The Purpose of Life

October 23, 2013Publicationsadmin

Introduction
Recently, a question – or rather a series of questions – was submitted to me that read as
follows:

Q: What is the purpose of life?

If, as stated in Advaita, we are actually in a state of sat-chit- Ananda and we are actually this
‘Self’ already, why have these ‘illusions’ and this ‘ignorance’?

How can we believe in lila? What could be its purpose? There is no convincing answer – I am
sure you will concur.

This then raises my more fundamental query. This ‘Self’ on which reams have been written –
what is the proof that such a ’Self’ exists?

The root problem is that in the end, even Advaitic teachings finally rely on ‘blind faith’ to put
their point across. There’s nothing wrong in having faith. All religions ask for blind belief in
the almighty to get you your promised ‘Kingdom of God’. It’s only in Advaita that folks try to
push their case by saying: “No, it’s not pure faith, it’s by reason and discourse that we reach
the truth etc”.

To quote Gaudapada in his Mandukya Upanishad kArikA, “That which is stated in the
scriptures ‘and is supported by reason’ is true and nothing else”. The ‘reason/discourse’
argument for following Advaita is pure bunkum, in my opinion. It relies on blind faith not on
a deity, but in an obscure ‘Self’.

And even if reality is non-dual, why this seeming duality? Why does this mithyA of life exist?

Though its fundamental concern is the seeming purposelessness of life, this series of
questions and comments directly expresses or implies various other doubts that beg for
clarification in order to better understand and more fully appreciate the existential
predicament in which we find ourselves as apparent human beings.

Given its multi-pronged nature, the format through which we will address this fundamental
doubt is a series of inquiries that will progressively consider each aspect of the rather complex
and enigmatic issues of whether or not life has a purpose, and if so what it could possibly be.
Inquiry 1: What is the Purpose of
Life?
Question: What is the purpose of life?

This is perhaps the single question most frequently asked by those embarking on a journey of
self-discovery. In fact, the timeless Vedantic method of self-inquiry (i.e. atma vichara) as it
was taught to me begins with an examination of one’s motivations, so this question is the
perfect starting point from which to launch an inquiry into the nature of reality.

The ancient rishis were great taxonomists. They categorized the vast array of actions that
humans execute into four basic pursuits: security (artha), pleasure (kama), virtue (dharma),
and freedom or liberation (moksha).

The first thing people seek is security. The dualistic world is characterized perhaps most
fundamentally by uncertainty. Everything in it is constantly changing. Nothing stays the same.
Moreover, no one’s well-being is guaranteed. Though most people – especially those living in
the West – enjoy a greater or lesser degree of affluence, the globe is littered with hundreds of
thousands, if not millions, of people who struggle daily to meet even their most basic needs.
And even those who enjoy an a affluent lifestyle suffer a subtle but incessant anxiety that one
day the well will run dry, that the investment market will take a downward turn, that they will
be laid-off from work, that they will fall short of the money needed to pay the rent or the
mortgage on the house and so will lose their home, that they won’t be able to afford proper
health care, etc. Such being the case, it is only natural that people strive to secure various
objects, both subtle (i.e. love, respect, power, fame, etc.) and gross (i.e. money, food, shelter,
clothing, etc.), which they feel will provide them with an adequate degree of invulnerability.

Once people feel secure, the next thing they go after is pleasure. This is only natural. Once
your needs are met and you have some time on your hands and perhaps a little extra cash
burning a hole in your pocket, the tendency is to look for some means by which to enjoy
yourself and have a little fun. In today’s world, it seems that virtually everyone is a pleasure-
seeker to a greater or lesser degree. It might even be said that the foundation of modern
society is this very fact. Our obsessions with sex, food, sports, fashion, movies, music,
muckraking, social networking via the internet, gaming, gambling, drugs, and alcohol all
testify to people’s incessant craving for the sensory titillation and/or psychological stimulation
that passes for pleasure, which serves to temporarily distract them from the nagging inner
sense of inadequacy and incompleteness by which they are troubled.

The third thing people pursue is virtue. For numerous apparent reasons, most, if not all,
people don’t feel good about themselves, or are at least beset with the feeling that they could
be, even should be, better human beings. Spiritual types, especially those with a strong
religious bent, quite often see themselves as at least lacking in the areas of kindness,
compassion, and unconditional love, if not as altogether inherently corrupt sinners who, try as
they might, will never succeed in measuring up to the impeccable precedents set by such
spiritual superheroes as Jesus, the Buddha, Krishna, Gandhi, or Mother Theresa. Others, after
having enjoyed a fair – often even excessive – share of pleasurable experiences and perhaps
even having as a result realized the ultimately hollow nature of their enticing promises, pause
to take stock of themselves, reach the conclusion that there is more to life than simply
satisfying one’s desires, and thereafter dedicate at least some part of their lives to helping
others and/or championing worthy causes. Yet others find themselves mired in a state of
shame for their misdeeds and hope that through some act of repentance they can change God’s
mind and secure a spot amidst the heavenly host after their inevitable demise.

The fundamental problem with any of the myriad pursuits that fall within the bounds of these
three general categories is that they are object- oriented. In other words, they are structured
upon the foundation of an individual subject seeking to secure a particular object. Given that
reality is non-dual – a fact not only asserted in scripture, but, moreover, one for which an
assiduous examination of our own experience provides irrefutable evidence – this dichotomy
immediately puts us on precarious footing for our journey toward permanent fulfillment,
peace, and happiness. As previously mentioned, the defining characteristic of the apparent
dualistic reality is change. Everything is in a constant state of flux. Nothing lasts forever. No
sooner do I get what I want than the object of my desire changes. And if the object doesn’t
change to a noticeable degree, then quite often I do. Or at the very least my desire gets
redirected elsewhere. Invariably, one or the other or both of these things happen, and despite
having procured that which I once so ardently sought and so adamantly believed would
provide me with a sense of fulfillment I again find myself wallowing in an all to familiar state
of discontent.

Even if it were possible to permanently secure an object and indefinitely sustain my affection
for it, the problem with an object-oriented solution to my suffering is further exacerbated by
the fact that the happiness I am seeking and of which I time and again get a fleeting taste
apparently through my interaction with certain desirable objects is not actually coming from
the objects. In other words, the objects of my desire are not themselves the source of the joy I
seem to derive from them. For most of us, accepting this fact is about as easy as swallowing a
brick. It seems quite obvious that my joy comes from the object of my enjoyment. A simple
analysis of the logic of our own experience, however, reveals the error of this belief.

As an example, consider the following. In my capacity as a high school English teacher, I

throw out a question to the class at the beginning of each period that serves as a fun way to
bring the students’ focus to the matter at hand and help us get to know one another and thus
bond as a class. For instance, I might ask, “If you were treated to a dinner at any restaurant of
your choice, what would you order for your meal?” As we make our way around the room, a
wide variety of answers are proffered. “Steak.” “Lobster.” “Buffalo Wings.” Inevitably, when
my turn comes and I say, “A garden burger” or “A tossed salad with balsamic vinaigrette
dressing” a chorus of groans erupts and the students ask, “Why?” And when I tell them that I
am a vegetarian, a cacophony of gasps, shrieks, and occasionally even expletive-laden phrases
of astonishment resounds throughout the room. The students cannot believe that I don’t crave
bacon cheeseburgers and bar-b-cue ribs, that I prefer broccoli and bean burritos over
pepperoni pizza and fried chicken. The point is that the same object doesn’t satisfy everyone.

If the joy that we seemingly experience through our interaction with a given object were
actually an attribute of the object, then that same object would bring joy to everyone who
encountered it across the board. But we all know that this is not the way it works. While I
cringe at the sound of the screaming lead singer and roaring guitar riffs issuing from my
teenage neighbor’s car stereo, listening to Krishna Das chant God’s name would have little
Johnny Death Metal gnawing the black polish off his fingernails out of sheer boredom. The
conclusion with which we are inevitably left is that the joy is not in the object.

“Well, then,” we might very well ask, “what is the source of the joy?”

From the relative point of view, according to Vedanta, there are only two things in existence:
me, the subject, and everything else, the objects of which I am aware. Since we know from
direct experience that joy does indeed exist and have determined from the logical examination
of said experience that the source of joy is not the object, then the only reasonable conclusion
we can draw is that the joy is in me. Ironically, I, myself, am the source of the happiness I
seek to experience through my ceaseless pursuit of both “inner” objects (i.e. emotional and
psychological states) and “outer” objects (i.e. relationships, possessions, and experiences).
Moreover, following this line of reasoning to its inevitable end, I realize that joy is my true
nature. I am joy itself.

“But if happiness is my essential nature,” you might wonder, “then why does it seem like the
joy is in the object?”

In order to answer this question, we need to look at the mechanism of desire, its cause and its
ramifications. Because I am ignorant of my true nature as limitless awareness, I feel
inadequate and incomplete. Out of whack as they are with my true nature, such feelings are
quite painful. I, therefore, seek to assuage this emotional turmoil by pursuing objects (both
gross and subtle) that I believe will complete me. While the desire for objects seems quite
natural and essentially harmless, it actually agitates my psyche to a greater or lesser degree
depending on the intensity of the desire and directs my attention away from my own inner
reservoir of peace and happiness, pointing it outward toward the objective world (which in
terms of Vedanta includes the mind) where it hopes to find a source of satisfaction. At those
moments when I am seemingly fortunate enough to secure the object for which I have been
seeking, the desire causing both the inner agitation and the extroversion of my attention
dissolves and my own innate joy floods forth and bathes me in a feeling of fulfillment. The
object only acted as a catalyst that evoked an experience of my own innate peace and
happiness. The most important conclusion to be drawn from this phase of our inquiry is that it
is never actually the object itself that I desire when I pursue objects, but rather the peace,
happiness, and general sense of fulfillment, which I seem to derive from them.

Though there is no doubt that we do experience joy when we procure and/or interact with the
object of our desire, there is a fundamental problem with the pursuit of joy through objects –
namely, all object- oriented joy is only temporary. As was earlier established, the very nature
of the apparent reality – and, therefore, every component within it – is mutability. Every
object – both the apparent individual I take myself to be and all the gross and subtle
phenomena appearing “around” and “within” me – is in constant state of flux. Coupled with
the fact that every mutable object is inherently limited, how likely is it that the limited actions
– or interaction – of two limited objects will produce a permanent result?

Despite my erroneous identification with the apparent individual entity I take myself to be, I
am not limited. I am not temporary. I am whole and complete, limitless, unborn, non-dual
awareness. Nothing can be added to me. Nothing can be taken from me. And if my nature is
joy – which it is – then that joy must be permanent, for I cannot be taken away from myself.
So if the joy that I seek through object is actually in me, is indeed my own true nature, then it
is only logical that I should pursue joy directly in myself rather than wasting my time and
energy scrambling after objects that are ultimately incapable of providing me with any lasting
fulfillment. In other words, it’s time I cut out the middle man and reap 100% of the only
worthwhile profit there is to be “gained” in life – that of my own innate and immortal
perfection.

This is the realization from which the fourth pursuit – freedom or liberation (i.e. moksha) –
takes its cue and enters into the drama of my life. At this point, freedom from limitation
becomes my top priority, the guiding goal that gives purpose to all my actions.

Since immortal perfection is my nature, however, it is not something I can acquire, procure,
get, or gain in the same way that I do the objects I chase in the apparent reality. Not only is
my nature not an object, it is moreover not something that is separate from me. In other
words, I already possess that which I am looking to find. My only problem is that I don’t
know I have it. In a word, my only problem is ignorance.

So what is the solution? What will remove my ignorance and reveal my true identity?

Here again, reason rather than faith comes to the rescue. Logical inquiry leads inevitably to
the conclusion that only one thing can give me what I’ve already got: knowledge.

Only knowledge will liberate me from my erroneous notions of limitation and thus “give” me
the freedom that is already mine. Therefore, according to Vedanta, both the point of
knowledge and the purpose of life are one and the same.

Liberation.

Inquiry 2: What is the Purpose of

Ignorance
Question: If, as stated in Advaita, we are actually in a state of sat-chit- Ananda and we
are actually this ‘Self’ already, why have these ‘illusions’ and this ‘ignorance’?

Before beginning an inquiry into the reason for ignorance, the erroneous notion that limitless
awareness is a state begs for clarification.

The self is not a state. All states of being are subject to time and, thus, are transitory, or
impermanent. The limitless self, however, is intrinsically…well, limitless. It is eternal,
permanent, or more precisely beyond the bounds of all such defining factors. It is the timeless
being in which all phenomena characterizing the three most fundamental states – waking,
dreaming, and deep sleep – and indeed the states themselves appear. For this reason, the self is
not particular mood, attitude, code of behavior, or epiphany to be achieved, attained, acquired,
merged with, or otherwise procured and thereafter reproduced, retained, maintained,
sustained, adhered to, displayed, or otherwise held onto. In short, the self is both formless and
free. Moreover, it cannot be had for it is already me.

Vedanta refers to my true nature as being-consciousness-bliss (i.e. satchitananda). These three

words do not denote three distinct attributes, but rather stand in apposition to one another. In
other words, they are parallel or synonymous in meaning.

Being(I.e.sat)iswhatis. IfIseeabirdorabookoragirl,andIsay,“The bird is,” “The book is,” “The

girl is,” the common denominator in all three statements is the beingness denoted by the word
“is.” The bird, the book, and the girl all are. They all exist.

How do I know they all exist? Consciousness (i.e. chit). I am aware of them. They exist in
consciousness and are, indeed, made of consciousness. Any object can only be said to exist if
it appears in consciousness. Objects require a field in which to appear, and consciousness is
that field. Moreover, since reality is non-dual, objects not only appear in consciousness, but
are also made of consciousness. In the same way that the image of the prodigal son appears in
Rembrandt’s masterpiece of the same name but is actually nothing other than paint, so the
myriad objects appearing in consciousness are nothing other than consciousness itself. Hence,
being and consciousness are one and the same.

Though the objects may come and go – indeed inevitably will and do come and go – their
essential beingness, which is consciousness, forever remains. It is eternal or “without end”
(i.e. ananta). Actually, “forever,” “eternal,” and “without end” are bad terms with which to
describe consciousness, for they imply time, and consciousness is beyond the limited scope of
both time and its Siamese twin space. In fact, time and space, the inviolable parameters of the
entire apparent reality in both its subtle and gross aspects, are themselves only objects
appearing in limitless consciousness. A simple consideration of my own experience verifies
my eternal nature. Though countless thoughts, emotions, and sensations have arisen and
subsided within the scope of my being, I have remained ever the same, essentially untouched
by all experience.

The usual interpretation of the word ananda in the appositive phrase satchidananda is “bliss.”
And regarding the issue of which term most appropriately describes the true nature of the self,
it is worthwhile to consider the fact that the scriptures use both ananta and ananda to describe
the indescribable Brahman. Sathyam jnanam anantam brahma is one of these definitions. Sat
chit ananda the other.

The word sathyam means “being” and refers to what we might call “eternality” or temporal
limitlessness. The word anantam means “without end” and refers to what we might call
“infinity” or spatial limitlessness. Since anantum itself does not sufficiently describe
limitlessness because it does not include time, the apposition of these two terms is employed
in order to express the fact that the self exists beyond the bounds of the time- space continuum
and so cannot be measured in terms of such. The phrase sathyam jnanam anantam brahman
can therefore be translated as “Brahman is the eternal all-pervading consciousness.”

In the phrase sat chit ananda, the word ananda again means “limitlessness.” With regard to
this term of reference it is important to understand that there are two kinds of ananda:
bimbaananda and pratibimbaananda.
Bimbaananda, also called atmaananda, denotes my true nature. It is always present, but cannot
be objectified and is therefore not experienceable. It cannot be gained, attained, or achieved. It
is to be claimed and owned.

Pratibimbaananda is reflected ananda, and as such it can be experienced in a pure (i.e. sattvic)
mind. Translating ananda as “bliss” reduces ananda to pratibimbaananda, or experiential bliss.
In the spiritual world you find this mistranslation all over, especially in yoga. But it is not
correct because the self cannot be adequately defined in terms of experience. First, all
experience by definition takes place within the context of time and space, whereas the self,
limitless awareness, as previously pointed out, exists beyond the parameters of time and
space. Second, no discrete experience can comprehensively define the non-dual self.

Though accepting that the interpretation of ananda as “bliss” is actually a misinterpretation of

ananta makes sense, there is nonetheless a degree of validity to the standard interpretation as
well. In such case, however, it should be re-emphasized that the “bliss” referred to in the
scriptures is not an experiential state of perpetual grins and smiles and giggles and laughs.
Rather, it is uncultivated, unqualified, and unassailable peace and contentment. It is conscious
beingness without fear, existential anxiety, or any sense of inadequacy or incompleteness –
not that it is a personality that could actually harbor such feelings. Since consciousness is
everything, it is termed purno’ham (i.e. complete, full, perfect). Its inherent absence of lack –
for since it is everything there is nothing other than itself for it to acquire or experience –
renders it, moreover, naturally desireless and, therefore, by definition wholly content and ever
at peace.

That bliss or joy is my true nature is again not a philosophical conjecture to be taken on faith,
but rather a fact irrefutably verified through an analysis of my own experience. Upon
examination it becomes quite clear that the intention behind every action I perform is to
secure a greater sense of happiness, peace, and contentment. Whether I am scratching an itch,
eating a sandwich, bandaging a cut, trying to finish that last task before I head home from
work, getting the last word in edgewise, making love with my partner, taking out a mortgage
loan, or buying a new car, I am always impelled by the hope for greater joy and more peace of
mind – or at least less pain and angst. And, furthermore, when I do find myself in agreeable
circumstances, I never consciously seek to spice up the entrée of my experience with even a
light seasoning of stress, suffering, or sorrow. Because happiness is who I am, I am perfectly
happy being happy.

Given that unlimited joy is my intrinsic nature, the condition of my apparent ignorance and its
apparent impingement upon my inherent happiness is one of the great ironies of my limitless
nature. Were I limited by my inability to suffer ignorance – apparently suffer ignorance, that is
– I would not be limitless.

Ironically, such apparent paradoxes are the rule rather than the exception when attempting to
accurately reflect that which is limitless and without attributes. Such seeming contradictions
as how Brahman (i.e. the self) can be both without qualities (i.e. nirguna) and with qualities
(i.e. saguna), how the self can be beyond the mind (i.e. not available to the mind as an object)
and yet as atma can be seen by the mind (i.e. manasa pashyati), how the self can be at once
smaller than the smallest and greater than the greatest, how action can be seen in
actionlessness and actionlessness in action, how there exists no difference between the limited
individual and the limitless self, how multiplicity can exist within the context of a non-dual
reality, and how we can merge with or attain that from which we have never been apart are the
unavoidable consequence of attempting to accurately and comprehensively reflect the
indefinable, immeasurable, yet all- encompassing and subtly nuanced nature of the self.
Vedanta, thus, needs be recognized and processed not as an “either/or” but rather a “both/and”
proposition, so to speak. In order to fully assimilate self-knowledge, one must be able to “see”
from both the apparent individual’s point of view as well that of the limitless self.

Moreover, it is important to understand that the self does not “have” illusions and ignorance in
either the sense of actively employing these phenomena or the sense of possessing them as
one would an object. In reference to the former, the actionless self is not a doer and delusion
or ignorance is not an action that is performed. In reference to the latter, though illusions
might be defined as subtle objects, the ignorance that is their cause is not such a thing.
Ignorance is simply a power within the self. As such, it is not something that came into being
or began. Ignorance, like the self, is beginningless. Unlike the self, however, it does have an
end.

The bottom line is that ignorance has no purpose, or rather – since ignorance is an insentient
subtle object without volition – there is no purpose for the fulfillment of which ignorance is
employed. Ignorance is simply an existential condition clouding one’s apprehension of reality,
which once identified and understood evaporates in the all-pervasive sky of pure awareness,
the limitless, non-dual self.

Inquiry 3: For What Purpose Would

the Self Want to Play?
Question: How can we believe in lila? What could be its purpose? There is no convincing
answer – I am sure you will concur.

Creation is nothing in which to believe. Just as we need not believe in the existence of the
mind in order to enjoy the appearance of thoughts, so we need not believe in the world in
order to find ourselves surrounded by the innumerable objects of which it is seemingly
comprised.

Like the self, creation is self-evident.

But unlike the self, creation is not self-dependent.

To understand the relative nature of creation and its relationship with the self, it is important
to understand the three basic ontological categories into which Vedanta divides existence: real
(i.e. sat), not real (i.e. asat), and apparently real (i.e. mithya).

According to Vedanta, what is real is that which cannot be negated, which does not change,
and which is permanent, all-pervasive, and ever-present. Vedanta says that the self is the only
“thing” that is real.
Anything whose existence is impossible – the wings of a dog, for instance – is not real.

Anything that can be experienced or serves a function, but whose existence is dependent upon
something other than its own seeming identity is apparently real. Analogies commonly
employed to illustrate this concept are those of the clay-dependent-pot, the ocean-dependent-
wave, the cotton-dependent-shirt, and the gold-dependent-ornament. Vedanta says that since
all objects – both gross and subtle – are dependent upon awareness for their existence, the
entire universe is only apparently real.

Though nothing new is actually created given the non-dual nature of reality, Vedanta does
offer two theories about how the apparent creation came into being: apparent ignorance (i.e.
maya) and playful desire (i.e. lila).

The maya theory roughly corresponds with the impersonal Big Bang and subsequent
evolution explanation proffered by materialist science. The difference is that rather than
saying that consciousness evolved out of matter – which, given the insentient nature of matter,
is the illogical equivalent of saying something evolved out of nothing – Vedanta says that
consciousness first appeared as insentient subtle elements from which it then grossified into
physical matter as we know it and then through its association with certain manifested forms
of its own self (i.e. plants, animals, and human beings) lent sentience to the apparent universe.

The lila theory is more along the lines of a mythological story in which anthropomorphized
consciousness is characterized as suffering a psycho- emotional condition of existential
boredom and a longing to express and thus enjoy its vast array of attributes and abilities and
consequently performs an elaborate “dance” whose form is the inscrutably choreographed
interplay of all the objects and actions that constitute the apparent universe.

It is important to understand that neither theory is put forth as a factual explanation for why or
a scientifically verifiable description of how creation transpired. Vedanta is neither a
philosophy nor a religion (a matter which will be dealt with later in this series of inquiries).
Vedanta is a means of knowledge that leads to self-knowledge and liberation, and therefore
matter of how we came to exist is of small concern.

That we exist is self-evident. Liberation through the removal of our erroneous notions
concerning who we are and the consequent realization of our true identity as the limitless self
is the matter with which Vedanta is intended to deal.

Moreover, how we came to be has ever been and will always remain beyond our ability to
ascertain. The limitations of scientific measurement will never be able to adequately account
for that which is the limitless “field” of awareness in which all instruments as well as the
intelligence that interprets the data collected through them appears and is the immeasurably
rarified substance of which all such objects are made.

That said, let us now return our attention to the ever-nagging question of life’s purpose.

Our initial inquiry concerning the purpose of life is, of course, valid only from the perspective
of the apparent individual entity questioning life’s purpose and making inquiry into the nature
of reality.
But what about the self?

What possible reason could the self have for assuming the appearance of the universe and
seemingly enacting its continuous and seemingly interminable cycle of pleasure and pain, joy
and sorrow, success and failure, triumph and tragedy, birth and death?

From the self’s point of view, there is no purpose.

In Vedanta, much time is spent on analyzing the precise meaning of Sanskrit words in order to
most accurately and appropriately derive their implied meanings. In this case, it behooves us
to examine the English word “purpose” and consider what light its etymology might shed on
the matter at hand.

The word “purpose” consists of a prefix pur and root pose. It derives from the Anglo-Norman
word porposer. The prefix pur originates from the Latin word pro, which became por in Old
French, and means “forth.” The root pose derives from the Old French word poser and means
“to put.” Thus, “purpose” means “to put forth.”

Due to both its all-pervasiveness and, therefore, inherent actionlessness/non-doership, the self
neither “puts” (i.e. projects or creates) anything nor has it any location other than itself where
it could “put forth” or to which it could move anything.

Furthermore, the self is pure awareness and, thus, impersonal. It has no will or volition.

And further furthermore, the self is whole and complete, full and perfect. It, therefore, has no
desire.

Despite the romantic lila theory to which many seekers ascribe, it is rather silly to suppose
that impersonal consciousness projected the universe because it was bored and wanted to play.

Neither does consciousness, as some speculate, need objects in order to know itself. A
consideration of the three states of consciousness – waking, dream, and deep sleep – reveals
that whether objects arise or do not arise, I always am. Though I experience no objects in
dreamless sleep, I know upon awakening that I slept soundly. Such could only be the case if I
were present to know that I was experiencing the absence of objects.

The self is eternally existent – self-luminous, self-aware, and self- dependent. It is “beyond,”
“untouched by,” and eternally free of objects. It needs nothing in order to complete itself. The
self is not trying to gain anything. Pure awareness is not trying to improve, heal, evolve, or
experience oneness. It is whole and the whole.

Due to power of ignorance (i.e. maya), the self, pure awareness, appears as the vast field of
the apparent reality and the innumerable objects within it. Unlike the way milk becomes
cheese and thereafter cannot regain its liquidity, however, the self does not lose its essential
nature as pure awareness when it appears as the universe. Thus, in spite of all appearances to
the contrary, the nature of reality is actionless, non-dual awareness.
From the self’s point of view, therefore, nothing is happening nor has anything actually ever
happened – much less had a purpose.

Inquiry 4: Is There Any Proof That

The Self Exists?
This then raises my more fundamental query. This ‘Self’ on which reams have been
written – what is the proof that such a ’Self’ exists?

I know that the self is by virtue of the fact that I am. Simply put, the self is – I am – self-
evident. More to the point, I know the self because I am the self.

“Still,” you might ask, “how do I know that my self is THE self?”

Some suggest that there may be more than one self. The singularity of awareness, however,
can again be verified by yet another meticulous examination of one’s own experience.

Consider yourself minus sensations, emotions, and thoughts. To do so, these phenomena don’t
have to cease to exist. Simply watch how all such phenomena arise in consciousness, abide
for a period of time, and then subside back into consciousness.

Though you tend to identify with the phenomena and say that such are “my sensations,” “my
emotions,” and “my thoughts,” the reality is that while these phenomena appear in you, you
are beyond their bounds. In fact, despite the idea that they are mine, and the subsequent
physical, emotional, and mental consequences you enjoy or suffer as a result of that
identification, you remain ever untouched by these phenomena.

Observe carefully.

Do you appear or disappear with the appearance and disappearance of these phenomena? Has
your existence ever been enhanced, diminished, or otherwise altered or changed by their
appearance and disappearance?

Admittedly, the apparent individual entity you take yourself to be seems to enjoy or suffer the
consequences of the appearance and disappearance of these phenomena, but the simple,
unadulterated, formless, pure awareness in which they – as well as the apparent individual
you take yourself to be – appear has not changed one iota.

Moreover, in terms of your interaction with the “outer” world, whether you have met with
great “success” and gained or enjoyed any given object of your desire or you have been
visited with grave “misfortune” and lost or failed to achieve or acquire any given object of
your pursuit, the awareness by which that success or failure, good luck or misfortune, blessing
or curse was known has always remained exactly the same.

Now look and see whether you can find any end or perimeter to this awareness.
Sure, the limiting adjuct (i.e. upadhi) of the mind-body-sense complex that constitutes the
apparent individual with which pure awareness is identifying has an end or limit to its scope
of awareness, but pure awareness itself – you – have no such limit.

As was previously implied, your eternality is verified nightly when you experience deep
sleep. Though the apparent individual is not aware of it due to its own absence, when the
mind-body-sense complex with which you are identifying disappears in deep sleep, you
experience your own limitless nature. Were you not, you, by means of the intellect’s function
of inference, which is one of several important functions carried out by the mind-body-sense
complex of the apparent individual when illumined and thus set into motion by awareness,
would not be able to say that you slept soundly.

Limitless, by definition, allows for the existence of nothing outside its “boundarilessness.” It
is a centerless sphere with no perimeter. It is an unfathomable formlessness. It is whole,
complete, and pure. If the self is limitless – which we have clearly established it is – then
there can be no second self, no other self, no you – from the self’s perspective – as opposed to
me.

The self simply is.

Inquiry 5: What Validity Has

Vedanta?
The root problem is that in the end, even Advaitic teachings finally rely on ‘blind faith’
to put their point across. There’s nothing wrong in having faith. All religions ask for
blind belief in the almighty to get you your promised ‘Kingdom of God’. It’s only in
Advaita that folks try to push their case by saying: “No, it’s not pure faith, it’s by reason
and discourse that we reach the truth etc”.

To quote Gaudapada in his Mandukya Upanishad kArikA, “That which is stated in the
scriptures ‘and is supported by reason’ is true and nothing else”. The ‘reason/discourse’
argument for following Advaita is pure bunkum, in my opinion. It relies on blind faith
not on a deity, but in an obscure ‘Self’.

The implication of this series of questions is that the self is wholly theoretical, that it is some
philosophical conjecture cooked up and served to the mindless masses as a means of
pacifying their angst over an apparently purposeless existence. It further suggests that the self
is either a half-baked notion to be accepted on blind faith or an intricate intellectual construct
whose validity is so be settled through argument alone.

Vedanta, however, is neither a faith-based religion nor a theoretical philosophy. True, its
method of self-inquiry does require faith in its initial stages because the student’s
understanding is still clouded by ignorance. But the truth revealed by Vedanta is verifiable
through a conscientious examination of one’s own experience. This isn’t to say, of course, that
self- knowledge is a discrete experience, but rather that the knowledge contained in
experience and which can be culled from it through thoughtful, logical inquiry does serve to
reveal the truth when it is properly understood and assimilated.

Actually, according to Vedanta, the quest for a discrete experience of the self is completely
gratuitous. The fact of the matter is that we are already experiencing the self every moment of
our lives. If reality is non-dual – which it is – then quite obviously there exists nothing other
than the self that can be, ever has been, or ever will be experienced.

This assertion, of course, voicing as it does the fundamental understanding upon which the
whole science of self-inquiry is based, begs an answer to the question, “How do we know that
the nature of reality is non-dual?”

As is the case with all Vedantic conclusions, the irrefutable evidence that proves the
singularity of existence is uncovered through a careful consideration of the logic of ones’ own
unexamined experience. An open- minded reconsideration of our apparent relationship to
objects, both gross and subtle, clearly exposes the erroneous assumptions we have made about
the nature of reality.

Since our experience of the world is essentially defined by our observation of and interaction
with objects, let us consider the location of these objects. Let’s say, for example, that I see a
boy standing on the street corner opposite me holding an ice cream cone in his hand. Where is
the actual location of the ice cream cone? The usual assumption, based on the collective
societal conditioning I have received throughout my lifetime, is that the cone is situated in the
boy’s hand at a distance of, perhaps, twenty yards from me. But is this true?

To answer this question, we need to first consider the mechanism of perception, which in this
case is vision. The way visual perception occurs is that light bounces off an object and is
received by our eyes through the retina, and thereupon a reflected image of the perceived
object appears in the mind. At this juncture, we come to the realization that what we are
actually seeing is not the apparent object, but an image or idea of it within our mind. Our next
consideration, then, is the mind itself. How far is my mind from awareness? In other words,
how far is my mind from me? The obvious answer is that there is no gap between my mind
and me. There is, therefore, no separation between the objective world and me, the subjective
perceiver of it, or more accurately the pure awareness in which all apparently objective
phenomena appear. It is true that if I take myself to be my body, then I seem to be separate
from the objects that surround me. But if I recognize that my body is itself nothing more than
an object appearing within me, then I inevitably realize the true non-dual nature of reality.

Of course, you might challenge the conclusion drawn from this inquiry by pointing out that it
fails to disprove the reality of the apparently independent object whose reflected light was
initially taken in by our eyes. Further inquiry, however, will effectively discount this
objection.

Before proceeding, we should pause for a moment to clarify what we mean when we say that
something is real.

The materialist definition of reality – which, though generally accepted as valid, crumbles
upon under logical scrutiny – relies to a large degree upon the characteristic of physical
separation or autonomous existence enjoyed by a given object, as if the object was a specific
container distinct from all the other containers populating the world. Despite its virtually
unanimous and unquestioned acceptance, it is easy to see how such a seemingly clear
definition becomes rather blurry with regard to the reality of emotions and ideas.

According to Vedanta, what is “real” is what cannot be negated, that which is always true in
all places and at all times, or more accurately that which is the substratum of the entire time-
space continuum that defines the apparent reality. Reality is essentially that upon which all
apparent objects depend for their existence, but which itself is self-dependent and self-
luminous and, therefore, ever-free of all the phenomena appearing within and made of it. In
other words, though all objects are me in the sense that they are reflected awareness, I – pure
awareness – remain untouched by and eternally independent of all objects.

Contrary to some interpretations of Buddhism and the proclamations of many Neo-Advaitans,

Vedanta does not say that the realm of dependent objects does not exist. Our direct experience
attests to the existence of objects. If objects did not existent, we would not experience them.
The issue regarding objects is not whether or not they exist, but whether or not they are real.

According to Vedanta, there are three ontological categories: the real (i.e. satya), the not-real
(i.e. asat), and the apparent (i.e. mithya).

Sat means “being” or “what is,” so satya refers to what was previously described as that
which cannot be negated, or that which does not change. It cannot be enhanced or diminished.
It is what is always good. There is only one “thing” that is ultimately real: the self, pure
awareness, me.

Asat refers to that which does not and cannot exist. The horns of a hare, the fur of a fish, or
the philosophical conjecture of a cactus are all examples of what is not-real.

Mithya is the curious ontological status enjoyed by the entire objective universe in both its
gross and subtle aspects. Though the physical objects, emotions, and thoughts appear to us
and are experienced by us, they are nothing more than temporary apparitions in a state of
constant flux even as they appear solid and/or stationary for any given period of time.
Because they are impermanent we cannot say that these objects are real, yet at the same time
because we experience them we cannot say they are entirely unreal or non-existent. Moreover,
further inquiry will reveal that all such objects enjoy no independent nature of their own, but
are entirely dependent upon awareness, me, for their existence. We, therefore, say they are
apparently or dependently real.

The whole of Vedanta basically boils down to an understanding of the difference between the
real and the apparent. Vedanta refers to this in practical terms as the discrimination between
the self and the not-self (i.e. atma-anatma-viveka).

Carried out to its inevitable conclusion, however, the inquiry founded upon this discrimination
will ironically lead us to the realization that reality is fundamentally non-dual.

If we consider our experience of seemingly independent objects, the first realization we make
is that the way we identify, recognize, and gain knowledge of any object is through the
specific type of sense data we are able to gather from it. In other words, shape and color
appeal to our vision, sound or absence of sound appeal to our hearing, texture and hardness
appeal to our sense of touch, aromas appeal to our sense of smell, and flavors appeal to our
sense of taste. In short, our analysis reveals that all objects (both gross and subtle) are only
verifiable through sense perception and/or sensory-based inference, both of which occur in
awareness and have no verifiable existence outside of awareness.

This basic method of object-analysis can be applied to all seemingly independent phenomena
both gross and subtle, for as is obvious with regard to dreams and even emotions – which are
invariably evoked by images, vivid or vague – even subtle phenomena have a sensorial
aspect. The thoughtful application of this inquiry leads inevitably through a series of four
illusion-shattering realizations.

First, no sensory experience verifies the existence of an independent perceiver. In other

words, through your sensory experience of a supposedly independent object, you do not
experience some other perceiver who exists independently from you (i.e. you don’t see
another seer, smell another smeller, etc.). The upshot of this realization is that you are the only
witnessing entity whose existence can be undoubtedly determined.

Second, no sensory experience verifies the existence of an independent object. Honest

analysis of your own direct experience reveals that the perceptions of any one sense organ do
not add up to the whole of the object you think has its own independent existence (i.e. the
visual sensations of color and shape you experience when looking at the driver’s side of a car
do not account for the existence of the front and back ends nor the passenger’s side of the car;
you only assume that those aspects exist because of the way you have been conditioned to
accept the three- dimensional nature of the world). This observation leads to the realization
that what you are actually experiencing is not an independent physical object, but only one or
more particular sensorial qualities (i.e. the sense of sight perceives the qualities of color and
shape; the sense of touch experiences degrees of heat and coolness, hardness and softness,
wetness and dryness, roughness and smoothness, heaviness and lightness; and so on for the
other senses). The upshot of this realization is that the sensory qualities that we experience
cannot be verified as coming from any separate object that exists outside of ourselves.

Third, no sensory experience verifies the independent existence of any sensorial quality. In
other words, these qualities are not just sitting around “out there” in the world waiting to be
experienced. In order to verify that such were the case, we would have to be able to
experience the quality by way of some other sense, which is clearly impossible (i.e. we can’t
hear a color or shape, we can’t see a sound, we can’t feel a smell, etc.). The upshot of this
realization is twofold. First, we see that the sensorial quality and the sense organ that
perceives it are essentially one and the same. In other words, smelling only occurs when a
smell registers in our mind. That is, when a particular odor arises in our mind, we call that
experience “smelling.” In general terms, then, it can be said that the smell and the sense of
smell are mutually dependent upon one another. Neither exists without the other, and so
neither can be said to have an independent existence. Second, we see that the sense of smell is
the substrate of any particular smell. In other words, the sense of smell is what allows for the
experience of any specific odor, and though any specific odor is only temporary the sense of
smell remains the sustaining element of any experience of smelling. In essence, then, we can
say that while any particular smell is dependent upon the sense of smell for its existence, the
sense of smell is free of dependence on any particular smell. That is, no particular smell can
exist independent of the sense of smell, but the sense of smell is experienced in connection
with a wide variety of odors and thus does not depend on any particular smell for its
existence.

Fourth, no sensorial experience verifies the independent existence of any sense organ. As is
the case with the sensory qualities, the sense organs are not just sitting around “out there” in
the world like a bunch of tools waiting to be picked up and used by awareness in order for
awareness to have experiences. Rather, the sense organs are actually modes of awareness
itself and are thus not separate from awareness. Another way of looking at it is to understand
that while the instruments with which we gather sensory data – and which are commonly
referred to as sense organs – are located on the physical body, the sense organs as such are
actually functions of the mind. Thus, as we realized through our previous inquiry, all
seemingly objective sensory experience is actually “happening” in the mind. And, of course,
the mind is simply awareness appearing in subtle form.

Upon analysis, therefore, all seemingly independent objects resolve back into the one
awareness that is the substrate of all existence. The upshot of this realization, of course, is that
nothing other than awareness exists and, therefore, the fundamental nature of reality is non-
dual. Though at first glance this conclusion might seem to directly contradict the assertion that
objects are not non-existent, it does not. While awareness is the substratum of all objective
phenomena and as such is singularly existent, this does not negate the existence of said
objective phenomena. Since they enjoy the curious circumstance of being essentially nothing
other than awareness while at the same time appearing to be something else, such phenomena
do indeed exist. Their existence as apparent objects is simply not real.

The surrounding world (including our own body and mind) that seems to be composed of so
many diverse and independent objects, entities, circumstances, events, situations, and
experiences is actually nothing more (or less) than awareness watching awareness. In essence,
I (not the ‘I’ on my driver’s license, but the ‘I’ who witnesses whatever that seemingly limited
little person who for so long I have taken myself to be experiences) am all that is, and all this
– the world, the body, the mind – is nothing other than me, the witnessing awareness in which
all objects arise. I alone am.

The following consideration serves to effectively illustrate the absurdity of the notion that
objects exist independently of my awareness: If any particular object was independent of us
(and, hence, of our awareness) and was somehow “out there” in “the world”, there would be
so many minds crowded around it that we would never see it.

The implication of this discovery or realization is profound. If nothing – whether it be a

seemingly external object, our own apparent body itself, or the sensations, thoughts, and
emotions that appear to register or arise within our personal being – is experienced
independently or apart from awareness, then there is no way to verify the “substance” of
anything as separate from or other than awareness. The inevitable conclusion to which our
inquiry leads is that not only do all apparent objects appear in and depend upon awareness,
but they consist of awareness as well. Take awareness away and objects don’t exist.

In this way it can be seen that both the essential nature of all apparent objects and the
“substance” of which they are made is nothing other than awareness. Each and every
perceived (i.e. gross) and conceived (i.e. subtle) object “arises out of,” “abides within,” and
“subsides back into” pure awareness. Just as the spider spins its web out of its own being and
can later withdraw its design back into itself, pure awareness is both the intelligent and
material cause of the universe. Reality is awareness, and awareness is non-dual. Truly
speaking, my life is a continuous, unbroken, seamless experience of my own self.

Rather than a philosophy or faith-based religion, Vedanta or self-inquiry (i.e. atma vichara) is
a means of knowledge (i.e. pramana). More specifically, it is a sound-based means of
knowledge (i.e. shabda pramana). Sound is the foundation of words, and it is through the
implied meaning of words that Vedanta removes ignorance and reveals the self. Though words
are by definition concepts, they are used in Vedanta as a means of freeing one from the
limitation of concepts. They function as pointers (i.e. lakshanas) that guide the mind beyond
the boundaries of the objective and into the open expanse of pure subjectivity.

The reason that scripture is held in such high esteem and why scriptural authority is the
essential litmus test for any interpretation of “spiritual experience” or understanding based
thereon is because it chronicles the wisdom initially revealed to the ancient rishis that has
since been repeatedly verified by seers throughout the ages and purified of all personal
interpretation and bias. Its teachings, therefore, stand as a polished mirror in which can be
seen a direct reflection of the self. As such, the words of the scriptures are nothing in which to
blindly believe, but instead are meant to offer insight into one’s own unexamined experience
and thus remove one’s ignorance of one’s true nature as whole and complete, limitless,
actionless, non-dual awareness.

Vedanta is thus a thorn that is used to remove a thorn. It is a means of knowledge employed to
emancipate one from the confines of relative understanding and enable one to bask in the
freedom of one’s true nature as limitless awareness – that upon which the dual phenomena of
ignorance and knowledge depend for their existence but which remains always and ever free
of both.

Inquiry 6: What is the Purpose of

the Apparent?
And even if reality is non-dual, why this seeming duality? Why does this mithyA of life
exist?

As has already been established, there is no creation. The word “creation” implies that
something that previously did not exist has been somehow brought into existence, that
something new has entered the arena of the old or already-previously-established. Since,
however, there exists nothing other than consciousness/awareness and therefore such is the
sole substratum of the entire field of manifestation and all the objects inhabiting it, it is not
possible for anything new to arrive on the scene. All apparent objects, including those making
their first appearance in a given form, are nothing other that a reconstitution and/or
reconfiguration of the same one substance of which the entire apparent reality consists.
From perspective of both the apparent individual and God/Isvara/the macrocosmic causal
body (though it should be understood that the latter is not a personal entity) there is,
nevertheless, an apparent creation. There is, however, a difference between the apparent
individual’s projected interpretation of reality (i.e. jiva shrishti) and God’s appearance as
“creation” (i.e. Isvara shrishti).

Without going into a lengthy description of them, it bears mentioning that there are three basic
energies of which the entire apparent reality is constituted: sattva, rajas, and tamas. The
defining characteristics of sattva are light, harmony or peace, and knowledge. Those of rajas
are intensity, passion or desire, and action. And those of tamas are dullness, apathy or
avoidance, and inertia. Different degrees of these three energies combine in innumerable
variations to create the myriad objects that constitute the manifested universe.

Through a complex process called panchikaranam, pure consciousness apparently forgets its
true nature, assumes the appearance of the five elements – the fundamental building blocks of
the apparent reality – and thereafter projects itself as the manifested universe on both the
gross and subtle levels of being. This projection is what is referred to as God’s creation (i.e.
Isvara shrishti). Once established, its fundamental form (i.e. what we take to be the physical
universe and basic constituents or thought structures of the psychological “arena”) does not
change. Though its defining characteristic is mutability and therefore all the objects within it
are in a constant state of flux, the existence and essential appearance of the manifested
universe remains the same. For instance, although individual plants, animals, and people die,
these general life forms continue to exist. God’s creation is pure sattva.

As a seemingly volitional entity within God’s creation, the apparent individual also enjoys the
ability to “create” – albeit in a very different way and on a far more limited scale. The
apparent individual is basically nothing more than a three-bodied bundle of impressions (i.e.
vasanas) that form and manifest as one’s likes and dislikes (i.e. ragas and dveshas). These
preferences are the by-product of the apparent individual’s past experience – both within the
context of the present lifetime and what we might call the trail of one’s past lives or previous
incarnations. A pleasurable experience creates or strengthens an attraction vasana while a
painful experience creates or strengthens an aversion vasana. These vasanas are stored in the
causal body from which state they compel us to seek what we consider pleasurable, avoid
what we consider painful, and interpret each and every aspect of our experience in terms of
our conditioned preferences. As subtle objects within God’s creation, vasanas are constituted
of a combination of the three basic energies – sattva, rajas, and tamas. Vasanas colored with
more rajas create desires that one feels compelled to fulfill. Vasanas colored with more tamas
create fears that one feels compelled to avoid. Figuratively speaking, the vasanas, therefore,
serve as the watercolors with which the individual washes God’s creation in various hues and
thus “creates” his or her own particular experience of it.

That an apparently objective creation is initially projected by God, however, may still seem an
unverifiable issue that must be taken on faith. But, once again, a logical examination of the
nature of experience reveals that such is not the case. And since one’s own subtle body (i.e.
antahkarana) is the most fundamental object of one’s experience of the creation we will use it
as the focus of our inquiry.

The manifestation of any object – including one’s own self – requires a field in which that
appearance can take place. So you, the subtle body, either appear in your own apparently
individual field of awareness, or you appear in God’s macrocosmic field of awareness (i.e. the
apparent reality, or the “created” universe).

If you accept the former premise, then you are left in a bit of a quandary, for it serves neither
to verify nor negate the issue of whether God created an apparently objective universe and,
moreover, ultimately invalidates itself. While there would be no way to prove that “your”
awareness is the only awareness, there would also be no way to prove the existence of
“another” awareness or “other” awarenesses. Nor would it matter, because it would be
impossible for you as an individual to experience anything outside your own awareness
anyway and, thus, no object outside of your own awareness would fall within the parameters
of your experience or consideration or otherwise affect you in any way, therefore rendering its
objective existence a moot point.

If you accept the latter premise, then not only are you in agreement with scripture, but you
also find yourself in alignment with logic. Though your individual perspective is undeniably
limited, the awareness apparently “looking through” you – supposing, that is, that you are the
apparent individual entity, which actually you are not – is the same awareness appearing as,
animating/illumining, and observing both the gross and subtle aspects of the entire universe.
Vedanta employs several analogies to illustrate this point: the wave and the ocean, the
ornament and the gold, the pot and the clay, the shirt and the cotton. In each case the object is
an effect dependent for its existence upon the material of which it is made and which is
therefore its cause, and moreover both the effect and its cause are the self-same substance. In
the same way, the awareness associated with an apparent individual (i.e. atma) and absolute
awareness (i.e. Brahman) are identical.

Due to the power of ignorance (i.e. maya), however, the omniscient, omnipresent, and
omnipotent awareness seemingly assumes limitation through its identification with the limited
upadhi of a particular mind-body- sense complex. Each individual mind-body-sense complex
is like a lens through which pure awareness looks out upon the field of names and forms (i.e.
namarupa) that is its manifestation. While identified with a particular mind-body-sense
complex, the self – pure awareness – is limited to the scope of intelligence, knowledge,
abilities, personality traits, etc. associated with that particular apparent individual.

Often people ask why, if they are limitless awareness, they cannot or do not know other
peoples’ thoughts, accomplish any physical or mental feat they want, or have at their beck and
call the host of superpowers (i.e. siddhis) reputedly possessed by advanced yogis. The truth is,
however, that as awareness they can and do, for the same singular, all-pervasive awareness is
“inhabiting,” or appearing as, and enjoying the experiences of each and every mind-body-
sense complex populating the apparent reality. From the limited perspective it assumes when
it identifies with a particular mind- body-sense complex, however, awareness can only
experience – though strictly speaking awareness is not an experiencer – the operations taking
place within the scope of that apparent individual. In order for the apparent individual to
experience what is happening in another apparent individual it would have to “jump into” and
“inhabit” that apparent individual’s mind-body-sense complex while simultaneously
remaining within its own, which as an individual who by definition is confined within certain
physical and mental boundaries it would be impossible to do for a couple of important
reasons.
First, the apparent individual is not actually sentient. The mind-body-sense complex derives
its sentience wholly from awareness. And due to its innate all-pervasiveness and perfect
completeness, awareness has no desire to make such a leap since it is actually appearing as
and experiencing through the other apparent individual’s mind-body-sense complex already.

Second, such “hopping” among mind-body-sense complexes and/or the “merging” of them
violates the condition of dualism that characterizes the apparent reality. If there were no
apparent separation, the manifested universe would collapse into its essential non-dual
character and disappear as it does in deep sleep.

The bottom line is that all knowledge and experience appear within the scope of the
self/awareness/me. But the self/awareness/I can only enjoy these phenomena through the
vehicle of the mind-body-sense complex, and once identified with a particular mind-body-
sense complex the self/awareness/I can only “see” through the limited scope of that particular
lens. Therefore, from its assumed limited perspective as an apparent individual, the self
enjoys neither omniscience nor omnipotence. In other words, I as an apparent individual will
always be constrained by certain limitations. Each mind-body-sense complex can only know
that which appears within its personal scope and do that which lies within its specific range of
ability. By means of the knowledge revealed through self-inquiry, however, each mind-body-
sense complex can realize its essential nature as whole and complete, limitless, unborn, all-
pervasive, non-dual awareness.

Therefore, the only reasonable purpose – if life can be said to have any such thing – is
liberation from the erroneous notion of limited individuality and the actualization of one’s
innate and unqualified freedom.