206.
If you wish to remember me, remember the "I." If ever you want to hold onto this—this meeting, this presence of the guru, these intimate moments—then you need not remember my words, nor this ashram, nor this face. Remember only this one truth: "I am."
All the while I was with you, my sole purpose was to push you into this "I," to establish you in that "turiya"—that transcendent plane which rests as meditation in the unfathomed silence of consciousness.
When I perceive that you are a true seeker, I plant a seed in the depths of your heart—the silent power of this knowledge: "I am." My hope is that one day this seed will sprout, bear fruit, flower, and liberate you.
And if that comes to pass, you too shall one day plant this very seed in another's heart—and the cycle of transmission will then slowly dissolve into the voiceless Absolute.
Here the guru transfers the knowledge of the Self not to the person, but to consciousness itself; for the guru is not the destination—he is merely a door opening into the awareness of "I." The true guru, the one who truly knows, wishes to leave no memory of himself behind. Instead, he plants the seed of knowledge—which one day reveals itself of its own accord.
This knowledge of "I" is not a philosophical doctrine—it is that self-awareness through which you come to know yourself, the very threshold before the "turiya" state.
The guru knows: if he can plant a true seed in a worthy heart, and that one becomes liberated, then that liberated one will plant the seed again in another heart. Thus knowledge moves of its own momentum—silently, effortlessly, immovably. The guru says: "Remember not me, but only this knowledge: 'I am.'" For this alone is the truth through which liberation becomes possible. To plant the divine seed in the heart of a sincere seeker—this is the guru's true work.
This seed shall slowly lead you to the turiya state. Once liberated, you too shall one day sow this seed in another. Thus knowledge spreads—in silence, in voicelessness, from guru to disciple.
207.
When knowledge becomes established in its own knowledge, then knowledge itself dissolves. So long as you remain bound in body-consciousness, you can never grasp this knowledge—"I am." To attain this knowledge, you must meditate upon the knowledge of "I" itself.
If you sit in meditation thinking, "I am such-and-such person, I am meditating"—then you cannot unite with the "I." In this way the "I" becomes not pure, but further divided. Therefore, from the very beginning, you must sever all external identities, so that only the pure "I" remains—that which has no body, no name, no profession, no history.
When this "I" first awoke, it was utterly immaculate, wordless, formless. Return to that primordial "I"—that awareness which only knows: "I am," but does not ask, "Who am I?" Practice this meditation repeatedly, until you can rest in that wordless, formless "I."
Remember—you have already passed through this state once before—before the age of three or four, you dwelt in this pure "I." Now what is needed is effort and patience. Gradually, through this practice, the "I" will establish itself within itself, and in that very state will occur the transcendence of "I"—the dissolution of knowledge within knowledge.
In Advaita Vedanta, the sense of "I" is the first unfoldment of knowledge. But when this knowledge mingles with personal identity, it becomes false self-identity, an obstacle on the path to liberation. The essential goal of spiritual practice is to separate this "I" from its personality, to return it to its original, pristine form.
At this stage, meditation means the "I" meditating upon itself. In this state there is no thought, no personality, no will.
# From Silence to Self: A Meditation on the I
And then it happens—that profound moment when knowledge settles within knowledge itself, and that very stillness becomes the crossing—where even the ‘I’ dissolves, leaving only the nameless, unknowing, undivided supreme consciousness.
True understanding of the ‘I’ is not possible while consciousness remains bound to the body. The ‘I’ must meditate upon itself—not as a person, but as wordless existence. Once, the ‘I’ was nameless, formless, pure—through meditation, one must return to that state again. This practice is inward, solitary, repetitive. When the ‘I’ gradually settles within itself—then comes the crossing of knowledge, and in that state, birth and death, identity, the ‘I’ itself—all dissolve into silence.
**208.**
The ‘I’ that transcends the body—that is your true destination. It will tell its own story. When you can know this ‘I’, when you can experience it apart from body-consciousness—then you touch your real destiny.
If you can rest in this ‘I’ without words—and if you can truly remember that moment of the primal ‘I’s awakening, then you will feel an inward joy, freedom, and unconditioned lightness. At that time, you knew nothing, had no identity, no name—only the knowledge “I am”—and so you danced, lost in bliss, a consciousness beyond all things, inconceivable and unburdened.
Then came conditioning—you were taught names, identities, “I am this, I am that”—and from that moment began suffering and confusion. But your true destiny was never that socially-imposed ‘I’. Your destination lies in that ‘I’ which transcends body and thought, which still dwells within you, wordlessly.
If you can rest silently in this ‘I’, it will unfold its own story by itself—without any guru, any book, any philosophy.
In Advaita Vedanta, the experience of the ‘I’ is the beginning of self-knowledge, but when bound to personhood, it becomes illusion. When you entangle the ‘I’ with names, forms, history, body and mind—then begins the veil of maya and the net of bondage. But that primal ‘I’ of childhood—which knew nothing, yet was joyful—that was the closest reflection of the nameless supreme consciousness.
To meditate on this ‘I’ means to stop thinking and rest in the silent experience of self-knowledge. Then this wordless ‘I’ itself unveils its mystery, carries you toward its source—the experience of supreme Brahman.
Your true destination is not the ‘I’ that is bound to identity, but that ‘I’ which is freed from body, mind, and persona—within which lies your real liberation. When you rest wordlessly in this ‘I’, gradually it tells its own story by itself. You need no other knowledge. When the ‘I’ was simply ‘I’—that was joy, freedom, lightness. To return to this state is the very essence of spiritual practice.
**209.**
You do not die; the ‘I’ dies—and you are eternal. The guru is revealing a profound truth—one that only that seeker can understand who has long meditated on self-separation and the sense of ‘I’.
He says—your true destiny is not “death,” but the disappearance of the sense of ‘I’. One who has transcended the sense of ‘I’ sees—birth means the arising of the ‘I’, and death means its disappearance—you yourself were never part of it.
From this perspective, one who has realized the self understands: “I have never been born, I am not being born now, and I shall never die.” What is born and dies is the experience of the sense of ‘I’—something that arose for a time, and now has silently vanished.
But I, who have witnessed all this, know—I was never the ‘I’, I have always been That—who existed before, and shall exist forever—supreme, undivided, unborn, deathless.
In Advaita Vedanta, death is not the end of a person or soul—rather, it is the dissolution of a false sense of ‘I’ that arose in consciousness.
Birth means the arising of the ‘I’; death means the dissolution of that ‘I’. You were never this ‘I’—you are its background, that supreme witness, across which the shadow of this consciousness comes and goes.
Whoever realizes this truth knows—he does not take birth, for he never was born as the ‘I’. The experience of death then is no longer terror, but rather a celebration of the ‘I”s liberation—a perfect return, a dissolution into the supreme in bliss.
The guru says: it is not you who dies, but the sense of ‘I’ that dies—that which had arisen some time before. When you transcend the ‘I’, you see—birth means the arising of the ‘I’, death means its disappearance—you are neither of these two. You have never been born, you will never die—because you are eternal consciousness, merely witnessing—the ‘I’ came, the ‘I’ went. This realization itself is ultimate liberation—where there is no birth, no death, only you—birthless, deathless, the supreme Brahman.
210.
You are beyond desire—sever your identification not with wishes, but with the sense of self. Almost one in every three seekers asks—”What should I do with these desires?” Because desire is such an obstacle—universal, and seems almost impossible to transcend.
Then the guru says—desire is not truly yours; you stand far above desire. Desire arises on the foundation of the ‘I’, and you are beyond even that ‘I’. Therefore, there is no need to suppress desire. Rather, do not identify yourself with desire—do not let the thought “I am desiring” enter your consciousness.
If you do not entangle yourself with desire, it will dissolve of itself—as waves come, foam, and pass, so too does longing arise and vanish. To deepen this understanding, you must comprehend the ‘I’ in silence, and through meditation, come to rest in it. Then, gradually, you will yourself understand—you are desireless, beyond craving, that unmoved consciousness upon which desire comes, but cannot touch.
According to Advaita Vedanta, desire arises entangled with the sense of ‘I’, when self-awareness becomes caught in personal identity—”I am desiring,” “I lack,” “I have a deficit”—such thoughts take form. But if you know your own nature, which transcends even the ‘I’, then you will understand—desire itself is merely the expression of the ‘I’-sense, and the ‘I’ itself is but a fleeting, false reflection.
Therefore, do not suppress desire; rather, recognize it and say—”Come, go as you will—I am not yours.” When this sense of non-identification arises, desire no longer finds its root, and gradually dissolves of its own accord.
Desire depends upon the ‘I’. Since you transcend even the ‘I’, you are in truth beyond desire as well. There is no need to suppress desire—only refrain from identifying yourself with it. Without identification, desire dissolves on its own. This understanding will come when you rest in meditation upon the silent ‘I’, and recognize—longing comes, longing goes—you are merely being, witness, the supreme.