Philosophy of Religion

# In the Solitary Depths: 8 <p>জীবনের একটি পর্যায়ে পৌঁছে আমরা আবিষ্কার করি যে, আমাদের দীর্ঘদিনের সাধনা, চিন্তাভাবনা, জ্ঞানের সন্ধান—এ সবই যেন এক অসম্পূর্ণ খেলা। মেধা তীক্ষ্ণ করা, শরীর শক্তিশালী করা, সম্পদ সংগ্রহ করা—এই সব প্রচেষ্টার পিছনে যে আকাঙ্ক্ষা লুকিয়ে আছে তা কখনো পূর্ণ হয় না। কারণ প্রতিটি অর্জনের পিছনে নতুন একটি দিগন্ত খুলে যায়।</p> Arriving at a certain juncture in life, we discover that our long pursuit—the contemplation, the quest for knowledge—seems somehow an unfinished game. Sharpening the mind, strengthening the body, accumulating wealth—the longing that drives all these efforts never reaches fulfillment. For behind each achievement, a new horizon opens. <p>এই আবিষ্কার দুঃখদায়ক হতে পারে, বা হতে পারে মুক্তিদায়ক। এটি নির্ভর করে আমরা কীভাবে এই সত্যকে গ্রহণ করি তার উপর। যদি আমরা ভাবি যে জীবনের উদ্দেশ্য হল চূড়ান্ত কোনো পণ্য, চূড়ান্ত সন্তুষ্টি অর্জন করা, তাহলে এই চিরন্তন অপূর্ণতা আমাদের হতাশ করবে। কিন্তু যদি আমরা বুঝতে পারি যে জীবন কেবল একটি প্রক্রিয়া, একটি যাত্রা—যেখানে প্রতিটি মুহূর্ত নিজেই সম্পূর্ণ এবং মূল্যবান—তাহলে এই অসম্পূর্ণতা আমাদের মুক্ত করে দেয়।</p> This discovery can be sorrowful, or it can be liberating. It depends on how we receive this truth. If we believe that life's purpose is to achieve some final product, some ultimate satisfaction, then this eternal incompleteness will disappoint us. But if we can grasp that life is only a process, a journey—where each moment is in itself complete and precious—then this incompleteness sets us free. <p>পূর্ব-দর্শনে এই বোঝাপড়াটি আধ্যাত্মিক জ্ঞানের মূল। যখন আমরা স্বীকার করি যে নিজেকে পরিপূর্ণ করার কোনো চূড়ান্ত উপায় নেই, তখনই আমরা প্রকৃত শান্তি খুঁজে পাই। কারণ আমরা আর একটি নির্দিষ্ট লক্ষ্যের দাস থাকি না; আমরা প্রতিটি মুহূর্তে সম্পূর্ণভাবে বিদ্যমান থাকতে পারি।</p> In Eastern philosophy, this understanding lies at the heart of spiritual knowledge. When we acknowledge that there is no ultimate way to perfect ourselves, then we discover genuine peace. For we are no longer enslaved to a specific goal; we can be fully present in each moment. <p>এই দৃষ্টিভঙ্গি পরিবর্তন করাটা কঠিন। কারণ সমাজ আমাদের শেখায় যে মূল্য নির্ধারণ করা হয় অর্জনের মাধ্যমে। আমাদের আত্মসম্মান, আমাদের স্থিতি, আমাদের পরিচয়—সবই যেন সাফল্যের সাথে জড়িত। এই শিক্ষা থেকে মুক্ত হওয়া মানে সমাজের সবচেয়ে গভীর প্রস্তাবনাকে চ্যালেঞ্জ করা।</p> Changing this perspective is difficult. For society teaches us that worth is measured by achievement. Our self-esteem, our status, our very identity—all seem bound to success. To liberate ourselves from this teaching is to challenge society's deepest assumptions. <p>কিন্তু যারা এই মুক্তির অভিজ্ঞতা লাভ করেছেন তারা বলেন যে এটাই সত্যিকারের জীবন। যখন আপনি নিজেকে কোনো ফলাফলের সাথে সংজ্ঞায়িত করা বন্ধ করেন, তখন আপনার কর্মকাণ্ড আরও স্বচ্ছন্দ, আরও প্রামাণিক হয়ে ওঠে। আপনি কাজ করেন, কিন্তু ফলাফলের চিন্তা ছাড়াই। আপনি প্রচেষ্টা করেন, কিন্তু সাফল্যের জন্য কাতর না হয়ে। এই অবস্থা—এটাই সম্ভবত যা সকল ধর্ম ও দর্শনে "মুক্তি" বলে অভিহিত হয়েছে।</p> Yet those who have tasted this liberation say that it is true living. When you stop defining yourself by any outcome, your actions become freer, more authentic. You work, but without clinging to results. You strive, but without craving success. This state—this is perhaps what all religions and philosophies have called "liberation." <p>নির্জন গহনে, যখন সমাজের কণ্ঠস্বর অপ্রতিধ্বনিত হয়, তখন এই সত্যটি স্পষ্টভাবে প্রতিভাত হয়। নিজের সাথে অকেলেবরে থাকলে আমরা বুঝতে পারি যে আমাদের প্রকৃত সত্তা সব অর্জনের বাইরে নিহিত। এবং সেই প্রকৃত সত্তার সাথে সংযোগ স্থাপন করা—এটাই আধ্যাত্মিক পথের প্রথম পদক্ষেপ।</p> In the solitary depths, when the world's voice grows distant, this truth emerges with clarity. When we are alone with ourselves, we understand that our true essence lies beyond all acquisition. And connecting with that true essence—this is perhaps the first step on the spiritual path.



36.

The eternity of Brahman arrives in the movement of "I".

Arising and dissolution, birth and death—these are all the nature of "I," that subtle stratum of consciousness which has manifested itself upon you, yet is not you.

"I" has risen, "I" has dissolved—just as waves come and go, yet the ocean itself never rises, never falls. The Upanishads declare: "Ajo nityaḥ śāśvato'yam purāṇaḥ"—you are unborn, eternal, unchanging—beyond the reach of birth and death.

This birth and death—it is merely the changing appearance of the "I"-consciousness. It seems as though something has happened, yet nothing has truly happened—for what occurs is only upon the veil of maya.

You are that in whom all things "seem to arise," yet who yourself never arises, never descends.

In this consciousness that is "I," there exists the coming and going—within "I" resides the taste of death and the intoxication of birth. But you, the Supreme—you have no birth, no death, no manifestation, no withdrawal.

The Bhagavad Gita (2.20) declares: "Na jāyate mriyate vā kadācin"—the soul is never born nor does it die; it does not undergo repeated birth or growth. It is unborn, eternal, immutable, and primordial, yet ever new. Though the body perishes, the soul can never be destroyed.

"I" rose as though in shadow and light, "I" shall dissolve into soundless silence, yet he who witnesses this coming and going—he never comes, never goes. He exists—forever, eternally immutable, and that is you, that is Brahman Supreme.

37.

"I"—emerged from nothingness, dissolved into nothingness. From that emptiness, that solitary non-existence, from that nameless void arose this sense of "I am"—a silent self-disclosure, which is no person, merely a conscious presence.

The Upanishads declare: "Yatra na kaścana tat tat satyam"—where nothing exists, that alone is true—for whatever can be perceived is but the play of arising and passing away.

That emptiness, that silence—some call it fullness, some call it non-void, some call it infinite boundlessness, some call it Brahman Supreme—call it what you will, "I" has emerged upon it—just as waves rise upon the ocean, yet the ocean is not the wave.

The person came much later, merely an addition of name and form, but what fundamentally exists is only this conscious experience: "I am."

Now the practice—trace this "I"-consciousness back to its source, to that unknown, soundless, indescribable state of non-being from which it came, and where, once dissolved, no person, no "I," no name remains. The Upanishads declare: "Nāham, na tvam, na mama ātmā"—I am not, you are not, the Self belongs to no one—it exists in itself, for it has always been.

There is no person, no possession—there exists only a primary knowing: "I am," and even this must be transcended, as silently a river returns to the ocean—nameless, formless, dissolved in Brahman Supreme.

38.

From "I am" to "I am not"—dissolution in Brahman Supreme. Meditate only upon this knowledge—"I am," without judgment, beyond judgment, uninterrupted. Concentrate all your attention upon that single point, so that all motion freezes into stillness.

The Upanishads declare: "Ekdhā bhāvanātyante, svarūpe sthitir bhavet"—when consciousness becomes one-pointed in meditation, meditation itself dissolves into the transcendent. When you observe something intently for a long time, it begins to fade—for under the pressure of meditation, its essence breaks open, and losing manifestation, it dissolves into emptiness.

This "I"-consciousness too is the same—in the depths of meditation, eventually it returns to its own source, and silently vanishes. Then occurs the transformation—the passage from "I am" to "I am not."

From existence to non-existence, from consciousness to unconsciousness—yet not unconsciousness at all, but rather that stratum of awareness where nothing exists, and yet everything is.

The Upanishads proclaim: “Where no one knows anything, there is no fear”—for there resides the eternal fearlessness of truth itself.

When the ‘I’ dissolves, when even sensation fades, what remains is you yourself—nameless, motionless, vibrationless Brahman supreme. Then no one meditates, no one knows, no one speaks—only a silence of standing, where the ‘I’ does not exist, where experience does not exist—only eternal stillness, the ultimate truth, the infinite you.

39.

The ‘I’ before speech—presence and dissolution. Return to that awareness of ‘I’, where no word exists, no name, no language—only silent knowing—”I am.” That was your first knowledge, when you knew—”I,” yet you could not speak it, could not understand ‘who am I,’ ‘what am I’—only felt it: you exist.

The Upanishads say: “That which is wordless, that which is voiceless—that is Brahman.” Before language came, you dwelt in the knowledge of ‘I’—that timespan which began the moment ‘I’-consciousness awakened and ended when you were taught names, words, identity. That very state is the expression of your true primordial consciousness—you lived it once as life itself, and now the practice is to resurrect it, to remain immovable and unshaken in that state—not departing even for an instant from that uncritical awareness of ‘I’.

Abide in that realm, before speech, before language, before knowledge—only “I am”—in this silent experience. And then something miraculous will occur—you will understand that even this ‘I’ is merely an unexpressed shadow, and that very awareness will silently dissolve—no ‘I’ will remain, no experience will remain—only you yourself—without alternatives, without knowledge, eternally still, Brahman supreme.

Know the ‘I’ without language, dwell in the ‘I’, and watch steadily—how it melts away of its own accord and in the empty space there remains only your true nature—silent consciousness.

40.

In the dissolution of ‘I’, experience ends; in Brahman’s abiding, truth stands. This “I am”—this silent sense of existence—was your first experience, without language, without thought, without identity—only one mute awareness: “I am.”

Had this ‘I’ not awakened, nothing would have been possible—no experience, no memory, no knowledge, no world. You existed first, then came the ‘I’, and from that ‘I’ began the continuous flow of experience.

The Upanishads declare: “Truth, knowledge, infinite—that is Brahman”—what is true, what is knowledge, what is infinite—depends on no experience, for it exists before experience itself and remains after. Yet in practice, in meditation, in concentration—when you come to rest in this ‘I’, as that stillness deepens, it eventually dissolves the sense of ‘I’ of its own accord. And then—at the same instant—all experience ceases. No memory remains, no knowledge, no awareness—only formless, unnamed, uncritical essence endures.

Then you become your true condition—that which eternally was, which, being nothing, was everything—without second, beyond experience, without emotion, Brahman supreme. The ‘I’ came and brought all things; when the ‘I’ goes, all things go, and what remains—belongs not to you, is you—without semblance, without experience, without light yet radiant, that supreme consciousness.

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