra [the sacred syllable ōm], you for whom there is not [anything or anyone] equal or superior, who [other than yourself] can know you [as you actually are]?

He does not say that Arunachala is ōṁkāra but that it is ōṁkāra-p-poruḷ, the import of ōṁkāra, meaning that it is the reality to which the syllable ōm refers, namely brahman. Since brahman is ātma-svarūpa, the real nature of ourself, it is what is always shining in our heart as ‘I’, so ōṁkāra-p-poruḷ is what he refers to as ‘nāṉ eṉum sol-poruḷ’, the import of the word ‘I’, in verse 21 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

That [the one infinite whole that appears as ‘I am I’ when ego investigates its source and thereby dies, merging in it] is at all times nāṉ eṉum sol-poruḷ [the real substance or true import of the word called ‘I’], because of the exclusion of our non-existence [that is, because we do not become non-existent] even in sleep, which is devoid of ‘I’ [namely ego].

Therefore he implies that what we should meditate on is not merely the sound ‘ōm’ but what it refers to, namely our own being, which is the real import of the word ‘I’. However, in order to turn our attention back to fix it on our own being, a much more powerful and effective aid than ōm is the word ‘I’ or the phrase ‘I am’, because ‘I’ and ‘I am’ are the natural names by which we refer to ourself, so they draw our attention back to ourself more effectively than ōm or any other mantra or name of God.

1st February 1979

Sadhu Om: I do not say that self-attention is easy for the mind, but that it is easy for us, because our real nature is just to be aware of ourself and nothing else, which is what we are trying to be by being self-attentive. The nature of the mind is to be constantly wandering from one second or third person to another, so attending to ourself, the first person, is diametrically opposed to the mind’s nature. For ourself as we actually are, however, nothing is easier or more natural than just being self-attentive.

So long as we mistake ourself to be a person, we seem to be this mind, so as such we will always have to struggle to hold on to self-attentiveness. Since Bhagavan or God is pure awareness, which never mistakes itself to be the mind or anything else, he is said to have conquered the mind, which means that he is never affected by the mind in any way whatsoever, because in his clear view there is no such thing as mind at all. This is why he is rightly regarded as the greatest of the great.

Even ordinary greatness is achieved only by curbing the mind. For example, if we never tell a lie, we can be said to have achieved the greatness of impeccable honesty, but we have achieved such greatness only by curbing the mind’s inclination to tell lies whenever it is more convenient than telling the truth. The greatness of never rising as ego, which is the goal that Bhagavan has advised us to achieve, is infinitely greater than the greatness of impeccable honesty, so if we aspire to achieve such greatness, we need to curb every outward-going inclination of the mind, and hence we should not be discouraged or disheartened by any amount of seeming difficulty that we may encounter on the way. If we take one step towards Bhagavan, he will take nine steps towards us, so we should try our best to be self-attentive, knowing that if we do so, his grace will take care of everything else.

Though it is not necessary for us to ask ourself any questions when we are trying to be self-attentive, if our mind is greatly agitated by other thoughts, it may be helpful for us to ask ourself questions such as ‘To whom do all these thoughts appear?’ or ‘Who is aware of all this mental agitation?’, because such questions can help us to turn our attention back to our fundamental awareness of our own existence, which is always distinct from the mind and all its thoughts. That is, what is agitated or disturbed is only the mind and not our being, so in order to separate ourself from the mind all we need do is to hold on to our being.

The surface of the ocean may be disturbed and agitated by waves and storms, so if we are floating on the surface we will be tossed about by the waves and buffeted by the storms, but if we dive deep into the ocean, neither the waves nor the storms will affect us. Likewise, if we float on the surface of the mind, we will be tossed about by the waves and storms of mental activity that arise to the extent to which we allow ourself to be swayed by viṣaya-vāsanās [inclinations to attend to objects or phenomena], but if we hold on to self-attention, we will thereby sink deep within ourself, separating ourself from all such waves and storms.

For a beginner on the spiritual path, it may seem easy to meditate for eight hours a day, because he is like a blind man, who does not know what he is doing or where he is going. Such a person may think that what they are doing in the name of meditation is self-attention, whereas they are actually just floating on the surface. However, to the extent that we go deep in the practice of self-investigation, our understanding of the practice will grow deeper and clearer, and thus we will recognise that we cannot actually hold fast to self-attention even for five minutes, because our eyes will have been opened, so we will know what we are doing or where we are going.

It is not necessary, however, to meditate for eight hours or even for five minutes, because if we attend to ourself keenly enough for just one moment, we will thereby be swallowed by the infinite clarity of pure awareness. That is, if we turn our attention 180 degrees back towards ourself, it will thereby be completely withdrawn from everything else, so what will then remain is our natural state of pure awareness, in which we cannot survive even for a moment as ego. Until that moment, we must repeatedly try our best to turn our attention the full 180 degrees back towards ourself, which means to be so keenly self-attentive that we cease to be aware of anything else whatsoever.

Though it is certainly beneficial for us to try to hold on to at least a limited degree of self-attentiveness whatever else our mind, speech or body may be doing, we should also try repeatedly to go deeper within by attempting to be as keenly self-attentive as possible, even if only for one or two moments at a time. These two degrees of intensity should be practised side by side, because each will help the other, but ultimately it will only be during one of our repeated attempts to be as keenly self-attentive as possible that we will thereby lose ourself forever in the infinite clarity of pure awareness, which is the light of Bhagavan’s grace.

2nd February 1979

Sadhu Om [while talking with me and another young friend]: At least you have some friends to talk with and to encourage you to persevere in following this path of self-investigation and self-surrender, but when I first came to Bhagavan there were no such friends. My only friends at first were Janaki Matha and her group, but though they were all devoted to Bhagavan, they were not interested in following his path. Janaki Matha encouraged her followers to do pūjā, japa and so on, but not self-investigation or self-surrender.

She and her followers were not exceptions in this respect. Then as now, the majority of Bhagavan’s devotees are devoted to him, but not to his teachings. For them he is God, and they love and worship him as such, while paying little more than lip service to the fact that he is first and foremost not just God but guru. That is, the reason he appeared in human form was to teach us to turn back within, where he is always shining as our own real nature, and thereby to surrender ourself wholly to him, losing ourself forever in him. Therefore, though he is certainly God, his primary role is the deeper and more important role of guru. If we take him to be God, as such he will certainly bless us, but if we want to derive the greatest benefit from him, we should take him to be not only God but more importantly guru, which means that we should be devoted not only to his outward name and form but also to his teachings, and should accordingly try our best to turn back within and thereby surrender ourself completely to him, allowing him to swallow us entirely.

Though Bhagavan was bodily present in those days, we could not ask him about the inner challenges and struggles we faced in following his path. If anyone were to ask him about such things, he would generally keep quiet. Though his silent response may make it appear to others that he was indifferent to the difficulties and anguish experienced by such earnest aspirants, he actually knows all our difficulties long before we do, and he is always working deep within our heart to rectify the causes of all the obstacles that prevent us turning within and surrendering ourself entirely to him.

Among those who came to him sincerely seeking mōkṣa [liberation], the most ripe souls came, learnt all that needs to be learnt by reading his writings and quietly observing his answers to questions, considering carefully and deeply the meaning and implications of his words, and putting them into practise by turning and thereby subsiding back within, and then left after achieving what they had come for, without anyone else knowing the great transformation that Bhagavan had accomplished in their heart. Others, who were not so perfectly ripe, understood what they needed to do, but nevertheless struggled to sink deep enough within, so they inwardly prayed to him to give them the wholehearted and all-consuming love required to surrender themself completely to him by sinking back within and merging forever in the source from which they had risen. By their earnest longing and prayers, their minds were purified and thus they became fit to offer themselves to him without the least reservation, thereby allowing him to devour them entirely.

A few of us, like Muruganar and myself, were blessed by Bhagavan with the gift of poetry, so instead of just praying inwardly, we would write our prayers as songs and verses, which we would give to Bhagavan and sometimes sing in his presence. He generally never commented on the prayers we made in such verses, or expressed either approval or disapproval of them, but he would make small but significant changes to what we had written in order to make them even more meaningful, forceful and heart-melting, and thereby he indirectly showed his approval for what we were praying for. If you read some of the verses he had amended in this way, your heart would melt and you would weep with love for him.

Earnest and mature aspirants seldom if ever used to ask him any questions. Even I, who was the youngest, most insignificant and least educated of his devotees, never asked him any questions, so what to say of those who were truly mature and fit to surrender themselves to him by sinking back within? Most of the questions were asked by casual visitors, learned pandits and less mature devotees, some of whom had lived many years in his presence but who had nevertheless still not imbibed the true import of his teachings, and whose minds were therefore constantly assailed by doubts and confusion. It is questions asked by such people that fill books such as Talks and Day by Day, and Bhagavan’s answers were given accordingly to suit the needs and level of understanding of each particular person who asked those questions.

Sadhu Om [when some visitors were discussing different reasons people give for doing giri-pradakṣiṇa (circumambulating Arunachala), such as gaining puṇya or even feeling some vibration, and then asked him why he did so, and what dos and don’ts should be observed while doing so]: I never did giri-pradakṣiṇa for gaining any benefit or for any other reason except love of Arunachala. Since I knew that it was only by his grace that I was able to do pradakṣiṇa, I never felt any need to observe any dos or don’ts such as not talking or not urinating. The only thing I do not like to omit while doing pradakṣiṇa is singing Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai, but nowadays even that is sometimes not possible.

Regarding puṇya [righteous action and merit accruing therefrom], I was never interested in any such thing. Whenever Devaraja Mudaliar saw me doing pradakṣiṇa he would say, ‘Even to see someone who is going round Arunachala is a great puṇya, so you are sharing your puṇya with me’, but I would just keep quiet without saying anything in reply. One day he asked me why I never replied when he said this, so I explained that I never considered that I was gaining puṇya by going round the hill, and hence even if it were true that he was taking any puṇya from me, it was no loss for me. What is the loss if someone takes from us what we do not want and do not even know we have?

9th February 1979

Sadhu Om: In one of my verses I sing to Bhagavan: ‘What a foolish fellow I am! All this time I have been trying to convince myself that the world is unreal and to regard it as such, while overlooking the primary mistake of mistaking myself, the one to whom this world appears, to be real’.

18th February 1979

Sadhu Om: Like most of the other verses of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Anubandham, verses 4 and 5 are Tamil translations that Bhagavan wrote of Sanskrit verses. In verse 4 he says:

Heat will be removed by the cool moon, poverty by the good kalpaka [the heavenly wish-fulfilling tree], and pāpa [sin or demerit] by the gaṅgā [the holy river Ganges]. All these three, beginning with heat, will depart [slip off or cease] just by the great darśana [sight] of peerless sādhus [benevolent people, which in this context implies jñānis, those who know and abide as their own real nature].

In this context ‘heat’ means not just physical heat but the heat of mental activity in the form of burning desires, fears, hopes, worries, anxieties and such like. Likewise, ‘poverty’ means not just lack of material possessions but the still greater poverty called ‘desire’ or ‘craving’, which cannot be satisfied by any amount of material wealth or whatever else one may desire. All kinds of heat, all kinds of poverty and all pāpa [sinful actions and demerit accruing therefrom] are removed just by one’s seeing the jñāni, who is peerless in every respect.

The gaṅgā is in this material world, the wish-fulfilling tree is in heaven, the world of the gods, and the moon is in the intermediate world called pitṛlōka [the world of departed ancestors who are yet to move on to any other world], so when Bhagavan describes sādhus or jñānis here as ‘iṇai-y-illā’, peerless, incomparable or unequalled, he implies that in all these three worlds, and indeed in all other worlds, there is no one and nothing that is equal or even comparable to the jñāni.

Likewise in verse 5 he implies that there is nothing that is equal, similar or comparable to the jñāni:

Tīrthas [sacred bathing places], which are composed of water, and deities [images of God], which are [composed of] stone or earth, are not at all like [equal or comparable to] those mahātmas [great souls or jñānis]. Ah! See, those [tīrthas and deities] give rise to purity by countless days [that is, gradually over a long period of time], [whereas] sādhus [jñānis] [do so] as soon as they see by eye.

Tīrthas and divine images bestow purity in accordance with the faith and love of each devotee, so whether they purify one’s mind and the speed at which they do so is dependent on the existence and extent of one’s faith and love. If someone has no faith or devotion at all, tīrthas and divine images will not purify their mind, and since the faith and devotion of most people are not very deep and intense, the rate at which tīrthas and divine images will purify them is extremely slow and gradual. However, just as fire burns anyone who touches it, whether or not they believe it will do so or want it to do so, the gracious look of the jñāni will purify anyone, whether or not they have any faith and devotion, so the purifying effect of being seen by the jñāni is immediate, and to the extent that the mind is thereby purified, faith and devotion will sprout, grow and blossom in it.

However, though fire burns whatever comes in contact with it, some things are consumed by it more quickly than others. For example, the stem of a banana plant will take a long time to be consumed by fire, because it is full of moisture, whereas dry wood will be consumed more quickly, and gun powder instantaneously. Likewise, though the mind of anyone who is seen by the jñāni will thereby immediately begin to be purified, a mind that is full of impurities is like the moist stem of a banana plant, so it will take longer to be completely purified and consumed, whereas a mind that is less full of impurities will be completely purified and consumed more quickly, and the mind of a very mature soul will be completely purified and consumed instantaneously.

When we see the jñāni, our pāpa [sin or demerit], which is the fruit or effects of our past sinful actions, will thereby be removed, whereas when the jñāni sees us, our heart and mind will be purified. The impurities in our mind, which will be removed by the gracious look of the jñāni, are our viṣaya-vāsanās [inclinations to seek happiness in things other than ourself], which are what impelled us to do sinful actions. Therefore what Bhagavan implies in these two verses is that by our seeing the jñāni the effects of our sinful actions will be removed, whereas by the jñāni seeing us the cause of them will be removed. In other words, the jñāni seeing us has a far deeper and greater effect on us than our seeing him.

The reason for this is that when we see the jñāni, we see him as a person like us, so we are not seeing him as he actually is, whereas when he sees us, he does not see us as a person but as we actually are, namely as himself alone. Therefore he purifies us by seeing us as the eternally pure being that we always actually are, so the look of the jñāni is grace.

This therefore confirms the truth in the wise words once spoken by Mudaliar Patti. Towards the end of her life she became almost completely blind, but she nevertheless came to Bhagavan every day and spent some time just standing in front of him. One day Devaraja Mudaliar asked her affectionately, ‘Pāṭṭi [Grandmother], why do you stand here every day facing Bhagavan when you cannot see him?’, to which she replied rebukingly: ‘Silly boy, who can see Bhagavan? I don’t come here to see him but to be seen by him’.

Sadhu Om: In any sādhana [spiritual practice] the aim is to keep the mind fixed on some lakṣya [target], but the love to do so is generally insufficient, so sooner or later the mind will be diverted away from its lakṣya towards something else. This diversion of the mind from its lakṣya happens because of pramāda [negligence or inattentiveness], so being vigilant to guard against pramāda is necessary in any sādhana. In order to avoid falling prey to pramāda we must be able to detect the exact moment when it occurs, because if we fail to notice that moment our attention will be diverted from its lakṣya before we notice this has happened.

Pramāda always occurs in one of two ways. Our attention is diverted away from its lakṣya either by our viṣaya-vāsanās [inclinations to attend to anything other than ourself] or by sleep, so both of these forms of pramāda must be avoided in order for us to cling firmly to our dhyāna-lakṣya [the target on which we are meditating]. Of course this does not mean that we should try to avoid sleep altogether. So long as the body and mind are active, sleep is necessary, so if we are sleepy, we should sleep. After sleeping we will awake refreshed, so with a fresh and clear mind we should then return to our meditation, and while meditating we should cling to our dhyāna-lakṣya so firmly that we do not fall a prey to pramāda either in the form of attending to other things under the sway of our viṣaya-vāsanās or in the form of sleep.

The original pramāda and root of all other forms of pramāda is self-negligence, which is the very nature of ego, because as ego we are always attending to things other than ourself. Therefore the only means by which we can vanquish all forms of pramāda is to be so keenly self-attentive that we thereby give no room either for our attention to be diverted away towards anything else or for it to dissolve in any form of manōlaya [temporary dissolution of mind] such as sleep or kēvala nirvikalpa samādhi [a form of manōlaya that is brought about by certain practices of yōga that aim to curb all mental activity (citta-vṛtti) by means other than self-attentiveness], because self-attentiveness is the only antidote for self-negligence, the fundamental pramāda, from which all other forms of pramāda originate.

Though it is necessary to avoid pramāda when practising any form of meditation, the only form of meditation that can enable us to avoid all forms of pramāda is self-attentiveness, because the pramāda that is to be avoided in all other forms of meditation is all secondary forms of pramāda but not the primary pramāda, namely self-negligence. That is, since the dhyāna-lakṣya in any other form of meditation is something other than oneself, such as a name or form of God, by clinging firmly to that dhyāna-lakṣya one is directing one’s attention away from oneself, so though one can thereby avoid being distracted by any other thought, one cannot avoid being self-negligent. Indeed, by meditating on anything other than oneself, one is just perpetuating self-negligence instead of avoiding it.

Any form of meditation other than self-attentiveness is therefore just a partial and impermanent solution to the problem of pramāda, because so long as self-negligence persists, we remain liable to falling prey at any moment to other forms of pramāda. Clinging firmly to self-attentiveness, having oneself alone as one’s dhyāna-lakṣya, is the only complete and permanent solution to the problem of pramāda, because self-negligence can be overcome only to the extent to which we are self-attentive. If we are so keenly self-attentive that we thereby give not even the slightest room for self-negligence, we will thereby become aware of ourself as we actually are and ego will thus be eradicated forever, as Bhagavan implies in verses 16 and 17 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

Leaving external viṣayas [objects or phenomena], the mind knowing its own form of light is alone real awareness [or awareness of what is real].

When one investigates the form of the mind without forgetting [neglecting or giving up], [it will be clear that] there is not anything called ‘mind’. This is the direct [straight or appropriate] path for everyone whomsoever.

The mind’s ‘oḷi-y-uru’ or ‘form of light’ is its fundamental awareness, ‘I am’, which is the light that illumines it, enabling it to be aware both of itself and of other things. This light is ever shining clearly within us as our own being, ‘I am’, because even when we rise as ego or mind we never cease to be aware ‘I am’. However, though we are always clearly aware ‘I am’, when we rise as ego we are aware of ourself not just as ‘I am’ but as ‘I am this body’, and this false awareness of ourself is what obscures our real nature as just ‘I am’. We are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’ because of pramāda, since it is only under the influence of pramāda or self-negligence that we become aware of the body or anything else other than ourself. Pramāda is therefore the very nature of ego, so eradication of pramāda is eradication of ego, and vice versa.

To whom is pramāda? It is only to ego, because only when we rise as ego do we become aware of anything other than ourself. Therefore there could be no pramāda without ego, and equally well there could be no ego without pramāda. If we never allowed our attention to be diverted away from ourself under the influence of pramāda, we would not be aware of anything other than ourself, so there would be no room for us to rise as ego, because without grasping firstly a body and then other things we could not rise, stand or flourish as ego, as Bhagavan makes clear in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, in which he describes ego as ‘uru-v-aṯṟa pēy ahandai’, ‘the formless demon ego’, and says: ‘Grasping form it comes into existence; grasping form it stands; grasping and feeding on form it grows abundantly’. Therefore to put an end to our rising as ego we need to put an end to our pramāda, and vice versa.

To put an end to pramāda, and consequently to put an end to our rising as ego, we need to be so keenly self-attentive that we thereby never allow our attention to be diverted away from ourself towards anything else. Being so keenly self-attentive is what Bhagavan implies by saying ‘maṉam taṉ oḷi-y-uru ōrdal’, ‘the mind knowing [or investigating] its own form of light’, and thereby never allowing our attention to be diverted away from ourself towards anything else is what he implies by saying ‘veḷi viḍayaṅgaḷai viṭṭu’, ‘leaving [giving up or letting go of] external viṣayas [objects or phenomena]’. In this way, knowing nothing other than our own ‘form of light’, our real nature as pure awareness, ‘I am’, alone is ‘uṇmai-y-uṇarcci’, ‘real awareness’ or ‘awareness of what is real’.

In verse 17 what he describes as ‘maṉattiṉ uru’, ‘the form of the mind’, is its essential ‘form of light’, its fundamental awareness, ‘I am’, and ‘maṟavādu’ means ‘not forgetting’, ‘not neglecting’ or ‘not giving up’, so it implies ‘without pramāda’ or ‘without succumbing to pramāda’. Therefore ‘maṉattiṉ uruvai maṟavādu usāva’, ‘when one investigates the form of the mind without forgetting [neglecting or giving up]’, implies that we need to investigate our ‘form of light’ so keenly and vigilantly that we thereby give no room for even the slightest pramāda to enable our attention to slip away from ourself towards anything else.

To the extent that we are keenly self-attentive, we as ego will thereby subside and dissolve back into our ‘form of light’, which is both our real substance and the source from which we have risen. Our subsidence and dissolution will therefore be complete and permanent only when we are so keenly self-attentive that we thereby cease to be aware even to the slightest extent of anything other than ourself, because we will then be aware of ourself as the pure awareness that we always actually are, and hence ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, will be destroyed forever.

When we see the underlying rope as it actually is, the illusion that it is a snake will thereby be eradicated. Likewise, when we are aware of ourself as we actually are, namely as the pure, adjunct-free awareness ‘I am’, the illusory adjunct-conflated awareness ‘I am this body’ will thereby be eradicated. However, even to say that the snake will be eradicated is not quite correct, because there never was any snake there in the first place. That is, when we see the rope as a rope, not only will the snake cease to exist, but it will be clear that it had never actually existed at all. Likewise, even to say that ego will be eradicated is not quite correct, because there never was any such thing as ego in the first place. That is, when we are aware of ourself as ourself alone, ‘I am I’, not only will ego cease to exist, but it will be clear that it had never actually existed at all.

This is what Bhagavan implies when he says: ‘maṉam eṉa oṉḏṟu ilai’, ‘there is not anything called mind’. That is, ego or mind seems to exist only when we are attending to the seeming existence of other things, but if we turn our attention back within to face ourself alone, we will not find any such thing as ego or mind at all, because what we always actually are is nothing other than ourself alone, ‘I am I’, so at no time did we ever actually rise as ego or mind at all.

Therefore he concludes verse 17 saying: ‘mārggam nēr ārkkum idu’, ‘This is the direct [straight or appropriate] path for everyone whomsoever’. By attending to anything other than ourself we are sustaining and nourishing the seeming existence of ego and its pramāda, so we cannot put an end to their seeming existence by any means other than being vigilantly self-attentive. Other means can help to purify the mind and thereby lead us to this path of self-investigation, so as such they may be indirect means to eradicate ego, but self-investigation alone is the direct means, because it alone can reveal the truth that there is actually no such thing as ego at all.

Until we investigate ourself keenly enough to see what we actually are, we will continue seemingly to be ego, and hence our pramāda and everything else will also seem to exist. Whatever other sādhanas [means] we may practise may be of some limited benefit, but no sādhana other than ātma-vicāra [self-investigation] can enable us to see directly what we actually are and thereby eradicate ego and all its progeny.

24th February 1979

Sadhu Om: Whether one follows the path of bhakti or the path of jñāna, love is the essential ingredient without which neither can be followed. There is a widespread misconception that bhakti and jñāna are two separate paths, whereas in fact the path of jñāna is the culmination of the path of bhakti.

That is, when a devotee starts on the path of bhakti, they generally take God to be other than themself, but as their bhakti matures, they come to understand that God is the sole reality, the only thing that actually exists, so he is the one infinite whole, other than which nothing exists. He is therefore our own being, our very existence, so we cannot be anything other than him. When this clear understanding arises in our heart by his grace, we begin to seek him within ourself, so this is the point at which the path of bhakti matures into the path of jñāna.

This is what Bhagavan teaches us in verses 3 to 8 of Upadēśa Undiyār. So long as we believe that God is other than ourself, if we love him for his own sake and not just for the sake of whatever benefits we believe we can gain from him, we will try to express our love for him by doing actions for his sake, and such actions that we do without desire for any benefit but just for the love of him will purify our mind and thereby give us the clarity to recognise the correct path to liberation, as Bhagavan says in verse 3:

Niṣkāmya karma [action not motivated by desire] done [with love] for God purifies the mind and [thereby] it will show the path to liberation.

What purifies our mind is not the actions themselves but the love with which we do them, because we could do the same actions for the fulfilment of our desires, but they would not then purify our mind. This is why Bhagavan emphasises that the actions we do should be niṣkāmya (not done for the fulfilment of any desires) and ‘karuttaṉukku ākkum’ (done for God), implying that they should be done only for the love of him.

The impurities in our mind are our viṣaya-vāsanās (inclinations to seek happiness in the objects of the world), which are the seeds that sprout as worldly desires and attachments, and which are therefore the seeds that drive us to do kāmya karmas (actions done for the fulfilment of desires) and thereby become immersed in the great ocean of action, as he said in the previous verse, so purification of mind is the gradual weakening of all such vāsanās and the desires they give rise to. Since these impurities are what cloud our mind with worldly desires, when our mind is cleansed of these impurities, we gain the inner clarity to recognise that the path to liberation does not lie in going outwards to engage in actions but only in going inwards to subside in the action-free state of just being, as Bhagavan implies in this verse by saying that niṣkāmya karma done for God ‘will show [or make us see] the path to liberation’. That is, though niṣkāmya karma done for the love of God is not itself the path to liberation, by purifying our mind it will lead us towards that path.

In verses 4 to 7 Bhagavan then discusses the various niṣkāmya karmas that we can do with love for God, namely pūjā (worship), japa (repetition of a name of God) and dhyāna (meditation), which are actions of body, speech and mind respectively, and says that in this order each of these is superior to the previous one, implying that it is more efficacious in purifying the mind. Finally in verse 8 he says:

Rather than anya-bhāva [meditation on God as other than oneself], ananya-bhāva [meditation on him as none other than oneself], in which he is [understood to be] I, certainly is the best among all [practices of bhakti].

That is, when our mind is purified sufficiently by the practice of niṣkāmya pūjā, japa and dhyāna, we will thereby gain the clarity of mind and heart to recognise that we cannot actually be anything other than God, so he is what is always shining in our heart as ‘I’. When we clearly understand this, we will cease meditating on him as if he were something other than ourself, and will instead meditate on nothing other than ourself, with the firm conviction that he alone is ‘I’. In other words, we will meditate only on ‘I’, so what Bhagavan describes here as ‘ananya-bhāva’ (meditation on what is not other) is ātma-vicāra (self-investigation), which is the path of jñāna.

Therefore when he says that this is ‘the best among all’, he implies that ātma-vicāra is the best among all the practices of bhakti. It is best not only because it is the most efficacious means to purify the mind, but more importantly because it is the only means to eradicate ego, the root of all impurities. Other practices can purify the mind only to a limited extent, because so long as ego survives, it will inevitably have impurities, namely viṣaya-vāsanās, to a greater or lesser extent, since it is its very nature to have viṣaya-vāsanās. In order to remove all impurities, therefore, it is necessary to eradicate ego, and since we rise, endure and flourish as ego to the extent to which we attend to anything other than ourself, we will subside and merge back into the source from which we rose only to the extent to which we attend to nothing other than ourself, so meditating on ourself alone is the only means by which we can eradicate ego.

Since we will subside to the extent to which we attend to ourself, this practice of self-attentiveness is the correct practice of self-surrender, as Bhagavan implies in the first sentence of the thirteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:

Being ātma-niṣṭhāparaṉ [one who is firmly fixed as oneself], giving not even the slightest room to the rising of any cintana [thought] except ātma-cintana [thought of oneself, namely self-attentiveness], alone is giving oneself to God.

Since giving ourself entirely to God is the ultimate aim and goal of the path of bhakti, and since we can give ourself entirely to him only by being so keenly self-attentive that we subside deep within and thereby lose ourself completely in him, ananya-bhāva, meditation on nothing other than oneself, is the best of all the practices of bhakti.

By patient and persistent practice of ātma-vicāra, that is, by trying to hold on to self-attentiveness as firmly as possible and by turning our mind back within whenever it is diverted outwards under the sway of its viṣaya-vāsanās, ‘for the mind the power to stand firmly established in its birthplace increases’, as Bhagavan says in the sixth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?. This ‘power to stand firmly established in its birthplace’ is what he refers to in verse 9 of Upadēśa Undiyār as ‘bhāva balam’, ‘the strength of meditation’, which in this context means the strength, intensity, firmness or stability of ananya-bhāva or self-attentiveness:

By the strength of [such] meditation, being in sat-bhāva [the state of being], which transcends [all] bhāvanā [thinking, imagination or meditation in the sense of mental activity], alone is para-bhakti tattva [the nature, reality or true state of supreme devotion].

That is, when by patient and persistent practice of self-attentiveness (ananya-bhāva) the mind increasingly gains the ‘power to stand firmly established in its birthplace’ (taṉ piṟappiḍattil taṅgi niṟkum śakti), by that power it will subside and remain firmly established in the state of being (sat-bhāva), which transcends all mental activity. Since the state of being (sat-bhāva) is itself God, being in it without rising to know anything else is surrendering ourself completely to God, which is para-bhakti tattva, the nature, reality or true state of supreme devotion.

Therefore the early stages of the path of bhakti are the path of niṣkāmya karma, in which one does devotional actions just for the love of God and not for the fulfilment of any desires, whereas the later stages of it are the path of jñāna, in which we withdraw back within to lovingly meditate upon him in our heart as our own being, ‘I am’, thereby ceasing to rise as ego to do any actions whatsoever. Since God is our own being, our very existence, the most perfect expression of love for him is not to rise and go outwards to do any actions but only to sink back within to just be in our natural state of being (sat-bhāva), thereby dissolving and merging forever in him, as him.

Attending to anything other than ourself is an action, because our attention is moving away from ourself towards that other thing, whereas attending to ourself is not an action but a cessation of all action, because to the extent to which we attend to ourself, we as ego will thereby subside and dissolve back into our own being, which is the source or ‘birthplace’ from which we had risen. Therefore, so long as we take God to be anything other than ourself, our meditation on him is a mental activity, whereas when we recognise that he is actually not anything other than ourself, our meditation on him is not a mental activity but a state of just being (summā iruppadu).

So long as we are engaged in doing action of any kind whatsoever, we have risen as ego, because what experiences itself as ‘I am doing’ is only ego, so as Bhagavan said in verse 2 of Upadēśa Undiyār, action does not give liberation. Therefore, when he said in verse 3 that niṣkāmya karma done for God will purify the mind and thereby show the path to liberation, what he meant by the ‘path to liberation’ is not any action or doing but only just being as we always actually are, namely as the eternally action-free pure existence-awareness (sat-cit), ‘I am’.

In order to be as we actually are, we need to cease rising as ego, and in order to cease rising as ego we need to cling firmly to our own being, ‘I am’, so ananya-bhāva or ātma-vicāra alone is the path to liberation, but in order for us to see this clearly, our mind first needs to be sufficiently purified by the grace of God, which rises in our heart in the form of our love for him.

More than any of the other practices of bhakti, the practice of ātma-vicāra requires deep, whole-hearted and all-consuming love, because any other practice, such as meditating on a name or form of God, is done by us as ego facing outwards, away from ourself, so our existence as ego is not thereby threatened, whereas ātma-vicāra is done by us as ego facing back inwards, towards ourself alone, and to the extent to which we thereby face ourself, we will subside and dissolve back into our own being, which is the svarūpa or real form of God. Therefore we cannot attend to ourself without thereby surrendering ourself to God, so we will be able to go deep in this practice of ātma-vicāra only to the extent to which we have all-consuming and heart-melting love to surrender ourself completely to him.

Therefore those who think that the path of jñāna is superior and the path of bhakti inferior, and who therefore consider bhakti to be unnecessary and irrelevant to the path of jñāna, have not actually understood either of these paths. Though the path of bhakti does begin with doing niṣkāmya karma for the love of God, and though at that stage the devotee may consider God to be other (anya), by purifying the mind of the devotee, such practices will eventually give the devotee not only the clarity to understand that God is actually non-other (ananya), but still more importantly the wholehearted love that is required for us to be willing to surrender ourself completely to him by investigating what we actually are. The path of jñāna is therefore not a separate path but the culmination of the path of bhakti, and without sufficiently deep bhakti we cannot practise the path of jñāna.

Sadhu Om: There are two principal types of cause, namely the material or substantial cause, which is called upādāna-kāraṇa in Sanskrit and mudal-kāraṇam (primary cause) in Tamil, and the active or efficient cause, which is called nimitta-kāraṇa in both Sanskrit and Tamil. In some cases there is also a third type of cause, namely the instrumental cause, which in Tamil is called tuṇai-k-kāraṇam, the accompanying, supporting or auxiliary cause. To illustrate the meaning of these terms, the material cause (upādāna-kāraṇa) of a table is wood, its efficient cause (nimitta-kāraṇa) is a carpenter, whose tools are the supporting or instrumental cause (tuṇai-k-kāraṇam).

Many interpretations of vēdānta say that brahman is the efficient cause (nimitta-kāraṇa) of the world, but Bhagavan has made it clear that though brahman is the substantial cause (upādāna-kāraṇa) of the world, because it is the only thing that actually exists and therefore the only real substance, it is not the efficient cause (nimitta-kāraṇa) of the world, as he says in verse 85 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai:

Even though oneself alone is what is made as the world with diverse kinds of names and forms, oneself is not one who as a nimitta [an efficient cause] does [any actions such as] creating, sustaining and destroying that [the world].

In this verse tāṉ [oneself] means ātma-svarūpa [the real nature of ourself], which is brahman, and ulahā samaivadu [what is made (or formed) as the world] implies ‘what is seen (or perceived) as the world’, because though ātma-svarūpa alone is what we see as the world, it is never affected in any way by being seen as such, just as a rope is not affected in any way by being seen as a snake. What sees the world is only ego, so it seems to exist only in the view of ego, and hence ego alone is the efficient cause (nimitta-kāraṇa) of its seeming existence, as Bhagavan implies in verse 26 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

If ego comes into existence, everything comes into existence; if ego does not exist, everything does not exist. Ego itself is everything. Therefore, know that investigating what this is alone is giving up everything.

This entire world is just a dream, and the dreamer of this dream is ego, so what ego sees as all this multiplicity is just itself, as Bhagavan implies by saying ‘Ego itself is everything’. Therefore ego is not only the efficient cause (nimitta-kāraṇa) but also the substantial cause (upādāna-kāraṇa) of everything else. However, if ego investigates itself keenly enough, it will see that it is actually nothing other than ātma-svarūpa, so though ego is the immediate substantial cause of everything, the substantial cause of ego is ātma-svarūpa, so ātma-svarūpa alone is the ultimate substantial cause of everything.

What then is the efficient cause (nimitta-kāraṇa) of ego? As Bhagavan explained, there is no efficient cause of ego, because if we investigate ego keenly enough, we will find that there is no such thing at all, as he implies in verse 17 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

When one investigates the form of the mind without forgetting, there is not anything called ‘mind’. This is the direct path for everyone whomsoever.

Ego is therefore the first efficient cause, and the efficient cause of all other efficient causes, because all efficient causes and their effects seem to exist only in the view of ego. Without ego, there is neither cause nor effect, and since there is neither ego nor anything else in the clear view of ātma-svarūpa, for ātma-svarūpa there is neither any cause nor any effect, because it alone is what exists. Cause and effect are therefore just an illusory appearance.

However, so long as we rise as ego, cause and effect seem to us to be real, so in order to put an end to their seeming existence, we need to investigate ourself, the one to whom alone they appear. If we investigate ourself keenly enough, we will see that we are always nothing other than ātma-svarūpa and have therefore never risen as ego, so there has never been any such thing as cause or effect. This is the ultimate truth (pāramārthika satya), as will be clear to us only when ego is eradicated by the sharp sword of self-investigation (ātma-vicāra).

27th February 1979

Sadhu Om: If we feel disheartened by our repeated failure to cling firmly to self-attentiveness, we should remember that the doer and the one who experiences failure is ourself as ego, and that as ego we cannot be self-attentive merely by our own effort but only by the grace of guru. However, this does not mean that we should ever give up trying to be self-attentive, because Bhagavan’s grace works through us, giving us the love to be self-attentive, so whatever effort we make in this path is the working of his grace. His grace is always working to pull us within, so by trying to turn within we are yielding ourself to his grace.

Repeatedly making effort to be self-attentive is therefore essential, because it is a key part of the process of his grace gently but firmly pulling us inwards. No matter how many times we seem to fail in our efforts, we should keep on trying, because every attempt we make to be self-attentive is a step forward on this path. As Bhagavan often said, it is only by perseverance that we can progress on this path, so whether we seem to succeed or fail, we should keep on trying.

To the extent that we truly love to know and to be what we actually are, we will persevere in trying to be self-attentive at every moment, so our perseverance is the measure of our love, which is why Bhagavan said that perseverance is the only reliable sign of progress. When he said that bhakti is the mother of jñāna, what he meant by ‘bhakti’ is wholehearted and all-consuming love to know and to be what we actually are, and this love is what impels us to cling firmly to self-attentiveness.

This love is svātma-bhakti [love for our own self, meaning love for ourself as we actually are], which is what is also called sat-vāsanā [the inclination to attend to our being and thereby to be as we actually are]. The reason we often fail in our attempts to hold fast to self-attentiveness is that we allow our mind to be drawn outwards under the sway of our viṣaya-vāsanās [inclinations to attend to and seek happiness in things other than ourself]. The stronger our viṣaya-vāsanās, the more we will be swayed by them, but by patient and persistent attempts to turn back within and cling fast to self-attentiveness we will gradually strengthen our sat-vāsanā and correspondingly weaken our viṣaya-vāsanās, as Bhagavan implies in the sixth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:

If other thoughts rise, without trying to complete them it is necessary to investigate to whom they have occurred. However many thoughts rise, [so] what? Vigilantly, as soon as each thought appears, if one investigates to whom it has occurred, it will be clear: to me. If one investigates who am I [by vigilantly attending to oneself, the ‘me’ to whom everything else appears], the mind will return to its birthplace [namely one’s own being, the source from which it arose]; [and since one thereby refrains from attending to it] the thought that had risen will also cease. When one practises and practises in this manner, for the mind the power to stand firmly established in its birthplace increases.

The ‘power to stand firmly established in its birthplace’ is the strength of svātma-bhakti, which increases to the extent to which we persevere in trying to turn our attention back and keep it fixed firmly on our own being, ‘I am’. There are therefore two powers that are pulling our mind in two opposite directions, namely the power of sat-vāsanā and the power of viṣaya-vāsanās. The power of sat-vāsanā is pulling our mind back within to face ourself alone, whereas the power of viṣaya-vāsanās is pulling it outwards to face the world of viṣayas [objects or phenomena]. However, since vāsanās are just inclinations, we are always free to choose which vāsanā or vāsanās we allow ourself to be swayed by at any given moment, so even if our viṣaya-vāsanās are stronger than our sat-vāsanā, we can always use our icchā-kriyā-svatantra [freedom of will and action] to yield ourself to the inward pull of sat-vāsanā rather than the outward pull of any viṣaya-vāsanās.

The practice of ātma-vicāra [self-investigation] is therefore a battle being fought within our own will between our sat-vāsanā and our viṣaya-vāsanās, and our willingness to be swayed by one or the other of them, as Bhagavan says in verse 396 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai:

The work [doing, process or operation] of making oneself [namely ego], who is parāmukha [facing away, towards things other than oneself] because of the sway [dominion, power or force] of practice [training, habit or familiarity], ahamukha [facing inside, towards I] by ātma-vicāra [self-investigation], which is the effort of untiringly investigating who am I, alone is the dēvāsura-yuddha [the war between gods and demons] that one fights.

Since sat-vāsanā is a seed that has been planted, cultivated and nurtured in our heart by Bhagavan’s grace, this battle between our liking to be facing inwards (ahamukha) and our liking to be facing elsewhere (parāmukha) is actually a battle being fought by his grace, which is why he describes it as ‘aruḷ-pōrāṭṭam’ (the warfare of grace) in verse 74 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai:

Arunachala, in the common [natural and all-pervading] space devoid of going and coming [namely the heart, the infinite and eternally immutable space of pure awareness, which never goes (ceases to exist) or comes (begins to exist), and in which, having known it as one’s own real nature, one will know that one could never have gone out anywhere or come back] show [me] the warfare of grace [in which you do not cease fighting to save me until you achieve victory, destroying in me the vast army of demons, namely ego and all its viṣaya-vāsanās].

Though this warfare is always being fought by grace in our heart, it will end in victory only when we cooperate with grace by yielding ourself entirely to it, and since we can yield ourself to it only to the extent to which we untiringly make effort to investigate who am I by looking deep within ourself, our persevering in making this effort is essential. However, though patient and persistent effort is necessary on our part, we need to recognise clearly that it is only by his grace that we are making such effort, because to the extent that we recognise this, our love to be keenly and steadily self-attentive will increase.

If we do not recognise this, we will easily be disheartened seeing the inadequacy of our own efforts, whereas if we do recognise this, we will gain the courage to persevere no matter how many times we seem to fail in our efforts. His grace is always playing its part in ways and to an extent that our mind can never adequately comprehend, but we will be willing to yield ourself to it only to the extent that we appreciate that it is doing so.

Through countless lives his grace has been working in our heart, preparing us to follow this ultimate path of self-investigation and self-surrender, and it will not cease doing its work until we are finally willing to surrender ourself entirely by sinking back within and dissolving forever in the heart. All our effort to turn back within and surrender ourself to him is being made by us only under the sway of his grace, so our effort is part of the process of his grace, preparing us unfailingly for the final moment when it will swallow us entirely in its infinite light of pure awareness.

This is why Bhagavan often used to say that grace is the beginning, the middle and the end. It is grace alone that has brought us to this path, it is grace alone that is leading us unfailingly along it, and it is grace alone that will finally swallow us entirely.

Sadhu Om: When we sing in praise of guru or repeat his name, it is we alone who gain satisfaction and benefit thereby. Guru is not affected in the least. He is neither pleased with praise nor displeased with abuse.

This is the state that Bhagavan refers to in verse 38 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Anubandham:

When oneself always stands without departing in the state of oneself [the state in which one exists and shines eternally as one actually is, without ever rising as ego], without knowing [any distinction] as ‘oneself’ and ‘others’, who is there besides oneself? If whoever says whatever about oneself [whether they praise or disparage oneself], [so] what? Even if oneself praises oneself, or even if [oneself] disparages [oneself], so what?

If we recognise that such is the greatness of guru and if we often dwell upon such greatness, our love for him and for following the path he has shown us will grow and flourish.

On the other hand, if we sing in praise of God or repeat his name, he will be pleased with us (at least in our view) and will bless us by granting our prayers. This can be seen from the lives of great saints, who were protected by God and saved from various kinds of trouble. It is the duty of God to be pleased with his true devotees, to protect them and to do as they ask. This is why it is said that guru is greater than God, because guru has no such duty. Guru is not obliged to give us what we ask for, but only to give us what is truly good for us.

Of course, as Bhagavan says in the first sentence of the twelfth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?: ‘God and guru are in truth not different’. However, though they are one in their real nature, their functions differ in accordance with our outlook and desires. If we want Bhagavan to play the role of guru, he will do so, because that is the primary reason why he appeared in human form, but if we want him to play the role of God, he will do so, because he is not only guru but also God. That is, he is Lord Arunachala Siva in human form, so he is both God and guru.

Though Rama was a jñāni, he was to play the role of God, upholding dharma [righteousness] in this world, so Vasistha taught him, as translated by Bhagavan in verses 26 and 27 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Anubandham:

Having investigated [or carefully considered] all states, which are of many kinds, what one [state] exists devoid of falsity [deceit or deception], [namely] paramapadam [the supreme state, which is the one real state of sat-cit, pure existence-awareness, shining eternally in the heart as ‘I am’], incessantly holding only that firmly by heart, play in the world, hero. What exists in the heart as the reality for all kinds of appearances [namely sat-cit, pure existence-awareness, which alone is what actually exists, and which is therefore the one fundamental reality that underlies and supports the appearance or seeming existence of all other things], since you have known that [the one underlying reality], without ever abandoning that view [namely that clear awareness of the one infinite, indivisible and immutable reality that underlies all appearances], play in the world, hero, as if [having] desire [appropriate to whatever role you play in life, namely the desire to uphold dharma or righteousness, which is the duty of a prince or king].

Being one who seemingly has rising of mind and delight [joy or pleasure in worldly matters], being one who seemingly has agitation [anxiety or impatience] of mind and aversion [dislike, disgust, hatred or enmity], [and] being one who seemingly has effortful initiative [that is, one who seemingly initiates and strives with persistent effort in worldly undertakings], [but nevertheless] being one who is [actually] devoid of [all such] defects, play in the world, hero. Being one who is freed from the many ties called delusion [that is, the many ties, attachments or bondages that give rise to delusion, confusion, darkness (lack of clarity of mind and heart) and consequently desire], [and] being one who is steadily [permanently] equanimous [equal, impartial, even, calm, tranquil or dispassionate] in all circumstances, [but nevertheless] doing actions on the outside to suit the disguise [that is, outwardly engaging in activities appropriate to your disguise or external roles in this life], play in the world as required [in accordance with each situation], hero.

Though God seems outwardly to have a certain role to play in this world, he plays that role just by being as he is, without ever rising to do anything, so he is eternally untouched by the role he seems to play, as Bhagavan explains in the fifteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:

Just like in the mere presence of the sun, which rose without icchā [liking, wish or desire], saṁkalpa [desire, volition or intention] [or] yatna [effort or exertion], a sun-stone [sūryakānta, a gem that is supposed to emit fire or heat when exposed to the sun] emitting fire, a lotus blossoming, water evaporating, and people of the world commencing [or becoming engaged in] their respective kāryas [activities], doing [those kāryas] and ceasing [or subsiding], and [just like] in front of a magnet a needle moving, jīvas [sentient beings], who are subject to [or ensnared in] muttoṙil [the threefold function of God, namely the creation, sustenance and dissolution of the world] or pañcakṛtyas [the five functions of God, namely creation, sustenance, dissolution, concealment and grace], which happen by just [or nothing more than] the special nature of the presence of God, who is saṁkalpa rahitar [one who is devoid of any volition or intention], move [exert or engage in activity] and subside [cease being active, become still or sleep] in accordance with their respective karmas [that is, in accordance not only with their prārabdha karma or destiny, which impels them to do whatever actions are necessary in order for them to experience all the pleasant and unpleasant things that they are destined to experience, but also with their karma-vāsanās, their inclinations to think, speak and act in particular ways, which dispose them to make effort to experience pleasant things and to avoid experiencing unpleasant things]. Nevertheless, he [God] is not saṁkalpa sahitar [one who is connected with or possesses any volition or intention]; even one karma does not adhere to him [that is, he is not bound or affected in any way by any karma or action whatsoever]. That is like world-actions [the actions happening here on earth] not adhering to [or affecting] the sun, and [like] the qualities and defects of the other four elements [earth, water, air and fire] not adhering to the all-pervading space.

Since the four Sanakadi rishis were seeking to know the reality behind all appearances, Lord Siva appeared before them as guru in the form of Dakshinamurti, and by remaining silent he turned their minds inwards to merge in the light of pure awareness. Having thereby dispelled their ignorance, he remained absorbed in the silence of pure being. However, according to the divine plan, the time for his marriage was drawing near, so knowing that he was absorbed in silence, the devas became worried, fearing that he might not resume his role as God. Even Brahma and Vishnu were afraid to disturb him, because they knew that as guru he would do them no harm, but as God he could show his wrath. It was finally decided, therefore, that Kama should try to sow the seed of carnal desire in his heart, but when he tried to do so, Lord Siva opened his third eye, the eye of jñāna, and burnt him to ashes.

However, though Kama had failed in his attempt to arouse carnal desire in the heart of Lord Siva, the devas were happy, because the fact that Lord Siva had responded angrily by burning Kama indicated that he had set aside his role as guru and resumed his role as God. As guru he could not be pleased, made angry or be affected in any way whatsoever, no matter what anyone may do to him, but as God he must feign delight, wrath and other such passions appropriate to the circumstances, as Vasistha taught Rama to do.

Because the four Sanakadi rishis were seeking the guidance of guru, Lord Siva acted as guru for them, and because the devas wanted God, he acted as God for them. Likewise, it is up to us to choose whether we want to take Arunachala and Bhagavan as guru or as God. If we take him as guru and accordingly strive to follow the path of self-investigation and self-surrender that he has taught us, he will consume us in the clear light of pure awareness (jñāna), whereas if we take him as God and accordingly pray to him for this or that, he will answer our prayers in an appropriate manner.

Once Bhagavan was asked whether Arunachala would fulfil the worldly desires of his devotees, to which he replied: ‘Why not? When he can give the supreme gift of mukti to those who merely think of him, can he not give anything else that we may ask for?’

However, though Bhagavan can give us whatever we want, it would be foolish on our part to ask him for anything other than wholehearted love to surrender ourself entirely to him, because he knows what is truly good for us better than we do. It is our supreme good fortune that he has entered our life and attracted us to him, so we should not waste this precious opportunity by asking him for anything other than love to follow the path to salvation that he has so graciously revealed to us.

To emphasise that the role of guru is much greater than the role of God, in verse 39 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Anubandham he cautioned us:

May you always experience [or cherish] advaita [non-duality] in [your] heart, [but] do not even once perform [display or parade] advaita in action. O son, advaita is appropriate in the three worlds, [but] advaita is not appropriate with guru. Know [this clearly].

Advaita is the real state in which nothing other than oneself exists, so it can never be put in action. Action is possible only in the state of duality, in which we have risen as ego and consequently experience the appearance of things other than ourself. Therefore when he says ‘advaita is appropriate in the three worlds’, that is a concession to the ignorance of those who do not understand the true implications of advaita.

However, he makes this concession in order to emphasise the greatness of guru. That is, the ‘three worlds’ referred to here are the worlds of Brahma, Vishnu and Siva, so ‘advaita is appropriate in the three worlds; advaita is not appropriate with guru’ implies that even though it may be appropriate for one to claim a non-dual status with any of these three Gods in their respective worlds by asserting ‘You and I are one’, it is never appropriate for one to claim a non-dual status with guru. In the presence of guru the only appropriate ‘action’ is for us to turn back within and thereby subside and dissolve forever in the source from which we have risen.

11th March 1979

Sadhu Om: As Bhagavan often used to say, the same one cit-śakti [power of knowing or awareness] when facing inwards, towards itself alone, is ātma-svarūpa [the real nature of ourself], and when seemingly facing outwards, away from itself towards anything else, is ego or mind. This is illustrated in śāstras by several analogies such as a crow, which is said to have just one eye, which it rolls from one socket to the other to see on either side; an elephant, whose one trunk serves both as a nose and as a hand; and a snake, which is said to use its eyes both to see and to hear.

Since the mind is in essence just this one cit-śakti, which is none other than ātma-svarūpa, Bhagavan begins the fourth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār? by saying: ‘What is called mind is an atiśaya śakti [an extraordinary power] that exists in ātma-svarūpa. It makes all thoughts appear’. This is the same atiśaya śakti that he refers to in the first line of verse 6 of Śrī Aruṇācala Aṣṭakam: ‘There is only one poruḷ [real substance], you [Arunachala], the heart, the light of awareness. In you exists an atiśaya śakti, which is not other [than you]’.

He was referring to this one cit-śakti on two occasions recorded in Day by Day, namely on 11-1-46, when it was recorded that in answer to the question ‘What is the difference between the mind and the Self?’ he said, ‘There is no difference. The mind turned inwards is the Self; turned outwards, it becomes the ego and all the world’, and on 8-11-45, when it was recorded that he said, ‘The mind, turned outwards, results in thoughts and objects. Turned inwards, it becomes itself the Self’.

This cit-śakti is the ‘I’ that we need to investigate in order to know it as it actually is. What it actually is is pure awareness, which never knows anything other than itself, because it alone is what actually exists, so in its clear view nothing other than itself exists for it to know, as Bhagavan says in verse 27 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

Only knowledge [or awareness] that is devoid of knowledge and ignorance [of anything other than oneself] is [actual] knowledge [or awareness]. This [alone] is [what is] real. There is not anything [other than oneself for one] to know.

Since this cit-śakti seems to be mind or ego only when it seems to face away from itself to know other things, we cannot know it as it is so long as we continue to know anything other than ourself. Therefore, to know it as it actually is, we need to attend to nothing other than ourself.

Only when we attend to ourself so keenly that we thereby cease to be aware of anything else whatsoever, will we be aware of ourself as pure awareness, which is what we always actually are. We can know ourself as we actually are, namely as pure awareness, only by being as we actually are, and to be as we actually are we must attend to ourself alone. Therefore we always have a simple choice: either we can face outwards, and thereby seem to be mind or ego, or we can face inwards, and thereby be as we always actually are.

28th March 1979

Sadhu Om: If you feel that you need any external help for practising self-attention, you can go and sit in Bhagavan’s Old Hall. It is not an ordinary place, because that is where Bhagavan lived day and night for more than twenty years, so it has a special power to turn the mind inwards if we are receptive to it. Therefore you will find it helpful if you sit there for your practice.

I do not say that you should sit there for many hours at a stretch, as some people do, because we should not strain ourself to be self-attentive. The key to self-attentiveness is love, and love cannot be forced. This is why Bhagavan advised us to cultivate the love to be self-attentive by patient and persistent practice. By repeated practice, we will gradually wean the mind off its liking to go outwards and correspondingly strengthen the love to remain facing inwards. This is why Sri Krishna said in the Gītā [6.25] ‘śanaiḥ śanais’, which means ‘slowly, slowly’, ‘gently, gently’, ‘gradually, gradually’. Therefore trying intermittently but repeatedly is more effective than trying for a long time without a break.

Our aim should be to be self-attentive as much as possible throughout the day, no matter what else we may be doing, but to maintain steady and uninterrupted self-attentiveness requires great love, which can be cultivated only by repeated practice. In the beginning, therefore, it can be helpful to set aside twenty or thirty minutes morning and evening to make more effort to be self-attentive, and to continue trying to be self-attentive as much as possible in the midst of other activities throughout the day. By such practice we will gradually strengthen our love to be self-attentive, and as our love grows stronger, there will be less and less need for the support of any set times or places.

As well as, or instead of, sitting in Bhagavan’s Old Hall, you can also sit on the Hill to practise being self-attentive, because he is present in a special way not only in the Hall but also in the form of the Hill. However, we can sit in his Hall or on the Hill only if we happen to be here in Tiruvannamalai, but those who are not here should not therefore be disheartened, because though he is present here in a special way, he is most immediately present in our heart as our own being, ‘I am’. Wherever we may be, therefore, we can enjoy his presence simply by turning within.

His outward presence in the form of Arunachala, in Ramanasramam, in his teachings and even in photos of him is particularly helpful so long as our mind still has a strong inclination to go outwards, but as we cultivate the love to face inwards more and more, his inward presence as ‘I’ will shine ever more clearly. The purpose of his outward presence in all its various forms, therefore, is to lead us back to his real presence, which exists and shines eternally in our heart as ‘I am’.

31st March 1979

Sadhu Om: Sleep is actually our natural state. In sleep there is no ego, and hence the five sheaths and three bodies are all completely non-existent, so what exists and shines then is only our own being, ‘I am’. It is only when we rise as ego in waking or dream that the five sheaths, three bodies and all other phenomena seem to exist, as Bhagavan repeatedly emphasised, such as in the following passages:

If the thought called ‘I’ does not exist, even one other will not exist. [Śrī Aruṇācala Aṣṭakam, verse 7]

Of all the thoughts that appear in the mind, the thought called ‘I’ alone is the first thought. Only after this arises do other thoughts arise. Only after the first person appears do second and third persons appear; without the first person second and third persons do not exist. [Nāṉ Ār?, paragraph 5]

If the first person exists, second and third persons will exist. If, oneself investigating the reality of the first person, the first person ceases to exist, second and third persons coming to an end, the nature that shines as one alone is oneself, the state of oneself. [Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, verse 14]

If ego comes into existence, everything comes into existence; if ego does not exist, everything does not exist. Ego itself is everything. Therefore, know that investigating what this is alone is giving up everything. [Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, verse 26]

All the imperfections that we generally attribute to sleep, such as that it is temporary and that it is devoid of clarity, seem to be true only from the perspective of ego in waking or dream. Therefore when sleep is distinguished from turīya, which is our real state, and when it is said that sleep is not our perfect state and hence not our goal, that is referring only to sleep as it appears to be from the perspective of ego and not to sleep as it actually is.

As it actually is, sleep is itself turīya, the only state that actually exists, as Bhagavan points out in verse 460 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai:

If the beginningless filthy vāsanās [inclinations to seek happiness in anything other than oneself], which stood as the cause for dream and waking, are completely eradicated, [what previously seemed to be] the empty [void or desolate] darkness of sleep, which [was considered to be what] assembles the miserable [or wicked] state [of pravṛtti or outward-going activity, namely waking and dream] [causing it thereby] to spread out, will be [found to be] atīta turya avasthā [the transcendent ‘fourth’ state].

Sleep seems to be imperfect only because it seems to be interrupted by waking and dream, so the happiness of sleep seems to be temporary, even though it is actually eternal, being our own real nature. From the perspective of ego, therefore, sleep is like a physician’s sample of a medicine. It is the real thing, but only a very small quantity, so it does not last long.

Question: But in sleep I do not experience happiness. I do not experience anything at all.

Sadhu Om: It is only ego that says it did not experience happiness in sleep, and that is because ego was absent then. However, even in the absence of ego, you were present, which is why you remember having been in a state in which there were no thoughts or dreams. Since you now remember having been in such a state, in which you were aware of nothing other than yourself, you must not only have existed in that state, but must also have been aware of existing in it.

We all love to be in that state, which we call ‘sleep’, because however much enthusiasm we may have for experiencing other things in waking and dream, such enthusiasm is short-lived, since sooner or later our love to subside and rest in sleep will overpower it, and if we remain without sleeping for long enough, we will want nothing more than just to fall asleep. As Bhagavan says [in the first paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?], ‘happiness alone is the cause for love’, so since we all have so much love for sleep, this clearly proves that sleep is a state of happiness. Moreover, since we alone exist and shine in sleep, our love for sleep clearly indicates that happiness is our real nature.

Question: You say we remember having been in sleep, but it is not clear, because how can ego remember having been in a state in which it was absent?

Sadhu Om: Though we did not exist as ego in sleep, we did exist as sat-cit, the awareness of our own being, ‘I am’, which is the reality of ego. That is, ego is the adjunct-mixed awareness ‘I am this body’, so we cease to be ego in sleep, since all adjuncts drop off when we fall asleep. What remains in sleep, therefore, is only the pure, adjunct-free awareness ‘I am’, which is our being, and this same awareness is what is now mixed with adjuncts and therefore seems to be ego.

What we now remember about sleep, therefore, is the continuity of our being, ‘I am’, which existed and shone alone in sleep, and which now exists and shines as if it were mixed with adjuncts as ego. In other words, though ego did not exist as ego in sleep, it did exist as its underlying reality, the pure awareness ‘I am’.

However, though ego remembers having existed in sleep, it does not remember sleep as it actually was, because the same adjuncts that obscure its awareness of itself as it actually is now, also obscure its awareness of itself as it was in sleep, when it shone devoid of adjuncts as sat-cit, the pure ‘I am’.

1st April 1979

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan once told the following story:

A very sincere and dispassionate aspirant once approached a guru and asked how he could see God. The guru instructed him to do pūjā every day for two years, so he returned home and with intense devotion and one-pointedness he did as he had been told. After two years, however, he had still not seen God, so he returned to his guru and told him that though he had done pūjā every day, he did not seem to derive any benefit thereby. ‘No’, his guru assured him, ‘you have achieved the fruit of your efforts’. Humbly accepting this assurance, the disciple asked whether there was anything further he could do to see God, in response to which his guru gave him a mantra and told him to do japa of it constantly for two years. With love and intense longing to see God, the disciple began to do constant japa, and after two years he was able to keep his mind fixed on the mantra so firmly that it did not wander elsewhere, but he was still not satisfied, so he returned to his guru and said that in spite of all his efforts, he had still not seen God. ‘Good’, his guru replied, ‘you have achieved the fruit of your efforts’. Surprised to hear this, the disciple again asked whether there was anything more he could do to see God, so his guru taught him how to do dhyāna and asked him to meditate in that way for two years. After doing as he had been taught for a further two years, the disciple returned to his guru and said that in spite of meditating with single-minded love, he had still not seen God. ‘Good’, his guru replied once again, ‘you have achieved the fruit of your efforts’.

Being unable to understand why his guru always replied in this way, the disciple asked: ‘For six years I have tried my best to follow your instructions, but I have not been able to see God, and it seems to me that I have not achieved any other benefit. However, you always assure me that I have achieved the fruit of my endeavours, so may I ask, what is the fruit that I have achieved?’ Hearing this question, his guru was pleased and replied: “The fruit of all your efforts is that you have learnt that doing pūjā, japa or dhyāna is not the means to see God. If you had continued doing pūjā, japa or dhyāna with intense love for long enough, God may have appeared before you in name and form, but seeing him thus is not seeing him as he actually is, because what he actually is is pure being-awareness (sat-cit), which is always shining within you as ‘I am’. That is, you yourself are God, so you cannot see him as he actually is without seeing yourself as you actually are. Therefore to see him you must turn within to find out who am I”.

As Bhagavan explained in verses 3 to 7 of Upadēśa Undiyār, doing pūjā, japa or dhyāna without desire for any fruit but only for the love of God will not give liberation but will purify the mind and show the way to liberation, and in this order each of these three is more efficacious in purifying the mind than the previous one. That is, more efficacious than niṣkāmya pūjā is niṣkāmya japa, and more efficacious than niṣkāmya japa is niṣkāmya dhyana, but in each of these practices, what purifies the mind is not the action itself but the love with which it is done, because the same actions could be done with desire for some fruit, in which case they would not purify the mind.

What does he mean in verse 3 by saying that doing niṣkāmya pūjā, japa or dhyāna for the love of God ‘will show the way to liberation’ (gati vaṙi kāṇbikkum)? By purifying the mind, these practices will give us the clarity to understand that God cannot be limited to any name or form, because he is the infinite whole, so nothing can be other than him, and hence he cannot be other than ourself. Therefore the way to liberation is not to meditate on anything other than ourself but to meditate on ourself alone, with the understanding that ‘he is I’, as Bhagavan says in verse 8 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

Rather than anya-bhāva [meditation on anything other than oneself, particularly meditation on God as if he were other than oneself], ananya-bhāva [meditation on nothing other than oneself], in which he is [understood to be] I, certainly is the best among all.

‘Meditation on what-is-not-other’ (ananya-bhāva) means meditation on ourself alone (svarūpa-dhyāna), which is self-investigation (ātma-vicāra), and this is the best among all practices of devotion (bhakti) and all forms of meditation (dhyāna), because meditation on anything other than ourself is a mental activity, whereas meditation on ourself alone is cessation of all mental activity, since the nature of ego is to subside and dissolve back into pure being (sat) by attending to itself alone, as Bhagavan implies in verse 9:

By the strength [intensity, firmness or stability] of [such] meditation [namely ananya-bhāva or self-attentiveness], being in sat-bhāva [the state of being], which transcends [all] bhāvanā [meditation in the sense of mental activity], alone is para-bhakti tattva [the nature, reality or true state of supreme devotion].

Since God is pure being, we cannot know him as he actually is by any amount of doing but only by just being (summā iruppadu), and in order to just be, we must cease rising as ego. As Bhagavan implies in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, the nature of ego is to rise, stand and flourish by ‘grasping form’, which means by attending to anything other than itself, but to subside and dissolve back into its source by attending to itself alone:

Grasping form it comes into existence; grasping form it stands; grasping and feeding on form it grows abundantly; leaving form, it grasps form. If seeking, it will take flight. [Such is the nature of this] formless demon ego. Investigate.

‘If seeking, it will take flight’ (tēḍiṉāl ōṭṭam piḍikkum) means that if ego seeks to know its own reality by investigating who am I, it will thereby subside and disappear, because we seem to be ego only so long as we are ‘grasping form’ by attending to anything other than ourself, whereas if we attend to ourself, we will find no such thing as ‘ego’ but only pure being-awareness (sat-cit), which is what we always actually are, as he implies in verse 17 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

When one investigates the form of the mind [namely ego, its root] without forgetting, there is not anything called ‘mind’. This is the direct path for everyone whomsoever.

God is our own very being, so he is not anything other than ourself, but by rising as ego we have limited ourself as a set of adjuncts, namely a body consisting of five sheaths, and hence we mistake ourself to be something other than God, as Bhagavan points out in verse 24 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

By [their] being nature [that is, because the real nature of each of them is pure being, ‘I am’], God and soul are just one poruḷ [substance or vastu]. Only upādhi-uṇarvu [adjunct-awareness, namely the adjunct-conflated awareness ‘I am this body’] is [what makes them seem] different.

Therefore we can see or know God only by knowing ourself as we actually are, namely as pure being-awareness, ‘I am’, devoid of all adjuncts, as he says in the next verse:

Knowing oneself without adjuncts is itself knowing God, because [he is what is always] shining as oneself.

What he implies in the final clause of this verse, ‘because of shining as oneself’ (tāṉ-āy oḷirvadāl), is that God is what is always shining as our own real nature (svarūpa), which is pure being-awareness, ‘I am’, so as such he is the light that illumines our mind, thereby enabling it to know both itself and all other things. Therefore we can know God as he actually is only by turning our mind back within and thereby immersing it in him, as he teaches us in verse 22 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

Except by, turning the mind back within, completely immersing it in God, who shines within that mind giving light to the mind, how to fathom God by the mind? Consider.

If we want to see God in any name and form, it is possible to do so by worshipping him in that name and form, but seeing him thus is not seeing him as he actually is. The only way to see him as he actually is is to investigate and know the reality of ourself, thereby dissolving in his reality and becoming one with him, as Bhagavan says in verse 8 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

Whoever worships [it] in whatever form giving [it] whatever name, that is the way to see that [nameless and formless] poruḷ [the one real substance, which is the reality of both God and oneself] in [that] name and form. However, [by] investigating [or knowing] the reality of oneself, [and by thereby] dissolving [or subsiding] in the reality of that true poruḷ, becoming one [with it] alone is seeing [it] in reality. Know.

We experience the appearance of names and forms only when we rise as ego, as in waking and dream, and not when we do not rise as ego, as in sleep, so names and forms are all just a mental fabrication (manō-kalpanā) and therefore have no existence independent of ego, in whose view alone they appear, as Bhagavan implies in verse 4 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

If oneself is a form, the world and God will be likewise; if oneself is not a form, who can see their forms, and how [to do so]? Can what is seen be otherwise than the eye? The [real] eye is oneself [one’s real nature], the infinite [and hence formless] eye.

‘If oneself is a form’ (uruvam tāṉ āyiṉ) means if we rise as ego, thereby grasping the form of a body as ourself, and ‘if oneself is not a form’ (uruvam tāṉ aṉḏṟēl) means if we do not rise as ego and therefore do not mistake ourself to be a form, so the implication of the first two sentences of this verse is that we can see the world and God as forms only when we rise and stand as ego. This is why he asks rhetorically in the next sentence: ‘Can what is seen be otherwise than the eye?’ (kaṇ alāl kāṭci uṇḍō?). Here he uses ‘alāl’ in the sense of ‘otherwise than’ or ‘of a different nature than’, and ‘kaṇ’ (eye) is a metaphor for awareness, so what he implies in this sentence is that whatever is seen or known cannot be of a different nature than the awareness that sees or knows it. Therefore, since ego is an awareness that knows itself as ‘I am this body, a form of five sheaths’, whatever it knows will also seem to be forms. However, ego is not real awareness, because real awareness is infinite and hence formless, as he implies by saying ‘The [real] eye is oneself, the infinite eye’ (kaṇ adu tāṉ, antam-ilā kaṇ), so since all forms are finite, in the clear view of this infinite awareness, which is ourself as we actually are, no forms can ever appear.

Therefore, if we see God in name and form instead of seeing ourself as infinite awareness, what we are seeing is not God as he actually is but only a ‘maṉōmayam ām kāṭci’ (a mental vision or ‘sight which is composed of mind’), as he says in verse 20 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

Leaving oneself [namely ego], who sees [all things other than oneself], oneself seeing God is seeing a mental vision. Only one who sees oneself [namely one’s real nature], the origin [base or foundation] of oneself [namely ego], is one who has seen God, because oneself [one’s real nature], [which alone is what remains] when oneself [namely ego], the origin [root or foundation of all other things], goes, is not other than God.

3rd April 1979

Sadhu Om: In the Bhagavad Gītā, chapter 10, verse 37, Krishna says ‘Among the Pandavas I am Dhanamjaya [Arjuna]’, and people generally take this to mean that he was praising Arjuna, but Bhagavan pointed out that this was actually one of many subtle pointers that he gave Arjuna, because if Arjuna had understood the significance of these words, he would have thought, ‘If he is Arjuna, then who am I?’, and would therefore have turned his attention back towards himself, thereby eradicating the false awareness ‘I am Arjuna’ and seeing that there is no ‘I’ other than Krishna.

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan’s words in Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai have their own inherent power to nurture love in our heart and to induce in us an attitude of complete surrender, so even if one does not understand Tamil, it is beneficial to learn to recite these verses. For example, if one recites verse 79, ‘மீகாம னில்லாமன் மாகாற் றலைகல மாகாமற் காத்தரு ளருணாசலா’ (mīhāma ṉillāmaṉ mākāṯ ṟalaikala māhāmaṯ kāttaru ḷaruṇācalā), which means ‘Arunachala, be gracious, protecting [me so that I am] not being [like] a boat tossing in a great storm without a helmsman’, one’s mind will thereby tend to subside, depending upon him as the helmsman of one’s life, thereby enabling one to meekly withstand and remain unscathed by whatever spiritual, mental, emotional, social or physical storms, turmoils or disturbances one has to undergo.

Every verse of Akṣaramaṇamālai is a powerful mantra suitable for anyone who is following the path of self-investigation and complete self-surrender. But even more important than the mantric power of these verses is their meaning, so though they are effective even if one hears or recites them without knowing their meaning, their efficacy is greatly enhanced if one hears or recites them knowing and dwelling upon the meaning of each one of them. Their meanings are Bhagavan’s thoughts, the Tamil verses themselves are his words, and walking around Arunachala was his deed, and hence the efficacy of each of these.

5th April 1979

Sadhu Om [in reply to someone who, recalling how some devotees who liked to do planchette reading found that they were unable to do so when Sadhu Om was present, remarked ‘So bhakti is the most powerful weapon against lower spirits and such phenomena’]: Bhakti is the most powerful weapon for anything, because even God is bound by the love of his devotees, as is illustrated by the following story:

When the war was approaching, the four younger Pandavas were all eager to fight, but Dharma [Yudhisthira] persistently suggested that they should avoid the war by finding a peaceful means to resolve the conflict. Krishna pretended to side with Dharma, and finally asked each of them to suggest a feasible means by which they could avert the war. None of them was able to do so, except the youngest, Sahadeva, who said that they could prevent the war only by shaving Draupadi’s hair, breaking Arjuna’s bow and Bhima’s mace, and tying Krishna’s feet. Krishna agreed, but asked how they could tie his feet. In reply, Sahadeva sat down and began to meditate on Krishna with intense love, and after a while Krishna exclaimed: ‘Enough, release me. I know you can bind me with your love, but I have come to this world to protect the righteous and establish dharma by destroying the evil-doers, so this war is necessary and should not be prevented’. Sahadeva replied: ‘Yes, I know, but may I ask for a boon, namely that all five of us, Draupadi and at least one heir should survive this war’. Krishna then assured him that he would grant this boon, so Sahadeva released him. Therefore even God is rendered powerless before the true love of his devotees.

7th April 1979

Sadhu Om: In verse 30 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Anubandham Bhagavan says:

Like those who [seemingly] hear a story [even though their] mind [is actually] going far away [and therefore not hearing the story at all], the mind in which [all] vāsanās have been erased is actually not doing [any action at all] even though [in the view of others it seems to be] doing [any number of actions]. [On the other hand] the mind that those soak [that is, the mind that is soaked with vāsanās] is actually doing [action] even though [it is seemingly] not doing [any action], [just as] even though movement has ceased here [that is, even though in the waking world they seem to be lying without movement in bed], in dream climbing a hill they fall in a pit.

However, during his bodily lifetime I once mentioned to some other devotees that Bhagavan never actually does anything, so he did not compose any works such as Akṣaramaṇamālai or Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, and he does not see or know anything other than himself, but they did not understand what I meant, so they became angry with me, saying that I do not understand anything about him. Though he appeared in human form and therefore seemed to know and do things just like us, what he actually is is just the infinite, indivisible, immutable and eternally silent space of pure awareness, so he never does anything or knows anything other than himself. However, most devotees find it very difficult to understand and wholeheartedly accept all the implications of this truth, and it was even more difficult for those who saw him in human form and lived with him in that form day and night for many years.

As he says in verse 274 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai:

Those who do not have [the clarity of] mind [or heart] to know that the jñāna-guru, who seems to be [or appears as] a human form [even though always] actually remaining firmly as the supreme space [of sat-cit, pure being-awareness], is [in fact] the formless one [namely brahman], are indeed the foremost in wicked conduct and sin.

Though many devotees lived with him for years or even decades, and though many of them were very sincere in their love for him, only a rare few were able to understand him deeply. Though in many of his verses and other writings he clearly indicated the real nature of the state of jñāna, and though he often said that jñāna alone is the jñāni, very few have considered carefully and deeply enough and thereby fully assimilated what he wrote and said.

In verse 30 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Anubandham, not only does he clearly indicate in the first half that the jñāni, in whose mind all vāsanās have been erased along with ego, their root, does not actually do anything even though seemingly doing any number of things, but also in the second half he makes it clear that an ajñāni, whose mind is soaked with vāsanās, is actually doing even when seemingly not doing anything. Will any aspirant who has understood this clearly feel inclined to sit in meditation for long hours at a stretch?

Sitting without moving and with eyes closed for many hours is relatively easy, but except in sleep or any other state of manōlaya [temporary dissolution of mind], can any ajñāni remain for hours without ever rising as ego to think of or know anything other than their own being? Until all our vāsanās have been completely erased, under their sway we will to a greater or lesser extent continue rising and engaging in mental activity, so rather than trying to remain without rising by clinging to self-attentiveness for hours at a stretch, we will find that it is more effective if we try intermittently but persistently to cling firmly to self-attentiveness for at least a few moments at a time.

8th April 1979

Sadhu Om: Even during waking and dream, when our attention is dwelling on second and third persons, we do not cease to be aware ‘I am’. This fundamental knowledge ‘I am’ is the basis of the first person, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, which is in turn the basis of all second and third persons, because they are objects known only by this first person. Hence second and third persons appear along with the first person in waking and dream and disappear along with it in sleep, so as Bhagavan says in the fifth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:

Of all the thoughts that appear in the mind, the thought called ‘I’ alone is the first thought. Only after this arises do other thoughts arise. Only after the first person [namely ego, the thought called ‘I’] appears do second and third persons [namely all other things] appear; without the first person, second and third persons do not exist.

Whether or not we are aware of anything other than ourself, we are always aware ‘I am’. Awareness of other things (second and third persons) appears in waking and dream but disappears in sleep, whereas our fundamental awareness ‘I am’ exists and shines in all three states without ever appearing or disappearing. Therefore the only difference between waking and dream on one hand and sleep on the other hand is that in waking and dream we are aware of the appearance of things other than ourself, so we experience dissatisfaction and misery, whereas in sleep we are aware of no such appearance, so we do not experience any dissatisfaction or misery.

Therefore the only defect in sleep is that it is a state from which we seem to rise again. However it is only from the perspective of ego in waking and dream that we seem to have risen from sleep, because sleep is actually our natural and eternal state of pure awareness. So long as we rise as ego, sleep seems to be one among our three alternating states, so it seems to be temporary and hence defective, but if we investigate ourself keenly enough, we will see that we are actually just sat-cit, pure being-awareness, which never rises or undergoes change of any kind whatsoever, and thus it will be clear that sleep is not temporary but eternal, and hence not defective but perfect.

Since the only knowledge that exists and shines not only in waking and dream but also in sleep is our fundamental awareness of our own being, ‘I am’, this alone is what is real and what we actually are. Therefore, in order to know the reality that underlies and supports the appearance of these three states, all we need do is to keep our attention fixed firmly on this awareness ‘I am’.

As Brahma and Vishnu discovered when they tried to find the uppermost and lowermost limits of Arunachala Siva, who had appeared between them as a column of fire, however high we may fly outwards or however deep we may sink within, we will always find that Bhagavan extends higher and deeper. Therefore, as Muruganar often used to say, we should never imagine that we have understood him fully. Only when he swallows us entirely in the all-consuming light of his grace will we know him as he actually is, but then we will no longer remain as anything in any way separate from him, so it is only he who knows himself as he actually is.

9th April 1979

Sadhu Om: Shortly after I first came here, Chinna Swami [Bhagavan’s younger brother and sarvādhikāri (manager) of the ashram] showed me a broken cane and said, ‘You young fellows are lucky, because Bhagavan is now very gentle. You don’t know how harsh he was previously. One day he beat me with this stick and broke it on my back’. When I asked others about this, they laughed and said, ‘He always shows that stick to newcomers. It was in fact an old stick and almost broken already when Bhagavan hit him with it’. I then asked about the circumstances under which Bhagavan hit him, and was told as follows:

Chinna Swami and Dandapani Swami [one of the former managers of the ashram and father-in-law of Muruganar] were once quarrelling and started to fight with each other. Chinna Swami was a big man, but Dandapani Swami was even bigger, and Dandapani Swami was just about to throw Chinna Swami in the well when Bhagavan returned from his walk. To stop their fight, he first hit Dandapani Swami and then Chinna Swami. Seeing him, they immediately stopped fighting and said, ‘O Bhagavan, we are sorry’. He replied, ‘Don’t think I am interfering in your quarrel. You may carry on arguing if you like, but I had to stop your fight because you are both wearing kāṣāya [ochre cloth worn by sannyāsis (renunciants)], so if one of you were to kill the other, that would bring shame on all sannyāsis’.

As he wrote in Nāṉ Ār?, ‘To the extent possible, it is not appropriate to intrude in others’ affairs’, and he exemplified this principle, intervening in others’ affairs rarely and only when he considered it necessary or appropriate, as in this case.

If you talk with any of those who were with him in Virupakshi or Skandashram, they will tell you that he was mild and gentle with everyone except his own mother, whom he chided on every possible occasion and often scolded quite harshly. But what may have appeared to others to be harsh treatment was actually his grace, because by treating her thus he gradually freed her of all her attachments and made her fit to receive from him the greatest gift of all: annihilation of ego.

Therefore we cannot judge a jñāni by his actions, because whatever he does is in the best interests of all concerned, whether we can understand it or not. Look at Krishna, for example. He played so much mischief and induced others to do things that would normally be considered to be unrighteous, but he did so for the good of all. Most of us would not have understood Bhagavan’s actions correctly if we had lived with him in those days, and that is why he was gracious to make us come later.

12th April 1979

Sadhu Om: In Bhagavan’s view, every incident in the purāṇas and every teaching in the śāstras is pointing to the need for us to know ourself by practising self-investigation. For example, in verse 1102 of Guru Vācaka Kōvai he implies that the dance of Lord Siva in the form of Nataraja signifies the skilful and loving self-investigation (ātma-vicāra) that is going on within the devotee by his grace, and that the raising of his foot at the climax of his dance signifies his shining forth as sphuraṇa, the clear awareness ‘I am I’, thereby embracing the devotee in such a way that he merges back into his source, the heart, just as the rising sun marries the moon, embracing it in its spreading rays in such a way that the reflected light of the moon merges and becomes one with its source, the sunlight.

Sadhu Om [recalling and repeating what he had said about ten years earlier to Prof. Swaminathan and A. R. Natarajan]: The first generation of Bhagavan’s devotees, including myself and all of us who are here now, must all go, and after a hundred years or so he will bring someone to clearly and firmly establish his real teachings, not by doing anything but simply by understanding and living them. That person will not remain long, but will make sufficient impact to weed out all confusions, misinterpretations and misrepresentations, thereby allowing Bhagavan’s life and teachings to shine clearly in the world in all their purity and full glory.

[Hearing this, I said it is not clear to me how we should understand such a statement, because Bhagavan taught us that there is only one ego, and that the entire world seems to exist only in the view of this one ego, so the sole purpose of his teachings is to eradicate this ego, to which Sadhu Om smiled and replied:]

Yes, that is true, but the majority of Bhagavan’s devotees do not understand this or are not willing to accept it, so each one understands him and his teachings in their own way, and hence for such people it is appropriate to say like this. Such statements are as true as the world in which they are made and to which they refer.

14th April 1979

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan exemplified the truth that humility is divinity. Though he is the supreme Lord of the whole universe, during his bodily life he conducted himself in the humblest of humble fashions. Now the world needs to learn from him that not to rise as ego and expose oneself to the world is true spirituality. In the name of religion and spirituality, there is so much dogmatism, fanaticism, self-assertiveness, pride, arrogance, self-boasting and humbug going on throughout the world, and this has always been the case, because such is the nature of the world, but now we all need to learn from Bhagavan that subsidence, self-effacement and humility are the true signs of spirituality.

18th April 1979

Sadhu Om [referring to the ‘Bhakti’ chapter in The Path of Sri Ramana]: In the classification of the different levels of bhakti, the first, second and third (a) standards are not real dēva-bhakti [devotion to God] but only viṣaya-bhakti [devotion to whatever a person desires to gain from God]. Real dēva-bhakti begins only in the third (b) standard, in which we love God only for his own sake and not for the sake of the fulfilment of any desires, so as a result of such love, God will himself appear in the form of guru in order to teach us that he is our own reality and that we can therefore attain him only by turning back within and thereby subsiding and dissolving in him in our heart. By setting us on the path of self-investigation and self-surrender in this way, God promotes us from the third (b) standard to the fourth standard, which is guru-bhakti.

In order to reach the third (b) or fourth standard, it is not necessary for one to first pass through the first, second and third (a) standards. For example, there are some good-hearted people who do not believe in God, but who nevertheless are kind and compassionate to all people and other creatures. By being kind and helpful to others without expecting anything in return, such people are unknowingly practising karma-yōga, and thereby their mind will be gradually purified, until eventually they gain the inner clarity called vivēka, as a result of which they will be naturally drawn to the third (b) or fourth standard.

Question: A tenet of Christian faith is that to love one’s neighbour is to love God, and to serve them is to serve God, so if a Christian is a good person and tries to live according to this principle, where does this fit in the classification of different levels of bhakti?

Sadhu Om: They are told that to love their neighbour is to love God because otherwise they would not be kind or charitable, but in fact it is not so. True love for God is love for God alone. Until one is blessed with such one-pointed love for God alone, it is of course good to be kind and compassionate to all, but if one desires to help one’s fellow men, that desire will make one rise and go outwards instead of surrendering oneself completely to God by turning back within and subsiding into the heart.

However, if someone acts on their desire to help others, that will gradually purify their mind and thereby lead them eventually to third (b) or fourth standard bhakti, in which they will desire nothing other than to give themselves entirely to God. If we have clear and sharp vivēka, we will understand that whatever happens is according to the all-loving will of God, and that he therefore does not need us to rise with the idea that we should rectify the world in any way. True service to God is not rising to do anything but only subsiding back into the heart to be as we actually are, as Bhagavan has pointed out in verse 29 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

Standing [or steadfastly being] in this state [of beginningless, infinite and indivisible sat-cit-ānanda], thereby experiencing supreme bliss, which is devoid of [the dyad of] bondage and liberation, is standing in the service of God.

Therefore if one desires anything other than to subside and surrender oneself to God, that shows a lack of clear vivēka. However, by doing kind, compassionate and charitable deeds without expecting anything in return, one can gradually weaken mamakāra [the sense of ‘mine’], and thereby one will gain the vivēka [discernment] to recognise that ahaṅkāra [ego or the sense of ‘I’] is the root-impurity, from which all other impurities sprout, and that it can be removed only by self-investigation and self-surrender. Only when one thus recognises that this ahaṅkāra is what stands between oneself and God and therefore desires to remove it, has one truly reached the third (b) or fourth standard of bhakti.

I used to pray to Bhagavan: ‘Whatever I desire, whatever I ask you for, and however much I weep and pray for it, do not fulfil my desires but give me only what you want to give me’. If we have such a contract with Bhagavan, we need not worry about however many desires we may have. He may fulfil some of our desires if that is good for us, but he will not fulfil any that would not be good for us. Such an attitude is the beginning of true surrender, and if we yield ourself to him in this way, he will certainly protect us and weed out all our desires along with their root, the ‘I’ whose desires they are.

21st April 1979

Sadhu Om: In ancient days philanthropists would hoist a flag to announce any charitable deed that they were doing. For example, if they hoisted a flag to announce that they would feed the poor, they thereby guaranteed that they would feed anyone who came to the designated place at the designated time. This is what Bhagavan alluded to when he sang in verse 24 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai:

Arunachala, embracing [or marrying] you, who [have vowed to] kill [your] devotees, hoisting a flag [to announce your intention to do so], how will I live?

This is a great assurance for us. If we come to him with a sincere longing to surrender ourself completely to him, he has guaranteed that he will kill us, meaning that he will eradicate ego, thereby absorbing us forever back into himself, as himself.

27th April 1979

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan has given us many pointers to help us investigate and know what we actually are, and each of these pointers is a precious clue for us to follow. By experimenting with each of these clues, by trying to apply each one in practice, we will gradually develop the skill to hold on to self-attentiveness in all circumstances and to restore it whenever we lose our hold on it. Which of these clues we will find most helpful will vary according to the circumstances, so if at any time we find that one clue is not helping us, we can try to apply another one. For example, when we sit calmly to practise being self-attentive, we may find the clue ‘Turn back within to face yourself alone’ to be helpful, and if after some time we find that we have been distracted by other thoughts, the clue ‘Investigate to whom these thoughts appear’ may be helpful. However, whenever we are very agitated or overwhelmed with troubles or miseries, we may not find either of these clues to be sufficient, so at such times we can try ‘sifting’ by thinking as follows:

These troubles and miseries come to this person I seem to be, but am I this person? Was I aware ‘I am this person’ in sleep? No, but though I was not aware ‘I am this person’ then, was I not nevertheless present in sleep, and was I not aware of my being then? In other words, was I not aware ‘I am’ even when I was not aware ‘I am this person’? What then is this awareness ‘I’ that existed and shone alone in sleep, but which now seems to be mixed up with this person and hence with all these troubles and miseries that have come to this person?

By thinking like this, carefully considering what this ‘I’ is, we may be able to sift it out and separate it from everything else with which it now seems to be mixed, thereby enabling us to focus our attention on it alone. If we want to sift a diamond from a heap of pebbles, we need to look at the pebbles carefully to see where amongst them the diamond is lying, and in doing so our attention will sooner or later be caught by it. Likewise, if we want to sift ‘I’ from among all the other thoughts that constitute the mind, we need to survey the inner space in which all thoughts appear and disappear to see where this ‘I’ is, and in doing so our attention will sooner or later be caught by it. However, unlike the diamond, which will be found as one thing among many other things, ‘I’ will be found to be the space of awareness in which all other things appear and disappear, like a cinema screen on which pictures appear and disappear.

We must then try to keep our attention fixed firmly, steadily and calmly on this space of awareness until we see it as it actually is, namely as the infinite and eternal space in which there is neither coming nor going, neither appearing nor disappearing. When we see it thus, we will see that it alone is what is, so there is no such thing as ‘mind’ at all, as Bhagavan points out in verse 17 of Upadēśa Undiyār:

When one investigates the form of the mind [the space of awareness] without forgetting, there is not anything called ‘mind’. This is the direct path for everyone whomsoever.

3rd May 1979

Sadhu Om: In Bhagavan’s days devotees who lived elsewhere would write letters to tell him about their difficulties or to pray for his help and guidance, and though he read all such letters, he did not reply to any of them, so Mauni, who worked in the Ashram office, would reply on his behalf. Even after he left his body, some devotees continued to write to the Ashram in the same way, believing that they were thereby placing their difficulties at his feet.

One day in 1956, Prof. N.R. Krishnamurthy Aiyer, who had first come to Bhagavan in 1914, wrote to the Ashram saying that though he had often heard Bhagavan talking about the need for self-enquiry and self-surrender, he was not able to do either, but he was at least able to recite Śrī Aruṇācala Stuti Pañcakam [Bhagavan’s five hymns to Arunachala] daily. The Ashram president passed his letter on as usual to T.K. Sundaresa Iyer, who in those days replied to such letters on behalf of the Ashram, but since he was unsure what to reply, Sundaresa Iyer told me what had been written without saying who had written it and asked me to draft a reply, so I immediately composed Śrī Aruṇācala Stuti Pañcaka Māṇbu (the greatness of Śrī Aruṇācala Stuti Pañcakam):

ஒருநான்கெனு மறைநூன்முடி வுணராய்குறை விலையாம்

உலகோர்புகழ் சதுர்யோகமு முணராய்குறை விலையாம்

திருமால்சிவ பெருமான்பணிந் திலையோகுறை விலையாம்

சிவையைங்கரன் குமரன்றுதித் திலையோகுறை விலையாம்

கருணாகர முனிநாயக னருணாசல ரமணன்

கனிவோடருட் டிருவாய்மலர் கதிநாயக வமுதாம்

அருணாசல ஸ்துதிபஞ்சக மனனஞ்செய வறியின்

அதுபோதுமின் றதுபோதுநீ யதுவாமறி வுறவே.

You have not [studied and] known the final import of the peerless four Vedas? That is no loss. You have not [practised and] known the four yōgas, which people of the world praise? That is no loss. You have not worshipped Tirumal [Lord Vishnu] or Siva Peruman [Lord Siva]? That is no loss. You have not praised Sivai [the Divine Mother], Ainkaran [the five-armed Ganapati] or Kumaran [Lord Subramanya]? That is no loss. If you know to do manana [thinking deeply about the meaning and implication] of Aruṇācala Stuti Pañcakam, which Arunachalaramana, the abundant giver of grace (karuṇākara), the Lord of Sages (muni-nāyaka), graciously sang with [heart-melting] love, and which is the foremost of paths [of upāsanā or worship] and amṛta [ambrosia, the nectar of immortality], that is sufficient, that is now sufficient to attain the awareness that you are that (nī adu ām) [tat tvam asi].

Sundaresa Iyer sent this verse to Krishnamurthy Aiyer, and as soon as he received it he came to the Ashram to see who had composed it. When Sundaresa Iyer told him that I had composed it, he thanked me profusely and said he considered it to be a gift from Bhagavan and an answer to his prayers, but I told him that it had indeed come from Bhagavan, so all thanks were due only to him.

[MJ’s note: For the next thirty years or so this verse, which Sadhu Om composed on 2nd June 1956, was printed as an introductory verse at the beginning of each Tamil edition of Śrī Aruṇācala Stuti Pañcakam, but at some point in the 1980s it was somehow omitted from further editions.]

13th May 1979

Sadhu Om: In Śrī Ramaṇa Dēva Mālai [published in 1939] Muruganar sang a verse that means: ‘Because the ever-unborn has taken birth [in the form of Bhagavan Ramana], countless of the never-dyings [namely egos] have died’.

23rd June 1979

Sadhu Om: If a donkey comes in front of a mirror, it will see a donkey, and if a monkey comes in front of the same mirror, it will see a monkey. Such is the outward form of the jñāni. Because that outward form is devoid of ego, it is like a clear mirror. What each person sees in the jñāni is therefore a reflection not only of their real nature but also of their intervening mind. This is why each person sees and understands Bhagavan in their own way. No two people see the same Bhagavan, because each of them sees him through the coloured glasses of their own mind.

In order to see him as he actually is, we need to see ourself as we actually are, and when we see ourself as we actually are, we will cease to exist as ego, so we will thereby lose ourself completely in him, as him. Therefore no one other than Bhagavan can know him as he actually is. So long as we see ourself as anything other than him, we cannot see him as he sees himself. An impure mind will see a very distorted image of him, whereas a purer mind will see a less distorted image of him, but only when he devours us entirely will we see him as he sees himself.

3rd August 1979

Sadhu Om: In verse 66 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai ‘nēr’ can mean either ‘attain’ or ‘resemble’, so ‘uṉai nēr pittaṉ ākkiṉai’ can mean either ‘you made [me] one who is mad [with love] to attain you’ or ‘you made [me] one who is mad like you’. Sundaramurti praised Lord Siva as a madman because he is mad with love to save his devotees, no matter how unworthy they are, so this second meaning implies: ‘Just as you are mad with love to save me, you made me mad like you, mad with love to be wholly possessed by you’.

In verse 68 ‘pul-l-aṟivu’ (base, low or mean awareness or knowledge) implies either ‘ignorance’ or ‘impure mind’, whereas ‘nal-l-aṟivu’ (good awareness or knowledge) implies ‘true knowledge’, ‘real awareness’ or ‘pure mind’. The meaning of this verse can therefore be interpreted in either of two ways, namely:

Arunachala, say, what is base awareness [false awareness or ignorance]? Say, what is good awareness [real awareness or true knowledge]? Be gracious, [enabling me] to embrace [cling to or attain] [only real awareness].

or

Arunachala, when [your] grace embraces [me], say, what is a base [impure] mind, [and] say, what is a good [pure] mind?

This second meaning implies: ‘What does it matter whether my mind is impure or pure? However it is, it will be eradicated when your grace embraces me’. When the Ganga floods Kasi, it will flow in all the streets, so both the pure Ganga water and the impure gutter water will be carried away by it to the ocean. The grace of Arunachala is such a flood, as Bhagavan describes it beautifully in the last line of the first verse of Śrī Aruṇācala Padigam, ‘O Love called the great Aruna Hill, from which grace surges as a spring, gushing forth abundantly there’, so whether our mind is pure or impure, if we are caught in the flood of his grace, it will certainly carry us back to the ocean of bliss.

31st October 1979

Sadhu Om [in reply to someone who remarked that Bhagavan did not like anyone to take him as their guru]: That is not correct. Bhagavan never objected to anyone taking him as guru. What he said was that so long as we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, guru is necessary, and guru will usually appear in the form of another human body. However, in the view of the real guru there are no others and there is no such thing as ignorance (ajñāna), so he will never think ‘I am the guru and these are my disciples’. Therefore the guru is guru only in the view of the disciples.

Since Bhagavan does not see us as other than himself, he loves us as himself, so his love is infinite and all-embracing. His infinite love for us is therefore what we experience as his grace, and his grace is what shines not only through his outward form giving us his teachings, but also eternally in our heart as our own being, where he is silently working to purify our mind and enkindle in us the love to turn within to investigate what we actually are and thereby to surrender ourself entirely to him.

All this he does without actually doing anything, but just by being as he is, because his very being is love, and love is the infinite power of being. The role of guru is therefore extremely subtle, indispensable and ever-unfailing, as he indicates in the twelfth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:

God and guru are in truth not different. Just as what has been caught in the jaws of a tiger will not return, so those who have been caught in the look [or glance] of guru’s grace will never be forsaken but will surely be saved by him; nevertheless, it is necessary to walk unfailingly in accordance with the path that guru has shown.

Notes

⁠1  Compare verse 89 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai: ‘Arunachala, who, unknown to anyone, enchanted and stole my mind?’

⁠2  Tinnai Swami was a devotee of Bhagavan, and an article that I wrote about him was published on pp. 75-83 of the Aradhana 2004 issue of The Mountain Path.

⁠3  Compare the final clause of the twelfth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār? (Who am I?): ‘…nevertheless, it is necessary to proceed [behave or act] unfailingly according to the path that guru has shown’.

⁠4  In the more recent twenty-eight question-and-answer version, which was compiled and first published in 1932, about five years after Bhagavan had written his essay version, the editor (whose identity is not now known) changed the final verb in this sentence (the first sentence of the reply to question 20 in that version) from serkka mudiyaadu, which means ‘cannot join [or establish]’, to serkkaar, which means ‘will not join [or establish]’.

⁠5  In Tamil there are two distinct first person plural pronouns: nam, which includes whoever is addressed, and nangal, which excludes whoever is addressed. When referring to self, Bhagavan always used the inclusive nam rather than the exclusive nangal.

⁠6  In Crumbs from His Table, chapter 13, ‘Some Surprising Incidents’, Ramanananda Swarnagiri recalls: ‘Sri Bhagavan was correcting and aiding some youngsters of not more than ten years of age in memorising His Sanskrit work Upadesa Saram and the writer was laughing, so to say, up his sleeve, at the futility of coaching these youngsters who could not understand the A, B, C of this highly metaphysical poetry. Without the utterance of a single word, Sri Bhagavan turned to him and remarked that though these children might not understand the meaning of these poems then, yet they would be of immense help to them, and would be recalled with great relief and pleasure, when they came of age and were in difficulties.’

⁠7  On another occasion Kunju Swami told me a similar story: After the ashram had won a case that Perumal Swami had put against it and Bhagavan in a local court, he came to Bhagavan and declared angrily, ‘Though you won this case, I will not leave you. I will take it to a higher court, and continue fighting until I win. If you are God, as they claim, you can put me in hell, but even then I will not leave you’, to which Bhagavan gently replied, ‘Even if you go to hell, I will not leave you’. Whether or not Perumal Swami understood what Bhagavan meant, these words of his were a gracious assurance that he would never forsake him but would certainly save him. I heard this story from other sources also, so I believe it is reliable. Therefore I am not sure whether these stories refer to two separate incidents, or whether the version I recorded here was the same incident with some details confused. (MJ)

⁠8  This verse is referred to towards the end of section 291 of Talks, in which it is recorded that Bhagavan said that the handwriting of the verse was his own whereas the ideas in it were Perumal Swami’s, and when asked whether he agreed with the statement made in it, he replied ‘In the same way as an idol is praised as Subrahmanya’. (MJ)

⁠9  Bhagavan’s Tamil translation of this verse is included in Ulladu Narpadu Anubandham as verse 8. (MJ)

⁠10  Near the end of chapter 7 of The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna it is recorded that on Monday 1st January 1883 Sri Ramakrishna said: ‘One ultimately discovers God by trying to know who this ‘I’ is’ (1942 American edition, p. 180). (MJ)

⁠11  Compare Day by Day with Bhagavan, 11-1-46 Afternoon (5th reprint, 2002, p. 104), where it is recorded that when asked ‘What is the difference between the mind and the Self?’ Bhagavan replied: ‘There is no difference. The mind turned inwards is the Self; turned outwards, it becomes the ego and all the world’.

⁠12  See for example Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi, section 529 (2006 edition, page 528).

⁠13  See for example Talks, section 283 (2006 edition, page 252), and Day by Day with Bhagavan, 16-7-46 (2002 edition, page 273).

⁠14  This seems to be a reference to a conversation recorded in section 507 of Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi.

Copyright 2012–2025 Michael James. An earlier version appeared in The Mountain Path in 54 installments from April 2012 through July 2025. This page contains the author’s revised version except for entries starting 1st April 1979 which are reproduced from The Mountain Path.

This page was first published on October 13, 2026 and last revised on October 21, 2026.

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