Vedanta Vani
April 2025
Sri Ramakrishna’s Teachings
Sri Ramakrishna: “God alone is the Master, and again, He is the Servant. This attitude indicates Perfect Knowledge. At first one discriminates, ‘Not this, not this’, and feels that God alone is real and all else is illusory. Afterwards the same person finds that it is God Himself who has become all this — the universe, maya, and the living beings. First negation, and then affirmation. This is the view held by the Puranas. A bel fruit, for instance, includes flesh, seeds and shell. You get the flesh by discarding the shell and seeds. But if you want to know the weight of the fruit, you cannot find it if you discard the shell and seeds. Just so, one should attain Satchidananda by negating the universe and its living beings. But after the attainment of Satchidananda one finds that Satchidananda Itself has become the universe and the living beings. First of all reach the indivisible Satchidananda, and then, coming down, look at the universe. You will then find that everything is Its manifestation. It is God alone who has become everything. The world by no means exists apart from Him.”
Advaita Vedanta in the Past and Present
Kees Boukema
Once the wise Ashtavakra visited Janaka, king of Mithila. The king had just woken up from a nightmare. In his dream, enemy troops had invaded the country, his army had been cut to pieces and he himself was badly wounded. He was captured and thrown across the border. There it turned out that no one wanted to help him for fear of reprisals from the new rulers in his country. King Janaka was desperate. And at that moment he woke up, covered in sweat and with a pounding heart. He sat up, looked around and asked: “Was that true, or is this true?” No one understood what the king meant. The king saw Ashtavakra standing there and asked again: “Was that true, or is this true?” The wise one understood what the king was talking about and asked him: “King, when you were thrown across the border wounded and defeated and no one helped you, were all these things here, the palace and your bed there then too?” King Janaka: “No, there was only humiliation and fear.”
The Sage: “And now, here in your palace, are those injuries and humiliations there too?”
King Janaka: “No, they are not here.”
The Sage: “Then, King Janaka, neither this nor that is true.”
King Janaka asked in alarm: “But, is nothing true?”
The Sage Ashtavakra: “Were you there on the battlefield, king?”
“Perhaps it was ‘untrue’, but I did experience it,” was the answer.
Thereupon Ashtavakra said: “Here in your palace, you also experience everything. Therefore, king, neither this nor that is true, but you, who witnessed both, are true.” With this ‘very short story’ Swami Sarvapriyananda (president of ‘The Vedanta Society of New York’) introduces the subject of his book “Sources of Advaita Vedanta” (Publisher Samsara, 2024, p. 16.): The seventh mantra of the ‘Mandukya Upanishad’.
This intriguing mantra answers the question: “Who am I?”
When King Janaka dreamed he was in the dream world on the battlefield, when he woke up he was lying in his bed in the waking state. Besides these two states of consciousness, a person can also be in a state of deep sleep; in this he experiences a void. The Mandukya Upanishad teaches us that man is not a dreamer, waker or sleeper, but that he is superconsciousness: ‘Turiya’. The consciousness that perceives the temporary appearances of waker, sleeper and dreamer. Turiya is neither a subjective nor an objective experience, it is not sensory knowledge, nor knowledge derived from ecstasy or, for example, a near-death experience. It is a state of being that cannot be expressed in language. Turiya is beyond the senses and beyond the mind. It is the ultimate goal of life: infinite peace and boundless love.
Advaita literally means ‘non-dual’. You could compare it to gold, a precious metal, says Swami Sarvapriyananda. Gold is non-dual in relation to a ring, a bracelet and a necklace, which are made of gold. Gold is not a piece of jewellery, but the material from which jewellery is made. In the same way, to know what Turiya is, you have to see the states of consciousness of waking, dreaming and sleeping. Turiya is not a ‘fourth’ reality, but the only reality (p.39). Writings on Advaita Vedanta contain philosophical considerations and sometimes, with the help of an analogy, an indication of what a non-dual experience is. Most writers are rather reserved about the method of arriving at such an experience. One might also ask: Is there a spiritual path that leads to a non-dual experience? Swami Sarvapriyananda writes:
– Turiya is not a separate entity, but the ‘Self’. To find Turiya you have to investigate the three states, waker, dreamer and sleeper. Look back at those experiences and see what was common all along. Turiya shines in and through these three states; those states are unreal, they are appearances. Their reality is Turiya (…). That has to be realised, not just by reading about it in a book, or listening to a lecture about it, but by making it a living reality (p. 40 et seq.)
– Swami Vivekananda once said that someone who runs away from the world to meditate and die in a cave in the Himalayas in search of God, has missed the way (…). That way is: Spiritualising your daily life. When you realise that you are the same consciousness that appears in all beings as waker, dreamer and sleeper, then you also understand that we are all the same spirituality and experience everyone as the same Turiya. Live life in peace, fullness and joy. Manifest that divinity in daily life through peace, love and service to all beings.
Swami Sarvapriyananda mentions one text that contains the highest non-dual truth and that is the ‘Ashtavakra Samhita’. It is a dialogue between the aforementioned Sage Ashtavakra and his disciple, King Janaka. Sarvapriyananda had this book with him during a retreat in the Himalaya. There are spiritual scriptures that speak to the heart, others to the mind, but the Ashtavakra Samhita speaks directly to the divine in us and appeals to our ‘true nature’.
In simple terms, the Ashtavakra confronts you, without much ado, with this essential truth: ‘Tat tvam asi’ (That thou art). Reading the Ashtavakra is like intense meditation. Reading other religious scriptures is like looking at the sunlight reflected by the moon. That is refreshing and beautiful, but studying the Ashtavakra Samhita is like looking into the sun. An uncomfortable experience, because you are confronted directly with the truth. It is not something you have to understand or put into practice, but something that opens your eyes and that you have to let penetrate deeply into yourself (p. 45 et seq.). To give an impression of what this entails, Swami Sarvapriyanada discusses in the second essay, ‘Dissolve in Infinity’, the fourfold path to Self-realization as set out in chapter 5 of the Ashtavakra Samhita. The first verse is about attachment and addiction. These are thought exercises, not intended to detach you, but to come to the insight that you are not attached. The second verse emphasizes that ‘non-attachment’ does not imply that you are a consciousness separate from the universe, but rather that you are one with it. The universe is within you, as the water of the river flows through every little wave on the stream. Without consciousness there is no experience at all. The third verse teaches us that what presents itself in our consciousness is indeed perceptible, but has no existence of its own. The appearance is ‘deceptively real’; it is doomed to disappear. As you study, reflect on and understand these teachings, let them ripen and penetrate deeply into you. Then a serenity grows in you that is not disturbed by the vicissitudes of life (fourth verse) (p. 48 – 79).
‘Spiritual disciplines’ aim to free us from our attachment to worldly matters. Is Advaita Vedanta the indicated path to that liberation? Sri Ramakishna said about this:
“For a jnani the waking state is as unreal as the dream state. There is only one eternal Substance and that is the Atman. But for my part I accept everything: Turiya and also the three states of waking, dream and deep sleep. I accept all: Brahman and also maya, the universe and its living beings. (…).
“You may quote thousands of arguments from Vedanta philosophy to a true lover of God, and try to explain the world as a dream, but you cannot shake his devotion to God. In spite of all your efforts he will come back to his devotion. A man born with an element of Shiva becomes a jnani. His mind is always inclined to the feeling that the world is unreal and Brahman alone is real. But when a man is born with an element of Vishnu he develops ecstatic love of God. That love can never be destroyed. It may wane a little now and then, when he indulges in philosophical reasoning, but it ultimately returns to him increased a thousandfold.” (The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, p. 652 and 654; 26 October 1884).
In ‘Sources of Advaita’ (p. 60 ), Swami Sarvapriyananda writes about a conversation he had with a very old and wise monk during his stay in the Himalayas: “The monk asked me what I was reading. When I showed him the Ashtavakra Gita, he gave me another book to read: Vishnu Sahasranama (The Thousand Names of Vishnu). It is a very devotional text. He advised me to read this along with the Ashtavakra Gita, to maintain a balanced mind. He taught me to adopt a devotional attitude along with my non-dual contemplation.” You could consider it an ‘up date’.
With this book, Swami Sarvapriyananda certainly gives an illuminating view of Advaita Vedanta.
Mr Kees Boukema is a scholar in Vedanta and Comparative philosophy. His brilliant and thorough-going articles on various philosophical and spiritual subjects are being published since the first issue of the magazine. His latest work is De Beoefening van Meditatie.
The First Treaty on the History of Literature in the West
(Followed by “The consecration of the title of Apuleius’ work, ‘The Golden Ass’, by Augustine of Hippo”)
Paulo J. S. Bittencourt
Professor of the History Course at UFFS – Erechim Campus
I always thought that the first genuinely scientific work of fiction, in the full sense of the expression, was “Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus”, by the young Mary Shelley (1797-1851) [she would have been 19 years old when she conceived the idea for the novel, and, precisely because she was a woman, she had to see her work, one of the most impactful in universal literature, published in 1818, under the suspicion that the authorship was that of her husband, the poet Percy Shelley (1792-1822).]
Then I read “True History”, by Luciano de Samosata (c. 120-192), from the 2nd century, and I discovered that many attribute to it the status of the first work of science fiction in history. I consider this attribution somewhat anachronistic, although I could very well be mistaken, since “True History”, as part of the so-called Greek “literature of escape”, contains typical ingredients of the fantastic journeys that have constituted, since Homer, the great epics of Western history. In this sense, myth (in the Greek sense) and science are not dissociated, neither in Homer (928-898 [?] B.C.), nor in Lucian. But as for Lucian’s work raising, in an unprecedented way, the theme of fantastic journeys to the sphere of outer space, there is no doubt whatsoever. I transcribe, to confirm what is said, the terms of the first interspatial agreement in Western literature, in a brief passage from the novel:
“On these bases, the Heliotes [inhabitants of the sun] and their allies have established a peace treaty with the Selenites [inhabitants of the moon] and their allies. The Heliotes will demolish the wall and will not invade the moon again; and they will also return the prisoners for the price agreed upon by each. The Selenites, for their part, will respect the autonomy of the other stars, and they will not direct their weapons against the Heliotes; Both peoples will help each other in case of attack; as an annual tribute, the king of the Selenites will pay the king of the Heliotes ten thousand amphorae of dew, and will give him ten thousand hostages; the colonization of the Morning Star will be done jointly, and any other people who so desire will participate in it; the treaty will be engraved on an amber stele and placed in the middle of space, exactly on the border line. They swore by the Heliotes, Fiery, Summery and Flaming; by the Selenites, Nocturnal, Monthly and Very Bright.” (p. 190)
. . .
The person responsible for the edition of “The Golden Ass” (2nd century) that I read, and the author of its introduction, Adriane da Silva Duarte, warns that the title of the work by Lucius Apuleius (125-160) (the other was “Metamorphoses”) was consecrated precisely by Augustine of Hippo (354-430), in his monumental work “City of God” (413-26) [XVIII, 18], “in the chapter dedicated to examining ‘What deserves faith in human metamorphoses due to demons’”. “He says:
‘I have heard, in Italy, on more than one occasion, that in certain regions, according to rumor, innkeepers, initiated in the sacrilegious arts, used to give travelers, hidden in cheese, something that instantly transformed them into pack mules, to carry their luggage, and, this done, the returned to their previous form. The metamorphosis, however, did not change their reason into a bestial one, but kept it rational and human, as in the real or imaginary case told by Apuleius in ‘The Golden Ass’ […]. It is said that he once drank the drink, which turned him into an ass, but kept his human reason.’” (APULEIO. “The Golden Ass”. São Paulo: 34, 2019, pp. 9s)
Born in Madaura, a small but important Roman colony, now located in Algeria, Apuleius was the author of the only novel in Latin literature that has been fully preserved. In fact, “The Golden Ass” is composed of narratives of the burlesque and fantastic adventures of a young Greek, Lucius, who finds himself transformed into a donkey by misfortune during his trip to Thessaly, a region particularly associated with witchcraft.
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Letters from Brazil
Coastal Navigation
Gerson Egas Severo
Introducing….
When I was invited by Swami Sunirmalananda (whom I have known since 2009) and Paulo Bittencourt (since 1998)!) to start writing texts for this magazine, I thought, first of all, of writing about themes related to philosophies and belief systems of the Far East, of course – given the nature of the magazine – and, very especially, about the expression of these belief systems and philosophies in the West. And, more particularly, about the cultivation of these universes in Brazil and Latin America. And, even more singularly, about Buddhism in Brazil. After all, I have a formal connection with Buddhism and I am Brazilian (and Latin American). I was born and live in the extreme south of Brazil, in a state called Rio Grande do Sul – whose capital is Porto Alegre (a city that became famous worldwide in 2001, due to the World Social Forum, and, sadly, in 2024, due to the severe climate event that hit it and resulted in a major flood). However, I live and work in a city in the north/northwest of the state, called Erechim (Campo Pequeno, or Small Field, in the language of the native people who inhabited and inhabit the region: the Kaingang). In this city, Erechim, there is a university called Universidade Regional Integrada (URI), where I worked as a History professor and where Swami has been. Today, in the same city, I teach at another university: the Universidade Federal da Fronteira Sul (UFFS). Among other activities, Paulo Bittencourt and I have been developing a study or research group since 2010 called “Between Logos and Tao: Philosophies and Religions of the West and the East”, in which we work on a kind of history of ideas and/or comparative history of religions and religiosities… of the West and the East. In the Western academic world, in general and as is well known, the study of philosophies and belief systems of the Far East is openly and largely neglected (a phenomenon that may become a theme explored in these “Letters”).
So I thought: yes, I will answer the Swami that yes! I will write a series of texts for the magazine. However, I had another question (and this was a second thought): what approach should I adopt? For my part, and from the beginning, I wanted to write texts that were not necessarily academic (there are plenty of these), but more in the style of journalistic chronicles (I ended up calling them “Letters”), so that I could communicate with the magazine’s readers as if we were at a café table. Something, therefore, of a more informal, more “human” and dialoguing nature, but that preserved the rigor of the narrative, ideas and concepts.
I asked myself: how can I combine my academic work and my personal experience, creating a narrative hybrid that could cover all the themes and interest the reader? My answer is: by writing a series of texts in the form of letters to the European reader – and to the reader from around the world – about what it is and what it is like to be a Buddhist in Brazil, in the form of a “coastal navigation”. Let me explain: coastal navigation is the title that the famous Brazilian writer Jorge Amado gave to his autobiography: an autobiography written without following the conventional structure that goes from past to present, but which is constructed by “skipping” the years. Synchronic, not diachronic. An excerpt, for example, written about an event that occurred in 1935, follows something that happened in 1984, and is preceded by something that happened in 1918. “Cabotage navigation” is this: a “dotted”, short navigation, which makes a brief journey from port to port – according to the memory and inclinations of the author at the time of writing.
It is in an interweaving of themes, personal experiences and historical moments that cover the last forty, fifty years, that I will write these “Letters” to the dear reader, okay? With this, I hope to provide knowledge and news about what it is to be Brazilian, Latin American, a teacher, and to have the belief systems and philosophies of the Far East as references for life and journey, in Brazil, on Earth and in the stars (in Brazil, the television series “Star Trek” is translated as “Jornada nas Estrelas”).
I hope with all my heart and soul that these “Letters” interest the reader, and above all that we can establish a dialogue.
Gerson Egas Severo
Below is my first letter, in fact, the second, about something interesting related to
Brooms, Autumn Leaves and Pedagogy
One of the chapters in the book “The Things You Only See When You Slow Down”, by Haemin Sunim, is called, curiously, “Do you know how to do kung fu?” In this chapter, in which the author reflects on his identity as a Buddhist monk and writer, Sunim says that when he walks through the streets of New York, or, we assume, of any city in America or the West, it is common for children, upon seeing him, to “imitate Bruce Lee”, and that on at least one occasion a child asked if he does kung fu like the monks of the Shaolin Temple. Sunim confesses that he finds this “cute” and fun – and adds that adults, in turn, approach him to ask about his meditation practices, admiring his tranquility and serenity. The meaning of the chapter lies in a comparison between the West and the East, since, while in the West his image projects a kind of stereotype originating from television and cinema, as well as from pop culture in general, in the East, when on the street or in the subway, people ask him what religious order or temple he belongs to. A more sober question, therefore.
I would like to say to the dear reader, as a Brazilian Buddhist, that for those of my generation who were introduced to Buddhism in the early 1980s, this chapter by Sunim makes profound sense – including the “stereotype”. Because of Bruce Lee’s films, such as “Enter the Dragon” (1973), and even films like “Karate Kid” (1984), but especially through the television series “Kung Fu” (1972-1975), with David Carradine, and its reruns over the years, it is extremely common for Buddhism and martial arts to go together, inseparable, inseparable, like two sides of the same coin. We have transformed the “stereotype”, including its idealization and romanticization, into a virtue, into a “reconnection”; the sixty-three episodes of the series, into a kind of religious book: we learned the Tao Te Ching, the Analects and the Damapada there, in the first place; and the Shaolin Temple into a kind of Mecca. Associating ourselves with a zendo or a dojo was part of the same movement – and, for me, it still is. Yes, it still is. And, in many ways, nourishing my praxis as a teacher. I have learned and continue to learn about brooms, autumn leaves and pedagogies. I will give an example below.
“We only learn with humility”, wrote Marcelo Gleiser in his book “The simple beauty of the unexpected – A natural philosopher in search of trout and the meaning of life”. I stopped reading for a moment: and we only teach with humility too, I thought. This is a very interesting and somewhat mysterious point. It is as if genuine knowledge, that is, the knowledge that really matters (defined in the process itself, at each given moment, by teachers and learners), were wrapped in a kind of spell, a type of protection. A humble disposition of spirit “opens” this, and a theoretically infinite spectrum of possibilities with meaning for exploring the world, the things in the world and ourselves, presents itself. Let us approach this idea with an example. In the pilot episode of the television series “Kung Fu”, “The Sign of the Dragon” (there is a novelization of the script for this episode published in book form in Brazil in 1974), the eleven-year-old novice Kwai Chang Caine is tasked with sweeping the leaves from the courtyards of the legendary Shaolin Temple for what seems an unbearably long time. We see the seasons of the year, or years, go by and he is there, sweeping, sweeping, sweeping, asking himself a question full of anguish: “When will I learn?” The abbot of the temple himself, Master Khan, occasionally comes to see him and asks: “How long have you been here, doing this?” Venting his accumulated restlessness and disturbance, the boy impatiently answers: “A long, long time.” The master acquiesces and life goes on, until he, the novice, “forgets” himself (Master Dogen: “To learn the way of the Buddha is to forget oneself…”), his short past, his eagerness to become a student, to receive the corresponding robes and to learn Kung Fu and Ch’an Doctrine, the amalgam of Taoism and Buddhism characteristic of the Shaolin Temple (Ch’an = later, Zen), forgets his expectations and “becomes one” with the broom, with his bowl of rice, with the leaves on the ground, with the trees, with the heavens above and their cycles, with the snow, with the summer insects. From time to time, he hears fragments of lessons, of mantras chanted, or excerpts of sutras whispered from the other side of those heavy doors – from that inaccessible place where all the important people, the initiates and the learned are. And he incorporates those insights into his experience as a sweeping monk—and his sweeping is deep meditation, deep (un)learning. He is recognizing the fundamentals, cultivating the fundamentals, being the fundamentals himself. And he realizes that caring for the broom and the yard is also the self-care, care for others, care for the world (almost “The Three Ecologies” by Félix Guatarri, from a [cosmic?] perspective of the ethics of care). He now resides in the present, and one day Master Khan’s usual question no longer makes sense: “How long have you been here?” He shrugs: “Not long ago, master. Not long ago…” And then the doors of the temple, of the school, open for him, who had become a student himself, and he no longer knows whether it was the doors that opened or whether it was he who opened them. The doors were never really closed – and the temple, after all, is only a temple if there is no inside and an outside. In fact, its walls were never there. And, paradoxically, the learning to be done is all in front of him and he has already learned the essentials that there was to be learned – which sprang from the silence of the courtyard, from the silencing of his mind. On a symbolic level, his understanding that he had not been there for long after all builds the temple itself, the temple for him (the school for him, as in Paulo Freire), an inner temple (without time).
Be the little monk who sweeps the fallen leaves in the autumn from the temple courtyard, that was what I was being told there. Cultivate the first steps (they are always the first steps, if you haven’t noticed yet), the beginner’s mind, that place before the one where the “student’s heart” beats. Learn to learn, learn and teach, teach and learn, and don’t keep anything to yourself. Help and encourage your companions. Listen. Fight. Live. There is no mistake. And, when you finish sweeping, put away the broom, that pedagogical, magical artifact, with care and full attention.
Without a doubt, if I met Haemin Sunim on a street in Erechim, I would ask with a deep and humble bow: “do you do kung fu?”
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Living in a Fairytale World
From Fook Hali, communications advisor, writer
You live in a fairytale world.’
A friend once said that to me. I think I understand what he meant when I see how people struggle with everything they have to do or not do, based on principles and rules that in many cases I assume do not apply to me.
‘I have too much stress’, I hear teenagers say. ‘I have to get straight A’s, my part-time job has to be in the hospitality industry and my muscles, lips and jawline have to be perfect. I have to get a status-enhancing job right after my studies.’ Who wants all that? I ask innocently. ‘Society’, is the answer.
This got me thinking. What does society want from me? And how much do you care about your ‘environment’?
The expensive designer clothes that the high school students around me wore were not meant for me. That is why I started to discover and wear what I found beautiful and that was appreciated (to my own surprise).
I turned down the driving lessons that were offered when I was eighteen. A car was completely out of my reach in the coming years and I had no need for one either.
I chose a study that I found interesting over a direction that guaranteed a well-paid job, while Koos Werkeloos was regularly presented to me as a threatening prospect.
At my first real job, I wanted to work one day less instead of a salary increase. Keeping expenses as low as possible, experiencing nice things, traveling, taking pictures, getting lost and telling stories were my preference over money.
To the great surprise of my manager and the fear of my parents, I quit my (second real) job, without having another one. I wanted to go away for a month, which was not possible at that company.
In short: even if you do not do 100% what your environment expects (or wants) of you, you continue to live.
In the meantime, I have discovered that you can end up in a work environment where you can be yourself. In a team, where in addition to your knowledge and work experience, your life experiences also count and therefore contribute to the whole. What a magnificent enrichment after all those (mainly commercial) organisations, where I had to bend over backwards to do exactly what they wanted. Organisations where I was given labels such as averse to conventions, unfathomable or the odd one out. Organisations where your (educational) peaks, valleys and growth as a person are completely ignored. A barrel full of missed opportunities, in my eyes, because it is precisely those experiences that give you a valuable ‘broad horizon’.
You hear many stories of insecure young people who feel ‘different’ or think they are ‘different’. Different from their peers, who all think the same… We are also increasingly being hit with the term normalisation. But what on earth is normal? Normal, according to which standard? Whose standard?
‘I am the standard and the rest deviate,’ I always say, somewhat jokingly. Partly to make the young people around me (hopefully a little) realize that it is impossible to meet the standards of all those others. After all, they are different for each person. And subject to change. Mine certainly are, in any case.
How are your standards?
Francis van Schaik is a coach of young people and also a student of human relationships with nature, the world and Truth. She regularly contributes to our online magazine. Francis is the regular contributor of articles in this page.
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Nag Mahashaya serves Sri Ramakrishna
from Nag Mahashaya’s life
Another day Nagmahashaya went to see Sri Ramakrishna at Dakshineswar. When he reached there, he saw the Master taking rest after his meal. It was the month of May and the day was very sultry. Sri Ramakrishna asked him to fan him and then went to sleep. Nagmahashaya fanned him long and his hands became tired but he could not stop without the Master’s permission. He consequently continued the task but his hands became very heavy and he could not hold the fan any longer. Just then Sri Ramakrishna caught hold of his hand and took the fan. Referring to this incident, Nagmahashaya said, “His sleep was not like that of ordinary persons. He could always remain awake. Excepting God, this state is not attainable for any aspirant or even a Siddha.”
On one occasion, Sri Ramakrishna asked the disciple what he thought of him (Sri Ramakrishna). In reply Nagmahashaya said, “Through Thy grace have I known that Thou art God.” On hearing this, Sri Ramakrishna attained Samadhi and placed his right foot on Nagmahashaya’s chest. The disciple at once felt a peculiar change within himself; he saw a Divine Light which, penetrating the animate and the inanimate objects, overflowed heaven and earth. Later, while expressing his ideas in regard to Sri Ramakrishna, he would say, “There is no necessity for praying to him for anything. He is Kalpataru. He will fulfill one’s desires as he knows one’s mind.
Since the advent of Sri Ramakrishna, there has been a deluge which will carry everything away. He is the full manifestation of the Lord and hitherto such a unique reconciliation of religions was not demonstrated by any other Incarnation.”
Meditations
[Meditations on the Self, from Viveka-chudâmani]
सर्वाधारं सर्व-वस्तु-प्रकाशं सर्वाकारं सर्वगं सर्वशून्यम्
नित्यं शुद्धं निश्चलं निर्विकल्पम् ब्रह्माद्वैतं यत्तदेवाहमस्मि ।।
“Who am I? I am the basis, the ground, the foundation of everything. I am the Light that reveals everything. I am all the forms. I am all-pervading. I am beyond everything. I am pure, divine, absolutely stable and beyond modifications. I am that One Supreme Brahman.”
सर्वात्मको’हं सर्वो’हं सर्वातीतो’हमद्वयः केवलाखण्ड-बोधो’हम् आनंदो’हम् निरन्तरः।।
“I am the Soul of everything and everyone. I am everything. I am beyond everything and yet I am One. I am that unique cognition of indivisible One. I am Bliss itself and I am beyond all separations.
न मे प्रवृत्तिर् न च मे निवृत्तिः सदैकरूपस्य निरंशकस्य।
एकात्मको यो निबिडो निरन्तरो व्योमेव पूर्णः स कथं नु चेष्टते। ।
I have no involvement in the world, nor is there renunciation. This is because I am eternally One, non-different and not a part of anything. I am the One pure Self and am always present. I fill the universe and beyond and so what ordinary thing can affect me?