Philosophy of Religion

# In Solitary Depths: 27 <p>মানুষ যখন একা থাকে, তখন তার প্রকৃত রূপ প্রকাশ পায়। একাকিত্বের মুখোমুখি হয়ে সে যা অনুভব করে, তা তার জীবনের সবচেয়ে সৎ মুহূর্ত। কারণ একা থাকার সময় আমরা নিজেদের সাথে সরাসরি মোকাবিলা করি—কোনো মুখোশ, কোনো কৃত্রিমতা নেই।</p> <p>When a person is alone, their true nature emerges. In the face of solitude, what they feel constitutes the most honest moment of their life. For in being alone, we confront ourselves directly—without masks, without pretense.</p> <p>কিন্তু এই সত্যতা বেদনাদায়ক হতে পারে। কারণ একা থাকার সময় আমরা আমাদের সীমা, আমাদের দুর্বলতা, আমাদের অসম্পূর্ণতার মুখোমুখি হই। আমরা বুঝি যে আমাদের যা কিছু ছিল বলে মনে হয়েছিল—আমাদের শক্তি, আমাদের জ্ঞান, আমাদের গুরুত্ব—সেগুলো আসলে অন্যদের দৃষ্টির প্রতিফলন মাত্র। একা থাকলে সেই প্রতিফলন থাকে না।</p> <p>Yet this truthfulness can be painful. For in solitude, we encounter our limitations, our fragility, our incompleteness. We realize that what seemed to be ours—our strength, our knowledge, our significance—is merely a reflection in others' eyes. Alone, that mirror vanishes.</p> <p>তাই অনেক মানুষ একাকিত্বকে ভয় করে। তারা ভিড়ে থাকতে চায়, কথায় ভরা পরিবেশে থাকতে চায়, যাতে এই খাঁটি সত্যতার মুখোমুখি না হতে হয়। কিন্তু যারা এই ভয়কে জয় করে, যারা নিজের সাথে থাকতে পারে, তারাই আসলে নিজেকে চেনে। এবং নিজেকে চেনা মানে নিজেকে মেনে নেওয়া—যেমন আছি যেমন।</p> <p>This is why many fear solitude. They prefer crowds, spaces filled with chatter, anything to avoid confronting this raw authenticity. But those who overcome this fear, who can remain with themselves, are the ones who truly know themselves. And to know oneself means to accept oneself—exactly as one is.</p> <p>একাকিত্ব আসলে একটি উপহার। শুধু যদি আমরা তাকে এমনভাবে দেখতে পারি।</p> <p>Solitude is, in truth, a gift. If only we could see it that way.</p>



131.

Meditation alone certifies the 'I'—remaining steadfast in pure self-awareness. Through meditation, firm conviction is born in this sense of 'I am.' And what is meditation?

Meditation means—when this knowledge 'I am' dwells within itself, turns nowhere else—that is meditation. Consider how you came to believe—"I am this body," "I am this person." This came because you were told again and again—by your family, your society, your culture, everyone saying—"You are this body," "You are this identity." This stream has flowed so long that you yourself accepted it as truth—as though you were born into this flesh, and this is who you are.

But the guru's words contradict this belief entirely. He says, "You are not the body; you are only that 'I'—nameless, formless consciousness." Remember—this belief in the body has taken root in you over many years. Since childhood, your mind was unguarded, unformed, raw. From that time forward, this conviction embedded itself in consciousness. So to break that formed belief, meditation is necessary—and meditation means this: the knowledge 'I am' remains steady within itself, goes nowhere else, rests in no borrowed identity, but dwells only inward.

All our false beliefs have come from years of mental conditioning—society and the world have told us again and again—"You are this body," "You are this identity," "You were born," "You will die someday." By saying these things, they planted within us a false sense of self—which is fundamentally a dualistic vision.

But when the guru says—you are none of these things, you are only that neutral 'I'—however easy it is to hear, it is that difficult to accept. For the old beliefs have taken deep root. The only way to break this belief is meditation—where the 'I' remains within itself—undisturbed by name, form, memory, or body-sense.

This meditation gradually liberates the mind from its old conditioning, and gives birth to something new—the arising of dwelling in the 'I.' From childhood, society, family, and acquaintances have said: "You are the body, you are this, you are that"—and so this belief took deep root in the mind. But this belief is false—and the guru's word declares: you are only that 'I,' not the body, not an identity.

To break this false belief, we need meditation—and meditation means only this—the sense 'I am' dwells steadily within itself, unmoved. When this state can be sustained for long, true self-awareness is born, and that conviction itself sets you free.

132.

The news of 'I' is consciousness's first wonder.

Do you know what the greatest wonder is? That within you the 'I am' has arisen—this news is the supreme miracle. It is such knowledge as announces itself—no one taught you; you yourself suddenly felt it—"I am." Think—what did you know before knowing this 'I am'? Nothing—because there was no need to know anything then.

Try to remember that moment—when first you knew—"I am"; at that very instant came together place, surroundings, and the feeling—"I exist in this world." See then what immense power this sense of 'I' possesses! This single news alone constructed a world, which you still accept as real!

Before the 'I' came, there was no knowledge, no want, no thought, no identity—yet you existed—silent, undiscovered, all-knowing soul. After knowledge came, the 'world' began—but before knowledge came, there was that original consciousness—you yourself were knowledge-form.

The sense 'I am' is called consciousness's first light. Before this sense arose, you existed, but then there was no thought, no knowledge, no experience.

# The Declaration of ‘I’

When the knowledge of this ‘I’ arrives, there arrives with it space, time, person, body—and through them unfolds the entire experience of the world.

This moment is the great mystery—a silent presence announces itself: “I am.” Yet before this knowing, you already existed—and at that time you needed nothing, because then you were yourself the luminous Self—which requires nothing to know it. Within this very awareness lies the secret of all Maya—but if this awareness could be perceived in its purity, it alone could lead you back again toward that pre-‘I’ Self—which is eternal, non-dual, and supremely free.

“I am”—the arising of this awareness is consciousness’s first wonder. In this single announcement is born the world, experience, identity. But before this awareness came, you existed—silent, pure consciousness—which requires no knowing to be itself. This realization—that ‘I’ is the beginning of all things, yet before it there existed an infinite, nameless, silent Self—recognizing that Self is the key to liberation.

**133.**

In meditation, the dissolution of meditator and meditation is nothing but remaining as ‘I’.

Meditation means to hold something as an object, to remain steadfast. And that ‘something’ is yourself—what you seek is yourself alone, simply the awareness: “I am.”

Ordinarily, we understand meditation as focusing attention upon a subject, an image, or a mantra. That meditation continues until the object of meditation fades away—or until the meditator and meditation, the subject and its experiencer, become unified. But if you remain fixed only in this knowledge: “I am”—then here both meditator and meditation are you. Then you are: “Being meditating upon itself.”

Through this self-meditation, both meditator and meditation dissolve, and what remains is not some ‘I’, not some ‘meditation’—but the Supreme Being, non-dual existence, pure consciousness—which transcends all things, endless and infinite.

Meditation means holding onto something—a goal, a focal point. But in Advaita Vedanta, if this goal itself becomes ‘I’—then the distinction between the meditator (who meditates) and the object of meditation (upon which meditation is performed) disappears. When you remain fixed in the awareness “I am”—the process of meditation itself reaches self-absorption, because there exists nothing second.

What remains in this union of meditator and meditation is no longer any person or entity—it is that formless, undiscriminating, all-pervading Brahman—which has no meditation, only self-abiding.

Meditation ordinarily means to remain steadfast upon some goal—but when the goal itself becomes one’s own ‘I’, meditator and meditation merge into a singular form. To remain fixed in the awareness “I am” means: Being meditating upon itself. In this self-meditation, gradually the dissolution of both occurs—and what remains is the Supreme Self, within which there is no division, no identity, only silent presence itself.

**134.**

Meditation is not ‘I’, but rather the silent meditation of ‘I’ upon itself. When sitting in meditation, it is wrong to sit with body-identity. To meditate holding the awareness “I am this body,” “I am such-and-such a person”—this is the primary obstacle.

True meditation begins only when you first, through discernment, separate away everything that is not consonant with the awareness “I am.” The body, the mind’s condition, the meditation posture—all these external trappings of meditation-identity must be abandoned.

Let meditation not be thus: “I am such-and-such a person, sitting in this place, in this posture, meditating…” As long as such mental externalities persist, meditation will not be pure. True meditation begins only when the silent awareness “I am” alone meditates upon itself.

As long as the purity of this ‘I’ remains unbroken, there endures that incomparable opportunity—this ‘I’ will one day dissolve entirely, and then the supreme reality will be revealed.

Meditation is neither a bodily nor a mental exercise. Meditation means to become wholly absorbed in one’s inner sense of ‘I’—and in such a manner that there remains no thought, no identity, no sense of place or time. The awareness ‘I am so-and-so by name, meditating in this body’—this very sense is the principal obscurity and obstruction.

When these fragmentary notions fall away, there remains only that silent, self-luminous ‘I’. When that ‘I’ itself meditates upon itself—then meditation is no longer a purpose, but becomes a state beyond judgment. When this state grows sufficiently pure, meditator, meditation, and the object of meditation all merge into one—and the ‘I’ itself dissolves—leaving only the supreme consciousness, the Brahman eternal.

To sit in meditation does not mean to sit encumbered with body, name, place, and posture. Rather, from the very beginning, all such things must be set aside—all that bears no relation to the ‘I’. True meditation occurs only when the pure, unadulterated sense of ‘I’ meditates upon itself alone. So long as this awareness remains unsullied, there persists the possibility—that this ‘I’ will one day erase itself, and then you will come to rest in that infinite, wordless, non-dual nature.

135.

In the dissolution of the ‘I’ lies samadhi—the silent annihilation of consciousness. When this sense of ‘I am’—becomes unified within itself and finally dissolves away, then occurs that supreme state—which is called samadhi.

You must immerse yourself so completely in this sense of ‘I’—that every particle of your consciousness, every facet, every span of time flows with but a single awareness: ‘I am’. Into this awareness, this presence, you must bring such deepening sincerity and intensity—that the ‘I’ itself merges within itself, transcends itself—and then occurs that silent, inward state—samadhi.

Samadhi is a state wherein the meditator, meditation, and the object of meditation—all three dissolve. Here the standing of ‘I’ is the sole means—yet even that standing ultimately transcends itself. When the sense of ‘I’ penetrates so deeply that it possesses no separate existence, then nothing else remains—neither meditation, nor meditator, nor any perception whatsoever.

This is that formless samadhi, where consciousness holds itself fast, and merges into its own source. In this state, the dissolution of ‘I’ is itself liberation—where only one truth endures, beyond all limitation.

When you become wholly submerged in the sense of ‘I’—always, everywhere, in all ways—then gradually the ‘I’ itself transcends itself. One day this ‘I’ dissolves, and then samadhi dawns—where there is no person, no striving—only one silent, formless existence—which is yourself.

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