Ramana’s and Nisargadatta’s Differing Concepts of Self-Realization

10 August 2013

Ramana’s and Nisargadatta’s Differing Concepts of Self-Realization--AMENDED Aug. 14

Ramana Maharshi and Nisargadatta Maharaj were contemporaries in the wisdom tradition known as Advaita Vedanta. However, both entertained profoundly different philosophy of Self, and of what exists, otherwise known as ontology.

Many people believe that all enlightened people have exactly the same experience and merely express it differently depending on their background, education, and the people around them. However, this is just an assumption. No one can really know the mind of another or the experience of another except by speculation, or in the cases of some very empathic individuals, by direct experience. However, even if I were to have a direct experience of Ramana Maharshi’s experience, it would still be filtered through my body-mind apparatus, and therefore would never be pure Ramana.

Instead of assuming that both of these two great gurus spoke identically in terms of ontology, or more importantly, about the Self, or “Truth,” let us look at what they actually said.

The keywords in exploring the ontology of both of these teachers are as follows: ‘I’, ‘self’, ‘Self’, ‘Consciousness’, ‘Turiya’, and ‘Turiyatata’.

One of the key differences between Nisargadatta and Ramana, was that for Ramana there was only Consciousness. For Nisargadatta, there was Consciousness and the witness behind Consciousness, the absolute, the noumenal, which was entirely separate from Consciousness. Sometimes it appears he uses "witness" almost like  pointer towards an entity. However, and entity would have to be in existence or Consciousness.  At other times, he refers to it as the "principle" that knows both knowingness and non-knowing, or nothingness.

For Ramana there were two I’s, the I of the mind that is destroyed by self inquiry, and the “true” I of the heart, which is experienced when the mind is silent and one rests in one sense of presence in the area of the heart in the body. The locus of concentration/energy, drops from the brain, face, and mouth into the thorax and heart area, entirely quieting the mind. This is called abiding in the Self.

For Nisargadatta, in essence, there were three I’s: the I thought; the I of Atman or the witness of the three states of Consciousness found in Turiya; the absolute witness, the noumenal Self, the Self that does not exist in Consciousness, and therefore “exists” prior to Consciousness.

For Nisargadatta, following the lead of his teacher Siddharameshwar, enjoined the student practitioner to focus on the inner sense of I am, which usually is first experienced as energy in the area of the heart, and with concentration thereon, grows into a sense of presence.

Nisargadatta has the student focus on the sense of I am, then turn around and rests in the sense of I am or abides there in the sense of I am, with a sense of love and acceptance of that I am sense.

Eventually, Nisargadatta states that that sense of I am, almost as a physical presence, disappears, leaving one in the absolute, which is beyond Consciousness, and is the ultimate witness of Consciousness.

Ramana somewhat differently has the student concentrate on the I-thought, watching where it arises and where it passes away.

If one actually practices this way for a long time, one will actually see the thought as an entity arising out of emptiness and disappearing into emptiness, which he calls Self, Turiya, or the real I as opposed to the false I of the I-thought.

That is, for Ramana, the real I is the ground state, feeling of Turiya, which is the basic essence of sentience, or the conscious life force. I believe this is what Nisargadatta calls “beingness.”

If we meditate deeper, and watch that I thought disappear into the emptiness, one will find that emptiness is really filled with knowingness, sentience, or a sense of presence. It appears as a lighted presence within oneself, within the empty space that is our inner void, and which, after a time, one takes to be oneself. Ramana calls this the true I.

For Nisargadatta, at least in his experience, even Ramana’s true I of Consciousness is illusory, and his true I is the witness which is entirely beyond Consciousness, and which is the noumenal, the absolute, and which can never know itself as object. In other words, the true I is entirely a mystery, and the source from which all of Consciousness arises and passes away.

For Ramana, it is different. For him there is only Consciousness.

Ramana stated after he had an experience of death and realized that the body dies but Consciousness is not touched by death:

“I” am immortal Consciousness. “I” [that is the true I or Self] was reality, the only reality in this momentary state. All conscious activity that was related to my body flowed into this “I.” From that moment all attention was drawn as if by powerful magic to the I or “Self.” The fear of death was permanently extinguished. From this time I remain fully absorbed in the “Self.”

You have to realize that Ramana did not actually die. He pretended to die. A fear of death came to him and instead of running from the fear, decided to introspect into it, and pretended to die. He held his breath. He clenched his eyes. I he laid down as a corpse and imagined it was ready to be burned in the fire of cremation.

Then it dawned on him that the full power of his own beingness continued to exist unabated. He realized in this moment the separation of Consciousness from the body, and that Consciousness had its own separate life force from the body. It is because of his terrible fear that this experience that “ordinary Consciousness” was so meaningful. Other people find out that they are not their bodies in other ways, and with somewhat different experiences.

For Ramana there was only Consciousness. It was not conceivable to him that there was a noumenal unknowable witness that existed prior to Consciousness. For Ramana there was only Satchitananda, existence-knowledge-bliss. There was nothing outside of existence-knowledge-bliss. That is there was no prior to Consciousness; all that there was, was Consciousness.

Nisargadatta would agree that all that there is, is Consciousness. But he would posit the existence of a principal beyond Consciousness that was aware of the coming and going of Consciousness, which he called the Absolute, or the Witness, equivalent to the Western concept of noumena, the unknowable subject of existence, which was not in existence, but beyond it, or prior to it.

One might use an analogy of en entity from another dimension who stuck his head into our 4-dimensioanl universe, witnessed it, but was not of it.

In his life as a matter of fact, Nisargadatta retreated more and more into this witness state the older and sicker he got, but he stated that for the aspirant who wants to attain Jnana, one cannot ignore Consciousness, which he called “knowingness.”

On page 53 of Consciousness and the Absolute he states:

     “the absolute state cannot be explained by words. You are that absolute, the unchanging.

     “Consciousness, or the knowingness, is homogeneous and one only. When you were in that state of Consciousness, it is all one, all the same, only the expressions are different.

     “Everything which gets consumed, exhausted, is unreal. Your knowingness will, in due course, be consumed, will disappear, so it can’t be real; but you can’t just dismiss it, you must understand it fully.”

In other words, Nisargadatta is saying that Consciousness is unreal in the sense of being temporary, and also dependent on the existence of the body, and becomes burnt up by life after period of time, but for the purposes of Jnana, self-realization, it cannot be ignored, for it is the gate to awakening.

Self-realization for Nisargadatta meant something entirely different from self-realization for Ramana. For Ramana self-realization is the recognition that you are the entirety of Consciousness arising from your recognition that your essence is the Satchitananda of the Turiya “state,” and also all experiences that arise from and disappear into Turiya. In other words, you are that expanded sense of presence that comes from dwelling in the silence of the heart with the mind held silent, the beingness or presence that experiences everything, and which remains during sleep, waking and dream states. For Ramana everything in the world, everything in your body and mind, reside in that sense of presence, Satchitananda or the real I, or Turiya.

But not for Nisargadatta. He identifies himself with the witness of Consciousness, the witness of I am. In a sense he appears to be identifying with the witness or the real I that Ramana calls Turiya, but Nisargadatta objectifies Consciousness, the object, while the absolute is the noumenal subject.

Concerning this, Robert Adams rejected Nisargadatta’s assumption of the split between the absolute and Ramana’s real I of Turiya, saying that Nisargadatta added unnecessary complications to Ramana’s pure theory.

Nisargadatta’s absolute in a sense is initially a speculation based on the assumption that there must exist a principal which recognizes Consciousness and also the absence of Consciousness which is beyond Consciousness. One can never experience this prior to Consciousness “existence” because it is entirely outside of Consciousness. As Nisargadatta states, one can never witness the witness, one can never witness the absolute, one can only be the absolute. Therefore there can never be any experiential proof of the Absolute, but only a conviction.

When one becomes that witness for Nisargadatta, one has attained a level beyond existence and nonexistence, which he states as is one’s true nature, and it is this which he called self-realization.

(In fact, as I explain elsewhere, it is more than         conviction. One develops a faith that is beyond the intellect, beyond conviction because of the continuity of Se;f even through unconsciousness states.  Ramesh Balsekar called with "apprehension.")

For Ramana on the other hand, self-realization is the experience of Satchitananda, or identification or immersion in Turiya, the real Self, “the only reality.” He stated that “all conscious activity that was related to my body flowed into this I (Turiya). From that moment, all attention was drawn as if by powerful magic to the “I” or the “Self.”

For Ramana, self-realization was entirely experiential. He felt the power of the self within, of Turiya, of Satchitananda, and from that moment on was always aware that he was the self. This was the true I. The I did not dissolve as for Nisargadatta, although the false I of the mind did. All things in the world arose from and  subsided into the Self. For Nisargadatta, all things arose from and disappeared into the absolute, the noumena.

One reconciliation is possible between these two concepts of self-realization is to join them both together, and make Turiya the flip side of the absolute witness, and the absolute witness the flip side of Turiya or essence of Consciousness.

Nisargadatta appears to be suggesting the same in Consciousness and the Absolute.  In one paragraph he calls the ‘Self’ the “feeling ‘I-Am’,” which is love to be, while in another paragraph he says the ‘I’ is the Absolute unmanifested, while Consciousness is the manifested world, Consciousness, which is experienced the same by all.

      Nisargadatta: Now, understand the subtle difference, what are you and what do you understand to be you? The body is not you. The body is the food you have consumed, the taste of the body is the knowledge "I Am". That is Self, the feeling "I Am", that is the love to be. That love to be is all-pervading.

     Everything happens out of our own Self. Thi consciousness is spontaneously felt in the Self only. This "I" is not an individual. What is, is the Absolute unmanifested. What appears, as if in a dream, is the manifested, relative world, and this experience of the dreamlike state is the same, an identical state, for everyone.

In fact, for me this is an essential assumption to explain my own experiences, the first of which was to experience myself as totally separate from the states of Consciousness which came to me, and enveloped me, but did not touch me. This is what Robert Adams acknowledged as self-realization in me.

In this experience I myself was unknowable; all that “I” knew was the coming and going of states of Consciousness. Without the coming and going of states of Consciousness there would be no awareness of myself as the absolute, apart from Consciousness. It was only through witnessing Consciousness that I had an existence as a total mystery, as some principle or thing beyond Turiya.

In my third awakening experience, I felt an explosion of life force, energy, and bliss arising from within my presence in a constant eruption, with a deep, deep knowing that this was my Self. There was utter and total certainty that this energy, light, bliss and self-recognition was myself. The knowledge was unshakable. Because of the simultaneous presence of visual light, bliss, a sense of profound grace, self-acceptance, surrender, and love, I call this Christ or Krishna Consciousness. This is the complete opposite of my second awakening stated in the previous paragraph.

In the second awakening I identified with the untouchable absolute witness just observing Consciousness. In the third awakening, I became the explosion of the light force, of Turiya, Satchitananda, Consciousness on steroids. And I found this awakening far more powerful, riveting, and “enlightening” than either my first or second awakening recognized by Robert Adams.

However, exploring Nisargadatta’s works, one reads his first book, Self-Knowledge and Self-Realization, and finds that he is a true Bhakta, filled with love, devotion, and divine energies, and experiences Krishna Consciousness. In fact he talks about Satchitananda and the constant feeling of bliss, surrender to his group, love of his guru, and love of that basic life in a state which he calls the child Consciousness.

Thus it may well be that Nisargadatta originally experienced the same awakening as Ramana to the life force, to Turiya with all of his attention fixated on it, and eventually it disappeared, and his identification was no longer with Consciousness, but more and more with the absolute experienced as a profound conviction (apprehension).  He did strongly feel the lessening of his own life force along with the severe pain of his cancer, and practically begged Consciousness to leave him.  Not so Ramana.

This may be the case, or it may be the case that Nisargadatta was just tired of life in the world and chose to begin to ignore Consciousness and the happenings in Consciousness, and cleaved to the conviction/apprehension of That which knew the coming and going of Consciousness which was prior to Consciousness, and which was immortal.

     Nisargadatta: My present state is such that this consciousness and all this physical suffering are unbearable. I am prepared to dispose of it right now. Nevertheless, people come here and these talks emanate out of the consciousness. I am addressing you as consciousness; you are the Godly consciousness. 

     I am telling you about the consciousness. In my true state, if I had been aware of consciousness at the moment the body formation was taking place, I would have rejected it. But at that highest state such knowledge is not there and this body formation and consciousness are both spontaneous.

For me, I think I have come to express in my own teachings the primacy of Ramana’s saying YES to Consciousness and the life force, as opposed to Nisargadatta more or less dismissing Consciousness and fading away into the noumena, into the hypothetical subject beyond Consciousness.

For me, the constant burning explosive awareness that runs through my sense of presence and my body is so powerful, so commanding and inviting at the same time, that my previous existence up until two years ago, and which included 15 years of awakening in a Nisargadatta style, was all just a dream.

Only now when I burn and explode with life energies, my body is acutely attentive to everything, my sense of presence fills my body and the space around me with a different kind of knowing, a knowing through the heart directly rather than through the mind and the brain. To me this is true awakening peace that passeth all understanding, far beyond the (almost unbearable/almost annoying) bliss.

This nakedness we share, this aloneness, this longing to touch... (Nancy Neithercut)

this nakedness we share, this aloneness, this longing to touch... is love... this is who we are and it is all encompassing…

infinitely intimate is this life, feeling deeply, passionately and sometimes not... no right or wrong way to live or love or die... 

poems are love songs hidden and revealed, clothed in nakedness, where words form your lips and bathe your heart in waves of storm and calm, in tides of light and dark, in echoes of sound and silence that reverberate an earthly heavenly music that feels like a center less center, a beginning and end to the spiral that billows and recedes…

this breath, this heartbeat, this undeniable feeling of aliveness that cannot be separated from the sensorial rush of perception, all complete without edges

…no where to bleed, love bleeds into itself

…and the scarlet and orangy skies fade into purpling, and the darkness creeps so gradually, you can see in the darkest night, as your breath lingers on the last notes of moon songs drifting over the canyon walls, casting its reflection into another's eyes, another world beyond the horizon where dawn waits for your eyes, your heart, your body to rejoice to play to sing the day to dance this lover’s dance, whirling madly, going nowhere, the hush that saturates this that is without meaning or non meaning

…simply the joy of being, the joy of feeling deeply, and the bliss of not being separate from what life looks or feels like as all is life, yet there can be caring deeply… ahhhh… this very life this very breath this very heart beat, this very kiss…

the beauty of love is that it has no boundaries, no definition, and cannot be found or lost, and the desperate attempt to find it to capture it is it…

how beautiful this center less spinning, this delicate weave and unravelling of threads of diaphanous thought, of moonlight blushing into a garment of nakedness, and this ache to clothe others, to hold them and tell them that they are beautiful, that they are love

…but not the love they are used to thinking about, like lacking and then fulfilled, as all is full, all is bursting!

can’t you feel your heart singing as dawn slides through the window after a long moonless night, rain splashing away your night time dream, and the trailing tail lights meandering down the wet lonely highway looking for a moon you seemed to lose, long ago when you closed the curtains trying to hide from the searing light, the penetrating love, the indelible song that you are and can never escape…

love cannot be run away from, the running is love, the finding is love, the losing of love, ...is love

Ik ben niet verlicht, ik ben verduisterd, 22 oktober 2022 door Hans van Dam

Ik ben niet verlicht, ik ben verduisterd

22 oktober 2022 door Hans van Dam

Deel 1 van een interview in 13 delen over de onzienlijke lichtheid van niet-weten en de weidsheid voorbij alle wijsheid.

Claire: Zou jij jezelf verlicht noemen?

Hans: Verlicht? Mij niet gezien. Niet-mij ook niet. Lichter misschien, opgelucht, jawel, maar verlicht?

Claire: Wat is daar mis mee?

Hans: Daar is niets mis mee. Verlichting is geen handelsmerk en ‘verlicht’ is geen beschermde titel. Iedereen mag zich zo noemen, van vuurvlieg tot gloeipeer.

Claire: Terecht, lijkt mij, het schijnt dat iedereen al verlicht is.

Hans: Het schijnt ook dat er eerst nog even iets moet gebeuren, al hoeft dat geen seconde te duren en is verlichting zelfs voor luie mensen binnen handbereik.

Er schijnen ook vijfhonderd wedergeboortes vol kommer en kwel nodig te zijn voor je uitgedoofd en wel de opiumkit van het nirwana wordt binnengereden, en dan moet je je al die tijd nog fatsoenlijk hebben gedragen ook.

Je ziet, er schijnt heel wat te schijnen in deze contreien; alleen al daarom is ‘verlicht’ mijn woord niet.

Claire: Wat is jouw woord wel?

Hans: Als ik mezelf per se iets moet noemen, dan maar verduisterd. Al is dat mijn woord niet.

Claire: Verduisterd?

Hans: Laat ik het maar meteen bekennen. Het is niet dat mijn derde oog is opengegaan en het Levende Licht heeft aanschouwd, of de Heilige Geest, de Waarheid, de Werkelijkheid, de Wijsheid Voorbij Alle Wijsheid, een Weten Zonder Woorden, de Kennis Zonder Leraar, of wat dan ook.

Claire: Jou is niets geopenbaard.

Hans: Ik ben alle inzichten kwijtgeraakt. Ze liggen in mijn bovenkamer opgebaard.

Claire: Geldt dat alleen voor jou of voor iedereen?

Hans: Geldt het voor jou?

Claire: Soms vraag ik me af of verlichting wel bestaat.

Hans: Het bestaat, als je verlichting definieert als het einde van dit soort vragen, van dit soort denken, van de zichtbare en onzichtbare onderscheidingen en aannames waarvan het is doordrenkt. Dan ben ik een levend voorbeeld.

Claire: Is dat hoe jij verlichting definieert?

Hans: Het is hoe ik niet-weten definieer.

Claire: Denk jij dat er aan anderen wel iets is geopenbaard?

Hans: Vraag maar aan anderen. Ik spreek alleen voor mezelf.

Claire: En als je voor jezelf spreekt?

Hans: Dan ben ik meteen uitgepraat. Ik weet het allemaal niet meer. Tot in de n-de graad. Dat gaat ver hoor. Niet-weten is een spel zonder grenzen. Ik weet niet eens meer of ik het allemaal niet meer weet. En ook niet of dat het toppunt van niet-weten is of het einde.

Claire: Je zit er tot over je oren in.

Hans: Ik ben er wel uit, ik kom er niet uit.

Claire: Het spelletje is uit.

Hans: En daar kan ik maar niet over uit.

Gloeilamp met blinddoek.

Uit: De onzienlijke lichtheid van niet-weten.

Milo Clark, A Day with Maharaj

"A Day with Maharaj," by Milo Clark

"Maharaj," to me, was just a temporal title of an Indian potentate until I met this lineage holder of a spiritual title [in the Navnath sampradaya], which, in this man's case suggests nothing regal, encompassing no estates, grants no domain. His physical circumstances are very simple yet apparently lacking nothing to him. The bulk of his being is entrusted to a small room, perhaps 10 by 15 feet in size, and filled with objects related to his being there as Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj. The entitlement brought no affectations, only some objects related to the linkage which he did not seek. Along with the other tenants of Vanmali Bhavan (the name of the building on Tenth Lane in the Khetwadi district of Bombay, where Maharaj lives with his family), he walks down the long hall to the far end of the building to use the communal toilet faculties. With a mischievous twinkle rarely absent from his unusually bright eyes, he scoffs at all the guru business and trappings. With a sweeping wave of his hands, he says that when he goes about he is just an old man out for a walk so nobody bothers him and he can go as he pleases.

Maharaj, as most of the Westerners in attendance called him, holds court in his little room much of the day and evening. The room is reached by a small, steep ladder which looks like a fold-up attic ladder from the Indian equivalent of Sears Roebuck. He will be found near the top—to the right side in the morning and to the left later in the day. On approaching a spiritual master of a Hindu tradition, one customarily touches head to floor in respect for the tradition bearer. Given the space involved and the immediate proximity of Maharaj to the top of the ladder, a rather adept maneuver is required to bring this off with some sense of grace and proportion. A visitor learns to keep legs in the stairwell and to execute the bow on emerging. Any alternative method requires a suppleness of spine worthy of an inchworm.

The space is no more than six feet high and was created many years ago by dividing the front room of this two-room suite in half vertically. There are numerous opportunities to impale one's head. A heavy central beam, at least six by six inches, has three heavy books for hanging large bells during ceremonies. On the side of the beam facing Tenth Lane, there is a metal rod, perhaps half an inch in diameter, extending from one side of the room to another. From this rod, at its easternmost end toward the outside wall of Vanmali Bhavan, hangs a heavy brass with a base diameter of about six inches. This bell would swell the chest of any respectable yachtsman. We shall hear more about this later.

I do not know how long Maharaj has been in this space, but it feels like a very long time. Maybe as long as 50 years, since this is also the location of his beedie shop, now boarded up below, which was his business before his spiritual enlightenment and, I understand, for some years afterwards. Beedies are very potent Indian cigarettes with an acrid, quite vile-smelling smoke. They are made by rolling some crumbled tobacco in a small leaf finished off with a wisp of colored string which also clues the addict as to which end to light while holding the whole thing together. In honor of his former trade or, perhaps more accurately, in testimony to the addictive powers of the beedie, Maharaj chain-smokes the little devils. It was hinted that Maharaj still helps out on beedie rolling now and then. His son carries on the family trade in a tiny alcove shop just down the alley to the east before the tea shop on the corner.

Maharaj states his age (at the time of my visit) as 82 years of suffering in this body. He says so or, more correctly, is translated as having said so in his native Marathi, with a wry smile and toss of his eyebrows, hinting that it may not have been all that bad.

The room has a patina and shine coming from much rubbing and wiping on its objects and surfaces. The floor is covered with a collection of rugs and carpets typical of the "as-is" section of a Goodwill store. My guess, nevertheless, is that a shrewd rug merchant would be delighted with some of them.

There are two low windows, one to the south facing Tenth Lane and the other in the eastern wall about two thirds back into the room. This latter opening is to a narrow space between buildings. The view includes a bit of rusted-through, corrugated roofing fallen from the adjacent building, some crumbling masonry, and various metal-reinforcing rods festooned with bits of cloth of indeterminate ancestry and circumstance. The windows are masked on the inside by heavy wire mesh. Both walls, what little is uncovered, and wire mesh were painted the same bilious green once dear to American hospitals. On opposite sides of the room about three feet or so back from the front wall along the longer side walls are two quite old appearing but once fine mirrors now losing their silvering here and there. By carefully placing oneself, there are reflections of a multitude of self-images.

At the far interior end of the room is a wooden case and chest of drawers laden with important-looking articles and secret recesses containing items for ceremonies and Maharaj's personal needs. Toward the side and above the low windows can be found a set of cushions, a backrest and two folded animal skins lined with velvet cloth. I have not seen this group of articles used during my visits, and sense that these were used during the late-night sessions, which were attended primarily by Maharaj's Indian devotees and conducted in Marathi with no translation offered.

By the center of the wall, also on top of the case mentioned above, is an elaborate (for these circumstances) altar arrangement backed by a large, silver-framed picture or a stern-visaged Indian of apparent importance garbed in a richly decorated uniform of Western cut. My impression was that this was a previous lineage holder of the Maharaj title now held by Nisargadatta. The altar itself has many silver pieces of differing sizes and shapes. A small flame burns continuously in a tall stand centered on the picture. There are two impressive lions on duty flanking the altar and heavy drapings along the edges of the frame. The base and panels are deeply embossed silver of complex designs and reliefs. There is no doubt that this altar arrangement holds significance to those who regularly attend Maharaj in this space.

Around the perimeter, in those areas not occupied by mirrors, altar and throne cushions, a wainscoting runs along about four feet above the floor. Oh, yes, I must also mention two formidable oil paintings of the current Maharaj. One is placed to the interior side of the altar arrangement mentioned. Under this portrait and between the altar case and a big dark wooden armoire is a tiny square of floor that became my refuge and support during the painful hours spent on that hard floor. The second portrait hangs on the interior (western) wall between the mirror and the front wall. Against the opposite wall lies a pile of cushions. Upon and above the wainscoting is a collection of framed representations of human faces and bodies, mostly photographs of various vintages. I recognized several that would be of Maharaj, and one of Ramana Maharshi. Another, more a drawing than a photograph (but who is to know?), conveys the impression of Babaji, the Avatar dear to Yogananda (Founder of the Self-Realization Fellowship). The others were unknown to me and ranged from additional figures in fancy dress similar to the distinguished gentleman over the altar to those in simple dhoti or loincloth pictured in various yogic poses with faces composed in samadhi or spiritual rest. When, during a slack moment, I ventured to ask the translator whom some of these visages may represent, Maharaj (who purports to know no English) sternly wagged his finger at me, fixed me with one of his dark looks of great import and let lose a torrent of words which were translated as, "When you know who you are, you will know who they are!" That was followed instantly, if not simultaneously—so quick are his changes—by the kind of merry twinkle old Saint Nick is supposed to have given before laying finger to nose and disappearing up the chimney with a "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

Minor details abound. There is a trap door with counter-weight which folds up to the interior wall. Above the trap door is a small railing to warn the unwary. At the head of the ladder, high on the wall right under the central beam, is a round, brass-cased doorbell button. This button, when pushed, rings a buzzer down in the living quarters below. Maharaj, at the start of bhajans (the chanting ceremonies), would stalk about the room banging cymbals mightily and glaring at the head of the ladder in expectation of the desired attendance of his family. They would hardly ever put in an appearance, but Maharaj would scowl and go over to push many times upon the button. Sometimes his [last surviving] daughter would come up and join in and, satisfied, Maharaj would go back to intent concentration on his cymbals.

To the front left are some small shelves with items related to housekeeping. You should also know that Maharaj sleeps in this room. The pile of cushions in the eastern corner conceals the bedding and frame which are brought out and assembled by his daughter for the afternoon nap and nighttime sleep. And, on the two window sills, both about eight inches deep (the thickness of the walls), are flower vases, water pitchers, metal stands, trays, and ashtrays. Yes, holy ashtrays (sounds like something from "L'il Orphan Annie" or "Batman" comics). Maharaj's endless succession of beedies comes out of a silver box kept by his side. The silver looks almost worn through to the wood of the box. He seemingly is involved with lighting a beedie or new stick of incense almost all the time. He used one of those Ronson type coffee-table butane lighters (given to him by some admirer) with a childlike fascination in its workings yet carried off with a casual aplomb. 

I was there during a better part of the year, I was told, yet the air in Bombay, at least during my visit, averaged a stage-two smog alert by Los Angeles standards. Maharaj carefully keeps ten or more sticks of incense burning from his seven incense holders. His favorites seemed to be "pacholi" and "Everest." At times other than discourses—i.e., bhajans, readings, puja (worship)— additional incense would be lit before the altar and at other places in the room. As though that were not enough, ritual camphor was burned at least three times daily. All of this contributes richly to the patina constantly applied and dutifully rubbed. Needless to say, the reek of Maharaj's omnipresent beedies was well camouflaged.

- Milo Clark, A Day with Maharaj

Groetjes uit Shambhala ...

Weer een nieuwe 'groetjes uit shambhala'. Over fictieve geloven deze keer.

Klik hier voor de podcast.

Nobelprijs voor aantonen dat werkelijkheid niet bestaat

Wetenschapper wint Nobelprijs – toont aan dat werkelijkheid niet echt is

14 oktober 2022 door de redactie van het BD

De wetenschapper Alain Aspect heeft deze week de Nobelprijs gewonnen voor het experimenteel bewijzen dat de echte wereld… niet echt is. En ook al is de fysieke wereld niet echt, toch kreeg Aspect de Nobelprijs voor Natuurkunde, samen met twee andere wetenschappers op hetzelfde onderzoeksgebied.

Aspect is verbonden aan het Hong Kong Institute for Advanced Study aan de City University. Hij maakt deel uit van een team van mondiale topwetenschappers dat regelmatig Hongkong bezoekt.

Wat hebben hij en zijn collega’s eigenlijk ontdekt? Om die vraag te beantwoorden, moeten we een eeuw terug naar de jaren twintig van de vorige eeuw. Er ontstond een ruzie tussen Einstein en de’ vaders van een nieuw wetenschapsgebied’, de kwantumfysica.

In 1935 zei Einstein dat de ontdekkingen over de aard van de basisdeeltjes waaruit alles in de wereld bestaat, inclusief mensen en voorwerpen en de ruimte zelf, fundamenteel onjuist waren. De kwantumfysica als theorie werkte alleen als de deeltjes niet onderworpen waren aan de regels van tijd en ruimte. Het zou betekenen dat op een fundamenteel niveau niets onderworpen was aan de regels van tijd en ruimte. Niets was echt. Probeer die stelling maar eens te verdedigen, daagde Einstein zijn tegenstanders uit.

De kwantumvaders gaven toe dat Einsteins punt correct was – maar ze hielden vast aan hun bevindingen, en gaven zelfs toe dat ze daardoor als mystici overkwamen. Ze merkten zelfs op dat hun theorie gelijkenis vertoonde met oude oosterse gezegden als “de werkelijkheid is een droom in de geest van God”.

Het geschil bleef tientallen jaren onopgelost. Einstein werd gezien als de leider van de kant die zei dat de werkelijkheid echt was, terwijl de kwantumvaders, onder leiding van Niels Bohr, zeiden dat de werkelijkheid een illusie was. Ten tijde van Einsteins dood in 1955 bleef de kwestie in wezen onopgelost. Maar in de jaren 1960 en 1970 werkten verschillende wetenschappers degelijke experimentele manieren uit om na te gaan of de deeltjes fysisch “echt” waren of niet. De bevindingen waren duidelijk. Ze leken aan te geven dat de kwantumvaders gelijk hadden.

Met andere woorden, de fysieke werkelijkheid – de 3D-wereld waarin wij bestaan en ons bewegen – is een illusie of een projectie. Dit is nu het standaard standpunt in de natuurkunde.

Zijn het de hersenen, is het bewustzijn, is het bewustzijn? (Nancy Neithercut)

velen proberen dit vast te pinnen, zijn het de hersenen, is het bewustzijn, is het bewustzijn?

 is er een 'het'?

 Ik heb er nog nooit een gevonden!

 dat er geen rand is aan wat er aan de hand is, is duidelijk, maar de meesten proberen het te vangen ... waarom? omdat ze weten dat het leven kostbaar is en ze weten dat de dood wacht, en degenen voor wie het idee van eeuwig of een leven met god of reïncarnatie nooit echt wordt geloofd, proberen deze kostbare edelsteen vast te houden spontaan van nature perfect, zoals alle deze.

 is het echt perfect, is het liefde? zoals ik al zei, er is geen 'het'.

 daarom is er geen greep, en dit is de schat, dit is de schoonheid, dit is, nou ja, het leven terwijl het tegelijkertijd explodeert en implodeert, net zoals dit...

 onvermijdelijk, onbereikbaar, ongrijpbaar... liefde in al haar rijkdom en pracht... en hoe wonderbaarlijk je tranen, je menselijkheid, hoe mooi en kostbaar je bent...

 niemand schrijft me meer, en dat doen ze al jaren niet meer. maar we hebben wel mooie zoom meetings en die gaan niet over non-dualiteit. het zijn mensen die hun mooie leven delen, dat zijn verhalen, zoals wij verhalen zijn, en in het delen dat we elkaar worden, is het echt een liefdesfeest.

 Ik heb het gevoel dat niemand niet weet wat ik zing, maar ja, om te horen dat het 'gewoon dit' is als je vader op sterven ligt kan moeilijk zijn, maar eigenlijk is dat toch duidelijk niet?

 Ik kan mensen zien die proberen te leven in het moment waarop dat proberen het onontkoombare ongrijpbare moment is, ik kan mensen zien die proberen eraan te ontsnappen, en dat proberen eraan te ontsnappen het is... Ik hoor over conflicten en ruzies tussen niet-dualiteitssprekers en Nou, is dat niet gewoon een deel van de dans?

 een populaire spreker vertelde een tijdje geleden in een non-dualiteitsbijeenkomst (volgens een vriend) dat zijn hond was overleden en dat dat 'slechts' een verhaal was, en ik kan zien dat de luisteraars zouden denken, 'oh, ik wou dat ik kon schouderophalen van mijn leven zo, en niet schelen' en dus, nou ja, hij zal meer en meer klanten krijgen. gegarandeerd!

 maar weet je, we ZIJN verhalen, en dat we verhalen zijn is een verhaal!

 verhalen zijn alles wat we hebben, ze zijn alles wat we kennen, of het nu sprookjes of horrorshows zijn, en sommige verhalen gaan over het achtervolgen van draken, of het najagen van regenbogen, of het najagen van dat ongrijpbare onkenbare doel dat verlichting heet...

 niets slecht of beter, niet persoonlijk of niet-persoonlijk, niet zinvol of zinloos, maar toch oneindig intiem en volkomen adembenemend en eenvoudig ...

 wel, DIT hoe het er ook uitziet of aanvoelt, want er is geen DAT, en dit voelt als liefde voor mij, daarom stromen liefdesliedjes uit deze vingers en een gezondheidsprofessional voelen als een mooie manier om de liefde te delen. niet de mijne niet de jouwe, liefde is, nou ja, onvermijdelijk en onbereikbaar en omvat alles en alles en helemaal niets

 alleen door van je te houden lijk ik te verschijnen...

 mogen we deze dans houden? de maan komt op en de krekels zingen nog steeds, de herfst lonkt...

Nancy Neithercut 

many try to pin this down, is it the brain, is it awareness, is it consciousness?

is there an ‘it'?

I have never found one!

that there is no edge to what is going on is obvious yet most are trying to catch it... why? because they know that life is precious and they know that death is waiting, and those for whom the idea of eternal or a life with god or reincarnation never really are believed, seeking to hold this precious gem is spontaneously naturally perfect, as is all of this.

is it really perfect, is it love? well as I said there is no ‘it’.

that is why there is no grasping, and this is the treasure, this is the beauty, this is, well, life as it explodes and implodes simultaneously, just like this…

unavoidable, un-reachable, ungraspable... love in all its richness and splendor…and how marvelous your tears, your humanness, how beautiful and precious you are...

no one writes me anymore, and they haven't for years. but we do have beautiful zoom meetings and they are not about non duality. they are people sharing their beautiful lives, which are stories, as we are stories, and in the sharing we become each other, it is truly a love fest. 

I feel that no one does not know that of which I sing, but yes, to be told it is 'just this' when your father is dying can be hard, but actually that is obvious is it not?

I can see people trying to live in the moment when that trying is the inescapable ungraspable momentary, I can see people trying to escape it, and that trying to escape it is it... I hear about conflicts and arguments between non duality speakers and well, ain't that just part of the dance?

a popular speaker shared in a non duality meeting a while ago (according to a friend) that his dog had died and that that was 'just' a story, and I can see that the listeners would think, 'oh, I wish I could just shrug off my life like that, and not care' and so, well, he will get more and more customers. guaranteed!

but ya know, we ARE stories, and that we are stories is a story!

stories are all we have they are all we know, whether fairytales or horror shows, and some tales are about chasing dragons, or chasing rainbows, or chasing that elusive unknowable goal called enlightenment…

none bad or better, not personal or non personal, not meaningful or meaningless, yet infinitely intimate and utterly breathtaking and simply…

well, THIS what ever it looks or feels like, as there is no THAT, and this feels like love to me, that is why love songs pour from these fingers and being a health professional feels like a beautiful way to share the love. not mine not yours, love is, well unavoidable and unreachable and includes all and everything and nothing at all

only in loving you do I seem to appear... 

may we have this dance? the moon is rising and the crickets still sing, autumn beckons…

Nancy Neithercut