People call it Philosophy, I call it the way of life.
मैंने पूछा, खुशी का पता क्या है?
उसने कहा, खुशी की व्याख्या बता, क्या है?
मैंने बोल उठाः
चेहरे पर मुस्कान लाए, वो खुशी।
मीठे से ख़्वाब दिखाए, वो खुशी।
मित्र परिवार को प्यार दे और पाए, वो खुशी।
मधुर विचारों को जगाए, वो खुशी।
उसने पूछा, बता ये सब पाने को जाना कहाँ है?
जैसे ही मैं सोचने लगा, उसने कहा...
ये सब तो तेरे और मेरे भीतर है, अभी है, यहाँ है।
Excerpts from Swadhyay (23/Jul) by Sir. It might not be precise and the understanding might have been reflected otherwise at some junctures. Kindly discern accordingly.
King Janaka once dreamt that he had lost everything. His kingdom was gone. His wealth had vanished. He wandered hungry, helpless and exhausted. Finally someone offered him a simple bowl of food. Just as he was about to eat, the food slipped away and in utter despair he cried out...
...and suddenly he woke up in his palace.
Unable to understand what had happened, he asked Ashtavakra,
"Which is real? That dream or this waking world?"
Ashtavakra replied,
"King, both are dreams. The one you saw at night concludes when the eyes open. The one that you are presently living and consuming concludes when the eyes close."
What a staggering perspective.
The purpose is not to deny this world.
The purpose is to understand that I have been treating karma uday as the ultimate truth.
That is the real danger.
The moment I start believing that the present karmic arrangement is the ultimate reality, everything begins to feel permanent. I begin identifying myself with my body, my mind, my relationships, my possessions, my opinions, my achievements, my failures and my circumstances.
The arrangement is temporary.
The identification becomes permanent.
That is bondage.
Since beginning-less time, almost every ounce of my energy has gone into protecting, preserving, beautifying and strengthening this temporary identity while almost completely neglecting my permanent identity, the soul.
The greatest mistake is not merely that I live in Sansaar.
The greatest mistake is that I have mistaken Sansaar for my identity.
Perhaps the problem is even deeper than that.
At the subconscious level, I have continuously conditioned myself to believe that temporary happiness is the highest happiness.
Every desire...
Every attachment...
Every fear...
Every expectation...
Every disappointment...
Has quietly reinforced the same false belief.
Without even realizing it, I have kept feeding myself that the pleasure arising from karma uday is the greatest happiness available.
Because of this conditioning, my attention has remained almost entirely outward while the infinite peace, infinite knowledge and infinite bliss belonging to my true nature have remained ignored.
The conditioning has become so deep rooted that I no longer even feel the pinch of this delusion.
That is perhaps the most frightening part.
Buddha expressed something extraordinarily profound.
All conditioned formations are impermanent.
All conditioned formations are incapable of giving lasting fulfilment.
Whatever is conditioned cannot be taken as my ultimate identity.
How powerful these words become when seen in the light of spiritual practice.
Everything that is arising through karma is continuously changing (passing away).
Everything that changes is temporary.
Everything temporary can never become my permanent refuge.
Whether expressed through different spiritual traditions or different words, the pointer remains immensely valuable.
Stop identifying with the changing.
Recognize the one whose journey truly matters.
Then comes another realization that shakes me even more deeply.
This human birth is unimaginably precious.
A healthy body.
A capable mind.
Comfortable and supportive circumstances.
A life that is not burdened with extreme suffering or survival.
The teachings of Omniscient lords like Bhagwan Adinath and Bhagwan Mahavir.
The living inspiration of supremely enlightened beings like Shrimad Rajchandra.
Spiritual mentors who continuously guide, remind, challenge and redirect me whenever I begin drifting away.
Every essential ingredient required for the recipe of Moksha has already been placed before me in abundance.
Nothing meaningful is missing.
The equipment is ready.
The vehicle is ready.
The guidance is available.
The destination is known.
The path is available.
The only thing that remains is my own awareness and my own purusharth.
How many lifetimes would it take to receive such a combination again?
I honestly do not think that this rarest of the rare, best of the best and most beautiful combination will be received again anytime in the foreseeable future. The probability feels unimaginably small. In all likelihood, it may require an infinite... infinite... infinite waiting period, and even then there is absolutely no assurance, no certainty and no warranty that such a combination will ever arise again.
This body is not the destination.
This mind is not the destination.
They are vehicles.
Their purpose is not merely to be maintained.
Their purpose is to be utilised for liberation.
The path to liberation does not lie somewhere outside.
It lies within.
The experience of Sansaar also lies within.
Nothing necessarily needs to change in the external world before the inner transformation can begin. Even if it needs to change or if the change is demanded, the purposeful outcome lies in the intent / the target for which it is changing
The real transformation is not from one worldly situation to another.
It is from identification with the temporary to identification with the eternal.
It is from living as the temporary personality to recognising the permanent Self.
Every moment spent strengthening only the temporary identity is a moment not invested in awakening the permanent one.
The greatest tragedy, apparently, is not death.
The greatest tragedy is spending an entire lifetime protecting the dream while forgetting the dreamer.
May I never again mistake the vehicle for myself.
May I never again mistake karma uday for the ultimate truth.
May this rare human birth be used for the very purpose for which it has become available... the journey from experiencing Sansaar to experiencing the Self, and ultimately, the path to liberation.
Amen!
I don't think maturity is something that can be answered with a simple "Yes" or "No.", or who is more or who is less!
In the material world, I tend to generalize qualities like maturity, intelligence, success, wisdom, and capability. But these are not absolute traits. They are often context-dependent.
A person may be very mature when it comes to handling relationships, yet immature in managing money. Someone may make excellent business decisions but react impulsively in emotional situations. Another person may be highly disciplined in health but careless with time.
So, if someone asks me, "Is this person mature?", my first question would be: Mature in what context? According to which parameters? From whose perspective?
Without defining the context, any answer is incomplete.
The same applies to success or intelligence. My definition of success might be living an enriched, meaningful life, while someone else's definition may be accumulating wealth. Neither definition is universally correct; they simply reflect different value systems.
Because of this, I also feel it's unwise to become happy when someone calls me "mature" or upset when someone calls me "immature." Such judgments are usually made within a particular context, using criteria that may or may not be relevant to me.
Mahavir uncle says: Don't get caught in raag (attachment) or dwesh (aversion). Observe the drama of life with sakshi bhav...as a witness.
People's labels are often limited by their perspective. I can acknowledge them, learn from them if they're useful, and let go of the rest.
_"So, I wouldn't label that person as either 'mature' or 'immature' in general. I'd first want to know the context. In some aspects they may demonstrate maturity, while in others they may still be growing."_
The Task: Identify the (egoic) self-will (Swachhand) in the activities and occurances and action it in alignment with the higher purpose
The experience:
This task felt less like an exercise and more like an inner journey.
Amidst work, weekend plans, sports, fitness, spiritual reading and other activities, there were repeated moments; sometimes brief, sometimes prolonged, when I would suddenly pause and ask myself:
"Am I being Swachhandi here?"
Very often, before I could think further, another question would arise on its own:
"What would Sadguru Bodh (the teachings of the enlightened masters) or Jin-aagna (The commandments of the almighty) indicate in this situation? What have my spiritual mentors been trying to cultivate in me all these years?"
That naturally led to a deeper observation.
- Am I presently in Saakshi Bhav?
- Am I aware that Raag or Dwesh is operating?
- What is the intensity of Moh in this activity?
- Is this involvement really necessary?
- Or am I convincing myself that it is required from a Vyavahar standpoint, while actually becoming engrossed in it?
Shrimad Rajchandra's words repeatedly came to mind:
"There is only one path to the Supreme Ideal in all three periods of time. Accept only that Vyavahar which helps lead towards Paramaarth."
Gradually, two simple questions became constant internal alarms for me:
AIA: Am I Aware?
and
IIN: Is It Necessary?
These two questions repeatedly interrupted the momentum of many activities and invited me to look within before proceeding.
One thing became very clear to me.
This entire experience has value only if it contributes to my own inner growth. If I narrate this experience with even a subtle expectation of appreciation, recognition or validation, then I would be missing the very purpose of the homework.
My focus has to remain on my own upliftment. The Laksh of Self-realisation should never be lost. Observing Swachhand... Moment by moment, task by task, situation by situation has itself been beneficial.
This also reminded me of the three-month practice that was suggested in March... to sit with oneself for 48 minutes daily. I had not formally taken that vow, but I genuinely wished to experience it without carrying the burden or identity of "following a vow well." That itself felt like a subtle danger.
I noticed a similar danger zone during this task as well.
Whenever AIA and IIN became active, another question sometimes emerged:
"Am I truly working on myself only for self-searching, inner cleansing and upliftment?"
This also led me to another observation that was very meaningful for me:
Am I serving the real and permanent identity (the Soul)? Or am I serving the temporary identity of body, mind, name, ego, possessions, greed, attachment, anger, pride, deceit and delusion that belongs only to this birth?
I do not see this task as something that has concluded. Rather, it has given me a direction for continued observation.
I sincerely wish to continue this practice.
The constant practice of AIA and IIN, with the backdrop of the teachings received from my spiritual mentors, Satpurush Bodh and Jin-aagna, has made this exercise deeply meaningful for me.
Trust, Belief, Faith... and Beyond
The words Trust, Belief, and Faith often appear similar. Yet on the spiritual journey, each performs a distinct role.
Understanding their difference can help clarify the path shown by the enlightened ones.
Trust
Trust begins with the source.
Throughout beginningless time, innumerable enlightened beings have declared a single truth: the body is not the real self.
The body exists. It requires care, nourishment, and responsible use. Yet it remains temporary, changing from moment to moment and eventually perishing.
The Self, they declare, is of a different nature.
The Self is the conscious principle (the knower and observer). It is not created and cannot be destroyed. Bodies change, states change, karmas change, but the essential nature of consciousness remains.
The enlightened ones do not make this declaration as a belief or philosophy. They speak from direct realization.
Trust therefore is not blind acceptance. It is a reasoned respect for those who have reached a state of complete knowledge and complete freedom from attachment and aversion.
Trust asks:
"Can I rely upon the testimony of those who have directly experienced reality?"
Belief
Belief concerns the message itself.
After listening to the teachings, reflecting upon them, and examining them through reason and observation, a person may arrive at conviction that what is being taught is worthy of acceptance.
Belief is deeper than mere trust.
Trust says:
"I respect the teacher."
Belief says:
"I accept that what is being taught may indeed be true."
Yet belief still remains indirect knowledge.
One may believe that honey is sweet, but sweetness is not known until tasted.
Similarly, one may believe that the soul is pure consciousness, but belief alone does not reveal the soul.
At this stage, a danger appears.
A person may become satisfied with intellectual agreement. The teaching is admired, discussed, defended, and praised, but not lived.
Belief that does not mature into practice becomes another form of postponement.
The enlightened ones never asked for admiration.
They invited verification through experience.
Faith
Faith is not confidence that someone else will save us.
Faith is confidence that the truth realized by the enlightened ones can also be realized by us.
Trust gave confidence in the teacher.
Belief gave confidence in the teaching.
Faith gives confidence in one's own capacity to walk the path.
Faith says:
"If they realized their true nature, then I too possess that same potential."
The enlightened beings do not stand as objects of worship seeking followers.
They stand as evidence.
Their existence demonstrates what is possible.
Faith therefore becomes the courage to practice, persist, and continue despite obstacles, distractions, karmic influences, and inner weaknesses.
Without faith, effort weakens.
With faith, effort becomes steady.
The (Missing) Fourth Step
Even trust, belief, and faith are not the destination.
They are only the bridge.
The destination is direct realization.
A person may trust the enlightened ones completely.
A person may believe every scripture.
A person may possess immense faith.
Yet liberation remains distant until consciousness turns toward its own pure nature.
The enlightened ones repeatedly point toward self-experience.
Their message can be summarized simply:
Do not stop at trusting us.
Do not stop at believing us.
Do not stop at having faith in the possibility.
Realize what we realized.
Know what we knew.
Become what you already are.
The Path to Liberation
The path is not merely the accumulation of praise, rituals, intellectual knowledge, merit, or external achievements.
Such activities may create favourable conditions and may reduce harmful tendencies, but they are not liberation itself.
Liberation is the complete manifestation of one's own pure nature.
As one of the revered enlightened beings states:
"Moksha is one's own pure state."
The journey therefore is inward.
From trust in the realized ones.
To belief in their teaching.
To faith in one's own potential.
To direct experience of the Self.
And from direct experience arises true freedom.
The enlightened beings have shown the road.
They have walked it.
They have confirmed its destination.
The remaining step belongs to each seeker individually.
The work is ultimately one:
To know oneself as one truly is.
Everything else is secondary.
The Root of the Wandering (Nano-Management)
A nano-level
diagnosis of Raag and Dwesh, and what it actually means to be free of them.
Preface: The
Simplest Formula and the Hardest Practice
The enlightened beings
did not leave a complicated map. They left one line.
Jyaan tyaan thi Raag
Dwesh rahit thavu, e Dharma chhe.
Getting rid of Craving
and Aversion, wherever I am and in whatever I am doing, that is Dharma. That is
the path. That is the entirety of the spiritual work available to a human being
in this birth.
Not ritual. Not
accumulation of knowledge. Not performance of renunciation. Just this: the
progressive reduction, and eventually the complete absence, of Raag and Dwesh
in every moment of living.
Simple to state. The
work of a lifetime to “live”.
And the reason it is
the work of a lifetime is not because Raag and Dwesh are rare or exotic. It is
because they are so continuous, so ordinary, so completely woven into the
fabric of every moment of experience, that they are almost entirely invisible.
Not the large, dramatic versions. Those are relatively easy to spot. The nano
versions. The ones that operate in fractions of seconds, hundreds of times a
day, below the threshold of ordinary awareness, those are what actually drive
the accumulation of karma across Anantkaal, beginningless time.
This journal is an
attempt to see them. At that level. Without flinching.
Part One: The Root
Knot
Love, hate, and
ignorance are the main knots of the bondage of karma. That by which their
stoppage occurs is the path to liberation.
This points to three
things as the root of all karmic bondage: Raag, Dwesh, and Agyaan i.e. craving,
aversion, and wrong knowing respectively. And it names them as a knot, not
three separate problems but one tightly interwoven structure where each feeds
and maintains the others.
Agyaan is the
foundation. Wrong knowing means taking the temporary, fake identity, the body,
the name, the roles, the accumulated self-image, to be the real "I."
From this wrong identification, everything else follows automatically.
Because if I believe I
am this body and this name and these roles, then everything that feels good to
this body and this name and these roles will produce Raag. I will move toward
it, crave it, seek its repetition, feel diminished in its absence.
And everything that
threatens, inconveniences, or displeases this body and this name and these
roles will produce Dwesh. I will resist it, push it away, feel disturbed by its
presence, feel relieved by its absence.
Raag and Dwesh are not
moral failures. They are the automatic and inevitable result of Agyaan. They
are what happens when the wrong identity is taken to be real. And they are what
keeps the wrong identity feeling real, because every Raag and every Dwesh
reinforces the sense that there is a "me" here who wants and does not
want, who is pleased and displeased, who is served and threatened.
The knot is
self-tightening. Agyaan produces Raag and Dwesh. Raag and Dwesh reinforce Agyaan.
And the accumulation of karma from all of this ensures that the cycle continues
into the next birth and the next, across Anantkaal.
The path to liberation
is not the path of managing Raag and Dwesh from outside. It is the path of
seeing through Agyaan from inside. And seeing through Agyan means, first and
most practically, seeing Raag and Dwesh as they actually operate, at the nano
level, in the texture of my real day.
Part Two: The Felt
Sense, and the Problem of Where the Attention Goes
Here is the most
precise and most honest observation I can make about how Raag operates in my
actual experience:
When something
convenient, pleasant, comfortable, or familiar arrives, a wave of felt
experience moves through the system. A warmth. A settling. A reaching. A
satisfaction. Something in the body responds, something in the senses registers
it, something in the mind endorses it, and something in what I loosely call the
heart opens toward it.
And my entire
attention goes into that wave. Into the feeling. Into the experience.
This is where the
problem lives. Not in the pleasant feeling itself. In where the attention goes.
Because in that moment
of felt-good experience, the one who is actually experiencing all of it, the “Knower”,
the true experiencer, the real "I," becomes completely invisible to
itself. It has merged with the instruments through which the experience is
happening. It has identified with the body feeling it, the senses registering
it, the mind endorsing it. It has mistaken the screen for the projector. The
instrument for the one who is aware of the instrument.
This is Moh at its
most fundamental and most ordinary level. Not the dramatic, visible version.
The quiet, continuous, moment-by-moment version. Happening in every pleasant
experience. Happening in every moment of Raag.
And the same thing
happens in Dwesh, but in reverse. Something inconvenient, unpleasant, or
unwanted arrives. The system contracts. The body tightens. The mind resists.
The senses recoil. And again, the entire attention goes into the contraction,
into the resistance, into the felt sense of aversion. The true experiencer is
again invisible to itself, now identified with the instrument of resistance
rather than the instrument of pleasure. But equally lost. Equally merged.
Equally absent from itself.
In both Raag and
Dwesh, the mechanism is identical: the true experiencer loses itself in what is
being experienced. The attention flows away from the “Knower” and into the
content of experience, whether that content is pleasant or unpleasant.
And Nijbhaan, the
awareness of the true Self, is precisely the reversal of this. Not the blocking
of experience. Not the absence of feeling. Not the suppression of the wave. But
the presence of the experiencer, knowing itself as distinct from what is being
experienced, even while the experience continues fully and completely through
the instruments.
The wave can still
happen. The body can still feel it. The senses can still register it. The mind
can still note it. But there is a background knowing: this is being felt by the
instruments. The one who is aware of the instruments feeling it is not the instruments.
That background knowing is the beginning of actual Raag-Dwesh reduction. Not
suppression. Not management. The true experiencer simply not losing itself
inside the experience.
Part Three: Raag
for Anukulta and Dwesh for Pratikulta, The Two Engines of Wandering
Gaadh (Extreme) Raag
for Anukulta, convenience and pleasantness, and Gaadh (Extreme) Dwesh for
Pratikulta, inconvenience and unpleasantness. These two, intense craving for
what is agreeable and intense aversion for what is disagreeable, are the
engines of Anantkaal of paribhraman, the wandering across beginningless time.
Not occasionally.
Continuously. In every moment of every day.
And the subtlety that
makes this so difficult to see clearly is this: Anukulta and Pratikulta are not
only the big, obvious things. They are the texture of every moment of
experience. The preference for one chair over another is Anukulta-Raag. The
slight irritation when a door is harder to open than expected is
Pratikulta-Dwesh. The satisfaction when traffic moves smoothly is
Anukulta-Raag. The barely perceptible contraction when a conversation goes
longer than preferred is Pratikulta-Dwesh.
None of these feel
significant. Each one seems entirely trivial. But each one is the same
mechanism as the gross versions, just operating at a finer grain. And they are
not happening occasionally. They are the continuous hum of an ordinary day,
running beneath conscious awareness, shaping every preference, every reaction,
every movement toward and away.
Nano management of
Raag and Dwesh means learning to see these. Not the occasional large fires. The
constant small sparks. Because the large fires are made entirely of small
sparks, accumulated and compounded over time.
Part Four: The Nano
Map, Raag and Dwesh Across the Ordinary Day
What follows is a
mapping of where Raag and Dwesh live in the texture of an ordinary day, at the
level of granularity where they are usually invisible.
In physical
sensation and comfort.
The preference for a
certain temperature in the room. The mild dissatisfaction when the water in the
shower is slightly off. The pleasure of a comfortable seat and the subtle
resistance to an uncomfortable one. The enjoyment of a particular taste and the
slight disappointment when the food is not quite as expected. The pull toward
physical ease and the resistance to physical effort.
None of these register
as Raag and Dwesh in any dramatic sense. But every one of them is the system
moving toward Anukulta and away from Pratikulta, automatically, without
examination, hundreds of times a day.
In social
interaction and conversation.
The slight warmth when
someone responds enthusiastically to what I have said, Anukulta-Raag. The
barely perceptible contraction when someone seems uninterested or dismissive,
Pratikulta-Dwesh. The pull toward conversations that are comfortable and familiar.
The resistance to conversations that are challenging or uncomfortable. The
micro-pleasure when I am understood and the micro-irritation when I am not. The
satisfaction when the conversation goes the way I hoped and the subtle
deflation when it does not.
In work and effort.
The flow state when
work is going well, accompanied by a subtle Raag for that state, a craving for
it to continue. The resistance to tasks that are tedious, difficult, or
unclear. The satisfaction of completion and the subtle disappointment of delay.
The pull toward work that feels meaningful and the resistance to work that
feels pointless. The micro-pride when something is done well and the
micro-irritation when something does not come together as expected.
In the relationship
with time.
The mild impatience
when something takes longer than expected, Pratikulta-Dwesh directed at the
passage of time itself. The pleasure when something finishes sooner than
expected, Anukulta-Raag. The resistance to waiting. The pull toward efficiency.
The subtle agitation when the day's rhythm is disrupted and the satisfaction
when it flows smoothly.
In the relationship
with people.
Raag for those who
agree, validate, appreciate, and support. Dwesh, ranging from mild to intense,
for those who challenge, criticise, ignore, or simply do not fit the preferred
relational texture. The pull toward people who make the fake identity feel good
and the resistance to people who make it feel threatened or uncomfortable. The
micro-warmth when someone behaves as hoped and the micro-contraction when they
do not.
In spiritual
practice itself.
The Raag for the
pleasant state of a good meditation or a good reading session. The subtle
seeking of that expanded, soothing feeling. The mild disappointment when the
practice feels dry or mechanical. The pull toward spiritual contexts that feel
elevating and the resistance to those that feel flat. The satisfaction of
understanding something deeply and the subtle irritation of confusion. All of
this is Raag and Dwesh operating within the very activity that is meant to
reduce Raag and Dwesh.
In recognition and
being seen.
The micro-pleasure
when the name is mentioned positively. The micro-deflation when it is not
mentioned at all. The Raag for being understood and the Dwesh for being
misunderstood. The pull toward audiences that are receptive and the resistance
to those that are indifferent. The satisfaction of a contribution being
acknowledged and the subtle lack when it is not.
Part Five: The
Mind's Partial Awareness and Its Own Trap
Here is where the
examination must become most precise and most honest.
When the mind is aware
that Raag or Dwesh is operating, something does happen. The involvement reduces
slightly. The aggression of the craving or aversion is diluted. The reaction is
less intense than it would have been without the awareness. And this is real.
It is genuine progress at one level.
But here is what also
happens, and it is worth seeing with complete honesty:
The mind then
registers that it was aware. It notes the reduction in involvement. And it
produces a quiet conviction: "I was aware, therefore I did better. The
awareness is working."
And that conviction
itself, that felt-good of having been a good observer, that subtle satisfaction
in the quality of one's own witnessing, is itself a Raag.
The mind is now
experiencing Anukulta-Raag about its own spiritual awareness. It is feeling
good about feeling less. It is craving the experience of being a good observer.
And it is doing all of this, and calling it progress, while remaining entirely
within the domain of the mind.
This is the most
elegant and most invisible trap in the entire inner life of a seeker. Because
it wears the most acceptable clothing imaginable. It wears the clothing of
genuine spiritual development.
The paradox is precise
and uncomfortable: the pride in humility is still pride. The Raag about reduced
Raag is still Raag. The mind congratulating itself for its own partial
awareness is still the mind. Still the instrument. Still not the “Knower”.
True reduction of Raag
and Dwesh does not leave a residue of satisfaction about the reduction. The “Knower”,
resting in its own nature, does not feel good about feeling less. It simply is.
Without commentary. Without a scorecard. Without the meta-Raag of spiritual
self-approval.
This does not mean
awareness is useless or that the mind's partial awareness should be abandoned.
It means the awareness must be awareness all the way down. Including awareness
of the mind's tendency to convert awareness itself into a new object of Raag.
Part Six: The
Experiencer and the Experience, The Only Real Distinction
Everything in this
journal comes back to one distinction. The most fundamental distinction
available in the inner life.
The experience and the
experiencer.
The experience is
everything that happens through the instruments: the pleasant sensation, the
unpleasant sensation, the thought, the emotion, the preference, the resistance,
the felt-good wave, the contraction. All of it, Raag and Dwesh included, is experience.
It arises in the instruments, moves through the instruments, and passes through
the instruments.
The experiencer is the
“Knower”. The real "I." The one who is aware of all of this
happening. The one who is aware of the body feeling, the mind thinking, the
senses registering, the emotions moving.
Agyaan is the
confusion of the two. Taking the experience to be the experiencer. Taking the
felt-good wave to be the "I" that is feeling it. Taking the
contraction of Dwesh to be the "I" that is resisting. This confusion
is the root of all Raag and Dwesh, because only a self that is identified with
the instruments can crave what pleases those instruments and resist what
displeases them.
The “Knower” in its
own nature, Swabhaav, neither craves nor resists. It knows. It is aware. It
witnesses. Raag and Dwesh are Vibhaav, the distorted state, the state of the “Knower”
when it has lost itself in the instruments and their experiences.
Nijbhaan is the return
of the “Knower” to its own nature. Not a dramatic event. Not a mystical
experience. The quietest possible thing: the experiencer becoming aware of
itself as the experiencer, rather than being lost in the experience.
In that awareness, the
wave of pleasant sensation can still move through the instruments. But the “Knower”
is not inside the wave. It is aware of the wave. And what is aware of the wave
is not moved by the wave.
This is not
indifference. The “Knower” aware of itself is not cold or detached in any
ordinary sense. It is present, (whereas the “Knower” that is lost inside the
experience is not present), because it is seeing what is actually happening
rather than being swept along by it.
And from this seeing,
Raag and Dwesh do not have to be managed or suppressed. They begin, naturally
and gradually, to reduce. Because the fuel that feeds them, the identification
of the “Knower” with the instruments and their experiences, is being
progressively withdrawn. Not by force. By seeing.
Part Seven: What
Nano Management Actually Means
Nano management of
Raag and Dwesh is not a technique. It is not a practice to be added to the day.
It is a quality of seeing that, once genuinely established even partially,
begins to operate continuously.
It means catching the
micro-Raag in the moment of its arising. The slight preference for one chair
over another. The barely perceptible pleasure when a message arrives from a
particular person. The micro-satisfaction of a task finishing on time. Not to suppress
these. Not to judge them. To see them. To know: this is Anukulta-Raag
operating. This is the instrument responding to what is agreeable. The
experiencer is here, watching.
It means catching the
micro-Dwesh in the moment of its arising. The slight contraction when a plan
changes unexpectedly. The barely perceptible irritation when someone speaks in
a tone that is slightly off. The micro-resistance to a task that is tedious.
Not to suppress these. To see them. To know: this is Pratikulta-Dwesh
operating. This is the instrument responding to what is disagreeable. The
experiencer is here, watching.
And it means catching
the meta-Raag as well. The subtle satisfaction of having caught the Raag. The
quiet spiritual self-approval of being a good observer. Seeing that too.
Without drama. Without the second layer of judgment about the judgment.
The seeing does not
have to be continuous from the first day. It cannot be. It begins as
occasional, brief, and partial. Four genuine moments of seeing in a whole day
is four more moments than yesterday. Each genuine moment of the “Knower”
knowing itself as the experiencer rather than being lost in the experience is a
moment of actual Nirjara, actual dissolution of accumulated karma. Not
dramatic. Not visible. But real.
And gradually, with
genuine consistency and without the performance of spiritual progress, the
moments accumulate. The gaps between them narrow. The seeing becomes more
natural, more available, more present across more of the ordinary day.
Not perfectly. Not all
at once, but gradually for sure and that too with the visible progress, if treaded
consistently.
The direction is
clear. And the direction is enough to walk in.
Part Eight: The
Only Question Worth Carrying
Through the meal,
through the meeting, through the pleasant sensation and the inconvenient
situation, through the moment of recognition and the moment of being
overlooked, through the spiritual practice and the ordinary distraction, one
question is worth carrying as a quiet companion:
Is the experiencer
present right now, or is it lost inside the experience?
Not asked as a burden.
Not asked as a performance. Not asked to produce a spiritually satisfying
answer.
Asked honestly. In the
fraction of a second before the wave of Anukulta or Pratikulta fully takes
over. In the gap, however small, between stimulus and response.
Because in that gap,
even briefly, the “Knower” can know itself. And in knowing itself, it is not
adding to what has already accumulated across Anantkaal.
That not-adding is the
beginning of freedom.
And freedom, from this
direction, is not a distant destination.
It is the natural
condition of the “Knower” that has stopped confusing itself with its
instruments.
It is what remains
when Raag and Dwesh, seen clearly and without drama, have nothing left to feed
on.
Jyaan tyaan thi
Raag Dwesh rahit thavu, e Dharma chhe.
This is the path.
Already known. Now to be lived, one nano moment at a time.
Before I Respond
An honest
examination of the gap between stimulus and response, and what lives in that
gap.
Preface: The
Question That Changes Everything
There is a question
that, if I ask genuinely and repeatedly across the texture of my ordinary day,
has the potential to alter the entire direction of my inner life.
Not a complicated
question. Not a philosophical one. Just this:
Before I respond,
am I aware?
Not aware in a
performed sense. Not the awareness that pauses for a moment and then proceeds
with exactly the same response it was always going to give. But genuinely
aware, in a way that indeed touches the root of why I am giving the response at
all, and whose interest it is truly serving.
This journal is my
attempt to examine that question honestly, across the full range of stimuli
that arrive in my ordinary life, from the simplest physical hunger to the
subtlest desire for recognition. The examination is not comfortable. But it is
the most practically useful thing I can do with my inner life.
Part One: The
Anatomy of My Response
Before I examine
specific stimuli, I need to map the mechanics of how my response really
happens. Without understanding the structure, my examination of individual
situations will remain superficial.
The stimulus
arrives.
It arrives as a
physical sensation: hunger, thirst, fatigue, sexual desire, physical
discomfort. It arrives as a thought: a memory, a plan, a comparison, a sudden
desire for music or entertainment or a particular food. It arrives as a
situation: someone says something, I see something, an opportunity appears, a
threat is perceived. And it arrives from apparently nowhere: a mood, an
impulse, a craving with no obvious external trigger.
In the framework of
karma, none of these arrivals are random. Each stimulus is the fruit of a
previously planted seed. The thought that crops up suddenly was not created in
this moment. The situation that surfaces unexpectedly was not generated by
chance. Both are the result of previously accumulated impressions and actions
finding their moment to ripen. This does not mean my life is fatalistic or that
choice is an illusion. It means that what arrives is not in my hands. What I do
with what arrives, that is where my work lives.
The response fires.
And here is the most
important and most uncomfortable observation I can make about myself: in most
cases, my response is pre-set.
Not chosen. Not
evaluated. Not filtered through genuine awareness. Pre-set, by habit, by
routine, by the accumulated patterns of a lifetime of identifying with my body
and my name and the roles that surround that body and name.
If hungry, I eat. If a
thought of music arrives, I play music. If a desire surfaces, I locate the
tools to satisfy it and deploy them. My system is efficient. It has been
running for decades. It does not wait for my instruction. It knows what to do.
And the root driver of
all of it is consistent, even when the surface varies enormously: my response
serves the fake identity. The body's comfort. The mind's preferences. The ego's
image. The reputation. The sense of continuity and security of the temporary
self.
This is not a moral
judgment I am making about myself. It is simply an accurate description of how
my automatic system operates. The question is not whether this is good or bad.
The question is whether I see it.
Part Two: The
Layers That Arrive on Top
One of the most
precise observations I can make as an honest inner examiner is this: my desire
does not arrive simple. It arrives layered.
The hunger example
makes this visible with particular clarity.
Hunger, in its
original form, is a straightforward signal from my body. My body needs fuel.
This signal is genuine, real, and appropriate to respond to.
But within moments of
the hunger signal arriving, something else has already joined it. My mind does
not simply ask: what nourishment is available? It asks: what do I want? And the
"what do I want" is a completely different question, driven by a
completely different centre of gravity.
The layering happens
fast and usually below the threshold of my conscious awareness:
The basic signal is
hunger. Nourishment is needed.
The first layer of
addition is preference. Not just food, but specific food. Something that tastes
a particular way, something familiar and satisfying, something my mind has
previously associated with pleasure.
The second layer is
quality. Not just the preferred food, but a good version of it. Fresh,
well-prepared, as it was that one time it was particularly good.
The third layer is
accompaniment. The right drink. The right side-dish, which is typically for the
taste buds. The right setting. The right timing within the day.
The fourth layer is
ambience. Where is the meal happening? With whom? In what environment?
And sometimes, a fifth
layer: the social dimension. Is this meal an opportunity for connection, for a
certain kind of experience, for an occasion?
By the time all these
layers have assembled, what began as a simple biological signal from my body
has become a complex desire package, assembled almost entirely below the level
of my conscious awareness, and presented to me as a single unified wanting.
And I endorse it,
usually without examining how many layers of Raag, of craving, are embedded in
what just appeared to be a simple need.
I need to see this
mechanism clearly. It operates identically across every category of my desire.
It is not unique to hunger. Sexual desire arrives as a physical signal and
accumulates layers of fantasy, preference, context, emotional meaning, and
identity. My desire for recognition arrives as a simple wish to be seen and
accumulates layers of specific audiences, specific forms of acknowledgment,
specific comparisons with others. My desire for entertainment arrives as a
simple wish for rest and accumulates layers of preferred content, preferred
duration, preferred social context.
Seeing the layering,
in real time, as it happens, is one of the most precise awareness practices
available to me. Not to suppress the layers. To see them. To know, with genuine
clarity: this is the basic signal, and these are the additions I have placed on
top of it. They are not the same thing.
Part Three: My
Pre-Set Response and Its Variations
By honest examination,
my response to most stimuli is not freshly chosen in the moment. I draw it from
a library of established patterns, refined over years, customised to specific
contexts, and deployed automatically.
This pre-set quality
of my response takes several forms, each worth examining separately.
The habitual
response.
The most common form
in my day. A stimulus arrives, a pattern activates, and the response executes.
Hunger arrives; I prepare or seek the usual meal. A particular time of day
arrives; I follow the usual activity. A familiar social situation presents itself;
I deploy the familiar social response. There is no gap, no examination, no
choice in any meaningful sense. The whole thing runs on automatic.
My habitual response
is efficient. It is also the mechanism through which my fake identity
perpetuates itself most invisibly, because it requires no conscious endorsement
from me. It simply continues.
The decorated
response.
This is my habitual
response with a layer of justification or refinement added on top. The desire
is the same. The serving of the fake identity is the same. But I now accompany
it with a story that makes it look more considered, more spiritual, more mature,
more appropriate.
"I am eating this
meal because the body needs nourishment," when the real driver is a
craving for that specific taste.
"I am sharing
this insight because it might be useful to others," when the actual driver
includes my wish to appear wise.
"I am resting
today because sustainable practice requires balance," when the precise
driver is simple fatigue and my desire for comfort.
None of these stories
are entirely false. There is usually some truth in my justification. But the
justification arrives after the desire has already decided. It is not the
reason. It is the decoration I place on a response that was always going to
happen anyway.
The switched
response.
When my preferred
response is not available, I do not pause and examine whether a response is
truly necessary. I switch. The desired food is not available, so I seek the
second choice. The preferred entertainment is not accessible, so I find an
alternative. The stimulus remains active. I simply re-route toward the next
available satisfaction.
This switching happens
so fast that it can appear to be flexibility or equanimity. But genuine
equanimity would produce a pause and an examination. My switching produces only
a redirection of the same seeking toward a different object. The seeking itself
never stops.
The suppressed
response.
This is the most
complex category, because my suppression can look like inner work from the
outside, and can even feel like inner work from the inside, while remaining
entirely in the service of the fake identity.
The first variety is
environmental suppression. The context does not permit my response. The
spiritual retreat prohibits a certain activity. The social setting makes a
certain expression inappropriate. The professional environment requires a
certain restraint. My desire continues at full strength inside. The expression
is blocked by external conditions. When those conditions change, my response
picks up exactly where it left off. Nothing has been dissolved. The retreat
ends and the suppressed activity resumes. This is my fake identity waiting for
a permissive environment, not the "Knower," the real identity, doing
inner work.
The second variety is
self-induced suppression with genuine inquiry. This is rarer and more valuable.
The stimulus arrives and, before the automatic response fires, something in me
pauses and asks: is this necessary? Am I genuinely dependent on this, or is
this a conditioned wanting that I have simply never examined? Could I live
without satisfying this, not as punishment, but as an experiment in
understanding what this desire actually is?
This kind of pause is
the closest thing to real inner work in my stimulus-response cycle. It is the
witness arriving before the response. It does not always change my outcome.
Sometimes the examination concludes that the response is appropriate and it proceeds.
But it proceeds with awareness rather than on autopilot. And that difference,
however small it seems, is significant.
The third variety is
self-induced suppression with borrowed reasoning. This is the most subtle and
the most common pattern I notice in myself when I consider myself a spiritual
seeker. A scripture says to control the mind. A teaching says desire leads to
bondage. A spiritual identity requires a certain visible restraint. So, I
suppress the response, not because the desire has been genuinely seen through,
not because my examination concluded it was unnecessary, but because
suppressing it serves the image of being a serious practitioner.
The desire is still
fully present in me. I am managing it for reputational purposes. My fake
identity is suppressing one desire to feed a more refined desire: the desire to
be seen, including by myself, as someone who has mastered desire.
This is perhaps the
most elegant trap in my entire inner life. And it is worth seeing with a
particular kind of honesty, and even a particular kind of gentle humour. My
spiritual ego suppressing worldly desires to protect its spiritual reputation
is still the ego. Still the fake identity. Still serving the same master, in
slightly more sophisticated clothing.
Part Four: Specific
Stimuli, Examined Honestly
What follows is my
honest examination of specific categories of stimulus, from the most physical
to the most subtle. For each one I ask: what arrives, how does the layering
happen, what does my pre-set response look like, and what would it mean for
genuine awareness to be present in me before the response fires?
Physical Hunger
What arrives: a signal
from my body that fuel is needed. Genuine, biological, appropriate.
How the layering
happens: as I described above. The basic signal is immediately joined by
preference, quality, context, timing, and sometimes social meaning. By the time
I consciously register the hunger, it has already been processed into a desire
package that includes far more than nourishment.
My pre-set response: I
locate the preferred food, or the best available approximation, and consume it
with as much of the desired accompaniment as circumstances permit.
What awareness before
my response would look like: I pause genuinely at the point where hunger
arrives. I notice: this is the biological signal. And these are the additions I
have placed on top. Are the additions necessary? Is my craving for a particular
taste a genuine need or a conditioned preference? If the preferred food is not
available and a simpler alternative is, what happens inside me? Is there
acceptance, or is there a low-level dissatisfaction that quietly colours the
meal?
The awareness practice
is not for me to eat only plain food as a performance of detachment. It is for
me to know, clearly and honestly, what is hunger (need) and what is craving,
and to see the difference without pretending they are the same.
Sexual Thought
This stimulus is worth
my examining with honesty precisely because I so rarely examine it candidly. It
is either treated as the primary enemy to be conquered, or it is avoided
entirely as too uncomfortable. Neither treatment is useful.
What arrives: a
physical signal, or a thought, or a response to a perception. Natural,
biological, and in the right context, entirely appropriate to a human life.
How the layering
happens: very fast, and extremely thoroughly. The basic signal immediately
accumulates fantasy, preference, relational meaning, identity, and sometimes
complex emotional content. What arrives as a simple physical impulse becomes,
within moments, a layered desire that is simultaneously physical, emotional,
and identity related.
My pre-set response
varies significantly by context and circumstance. But the inner movement, the
craving, the pull toward satisfaction, the potential frustration if
satisfaction is not available, operates consistently regardless of whether my
outer response is expressed or suppressed.
What awareness before
my response would look like: not suppression and not indulgence as a spiritual
position. Genuine seeing of the full desire package. I acknowledge the basic
signal without shame. I see the additions clearly without feeding them. I ask
honestly: what am I really seeking here? Physical release? Emotional
connection? Validation? A temporary dissolution of the separate-self sense?
These are different needs, and I regularly blend them within this single
category of desire.
The awareness is not
for me to eliminate the desire. It is for me to know what the desire truly is,
not just its surface presentation.
Recognition and
Fame
This is among the
subtlest and most persistent stimuli in my inner life, including in my
spiritual practice.
What arrives: a moment
where the question of how I appear to others becomes activated. Someone
important is present. Something has been accomplished. A contribution has been
made. An opinion has been shared. And I orient, automatically, toward: how is
this being received? Am I being seen? Am I being valued?
How the layering
happens: the basic signal, a normal social sensitivity to my standing in a
group, accumulates very quickly into something much more specific. Not just
being seen, but being seen in a particular way. As competent, as wise, as
generous, as spiritually evolved, as successful. The specific form of
recognition I desire varies by context and by the particular shape of my fake
identity, but the basic structure is always the same: my temporary self seeks
confirmation of its own reality and value through the eyes of others.
My pre-set response: I
shape my behaviour and speech, often unconsciously, to maximise the likelihood
of receiving the desired form of recognition. I make contributions in ways that
are visible. I share insights with an awareness of the audience. I practise
generosity in ways that can be noticed. And when recognition does not arrive,
or arrives in the wrong form, I experience a subtle inner deflation that is
real and consistent, even when I deny it.
What awareness before
my response would look like: I catch my orientation toward the audience before
my behaviour is shaped by it. I notice that this contribution is about to be
made in a way that maximises visibility. Can I make it in a way that serves the
purpose without the performance? I need to be honest about the answer.
Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes my desire for recognition is so embedded
in the motivation that I cannot separate the action from it, and even that
honesty is valuable.
The most refined
version of this stimulus is my desire for spiritual recognition. Being seen as
a serious seeker. Being known as someone with genuine understanding. Being
respected in a community of practitioners. This is not different in structure
from my desire for professional recognition or social status. It is the same
mechanism wearing different clothes. And I need to see it with the same honest
clarity.
Name and Legacy
Closely related to
recognition but distinct in its temporal dimension: not just being seen now but
being remembered. Leaving something that outlasts my body. Being known for
something that persists.
This desire is
particularly worth examining in the context of my writing, my teaching, or any
form of expression that creates a lasting record.
What arrives: a
motivation to create something, to express something, to contribute something
that will be valuable. On its surface, this motivation can appear entirely
selfless.
How the layering
happens: the basic creative or expressive impulse, which may be entirely
genuine, accumulates a desire for the expression to be attributed, to be
remembered, to be associated with my name. The work matters, but the work
mattering to others, and those others knowing it is my work, matters
additionally and sometimes predominantly.
What awareness before
my response would look like: I examine genuinely, before or during the act of
creation, whether my motivation is the expression itself or the attribution.
Would I do the same work, with the same care and depth, if I were certain that
no one would ever know I created it? The honest answer to that question is a
very precise diagnostic of how much the legacy-desire is driving my creative
act.
Greed and the
Accumulation Impulse
What arrives: an
opportunity, or a perception of scarcity, that activates my accumulation
instinct. More money, more security, more resources, more options. The signal
dresses itself as prudence, as responsibility, as care for the future.
How the layering
happens: the basic security instinct, which in moderate form is appropriate and
functional, accumulates layers of comparison with others, status signalling,
and identity, being the kind of person who has abundance, who is successful,
who does not need to worry.
My pre-set response: I
follow the accumulation impulse, often with considerable energy and inventiveness,
and I justify the pursuit as responsibility, provision, or prudent planning.
What awareness before
my response would look like: I genuinely distinguish between the security
instinct and the accumulation impulse. Is this action serving a genuine need
for stability and provision? Or is it serving a desire for more that has no
natural ceiling, that will not be satisfied by any particular level of
accumulation because the driver is not security but the identity of being
someone who accumulates?
The awareness practice
is not for me to renounce all provision and planning. It is for me to know
clearly where genuine need ends and my accumulation impulse begins.
Entertainment and
Stimulation
What arrives: a sense
of restlessness, or a lull in engagement, or a completed task, that activates
my search for the next input.
How the layering
happens: the basic need for rest or variety, which is genuine, accumulates a
preference for specific kinds of stimulation, a resistance to actual quiet, and
sometimes a use of entertainment as an escape from the discomfort of being
alone with the contents of my own mind.
My pre-set response: I
locate the preferred stimulation and consume it. The scroll begins. The content
plays. The conversation starts. I keep the system occupied.
What awareness before
my response would look like: I pause at the moment of reaching for the phone or
the screen or any form of stimulation, and I ask genuinely: what am I seeking
right now? Rest, in which case actual rest without stimulation would serve
better. Genuine enjoyment, in which case what follows can be inhabited rather
than consumed. Or escape, in which case the thing I am escaping from is worth
looking at directly rather than avoiding.
The test is simple:
after fifteen minutes of the chosen stimulation, is there more inner space or
less? If less, I consumed something that did not nourish. If more, the rest was
genuine.
Part Five: The Root
That Does Not Change
Across all these
categories of stimulus and response, one thing remains constant in me.
As long as I take the
temporary identity, my name, my body, my roles, my accumulated self-image, to
be the real "I," every response I give will serve that identity. Not
because of moral weakness or spiritual failure, but because that is what the
system is designed to do. A system I have built around the fake identity will
protect and serve the fake identity. This is not a malfunction. It is the
system working exactly as I have trained it to work, across a very long time.
When I decorate the
response, I do not change the root.
When I suppress the
response, I do not change the root.
When I spiritualise
the response, I do not change the root.
What changes the root
is a genuine shift in my sense of identity. When the "Knower," the
real "I," begins to be my actual centre of gravity rather than the
body and the name and the roles, my responses begin to change not because I am
managing them but because the driver has changed. The same situations arise.
But they pull less. The craving for satisfaction is quieter. The fear of loss
is quieter. The need for recognition is quieter. Not because I have suppressed
them, but because I am no longer feeding them from the centre.
This shift does not
happen all at once. It happens in moments, the moments of genuine Nijbhaan,
where the "Knower" knows itself even briefly, and in knowing itself,
is not pulled into the automatic service of the fake identity.
Each such moment is
real. Each such moment is progress. And each such moment makes the next moment
slightly more possible.
Part Six: Nijbhaan
(Self-Awareness) as My First Stop
So what would it truly
mean, practically, in the texture of my real day, for Nijbhaan to be my
first stop before the response fires?
Not a formal
meditation before every meal. Not a ritual pause before every conversation. Not
a performance of consideration before every decision.
Something simpler and
more fundamental: a quality of inner orientation in which my awareness of the
real "I" is present as a background even as the stimulus arrives and
the response begins to form.
In this quality of
orientation, I do not block the stimulus. I do not suppress the desire. The
hunger arrives, I note it, and the appropriate response follows. The difference
is that I note it. I see the craving layers as they assemble. I recognise the pre-set
pattern as a pattern rather than as an inevitable necessity. And in that
recognition, however briefly, there is a choice available to me that was not
there before.
Not always a different
choice. Sometimes the pre-set response is entirely appropriate and I proceed
with it. But I proceed with awareness rather than on autopilot. And the
awareness means I am not adding anything extra, no unnecessary Raag (Craving),
no unnecessary Dwesh (Aversion), no claiming of the action as the fake
identity's victory or loss.
The question
"before I respond, am I aware?" is not a burden I carry through the
day. It is a light I switch on, as often as possible, in as many moments as
possible.
Not perfectly. Not
always.
But more than
yesterday.
And gradually, with
genuine consistency and sincere honesty, the gap between stimulus and the “Aware
response” narrows. Not because the stimuli change. Not because my desires
disappear. But because my centre of gravity quietly shifts from serving the
Fake / Temporary Identity to the Real / Permanent one.
From the one who is
always about to respond.
To the one who is
Aware.
Every response I
give reveals my centre of gravity. The practice is to know, honestly and
without drama, where that centre is. And then, gently and persistently, to let
it move.
