# 81
The sense of ‘I’ is Brahman, and what transcends it is Parabrahman—where there is no duality. The guru says: “This consciousness of ‘I’—this very awareness ‘I am’—is Brahman. It is Brahman without attributes when it rests in silence, free of thought; and Brahman with attributes when it expresses itself as self-identity, name, and history. Yet the very birth of this ‘I’-consciousness is itself a proof—there must be something behind it, something that knows it, something upon which it has arisen—*that* is Parabrahman.
The Upanishad declares: “Brahma Vid Brahmaiva Bhavati”—he who knows Brahman becomes Brahman. Yet he who transcends even Brahman is established in Parabrahman. ‘I am’ and ‘I am not,’ ‘I know’ and ‘I know not’—these are merely two sides of duality. But in Parabrahman there is no side, no opposite, no position. There you cannot even say—”I know that I am Parabrahman,” for there is no ‘I,’ no knowledge, nothing to speak of. What remains there is a silent being alone, standing behind both knowledge and ignorance, shedding light but remaining a part of nothing.
The Upanishad says: “Neha Nanasti Kinchan”—there is no division, no ‘this’ or ‘that’—only oneness. When you are established in the ‘I’ and transcend it utterly, you enter that non-dual realm where there is neither Brahman nor cosmos—only Parabrahman, beyond experience, beyond thought, attribute-less, all-pervading silent atmosphere.
# 82
What you were before the sense of ‘I’ arose—*that* is you, the eternal Parabrahman. Ask yourself: “What was I before birth?” “Did something exist even before the consciousness of ‘I’ came?” If you listen to the answer in silence—you will understand: yes, something was there. But it was no experience, no knowledge, no ‘I’—rather, an eternal nothingness, silent, formless presence.
The Upanishad says: “Abhava Abhayam Brahma”—where nothing is, yet what endures forever—*that* is Brahman. This consciousness of ‘I’ arrived suddenly one day, like a dream in sleep—without cause, without purpose. And with it began all experience, all consciousness, time, suffering, joy, action—everything. Yet when this ‘I’ dissolves—as a dream vanishes in sleep—what remains is fullness of emptiness, and that very emptiness is pure consciousness alone.
That state—where there is nothing to know, nothing to speak of, and yet you are. But you do not know “I am”—for in the absence of ‘I’ you are truly yourself. The Upanishad says: “Na Hi Jnanam, Na Hi Ajnanam, Tat Tvam Asi”—where there is no knowledge, no ignorance, *there* are you, *that* is your true being. The consciousness of ‘I’ arrived; before it you existed, and when it dissolves again, you are restored to that eternal nature—what lies beyond experience, formless, beyond awareness, yet the source of all. That is your true station: consciousness unqualified by experience, eternal, without name, without history, and yet without which nothing is.
# 83
Who beheld the ‘I’?—in this question lies the turning back upon oneself. You know: “I am.” But who knows this ‘I’? What consciousness receives this awareness? If the ‘I’ arises, surely something must have existed before it, into which the ‘I’ fell and was caught.
The Upanishad says: “Yah Bodhasya Bodhita”—he alone is true who knows even knowing itself. Then ask: “If I were not, who would know this consciousness? Could this ‘I’ have arisen? Could it have come forth?” In this question lies hidden the door to liberation. If you can dive into this inquiry with single-pointed mind, without deliberation—then you yourself will withdraw from the ‘I’ and be established in that consciousness beyond experience, where the ‘I’ has never come, never gone. This realization is born not through theory, nor through the path of experience—but through a simple, unwavering presence that itself transcends all experience.
In meditation, dwelling in the ‘I’, there comes a moment when the question itself splits open—”Who knows this ‘I’?” And the answer arrives in silence—”I am not that. I am that upon which the ‘I’ has arisen.”
The Upanishads declare: “Na yah bodhyah, sa bodhah”—that which cannot be known is the ultimate knowledge. So cease now, sit still in silence, and ask—”Who knows the ‘I’?” In that question lies the door to your own consciousness, and opening it you will discover—you are Parabrahman, you are beyond experience, beyond knowledge, not the witness—the very source of witnessing.
84.
He who dwells in the understanding of ‘I’ is the true devotee; he is immortal. Who is the true devotee? He who does not merely understand ‘I’—but remains established in that understanding, never straying from it even for a moment. He in whom the ‘I’ burns endlessly—as ghee dissolves in fire, so his sense of ‘I’ dissolves one day of its own accord.
The Upanishads say: “Sa na mṛiyate yah atmaanam bodhayati”—he who knows himself does not die. This is the culmination of practice—when you know—”What was born is this ‘I’—and I am not that”—then death has no dominion. Then you are immortal, for what was never born can never die.
Understand this—who dies? What dies is this sense of ‘I’, bound to the body, made of matter and qualities. But you? You are that Parabrahman, upon which this ‘I’ has come, yet which was never born, shall never die. The Upanishads say: “Amritasya putrah”—”O child of the immortal, yours is neither birth nor death—you are eternal in essence.”
The true devotee is not a worshipper of idols—but a ascetic dwelling in the understanding of ‘I’. His devotion is unwavering stability, his prayer is silent self-remembrance, his liberation—the dissolution of the ‘I’ sense. In that moment he knows—”I was never born, so I shall never die—I am that immortal, I am that Parabrahman.”
85.
Silent abiding in the understanding of ‘I’ is the gateway to the truth of the Self. This sense—”I am”—there is no greater news than this, no religion, no philosophy, no god beyond it. It came one day—without sound, when you knew nothing else, only—”I am.”
The Upanishads declare: “Prathamon bodhah aham”—the first understanding is “I am”; all other knowledge comes after this. Now the Master says—come, return to that moment when the sense of ‘I’ first arose, but there was no language, no thought, no identity. Abide in that pristine, wordless ‘I’—do only that.
Nothing else need be done. No philosophy to learn, no mental austerities, simply remain steadfast in this understanding. With time—this abiding in ‘I’ will one day open all mysteries of itself—who you are, whence you came, what is this play of existence.
The Upanishads say: “Sthitah atmabodhe sarvam prakasyate”—he who dwells in self-understanding perceives all things. So now there is but one thing to do—grasp this sense—”I am”—without word, without feeling, without description. And remain still—beyond all consciousness, all religion, all questioning. One day that understanding will itself dissolve, and there will shine forth before you—who you are, what this creation is, who is this creator—the answer that precedes all questions: a silent, all-pervading response—you yourself.