According to the rishis, the sages of ancient
India, the world that appears before us has a mysterious hidden dimension, a dimension
that’s not visible to our eyes, yet it’s immediately present in every experience. The physical world is said to have an underlying
foundation or substratum, a fundamental reality that’s the very fabric of existence out
of which the universe is woven, like the threads out of which embroidery is woven. The rishis said, everything in the world,
including you and me, derives its existence from an underlying fundamental reality, a
reality they called brahman. The rishis taught that the world we experience
is a mere appearance or form of brahman, like this cloth is just a form of threads or this
pot is a just a form of clay. And, if everything in the world is merely
a form or manifestation of brahman, then there’s only brahman; nothing else truly exists. That’s why these teachings are called advaita,
which means not two or non-dual. The word advaita negates the existence of
anything else other than brahman. The ultimate goal of Advaita’s teachings
is to lead you to personally realize non-dual brahman as the essence of your being, as your
own true self. Gaining this magnificent wisdom can radically
transform your life. When you discover your essential nature to
be unborn, limitless, complete, and utterly untouched by all the afflictions of daily
life, then you’ll enjoy inner peace and contentment that never wavers, even at times
of crisis or loss. This is called enlightenment. Advaita is considered to be the epitome of
Indian spirituality, the most profound of all the teachings to come forth from a land
so famous for its great saints and sages. Over a span of 2500 years, the teachings of
Advaita evolved on the Indian subcontinent as generations of deeply contemplative thinkers
explored the truth of non-duality. In our own times, the teachings of Advaita
have undergone further evolution due to the historic encounter between Indian spiritual
wisdom and modern scientific thought. In this presentation, we’ll explore Advaita
and trace its journey through the ages and across the oceans. Our exploration will delve into three periods
of time; first, the Age of Rishis, the great mystics and seers who first realized the truth
of non-dual brahman and expressed their extraordinary revelations in Sanskrit texts. Then, in part two, the Age of Teachers, we’ll
discuss how great scholars like Shankara brought the lofty vision of the rishis down from the
misty heights to create a comprehensive and systematic body of teachings, the teachings
that we now call Advaita Vedanta. Finally, in the third part, the Global Age,
we’ll reflect on how contemporary teachers have adapted Advaita to our present-day values
and attitudes. We’ll evaluate these adaptations to find
out whether or not they managed to retain the power and clarity of the ancient traditions
they’re based on. It’s impossible for a short presentation
like this to fully convey the radical, life-changing truth of Advaita. Generally, such wisdom is gained only with
personal guidance from a competent guru. Instead, our purpose here is to understand
how the teachings of Advaita have evolved over the centuries, and how those changes
have enhanced or impaired Advaita’s unique ability to lead us to realize the highest
truth. The earliest expressions of Advaita are found
in the ancient Vedas, the scriptures that are the basis for all the religious practices,
beliefs, and teachings that we now call Hinduism. Most Vedic teachings are clearly dualistic
in nature, but a small section of each Veda, called upanishad, is dedicated to the non-dual
wisdom of the rishis. Among the upanishads, the Chandogya is one
of the oldest; scholars think it’s about 2800 years old. The famous saying, tat tvam asi, that thou
art, comes from its sixth chapter. In that same chapter, there’s a wonderful
story about Uddalaka, who was a pious and wise rishi with a 12-year-old son named Shvetaketu. Uddalaka sent his son off to school to learn
the Vedic scriptures. In those days, students lived with their teachers
for 12 years to learn the Vedas properly. They memorized the texts through a rigorous
process of chanting and repetition. At the age of 24, Shvetaketu returned home
to his father. By then, he had grown to become an arrogant
young man. He was full of pride owing to his elite Vedic
education. Uddalaka noticed his son’s smugness and
wanted to instill some humility in him, so he asked, “During your studies, did you
learn that by which everything that’s unknown becomes known?” Uddalaka was referring to the non-dual, fundamental
reality, brahman. Shvetaketu dismissed his father’s question
flippantly, saying, “How could there be such a thing?” Uddalaka answered with a metaphor, “Dear
son, by knowing clay, all that’s made of clay is known. By knowing gold, all that’s made of gold
is known.” What did Uddalaka mean by that? Well, consider this pot. We say that this pot is made of clay, but
really speaking, pot and clay are not two different things. This pot is simply a form of clay. It’s just clay, in the shape of a pot. If it weighs a few ounces, how much of that
weight is due to clay, and how much is due to the pot? The pot adds nothing. Pot is merely a name and a form; it’s not
an independent thing like clay. Clay can exist without this pot, but this
pot can’t exist without clay. That which exists independently, like clay,
is said to be satyam, real. And something like this pot, that has no independent
existence, is said to be mithya. The same is true for this gold chain. This chain is a just form of gold. Gold can exist without this chain, but this
chain can’t exist without gold. So, we say that gold is satyam, real, and
this chain is mithya; it’s existence depends on gold. Uddalaka was using clay and gold as metaphors
to represent brahman. By knowing clay, all these pots are known. By knowing gold, all this jewelry is known. And by knowing brahman, the non-dual substratum
of all that exists, the entire universe becomes known. Brahman is satyam and the world is mithya
because its existence is entirely dependent on its underlying reality, brahman. To help his son understand this, Uddalaka
explained, vac-arambhanam vikarah namadheyam. Vikara, any form or shape, like a pot or chain,
is vac-arambhanam, it’s based merely on words, on ideas or concepts. Similarly, namadheyam, any name, like the
name pot, is also based merely on words or ideas. Therefore, mrittika, clay, ityeva, alone,
is satyam, is real. Names and forms, that we refer to as nama-rupa,
are not tangible things. They’re ideas or concepts rooted in thoughts
and words, not in physical reality. To say that this pot is merely nama-rupa means
that it has no physical existence whatsoever unless it’s associated with a substance
like clay. When this metaphor is extended to the entire
world, its implication is astonishing. Everything we experience is merely name and
form, nama-rupa. The world is only an appearance or form of
the underlying fabric of existence, non-dual brahman. Consider this table. It’s made of wood, so we can say, this table
is just a form and wood is the substance. But, the wood in this table is made of cellulose
fibers, so we can say, wood is merely a form, and fibers are the substance. But then, those fibers are made of microscopic
cells, so fibers are only forms, and cells are the substance. But then again, cells are made of various
kinds of molecules, so cells are simply forms, and molecules are the substance. But those molecules are made of individual
atoms, so molecules are merely forms, and atoms are the substance. And, those atoms are themselves made of subatomic
particles - protons, neutrons, and electrons. So, atoms are only forms, and subatomic particles
are the substance. But then, subatomic particles are made of
six kinds of quarks. So subatomic particles are simply forms, and
quarks are the substance. But then, what are those quarks made of? Eventually, scientists will tell us that quarks
are made of something else. And they won’t stop there. They’ll continue to probe deeper and deeper,
searching for the fundamental substance from which everything is made. Will they ever find it? Many researchers think this scientific inquiry
will continue indefinitely because whatever is discovered can be further subdivided. If science can never find a truly indivisible,
fundamental substance, then, can we conclude that there’s really no underlying reality
because of which the world of names and forms exists? Well, no form can exist without some kind
of substance. A pot can’t be made of nothing. And if that’s true for a particular form,
then it must also be true for the entire series of forms that we saw when we examined this
table. Without some kind of underlying reality, this
table could not exist. If it’s just a bunch of forms, which are
ideas and not physical things, then how could I rest my hands here? In this way, we can infer the existence of
an underlying substance or reality because of which all these forms exist. And that underlying reality is what the rishis
called brahman. After listening to his father, Shvetaketu
revealed his arrogance once again, saying, “My teachers never taught this to me. They probably didn’t know anything about
it.” Hmm. The fact is, knowledge of brahman was taught
only to specially qualified students, not to those like Shvetaketu. Yet, he was afraid that his father might send
him back to school to learn what he missed, so, he swallowed his pride and asked his father
to teach him the truth of non-dual brahman. Uddalaka began, sad eva somya idam agre asit. Somya, dear son, agre, in the beginning, idam
asit, all this, this entire universe was, sad eva, existence alone. Everything in the world emerged from an underlying
reality called brahman, which is ekam eva, one alone, and advitiyam, non-dual. When Uddalaka said, agre, in the beginning,
he was describing brahman as the primordial first cause, the uncaused cause, the fundamental
reality because of which the world exists. Finally, Uddalaka expressed the ultimate truth. tat satyam, that reality, non-dual brahman,
the fabric of existence, sa atma, that is the true self, the self of all, the essence
of all that exists. O Shvetaketu, tat, that, that reality, non-dual
brahman, tvam asi, thou art. You are utterly non-separate from brahman,
the substratum of the universe. Tat tvam asi, that thou art, is called a mahavakya,
a declaration of the highest truth taught by the rishis. This mahavakya can lead you to recognize your
true non-dual nature, thereby freeing you from suffering and establishing you in a state
of perfect contentment. But this kind of radical transformation can
occur only when you’re able to fully grasp and assimilate the mahavakya’s profound
implications. Not surprisingly, Shvetaketu couldn’t grasp its meaning, so
he asked his father, “Sir, please teach me again.” Then, after Uddalaka explained it a second
time, his now-humbled son asked once more, “Sir, please teach me again.” Only after Shvetaketu was taught nine times
did he finally become enlightened. The last part of this story suggests that
personal realization of non-dual brahman can’t be gained quickly or easily. Usually, aspirants must first become thoroughly
prepared and gain the capacity to grasp the highest truth. Bear in mind that the rishis were spiritual
geniuses. They were extremely adept at contemplating
these subtle truths. But for us, their lofty revelations are often
difficult to understand. That’s why so many commentaries and independent
texts were later composed by great scholars like Shankara, to whom we turn in the next
part, the Age of Teachers. Long before Shankara and others composed their
brilliant works on Advaita, the ancient rishis had already revealed the highest truth, the
truth of brahman. Nothing greater can be taught. Then, what could later teachers possibly add
to this? If you add something to a well-established
formula like e = mc2, your addition won’t be an improvement; it’ll be a corruption. Well, the revelations of the rishis couldn’t
be improved upon, but later generations of teachers could certainly explain those revelations
more clearly and thoroughly. They could bring the lofty vision of the sages
down to our level. Among the very first to do so, were Gaudapada and Shankara, who was the grand-disciple
of Gaudapada. Other teachers of Advaita had come before,
but unfortunately, none of their works survived the passage of time. On the other hand, the exceptional works of
Gaudapada and Shankara are widely available today. Gaudapada composed a profound exposition on
the Mandukya Upanishad. Shankara wrote important commentaries, filled
with crucial insights, on ten Upanishads and Bhagavad Gita, in addition to the many independent
texts he composed. Their works thoroughly unfolded the non-dual
wisdom of the rishis gathered in the upanishads. Since the upanishads are found at the end
or anta of each Veda, the entire body of non-dual teachings developed by Gaudapada, Shankara,
and later teachers is known as Advaita Vedanta. Now, since all this is based on the revelations
of rishis, who were ancient seers and mystics about whom we know very little, one could
argue that Advaita Vedanta has a weak foundation. How do we know whether or not we can trust
what the rishis taught? How are their revelations any different from
those of prophets like Moses, Isaiah, and Mohammad? Fortunately, Advaita Vedanta isn’t based
on revelation alone. It’s built on a rock-solid foundation that
has three sturdy pillars: shruti - scripture, which contains the revelations of the rishis,
yukti - reasoning, rational inquiry and logical analysis, and finally, anubhava - experience,
the experience of enlightened masters, as well as your own personal experience. According to Advaita Vedanta, a teaching can
be accepted as true only when it’s supported by all three pillars - scripture, reason,
and experience. The revelations of the rishis are necessary
because non-dual brahman lies completely outside the scope of conventional human knowledge. The rishis were uniquely blessed to perceive
truths that others could not. But, if we mindlessly accept these revelations
as being true, or if we dogmatically insist on their acceptance, then we’d be following
the narrow and rigid path that’s usually associated with religious fundamentalism. The fundamentalist’s approach to scripture
is to stress the importance of blind faith, and to shun any kind of independent thinking
or reasoning. Yet, the rishis themselves made extensive
use of reason and logical analysis. They employed reason as a powerful tool for
spiritual inquiry. They also used reason as a touchstone to test
the validity of any teaching. For example, the rishis rejected the idea
that heaven and hell are eternal because anything that begins must eventually come to an end. Only that which has no beginning can truly
be timeless and eternal. So, based on this reasoning, the rishis taught
that heaven and hell are finite lifetimes of pleasure and suffering. But, even though their teaching about finite
heaven and hell might be reasonable, Advaita Vedanta still doesn’t accept it as being
absolutely real or true. Why? Because it’s impossible to experientially
confirm the existence of heaven and hell. For any teaching to be unconditionally accepted,
it must not only be consistent with reason, but it also has to be experientially confirmed
or validated. Scriptural revelations can never contradict
or overrule our experiences. Shankara himself said, Even if hundreds of scriptures say that fire
is cold or dark, they cannot be accepted. So, only when a scriptural revelation is both
consistent with reason and confirmed by experience can it be accepted as true. These three pillars form an unshakable foundation. If any of them were missing, the teachings
of Advaita Vedanta would come crashing down to the ground, so to speak, and crumble into
the dust. Fortunately, everything taught by Gaudapada,
Shankara and later generations of teachers was solidly based on this three-fold foundation. As a result, their teachings have been able
to withstand challenge after challenge by opposing schools of thought. Over the centuries, Buddhists, dualists, materialists,
scientists, and others have all tried to reject the truth of Advaita, but these non-dual teachings
continued to stand firm, unscathed by those attacks. Advaita Vedanta makes extensive use of scripture,
reasoning, and experience to address a crucial issue, which is, “How could this world of
duality in which we live possibly emerge from a non-dual substratum, brahman? How can duality arise from the non-dual?” The rishis didn’t say too much about this,
except for a few tantalizing references to a mysterious power they called maya. We saw how the Chandogya Upanishad suggests
that the world’s creation is like many pots being made from one lump of clay. But, this metaphor doesn’t explain how the
world emerged from a non-dual substratum. To make a pot, a skilful potter is required
in addition to clay. But to create the world, there was no separate
maker and material; there was only brahman, which is ekam eva advitiyam, one alone, without
a second. It was left to later teachers to explain in
detail how the world of duality arose from non-dual brahman. Their explanations provided powerful insights,
including this amazing declaration of Gaudapada: “The world never really emerged, nor will
it undergo dissolution. There’s really no one who’s bound, no
one seeking enlightenment, and no one who becomes enlightened. This is the highest truth.” That’s a remarkable assertion, but how could
Gaudapada so blatantly deny the reality of our everyday experience? There seems to be a huge gap between the lofty
truth of Advaita and our everyday experience of duality. To resolve this apparent discrepancy, we’ll
have to dive deep into the teachings of Advaita Vedanta. What we’re about to explore might seem a
bit complex at first, but it’ll soon become clear. Advaita Vedanta distinguishes three independent
levels or orders of reality. The lowest order is projected reality, the
level of imagination and illusion that you experience in your dreams each night. The middle order is empirical reality, the
level of your everyday experience of the world when you’re awake, like right now. And the highest order is the level of non-dual
brahman, which corresponds to the state of dreamless sleep. In deep sleep, your consciousness, your capacity
to be know whatever’s happening in your mind, continues to be fully present. In deep sleep, you’re actually fully aware,
but there’s nothing to be aware of -- because your mind is perfectly silent. It’s like being in a perfectly dark room
with your eyes wide open; your eyes can still see, but there’s nothing at all to be seen. When you’re awake, you experience the duality
of the empirical world. When you’re dreaming, you experience the
duality of the dream world that your mind projects. But in deep sleep, your experience of duality
comes to an end. Each night when you dream, your mind creates
a world full of people, buildings, trees, and streets. Then, when you wake up, you leave that projected
dream world behind and return to the empirically real waking world. As long as you’re deeply immersed in your
dreams, the world projected by your mind seems very real. But as soon as you wake up, you realize that
everything in the dream was merely a projection. Nothing in the dream world truly existed. Waking up out of a dream is a metaphor often
used to describe enlightenment. Due to the sleep of ignorance, you become
deeply immersed in the empirical reality of your day to day life, and you assume that
everything there is absolutely real. But, when you wake up from the sleep of ignorance,
when you realize that the empirical world is nothing but nama-rupa, name and form, then,
you’ll no longer consider it absolutely real. You’ll know that nothing in the empirical
world truly existed because it’s merely a form of the underlying reality, brahman. Gaudapada wrote from this lofty perspective,
the level of absolute reality, when he so boldly dismissed the reality of our everyday
experiences. This dream metaphor also leads to a brilliant
answer to the question, “How can the world of duality arise from a non-dual substratum?” Consider this: in dreamless sleep, your consciousness
is completely free from nama-rupa, name and form. There’s only consciousness, and nothing
else. That happens to be a non-dual state. And your consciousness remains in that non-dual
state until you either wake up or you begin to dream. When you dream, a dream world arises from
your non-dual state of consciousness and you experience a multitude of things; you experience
duality. But in fact, everything you experience in
a dream is actually nothing but your own consciousness. After all, the trees and buildings in your
dreams aren’t made of wood; they’re made of consciousness. Just like a dream world arises from non-dual
consciousness, so too, the empirically real world emerges from non-dual brahman. And just like everything you experience in
a dream is actually nothing but consciousness, so too, everything you experience in the world
is actually nothing but brahman. Your dreams arise from non-dual consciousness
due to the creative power of your mind. In a similar way, the world emerges from non-dual
brahman due to a creative power or capacity that the rishis called maya. To translate maya as illusion in this context
isn’t very helpful. Here, maya refers to the immensely powerful,
intelligent force that gave rise to the infinitely complex universe in which we live. Simply put, maya is the power of creation. But, there’s a logical problem here. If maya is an independent creative power that’s
separate from brahman, then how can brahman be non-dual, one alone, without a second? The non-duality of brahman excludes the possibility
of an additional entity like maya. But, for Shankara and other teachers of Advaita
Vedanta, maya is like the eighteenth elephant. Elephant? There’s a delightful story about a king
who retired to live in the forest, after leaving his entire kingdom to his three sons. To his eldest son, he left half the kingdom. To his second son, he left one-third. And to his youngest, he left one-ninth. The kingdom’s territory and everything in
the treasury was divided into three parts, according to this formula. The king happened to own 17 elephants. When his sons tried to distribute the elephants,
they fell into a huge argument because the number 17 can’t be evenly divided according
the king’s formula. The king’s minister stepped in to resolve
the dispute. He arrived with his own splendid elephant
and unexpectedly gave it to the three sons. They now had 18 elephants. The minster told them to divide up the elephants
and take their rightful share. The eldest took half, nine elephants. The middle son took one-third, 6 elephants. And the youngest took one-ninth, two elephants. The distribution was complete, but one elephant
remained, the minister’s elephant, which he led away as he returned home. Maya is like the eighteenth elephant; it’s
the answer to an otherwise unsolvable problem. To use a mathematical metaphor, maya is like
a numerical constant or fudge factor needed to balance both sides of an equation. “A fudge factor?” I can almost hear you object to this. Yes. Let me explain. Non-dual brahman alone is absolutely real. The world, on the other hand, belongs to the
empirical order of reality, the level of your waking experience. So, the world is not as real as brahman. The teachings of Advaita belong to the empirically
real world, like everything else here, so they’re not absolutely real like brahman. That means, Advaita is not the ultimate truth;
brahman alone is the ultimate truth. The teachings of Advaita are an empirically
real solution for an empirically real problem. The problem of human suffering is actually
located in the mind. As we saw in the first part, you suffer when
you fail to recognize your essential nature to be unborn, limitless, complete, and utterly
untouched by all the afflictions of daily life. Ultimately, suffering is the result of ignorance
which is in your mind. The teachings of Advaita Vedanta are meant
to remove the ignorance that causes suffering. Properly understood, Advaita Vedanta is a
collection of teaching methods or modes of instruction called prakriyas. These prakriyas are carefully designed to
lead qualified aspirants to realize the truth of non-dual brahman like the rishis did. There are hundreds of these prakriyas. They’re like an assortment of tools you
might find in a tool box. Each tool serves a particular purpose, and
each prakriya serves a particular role in leading you to realize brahman. But, if Advaita Vedanta is not the ultimate
truth, if it’s just a collection of prakriyas, teaching methods, then how can we trust it? How do we know it’s prakriyas aren’t defective? Well, you can verify that a particular tool
works by using it. And in the same way, you can verify the effectiveness
of these prakriyas by using them in your personal spiritual practice. The teachings of Advaita Vedanta are like
a finger pointing to the moon. Even though the moon shines brightly, you
might not spot it in the vast expanse of sky above you. A finger can point your attention to the moon,
which is already present, but not yet seen by you. So too, Advaita Vedanta can lead you to recognize
non-dual brahman, which is already present, but not yet fully realized as being your true
nature. One last observation: a finger doesn’t need
to physically touch the moon to point it out. It only has to direct your attention to the
right place. Similarly, the teachings of Advaita don’t
have to somehow grasp or reach non-dual brahman. They only have to correctly direct your mind
towards brahman. In the next part, we’ll discuss whether
or not popular modern teachings of Advaita can point the way to non-dual brahman just
as effectively as the traditional teachings of Advaita Vedanta. Beginning with Gaudapada and Shankara, an
unbroken lineage of teachers passed on the non-dual wisdom of the ancient rishis from
one generation to the next. Each new generation studied the Sanskrit texts
and commentaries written before, and then they elaborated on those works by writing
their own texts and commentaries. The manuscripts of especially brilliant new
works were transcribed by large numbers of students who wanted copies for their own personal
study, and eventually, those manuscripts spread to every corner of the Indian subcontinent. But, some newly composed works lacked clarity
and depth, or were inconsistent with the teachings of the rishis. These works were largely ignored and gradually
fell into obscurity because students weren’t inclined to make copies for themselves. In this way, the teaching tradition of Advaita
Vedanta protected itself against deterioration and against the introduction of defective
material. As a result, this body of wisdom maintained
an exceptional degree of integrity and consistency as it evolved over the centuries. Yet, it met with several unprecedented challenges
with the arrival of our modern Global Age. With the invention of the rotary press and
offset printing, handwritten manuscripts like this one were replaced by printed books. These books made Advaita Vedanta’s teachings
much more accessible, but regrettably, this had an unintended consequence. Newly composed works that lacked clarity,
depth and consistency, works that would previously have fallen into obscurity, now began to find
their way onto the printed page. Such books were widely distributed and their
teachings soon became intermixed with traditional teachings that had been conserved so carefully
over the centuries. In this way, Advaita Vedanta was invaded,
in a manner of speaking, by material that traditional teachers considered defective. This process of decline was hastened by a
growing lack of Sanskrit scholarship in modern India. Study of Sanskrit came to be regarded as being
old-fashioned and irrelevant. Yet, to gain full access to Advaita Vedanta’s
precious body of wisdom, thorough study of Sanskrit language, scriptures, texts and commentaries
is essential. This study usually involves years of learning
under the guidance of traditional teachers. An increasing number of contemporary teachers
lacked this rigorous training, and as a result, they became estranged to some degree from
the teaching tradition of Advaita Vedanta. In particular, without knowing Sanskrit, they
had no direct access to the vision of the rishis, as found in the upanishads and explained
in commentaries and texts. They had to rely on translations instead. Unfortunately, the mystical poetry of the
rishis and the extraordinary precision of Sanskrit grammar and vocabulary are largely
lost in translation. For me, reading even the best translations
is like looking through frosted glass. You can see what’s there, but everything’s
blurry and indistinct. In comparison to the superb clarity of the
original Sanskrit, translations seem vague and confusing. Sadly, the breathtaking vision of the rishis
gets dimmed by the process of translation. By the 19th century, the teaching tradition
of Advaita Vedanta had already deteriorated to a considerable extent. In that century, two remarkable men were born
who would help revitalize the tradition, but whose legacies became the source of new challenges,
as we will see. Ramakrishna Paramahamsa and Ramana Maharshi
were highly influential spiritual teachers, celebrated around the world as great saints
and mystics. Their unique lives definitely deserve to be
known in full, but here, we’ll consider just a few details that are relevant to our
discussion. Ramakrishna was a simple temple priest from
Bengal whose intense devotion and powerful mystical experiences led him to the heights
of spiritual attainment. He underwent no formal study of Sanskrit language
or scriptures, but with the help of several teachers he met, he learned about Advaita
Vedanta, Tantra, Vaishnavism, and other traditions. What Ramakrishna later taught his disciples
seems to have been based more on his own spiritual experiences, rather than on any particular
spiritual tradition. He attracted a number of highly-educated followers
from Calcutta, including the famous Hindu monk, Swami Vivekananda. After Ramakrishna died in 1886, Swami Vivekananda
and his fellow disciples founded a monastic organization, the Ramakrishna Mission, and
they began to disseminate the wisdom of their beloved master. Swami Vivekananda lectured extensively, both
in India and in the United States. His lectures were transcribed into books and
widely read. Before meeting Ramakrishna, Swami Vivekananda
had already studied the Upanishads, Bhagavad Gita, and other scriptures. As a result, what he later taught combined
the mystical insights of Ramakrishna with the traditional teachings of Advaita Vedanta. In this way, he created a new system, a system
that scholars now call Neo-Vedanta. We’ll discuss Neo-Vedanta further after
we briefly explore the life and teachings of Ramana Maharshi. While he was still a teenager, Ramana ran
away from home to live at the foot of a sacred mountain in South India called Arunachala. There, he immersed himself in meditation and
was profoundly transformed by his extremely intense practice. As his fame grew, seekers and scholars from
all over the world came to meet him. From discussions with those visiting scholars,
Ramana learned the teachings of Advaita Vedanta. As a result, what he taught was partly based
on his own meditative insights, and partly based on Advaita Vedanta. His teachings were compiled into small books
and widely circulated. Among those who sought Ramana’s wisdom was
H.W.L. Poonja, a former army officer from India’s
Punjab. Poonja was to play a significant role in how
Advaita would later be taught in the West. He met with Ramana several times during the
1940’s and those encounters changed the course of his life. Years later, Poonja settled in Lucknow where
he was eagerly sought out by young spiritual seekers, mostly of Western origin. He taught them using an informal question-answer
style known as satsang. With his encouragement, those students began
to conduct their own satsangs in the West. They propagated their own unique system of
non-dual teaching that’s often called Neo-Advaita. These two newly derived systems, Neo-Vedanta
and Neo-Advaita, are now taught around the world and draw many dedicated students. They have certainly helped the teachings of
non-duality appeal to a wider range of people. But an important question to address is: are
these two new systems as effective as traditional Advaita Vedanta in imparting the truth of
non-dual brahman? Are these offshoots as good as the original? All three systems teach the same non-dual
brahman, but there are significant differences in how these systems convey that truth. They use different methods of teaching. In the prior part we discussed how Advaita
Vedanta is actually a collection of teaching methods, called prakriyas, that are carefully
designed to lead qualified students to realize the truth of non-dual brahman. A careful examination of Neo-Vedanta and Neo-Advaita
can show several instances in which they have apparently modified or discarded prakriyas
that are central to Advaita Vedanta. For example, a common Neo-Vedanta teaching
of Swami Vivekananda is that you can gain enlightenment by following any one of four
yogic practices or paths, the path of jnana yoga, spiritual knowledge, the path of bhakti
yoga, devotion, the path of karma yoga, selfless service, or the path of raja yoga, meditation. Neo-Vedanta encourages you to choose the practice
that’s most suitable for your temperament. Now, as we saw before, non-dual brahman is
already your true nature, but that truth remains unrecognized because of ignorance. Your true nature is as-though covered by a
veil of ignorance which can be removed only by knowledge. Devotion, selfless service and meditation
are not sources of knowledge, so can’t remove ignorance on their own. That’s why Shankara said so emphatically,
jnanam eva mokshah, moksha or enlightenment is gained through spiritual knowledge alone. Why? Because that knowledge can remove the ignorance
that covers your true nature. But don’t think for a moment that Shankara
ever dismissed the importance of devotion, selfless service, and meditation. He himself insisted on the performance of
these practices. Shankara made it clear that non-dual knowledge
can be gained only by a qualified student, a student who’s fully prepared for this
knowledge. It’s like in college where it’s necessary
to complete certain prerequisites before taking an advanced course. The prerequisites for knowledge of non-dual
brahman can be gained through devotion, selfless service, meditation, and other practices. Only with proper preparation can the teachings
of Advaita finally lead you to gain non-dual knowledge. Shankara explained all this using the example
of cooking rice. The heat of a fire does the actual cooking,
so fire is called the primary means. But, without a pot and some water, you can’t
cook rice. Pot and water are also necessary, but because
they themselves don’t do the actual cooking, they’re called secondary means. So, fire, pot and water are all necessary,
but they serve two different roles. Like fire is the primary means for cooking
rice, so too, knowledge of non-dual brahman is the primary means for enlightenment. And just like you can’t cook rice without
a pot and water, so too, you can’t gain knowledge of brahman without first becoming
prepared through practices like devotion, selfless service, and meditation. If any of these are left out, non-dual knowledge
can remain out of reach. The approach of Neo-Vedanta, where you’re
encouraged to choose just one spiritual practice, is like trying to cook rice with just a pot,
or just water, or just fire. This is an example of a defective prakriya. Now that we’ve examined one aspect of Neo-Vedanta,
let’s turn to the system of Neo-Advaita. Teachers of Neo-Advaita often say, non-dual
brahman is already your true nature, so there’s nothing you can do or need to do. Performing various spiritual practices only
serves to strengthen the illusion that you’re separate from brahman. So, you should give up any kind of practice
except for self-inquiry. By turning your attention within and seeking
spiritual knowledge, you can dispel the illusion that your ego and the world you experience
are real, and you can realize the truth of non-dual brahman. That’s a really brief summary of Neo-Advaita’s
approach. Note that it emphasizes self-inquiry alone
and dismisses the value of other practices like devotion, selfless service, and meditation,
practices that are usually considered necessary to become fully prepared for gaining non-dual
knowledge. Figuratively speaking, they’re trying to
cook rice with the heat of a blazing fire, but without a pot or any water. They embrace self-inquiry as the primary means
for enlightenment, but they reject the secondary means like devotion, selfless service and
meditation. This is another example of a defective prakriya. From the standpoint of traditional Advaita
Vedanta, other defective prakriyas can be found in Neo-Vedanta and Neo-Advaita. But that doesn’t make them wrong or useless. After all, they teach the same non-dual brahman. Yet, we can’t ignore the consequences of
using defective prakriyas. After all, they’re the actual teaching tools
used to remove the ignorance that covers your true non-dual nature. They’re like the tools used by highly-trained
sculptors in India, known as shilpis. This shilpi is carving a beautiful deity for
a temple altar. He would say that the deity is already present
inside the rough block of stone; his job is to remove all the stone that hides it. Just as he uses a hammer and chisel to skillfully
remove the stone that covers the deity within, in the same way, you can use the traditional
prakriyas of Advaita Vedanta to skillfully remove the veil of ignorance that covers your
true, divine nature, already present within you. Also, this shipi probably underwent years
of training before he was fully prepared for this work. In the same way, you might require years of
spiritual practice to become fully prepared for gaining knowledge of non-dual brahman. Now, suppose this shilpi had only dull or
broken chisels available for his use. How could he complete this work? Using damaged chisels is like using defective
prakriyas - in both cases, achieving the desired result isn’t very likely. But with proper tools, a shilpi can fashion
an exquisite work of art. So too, with proper prakriyas, you can realize
your true nature as non-dual brahman. Now, it might be possible to carve a deity
out of a block of stone using dull or broken chisels, but only if those tools are in the
hands of an extraordinarily skillful shilpi. This metaphor suggests how a truly extraordinary
person might be able to realize non-dual brahman without using the traditional prakriyas of
Advaita Vedanta. Without doubt, Ramakrishna, Vivekananda, Ramana
and Poonja were all extraordinary individuals. They were spiritual geniuses who didn’t
need much help to gain enlightenment. The greatness of these teachers can’t be
diminished in the least by any seeming limitations that might be attributed to Neo-Vedanta or
Neo-Advaita. Personally, I have enormous reverence for
each of them and I’ve benefitted a lot from their teachings. It was Swami Vivekananda’s outstanding works
that first introduced me to Vedanta and Ramana’s laser-like directness was a tremendous help
for me, first as a practitioner, and later as a teacher. Many great saints and mystics like them were
able to realize the truth of non-dual brahman without the benefit of Advaita Vedanta’s
prakriyas. But even though they didn’t need those prakriyas,
most ordinary spiritual seekers, like you and I, probably do. In fact, we need all the help we can get. Fortunately, we have access to an invaluable
body of wisdom that has flowed down through the ages without interruption, from the ancient
rishis, to teachers like Shankara, and beyond. That body of wisdom is available even today
from traditional teachers around the world. They know how to use the powerful prakriyas
of Advaita Vedanta to unfold the vision of the rishis and lead you to discover the truth
of non-dual brahman.
I watched this the other day and was initially put off by the way swami speaks. It felt like he was instructing little children, which is apparently what most of his video content is geared toward. But then I reminded myself that I have less of an understanding in these matters than even a child and that I could use some simple instruction. It turned out to be an excellent primer that was quite helpful.
Great documentary thanks for sharing