156.
To stand in the 'I' beyond all coverings—in the unbroken remembrance of Self—this is practice. The knowledge that awakens before thought—that silent awareness 'I am'—this was primordial and nameless. This awareness arises in a body sustained by food, a body requiring breath and consciousness to remain alive.
From childhood, this body, this breath, and the world around it gradually condition you—and cover over that pure, wordless 'I' with layers of language, name, and identity. You learn words, you learn language, you learn to think—and slowly these construct a false self: "I am such-and-such person," "I am this body," "I am this profession."
Behind all this remains that unchanging, pristine 'I'—present still, awake still. It has not been erased—only veiled by layers of body, breath, language, and memory. The guru's teaching is this: loosen these coverings one by one. Let go of everything and return to that nameless 'I'—dwell there. This is practice, and this dwelling is liberation itself.
In Advaita Vedanta it is said: the Self is itself no language, no form, no name, no thought, no body. But when this Self expresses itself as the sense of 'I', it is an unspoken feeling—it awakens before thought. This feeling arises with the food-sustained body and the vital breath—and this very body misleads the 'I' into experiencing itself as form.
When thought and language limit this 'I', the 'I' forgets itself and becomes a being defined by body and identity. Yet beneath all these identities there remains a pure, wordless, immutable 'I', present still—only veiled beneath the idea "I am this-or-that." The process of removing this veil and returning to that 'I' is inner practice.
The awareness before thought—"I am"—this is the primary truth. This awareness arises in the food-body, upon which are imposed layers of conditioning, name, language, identity. Remove these layers and you can return to that pure, silent 'I'. This return is practice, and abiding there is the secret heart of liberation. So, setting aside all your identities of "I am this-or-that," establish yourself in that nameless remembrance of Self—where there is no body, no creed, no identity—only being itself.
157.
To abide in the 'I' is to transcend desire and dwell in the silent freedom of presence. When you come to rest in the state 'I am'—conscious of nothing but that 'I' itself—you will transcend all desire and impulse.
Desire is a powerful inward pull—it creates deep obstacles on the path of practice. Obvious desires are easy to see, but there are subtle desires that enter from hiding, work in whispers, and never announce themselves. Among all desires, the most subtle is this: "let me be," "let me continue to be," "let me remain as this-or-that person"—that is, the very desire to exist.
This desire has grown gradually—hand in hand with the idea "I am such-and-such"—shaped by language, identity, habit, and society's conditions. Yet if you can remember, you will see: when the sense of 'I' first awakened, there was no desire in it. It was silent presence alone—no name, no form, no intention, nothing but a mute existence: "I am."
Your practice now is to return to that pure, desireless 'I'. And the deeper you abide in that awareness, the more all desires will fall away, unable to touch you further. Then you will reach that state where only the consciousness of 'I' remains—but even the 'I' has no desire. In that moment you will be free of desire, free, established in your true nature.
Desire is that subtle movement of consciousness—that repeatedly draws us toward body, identity, intention, and the future.
Most desires—for pleasure, success, recognition—are visible to the eye. But on the path of self-knowledge, the most difficult desire is this: “Let me be”—this hunger for existence itself.
It is so fundamental that we cannot even recognize it as desire. This desire is born only after the ‘I’ becomes articulate in language—that is, after it expresses itself as “I am this” or “I am that.” Yet the first stirring of ‘I’—the one that lay close to birth—was utterly wordless and free of all wanting. To remain rooted in that state is spiritual practice—and when one goes deep into it, the transcendence of desire becomes self-evident. Then there is no more craving, no expectation, no suffering, no future—only the fresh, conscious presence of ‘I’.
When you rest in the depths of ‘I’-consciousness, all desires vanish. More dangerous even than explicit desires is this hunger for existence itself—”Let me be.” This too has been constructed by society and language. But the original ‘I’-consciousness—wordless, purposeless—carried no desire at all.
To return to that state and dwell there: this is spiritual practice. This very abiding is liberation from desire, and in it dwells the self-evident peace and ultimate truth.
158.
I exist even without the word ‘I’—in silent presence itself lies self-knowledge. Unite with the self—that which you call ‘I am’—the conscious knowing that dwells within. Establish complete oneness with this ‘I’-consciousness. This knowing—”I am”—has arisen spontaneously within you; you did not summon it, did not seek it. It came of itself.
When it came, it carried no word with it—only one sensation: “I am,” but wordless, thoughtless, purposeless. Life was flowing then—no language, no definition, no intention was needed. But then, as you grew beyond infancy, conditioning began. Education, society, custom—all together brought words, names, forms into you. Then language gradually took hold—you forgot that wordless existence, and now you cannot even imagine what life might be without words.
So when you sit in meditation, you are being told: drop even this word ‘I am.’ Because you know, even without the word—you exist. Rest in this silent, thoughtless presence—this is your true conscious self.
The core teaching of Advaita Vedanta is this: do not bind yourself to any name, form, word, or thought. Although ‘I’-consciousness is the beginning of awareness, even the word ‘I’ is merely an initial designation. True existence stands even without words—you know you are; no word is needed to understand this. Yet society has taught us that without language, name, and thought, existence is impossible.
The guru’s teaching is: break these bonds of language. Enter meditation in such a way that only feeling remains, not words. Then you will reach that realm where thought and language dissolve, yet existence remains intact—the self knows itself in silence.
You exist even without the word ‘I’—meditate on this truth; abide in this state. The first ‘I’-consciousness was wordless and thoughtless—but now it has become a linguistic concept. So the true meaning of meditation is to drop even this concept and return to wordless presence. There is no name there, no identity, only the sensation—”I am”—but without words, only conscious presence.
159.
Before the thought ‘I’—simply be; say nothing. This knowing or consciousness ‘I am’ arises even before thought. It is such a consciousness that carried within it no word, no language, no definition. When this ‘I’-consciousness first arose in you, you were wordless, thoughtless, languageless—there was only the sense of a pristine, untainted existence.
But now you are trying to explain this conscious state through words—yet words cannot convey what is wordless! It is as if someone tried to describe the scent or color within a dream—just so, one cannot capture wordless existence through speech. This is why the guru instructs: let go of words.
Don’t speak, don’t explain—simply be.
This ‘just be’—it is the only path through which you can gradually arrive at that existence which precedes thought itself. Then you will see for yourself—what happens, who is present, and who is not.
Advaita Vedanta says—the Self is not knowable, not speakable, not thinkable—that Self is merely a matter of ‘being’. When the ‘I’ sense first awakens, it does not do so in the light of language or intellect—rather, it stirs like silent consciousness. Later, society, habit, language transform it into concepts—”I am this”, “I am that”—in this manner.
But to recognize that original ‘I’, you must shed the husk of words and settle into wordless consciousness. “Just be”—that is, without thinking, without forming language—simply remain present. In that presence alone, gradually, self-remembrance will occur; you will understand—you are nothing, yet you are the background of everything.
The ‘I’ sense arrives before thought—wordless, thoughtless, identity-less. To dwell in that consciousness, to seek understanding through words is futile—simply ‘be’—that alone is enough. What then reveals itself cannot be understood through any book or explanation—it can only be realized within oneself. Therefore the guru’s teaching is clear: “Do not describe the being. Be the being.”
160.
Who created whom? Let us think through the arrival of the ‘I’ and the illusion of relationship—these two things.
The sense that ‘I exist’ within you has come from your parents’ sense of ‘I’—such is the common thinking. That is to say, they created you—and through that they became ‘mother’ and ‘father’. But consider it the other way around once—were they even ‘father’ or ‘mother’ before your arrival?
No. They were then merely a couple—without a child, there is no identity of ‘mother’ and ‘father’! That is, your birth made them mother and father. Thinking in this way, one could say—you yourself created the identity of their being ‘mother’ and ‘father’.
Then the question arises—who created whom? And we call this relationship real! But is this relationship truly real? Or is it all merely a game of mutual projection and illusion?
All relationships are fundamentally built upon the concept of ‘I’—and this concept itself is a primordial delusion. We believe our parents created us, but this belief rests upon time, identity, and society’s naming. In truth—the identities of ‘father’ and ‘mother’ are formed only when a third being (you) enters their experience. That is, the relationship between one another is mutually dependent expression—no one unilaterally created anyone else.
Understanding it this way, we see—’creation’, ‘relationship’, ‘identity’—these words are relative, and they have no ultimate reality. Then, is what we have taken to be “real” merely a consciousness-based interpretation?
If the sense of ‘I’ itself is a projection—then are not these relationships merely constructed arrangements? Conventionally it seems—parents gave birth to ‘I’. But seen deeply, through the arrival of ‘I’, they became mother and father. One needs the other to be identified—this is mutual identity-dependence.
Therefore the question arises—who created whom? Within the foundation of all these relationships and identities lies illusion, and this illusion we call reality.