# In the Solitary Depths: 45 There exists a peculiar loneliness in the heart of those who think deeply. Not the loneliness of the abandoned, nor the isolation of the forsaken—but something altogether different. It is the loneliness of one who has glimpsed something beyond the familiar world, and finds upon returning that the language of ordinary life no longer fits his tongue. The philosopher sits in his chamber, surrounded by books and silence. The world outside carries on—voices rise and fall, commerce thrives, love and hatred pursue their ancient dances. Yet here, in this solitary place, he wrestles with questions that others have learned not to ask. Why is there something rather than nothing? What is the nature of consciousness that observes the world? How does one live authentically when all around him are the comfortable lies of convention? These are not questions one asks to be answered swiftly. They are questions one asks because the alternative—to remain unquestioning—has become impossible. And so the thinking person finds himself alone, not by choice but by necessity. His solitude is the price of his clarity. Yet within this solitude there dwells a strange companionship. For in wrestling with truth, he is not truly alone. He joins a great conversation stretching back through centuries—voices of saints and sages, of rebels and seekers, all engaged in the same eternal struggle to understand. The dead become his companions. Their words, their struggles, their hard-won insights sustain him. This is the paradox of the philosophical life: the deeper one descends into solitude, the more intimately one touches the universal. For truth, when finally glimpsed, belongs to no single person. It belongs to all who have the courage to seek it.

221.

Pure 'I' is the 'Turiya', while I dwell in 'Turiyatita'—the supreme. When the Guru describes his own state, he says—"Pure 'I' is the 'Turiya', while I abide in the 'Turiyatita' state—what is real, what is supreme." Through these words, he renders the entire teaching simple, direct, and luminous.

This 'I' must be understood in its wordless, undiluted form—as it first emerged—almost at three years of age, when you suddenly knew: "I am." Or you may grasp it in that moment—when you have just awakened from deep sleep, when there is no thought, no name, no identity—only pure presence—"I."

This state itself is 'Turiya', the fourth plane of consciousness—upon which waking, dreaming, and sleep stand. When you become established in this 'Turiya', then in time you transcend even that—when the very existence of 'I' dissolves, when you enter into 'Turiyatita', that supreme unmanifest consciousness—called Parabrahman, the Absolute, formless reality.

Four planes of conscious being: 1. Waking, 2. Dreaming, 3. Deep sleep, 4. Turiya—wordless, conscious presence (pure 'I am')

Turiya is that plane where you first know—"I am"—yet without identity, thought, or history. To abide at this plane means to meditate in the pure state of 'I', and that is the heart of true practice. But supreme realization comes only when—you transcend even Turiya, where neither 'I' nor consciousness nor anything remains—only the indivisible Absolute, which is nameless and formless.

This is Turiyatita—within which life unfolds as the very form of God, where there is no 'I', no experience—only supreme reality. Pure 'I' is 'Turiya'—a luminous consciousness free of thought, identity, name and form. When established in this 'Turiya' state, in time you even transcend the 'I', entering the plane of 'Turiyatita'.

'Turiyatita' is supreme nature itself—where life becomes the form of Parabrahman, one unique, experienceless silence. The Guru speaks of himself—"I am Turiyatita—and I dwell therein, for that is supreme reality."

222.

In mantra, the 'I' dissolves, and you too, shed of name and form, merge into the Absolute. The repetition of mantras like 'Soham' (I am That) or 'Aham Brahmasmi' (I am Brahman)—if done with steadfast devotion and one-pointed focus for long spans of time—carries you to the plane of luminous 'I'.

Through this mantra, the plane of mind and thought grows translucent, and you arrive at that state—where dwells only the feeling "I am"—yet without identity, definition, or role. Then comes a moment of such profound silence where even this knowledge of 'I' dissolves away.

That final self-knowledge—which first came as a living perception—now becomes unnecessary to you. Then occurs that ultimate crossing—you dissolve into your true nature, which is nameless, formless, beyond qualities, beyond thought—utterly supreme, Parabrahman.

'Mantra' or the chanting of sacred formulas is one way to return to self-knowledge—through which the mind gradually becomes steady in the heart of the soul. After long practice, this mantra carries you to the plane of pure 'I'—an 'I' free of thought, definition, silence. This 'I' is the final knowledge—beyond it there is nothing to speak.

In time even this 'I' dissolves, and then you merge into the Absolute, which is not a matter of knowledge but an abiding in your own nature. When you reach this state, mantra, chanting, knowledge—all become unnecessary, for you yourself have become that supreme which was sought through the chanting.

The sustained repetition of mantras such as 'Soham', 'Aham Brahmasmi' and the like carries you to the luminous plane of 'I'. Meditating from this plane, in time even the knowledge of that 'I' dissolves away. Then you arrive at your true nature—which transcends name, form, concept, and experience.

This state itself is the ultimate liberation, where there is no ‘I’, no knowledge—only the supreme existence.

223.

If you abide in the ‘I’, the external world will lose its hold over you. The external world’s attachment and influence upon us is so overwhelming that few people pause to think—”All of this might be false.”

Yet in the hearts of some, there suddenly awakens a nameless longing—an inner summons that yearns for something eternal, something boundless. From this spiritual yearning arises the search and the questions: “Who am I?”, “Why?”, “What is true?”, “What endures?”

If such a seeker is truly blessed, he reaches a genuine guru, one who stills all his searching and brings it to rest in a simple utterance: “Abide in the knowledge ‘I am.’ This ‘I’ itself is your practice.”

The guru explains—if you abide in the wordless ‘I’, then gradually all external things, all attractions and bonds, will loosen their grip upon you. This very abiding and concentration in the ‘I’ will bring you freedom from the bondage of the external world, and will lead you to your ultimate nature. If the seeker understands this teaching truly and follows it with deep sincerity, then his liberation is inevitable.

Our attraction to the external world keeps us distant from the purity of our ‘I’. This attraction is created through sensations, names, forms, relationships, acquisitions and the like—through which we come to believe that the external world alone is real, while the silent being within ourselves is obscure and weak. But when a true guru shows—”This very sense of ‘I’ is the true teaching and practice”—then the enchantment of that outer world begins to dissolve.

To abide in the ‘I’ means gradually to settle into a nameless, silent existence—where nothing external can move you any longer. This practice is the path to liberation, for it brings forth self-knowledge and self-abiding.

To free yourself from the attraction of the external world, you must abide in the ‘I’. This abiding in the ‘I’ means establishment in pure existence—wordless, undefined, unthinking.

A true guru points this way—not to the external world, but remain steadfast in the ‘I’. If the seeker follows that guidance, then in time all external attractions and bonds grow light, and he arrives at his own nature—in supreme consciousness.

224.

Non-dual devotion: to dissolve into the ‘I’ and vanish into the depths of the unknown. At the final stage of practice, the guru says—let your knowledge, experience, meditation—all of it reach such a profound place that from within you arises this singular truth: “I alone exist, I alone are—nothing exists outside of me.”

When you become completely unified with this sense of ‘I’, it becomes the ‘turiya’ state—the fourth level of consciousness, which silently pervades beyond waking, dream, and sleep.

In this state, the worship of the ‘I’ is no longer merely sentiment; it becomes non-dual devotion—where devotee and God do not remain separate, the worshiper himself becomes the worshipped. The more deeply you immerse yourself in love of this ‘I’, the more you lose your every distinct identity.

And then one day—this very ‘I’ dissolves into itself, you vanish into the vastness that is the unknown. Then no one remains—neither devotee, nor God, nor ‘I’—there remains only one silent, nameless, eternal supreme.

This practice is not some dualistic God-devotion—rather, it is ‘non-dual devotion’, wherein the devotee dissolves himself into God. Here, meditation on the ‘I’ is not meditation on some personal identity—but rather that pure remembrance of self, wherein you realize: “Nothing exists but I.”

This realization carries you into the turiya state—where there is no thought, no senses, only the self.

And when devotion within the ‘I’ transforms into supreme love, then comes self-dissolution—you vanish into your own being.

This non-dual devotion is not a means of worship; it is the experience of becoming God—and beyond that, the dissolution of the very thought of God. Through long meditation and repetition, when you realize: “There is nothing but myself”—then begins non-dual devotion. This devotion places you in the ‘fourth’ consciousness, where you become the ‘I’ itself.

Thereafter, in the practice of profound unity, even the ‘I’ dissolves, and you vanish into the nameless ultimate truth. This state is: “Neither knowledge, nor worship, nor worshipper—only eternal being—the silent absolute.”

225.

Did the ‘I’ come by your will? Or did it arise of its own? When the guru teaches you—”Understand only this sense of ‘I’, remain established in it”—then gradually a question awakens: “Did this sense of ‘I’ come by my will?” “Did I desire this ‘I’?” “Did I decide to be born? Or to awaken?”

If you truly look deeply, you understand—this ‘I’ came on its own, you did not seek it, yet it came, and one day it will depart of itself. This realization—”The arising and dissolution of ‘I’ are not within my control”—causes a vast explosion within you.

Then you perceive—you do nothing, you are not capable of doing, you are merely a witness through whom all things occur. This perception strikes a devastating blow to the belief ‘I am the doer,’ and slowly the sense of agency dissolves entirely.

The arising of the sense of ‘I’ (birth, awakening) and its dissolution (death, sleep) are not deliberate acts, but rather occur spontaneously. If you look deeply within yourself, you will not find—you ever desired this sense of ‘I’. This reality, that even ‘I’ is a matter of coming and going, shatters the “I am the doer” notion within you.

And as this sense of agency dissolves, you enter that unshakable consciousness of witnessing, where nothing happens “by me”—all simply occurs, and you remain in it unbroken, unattached.

The moment the guru makes you understand the significance of ‘I’, your work becomes—to observe its origin and dissolution. Question yourself: “Did I desire the ‘I’?” “Did birth, awakening happen by my decision?” In the true answer you will find—no, it happened of its own. In this inquiry, the false sense of doership crumbles, and you enter the consciousness of witness, where there is nothing to do, nothing to hold.