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  • Neti Neti Series No. 16: Exploring the Relationship Between Atman and Brahman

    Question:

    In Advaita Vedanta, we often hear that Atman is Brahman. But considering that Atman might be seen as a purified reflection of Brahman—similar to how the Buddha is an emanation of the Dharmakaya—would it be more accurate to say that Atman is an expression of Brahman rather than being Brahman itself?

    Dear friend,

    Your reflections on the relationship between Atman and Brahman in Advaita Vedanta, and how it might be understood in light of the Buddha’s relationship with the Dharmakaya, open up a rich field of contemplation. You have touched upon a subtle aspect of the teaching that invites us to explore the nature of the self and the ultimate reality in a deeper and more nuanced way.

    In Advaita Vedanta, the teaching that “Atman is Brahman” seeks to convey the profound truth that the individual self and the ultimate reality are not two separate entities but are, in essence, one and the same. This realization of non-duality (Advaita) is the heart of the teaching, where all distinctions between self and other, between the individual and the absolute, dissolve into the unity of pure awareness.

    And yet, your suggestion that Atman might also be seen as an “expression” or “reflection” of Brahman resonates with a certain truth. Just as the Buddha is an emanation of the Dharmakaya, so too can we understand Atman as the individual manifestation of Brahman within the world of forms and experiences. This view allows us to appreciate the functional relationship between the individual self and the universal reality, while still holding to the ultimate truth of their non-difference.

    Consider, if you will, the metaphor of reflection—a mirror that reflects the light of the sun. In this metaphor, Atman, when purified and free from the distortions of ignorance, reflects the light of Brahman, revealing the true nature of the self as non-different from the absolute. Until this purification occurs, the mind perceives itself as separate, much like seeing many reflections of the same sun in different bodies of water.

    In this way, Atman can be understood as a perfect reflection of Brahman, a reflection that becomes clearer and more accurate as the mind becomes more purified, more aligned with the truth of its own nature. This does not negate the teaching that Atman is Brahman but rather enriches it, providing a way to understand the process of realization as one of aligning the individual self with the universal reality it reflects.

    And yet, in the ultimate sense, the teaching of Advaita Vedanta invites us to move beyond all distinctions, beyond all metaphors, to the direct experience of unity. In this experience, the individual self dissolves into the infinite, and what is realized is that Atman and Brahman are not two, but one. The idea of expression or reflection fades away, leaving only the undivided awareness that is the true nature of all things.

    Dear friend, your reflections invite us to dwell in the mystery of this teaching, to explore the nuances of what it means to realize that “Atman is Brahman.” It is a realization that goes beyond words, beyond concepts, into the heart of what is real and true. Continue to contemplate this truth, and let it guide you ever deeper into the understanding of your own true nature.

    🙏🕊️🙏

  • Ramayana No. 18: The Curious Case of Rama Hearing His Own Story: Reflections on the Ramayana

    Ramayana No. 18: The Curious Case of Rama Hearing His Own Story: Reflections on the Ramayana

    Inspired by Chapter 1.4 of the DeBroy Translation of the Ramayana

    When reading ancient texts, one often encounters moments that seem to defy the logic of modern storytelling. One such moment came to me while reading Chapter 1.4 of Bibek Debroy’s translation of Valmiki’s Ramayana. In this passage, something quite strange happens: Rama, the hero of the Ramayana, listens to the story of his own life, recounted in beautiful song by two ascetics, Kusha and Lava—who, unbeknownst to him, are his own sons. I found myself both fascinated and confused. Why would the central character of this grand epic sit back and listen to his own tale, seemingly unaware of his role in it? How could this be?

    At first glance, it seems almost like a paradox: the one who lived the events is now hearing about them as though they were ancient history. What could this mean? I couldn’t shake off the oddness of the moment, but as I reflected more deeply on the passage, I realized that there’s something profoundly spiritual and poetic at work here.

    A Meta-Narrative and the Power of Storytelling

    This moment in Chapter 1.4 introduces a unique dimension where the Ramayana folds in on itself, becoming both a story and an experience for its own characters. We, as readers, witness Rama being drawn into the retelling of his life, just as sages, brahmins, and laypeople of that era are captivated by the story. In this curious turn, Rama—the central figure of the narrative—is, for the moment, merely an audience member, listening to his own history as if hearing it for the first time.

    On one level, this reflects the power of oral storytelling in ancient India, where the telling and retelling of epics like the Ramayana were central to cultural and spiritual life. The story is not merely history but a living tradition, recited to evoke wonder, devotion, and moral reflection. For Rama to hear his own story is a symbolic acknowledgment that this tale is larger than any one person—even the hero himself. The Ramayana transcends its historical events, becoming a divine narrative, filled with universal truths about dharma (righteousness), sacrifice, and devotion.

    Kusha and Lava: The Storytellers and the Story

    Adding to the layers of intrigue, the two ascetics who sing the Ramayana to Rama are his own sons, Kusha and Lava, though neither they nor Rama realize this at the time. Raised in Valmiki’s hermitage, Kusha and Lava learned the Ramayana directly from the sage and became its first storytellers. As sons of Rama, they are natural inheritors of the tale, yet the irony of the scene is that they chant this story to their own father, without the familial bond being revealed.

    This speaks to the epic’s larger themes of identity and destiny. In the world of the Ramayana, characters are often bound by dharma and divine will, which transcend personal awareness. Rama himself, as an avatar of Vishnu, is bound to play out his role in the cosmic order. The fact that he listens with rapt attention to the story of his life shows that even divine figures are subject to the profound, transformative power of the stories they inhabit.

    The Divine Nature of the Story

    This scene highlights another key aspect of the Ramayana: the cyclical and timeless nature of the epic. In Hindu cosmology, time is often viewed as non-linear, with past, present, and future all interwoven in ways that are difficult for human minds to grasp. The Ramayana exists in this non-linear realm. It is a divine account, a mirror of cosmic truths. Rama’s role in the Ramayana is not just that of a king living through his personal trials but also a divine figure participating in an eternal drama of dharma.

    When Kusha and Lava sing to Rama, they do so with perfect rhythm, melody, and tone, emphasizing the divine nature of the Ramayana itself. The text is not just a story to be told but an act of worship, sung in a way that mirrors celestial music. As they chant the tale, they embody the principles of devotion and truth that the Ramayana seeks to impart to its audience.

    Rama as Listener

    For me, the most profound aspect of this scene is Rama’s response. Though he lived these events, he listens to them as though they are new, becoming deeply immersed in the retelling. This suggests something powerful about the nature of memory, self-reflection, and storytelling. It’s as though Rama is being reminded of his own purpose, hearing his life’s journey unfold not from the inside but as an external observer. Even he, the hero of the epic, is subject to the transformative power of the narrative.

    This can be seen as a reflection on the power of stories to teach and remind us of deeper truths about ourselves, even if we are the ones who lived through the experiences. The Ramayana is not just for others—it is for Rama too. It’s a reminder that no one, not even an avatar of Vishnu, is exempt from the lessons of dharma.

    Conclusion: The Timeless Tale for All

    This scene of Rama listening to his own story sung by Kusha and Lava offers us a profound reflection on the cyclical nature of time, the transformative power of storytelling, and the way in which even divine figures are humbled by the truth of dharma. The Ramayana, in this moment, transcends the simple bounds of history or narrative. It becomes an eternal truth that even its protagonist must hear, acknowledge, and reflect upon.

    For those who have not yet read this passage, I encourage you to do so.

    Here is the link to Chapter 1.4 of Bibek Debroy’s translation of the Ramayana, where this extraordinary event unfolds.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Verse 3: The Mirror of True Knowledge — Insights from Ramana Maharshi

    Verse 3: The Mirror of True Knowledge — Insights from Ramana Maharshi

    “Having known the Self, which is awareness, there is nothing more to know. That which is, is consciousness itself. To seek it elsewhere is to wander far away.”

    — Ramana Maharshi, Forty Verses on Reality

    There comes a moment in each of our lives when the questions that have followed us, haunting our thoughts, cease to carry the same weight. It is as though we have been wandering through a vast wilderness, searching endlessly for something, only to realize that it has been with us all along. This, Ramana tells us, is the moment of true knowledge—the moment when we recognize the Self, and in doing so, find that there is nothing more to seek.

    This knowledge is not like the knowing of facts or the gathering of worldly wisdom. It is the unveiling of the very essence of awareness, that which sees all, yet remains unseen. To touch this awareness is to come home, to realize that the search has always been for ourselves.

    And how often we search elsewhere! How often we cast our gaze into the far distance, imagining that the truth lies in some distant land, or hidden in the words of another. But Ramana reminds us that to seek it elsewhere is to wander further from the source. The truth we seek does not live in far-off places; it lives in the heart of our own being, as close as breath, as present as this very moment.

    Like a mirror reflecting all without judgment, true knowledge is the simple, clear awareness of what is. When we come to see that all that exists is consciousness itself, we are no longer captivated by the shadows on the wall. We see, instead, the light—the steady, unwavering light of awareness, which has been with us from the beginning.

    To know the Self is to realize that there is nowhere else to go. The seeking ends, and in its place arises a quiet, unshakable peace. It is not the end of curiosity or wonder, but the end of searching outside ourselves for what can only be found within.

    To know that there is nothing more to seek is not to say there is nothing more to do. In the realization that the Self has always been present, there is still the practice of abiding, of resting in the gentle awareness that is always here. It is this abiding, this quiet discipline of being, that becomes the ongoing practice.

    Yes, the search has ended, but the journey of returning, over and over again, to the pristine mind continues. For in this ordinary mind—this space filled with distractions, thoughts, and the pull of the world—there is the temptation to forget, to stray from the simplicity of awareness. And so, we practice. Not as seekers anymore, but as those who have touched the truth and wish to live in its light.

    The practice now is not one of effortful striving, but of allowing—of surrendering into the effortless effort, the gentle doing of non-doing. This is where the paradox lives: to rest in what is, and yet remain disciplined in that rest. It is not that there is nothing more to do, but rather that what is to be done is a continual letting go, a surrendering to the ever-present awareness that requires nothing from us but our willingness to be with it.

    And so, we abide. With each breath, with each passing moment, we return—not to search, but to rest. And though the Self needs no searching, the practice of staying with it remains. In this, there is the dance of wu-wei, the graceful action of inaction, the peaceful unfolding of all that is.

    Perhaps one day the effort, too, will fall away, and only the abiding will remain.

    Coming Up Next: Verse 4

    In the next verse, we will reflect on the nature of thought and the root of all actions. How do our thoughts shape our reality, and what lies at the core of true understanding? Join us as we continue this journey through the depths of Ramana Maharshi’s teachings.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Neti Neti Series No. 5: Integrating “Not This, Not This” into Daily Life

    Question:

    How can the mantra Neti Neti continue to arise spontaneously throughout the day, and how might one practice it during ordinary tasks and interactions in the dualistic world

    Dear friend,

    As your practice deepens, it is only natural that the mantra “Neti Neti” begins to echo beyond the confines of formal meditation, weaving itself into the very fabric of your daily life. This is a beautiful and auspicious development, for the true power of this practice lies not only in moments of stillness and silence but in its capacity to transform your experience of the world in each passing moment.

    Imagine, if you will, the gentle rhythm of “Neti Neti” accompanying you throughout your day. Whether you are engaged in the simplest of tasks or the most complex of interactions, this mantra can serve as a quiet, steady undercurrent, reminding you of the deeper truth that lies beneath the surface of all appearances.

    As you move through the day, allow “Neti Neti” to arise naturally in your mind, especially when you find yourself caught up in the dualities of life—the push and pull of desires, the highs and lows of emotions, the ceaseless demands of the world around you. When a thought or feeling arises that seems to pull you away from your center, gently remind yourself, “Not This, Not This.” This simple act of negation is not a rejection of life, but rather an invitation to see beyond the fleeting, to touch the eternal within the everyday.

    Consider the ordinary tasks that fill your day—the washing of dishes, the folding of clothes, the tending to work or errands. These moments, though seemingly mundane, are fertile ground for your practice. As you engage in these tasks, silently repeat “Neti Neti” to yourself. Notice how this mantra helps to dissolve the sense of separation between you and the task at hand. The distinction between the doer and the doing, the subject and the object, begins to fade, leaving you with a simple, clear awareness of being.

    This practice brings a certain lightness to even the most routine activities, a reminder that nothing in this world can truly define or confine you. “Not This, Not This,” the mantra whispers, freeing you from the weight of identification, allowing you to move through your day with a sense of ease and grace.

    And what of your interactions with others, in this dualistic world where we often find ourselves entangled in the roles we play—the parent, the partner, the friend, the colleague? Here, too, the mantra “Neti Neti” can be a guiding light.

    When you feel the pull of attachment or aversion in your relationships, when you sense the stirrings of ego in your interactions, gently remind yourself, “Not This, Not This.” This does not mean withdrawing from the people you care about or disengaging from the world. On the contrary, it allows you to engage more fully, with a heart that is open and free from the constraints of egoic identifications.

    In this way, you interact not from a place of separation or need, but from a place of wholeness and completeness. “Not This, Not This,” the mantra says, and in doing so, it clears the way for true connection, untainted by the projections and fears that so often cloud our relationships.

    As you continue to carry “Neti Neti” with you throughout your day, you may find that the boundaries between your formal meditation and your daily life begin to blur. The mantra becomes a thread that connects all aspects of your existence, reminding you constantly of the truth that lies beyond all appearances.

    There will be moments when the mantra arises spontaneously, without any effort on your part. In these moments, let it guide you back to your center, to the stillness that underlies all movement. And in the spaces between the mantra, rest in the awareness that is your true self, free from all identifications, all dualities.

    Dear friend, this is the essence of living the practice—allowing the wisdom of “Not This, Not This” to permeate every aspect of your life, transforming the mundane into the sacred, the ordinary into the extraordinary. It is a journey of continual letting go, a path that leads ever deeper into the heart of your being.

    May your practice bring you the peace and clarity you seek, and may you walk this path with the gentle strength and quiet joy that comes from knowing you are always, already whole.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Verse 2: The Deathless Ones — Insights from Ramana Maharshi

    “Deathless are they who know the Self. Those who know intense fear of death seek refuge only at the feet of the Lord who has neither death nor birth. Dead to themselves and their possessions, can the thought of death occur to them again? Deathless are they.”

    — Ramana Maharshi, Forty Verses on Reality

    In the silent expanse of existence, a profound truth emerges: those who truly know themselves are untouched by the shadow of death. Their awareness transcends the fleeting nature of the physical, awakening them to a reality where the Self shines eternally, free from the confines of birth and demise.

    Fear, that primal instinct which grips the emotional self, leads many to seek solace at the feet of the Divine. Here, in surrender, they find refuge in the Lord—the embodiment of timelessness, the one who remains unscathed by the cycle of life and death. In the presence of such love, the urgency of worldly attachments falls away, revealing the deeper essence of being. I look forward to resting in the presence of such love, revealed within our mind—our true heart—where all attachments dissolve into the stillness of pure awareness. To realize this ever-present pure love is to know the deeper essence of what we are, the part of us that remains untouched by the fears and desires of the world.

    As one becomes “dead” to the clamor of possessions and the incessant desires that bind the soul, the thought of death loses its power. No longer a specter to be feared, it becomes a mere whisper, an echo of a past long forgotten. In this state of liberation, the deathless heart pulsates with the rhythm of life, embracing the eternal now.

    To know the Self is to awaken to the infinite, to dance beyond the duality of existence, where life and death are but two sides of the same coin. In this awakening, we find the courage to let go—to release the chains of identification with the transient and embrace the essence of who we truly are. Here lies the secret of the deathless ones, an invitation to live fully, unencumbered by the fears that often confine us.

    And yet, when we speak of the deathless state, we do not turn our gaze away from the undeniable truth of death. The body, like all things that come into being, will one day return to the earth. Those we love will pass, as will we. But the wisdom of this teaching beckons us to look beyond the visible horizon, beyond the fragile shell of the physical.

    Death, as we know it, is but a passage in the realm of form. What truly passes? Not the Self. Not the essence of who we are. This teaching whispers to us that the grasping after what is fleeting—the desires, the aversions, the worldly attachments—these are the threads that weave the illusion of permanence where there is none.

    In the letting go, in the softening of our hands from the things we thought we needed to hold so tightly, there is a kind of renunciation. But not a renunciation of life itself, rather, a release from the belief that life’s changing faces can define us. We release, not into emptiness, but into fullness—the fullness of the pristine mind, the quiet, undisturbed expanse of the deathless.

    To recognize this is to taste the sweetness of a deeper truth: the Self is untouched by the passing of days, by the birth and death of forms. This is where we find our liberation—not by denying the body’s end, but by resting in the awareness that transcends it.

    And so, in this gentle abiding, we come to understand: death may touch what is temporal, but it cannot lay a finger on what is eternal. Here, in the heart of this realization, there is peace—a peace that no worldly circumstance can steal away, for it is woven into the very fabric of our being.

    Coming Up Next: Verse 3

    In our next exploration, we will turn our attention to the third verse, where we will reflect on the nature of true knowledge and how it reveals the interconnectedness of all beings, inviting us into a deeper understanding of existence.

    🙏🕊️🙏



  • Verse 1: The Heart of Reality — Insights from Ramana Maharshi

    “Reality exists as the Heart, your very Being. If Reality did not exist, could there be any knowledge of existence? Free from all thoughts, Reality abides in the Heart, the Source of all thoughts. It is, therefore, called the Heart. How then is one to contemplate it? To be as it is in the Heart, is Its contemplation.”

    — Ramana Maharshi, Forty Verses on Reality

    The Heart of Reality

    In the stillness of our being, where thoughts dissolve like mist under the sun, we come upon the essence of reality—the Heart, our very existence. This Heart is not a distant concept, a mere abstraction; it pulses with the life that courses through us, inviting us to recognize that our true nature is intricately woven into the fabric of all that is.

    What if reality, in its purest form, did not exist? Could we then grasp the very notion of existence, the flicker of awareness that dances in our minds? Each thought, each fleeting moment of recognition, springs forth from this source, the Heart, which abides in silence beyond the noise of our incessant chatter.

    To contemplate this truth is not to embark on a journey of the mind but rather to return home, to dwell as we are in the Heart itself. Here, in this sacred space, contemplation transforms into a state of being, a surrender to the profound simplicity of what is. We find ourselves not as separate seekers but as the very essence of the inquiry—a realization that calls us to rest in the Heart, to know ourselves as we truly are.

    For many years, I carried a fog of confusion around the word “heart,” a tangle of meanings that seemed to obscure more than they revealed. I remember being in circles where people would say, “Come from your heart,” and I would listen, trying to grasp the depth of what they meant. Often, it seemed to point toward emotion, to some form of deeper truth that was still bound in the personal—an authentic expression of ego, perhaps a sincerity in feeling, but still caught in the dualities of love and pain, fear and longing.

    But what did it mean, really, to come from the heart?

    In the midst of this confusion, Ramana’s words come like a gentle clearing of the fog. The heart, as he speaks of it, is not the emotional center we so often equate with the word. It is not the place of fluctuating feelings, nor is it simply a retreat from the mind’s logical discourse. What Ramana points to is something far deeper: the heart as the essence, the source of pure awareness itself.

    This reminds me of the self as Carl Jung describes it—not just the conscious mind, but the unconscious, and not just those personal aspects, but everything, the entire universe and reality. Jung’s idea of the Self expands far beyond the individual, reaching into the totality of existence itself, much like Ramana’s use of the word heart. In this sense, Reality, the Self, and the Heart all point to the same fundamental truth—the essence that underlies both duality and non-duality, the very nature of what is.

    In both Jung and Ramana’s teachings, we see that the self, or reality, is not something to be sought outside of ourselves or separated from the world. As Jesus says, we are to be in the world but not of the world. This aligns perfectly with the non-dual teaching: there is no need to escape the dualities of life to realize non-duality. Instead, we are invited to recognize that the essence of duality itself is non-dual.

    To come from the heart, then, is not merely to speak from personal truth or emotion, but to rest in the deeper awareness that embraces all experience without attachment. It is to be anchored in the non-dual essence of Reality, knowing that even in the world of forms and opposites, the underlying truth remains whole, undivided.

    And yet, how often we use the word “heart” to point to something else—something closer to our personal feelings or opinions, mistaking emotional honesty for the deeper truth of our being. But here, in this teaching, the heart is revealed as the true source of non-dual clarity, the place from which true forgiveness, compassion, and love naturally arise—not as personal qualities, but as emanations of our most pure self.

    As I reflect on this teaching in, it becomes clear that the heart Ramana speaks of is not a center of personal feelings or emotion, but the eternal essence that transcends the body and mind. This heart, or true Self, is the witness that remains even when personal identity fades. In some ways, this description feels similar to the concept of the Holy Spirit or God, which abides within and beyond us.

    When we speak of the heart as Ramana does, we are pointing to the essence of pure awareness, the unchanging “I” that exists beyond the temporary forms of the body and ego. This teaching invites us to recognize the heart as the source of non-dual awareness, a presence that continues even when the personal self dissolves.

    Coming Up Next: Verse 2

    In the next reflection, we will explore how those who know the Self are deathless, transcending the fear of mortality. We’ll delve into the liberation found in surrendering to the Divine, awakening to the eternal nature of existence beyond the physical realm.

    🙏🕊️🙏

  • Neti Neti Series No. 3: Seeking to Understand the True Nature of the Self

    Question:

    As I continue with the mantra “Not This, Not This,” a new layer of understanding has begun to unfold. I realize that even what I have thought of as Witness Consciousness is not the ultimate truth. The Witness, as I experience it, seems to be the cultivation of equanimity—a state of being not distracted or disturbed by whatever arises.

    But even this Witness, this sense of “I” that observes with equanimity, is still not the Atman, is it? It is a step in the right direction, a refinement of awareness, but it is still an identification, a subtle form of ego that remains.

    It occurs to me that the mantra “Not This, Not This” could continue indefinitely, as long as there is an “I” who is meditating, an “I” who witnesses. For even this witnessing, even this equanimity, is not the ultimate reality. The mantra, I think, would stop on its own when the meditator dissolves into the natural state of non-dual awareness. And then, as soon as the sense of “I” returns—as in the awareness of being a meditator—the mantra would begin again naturally.

    Is this understanding correct? How should I continue with my practice, knowing that even the Witness is “Not This”?

    Dear friend,

    Your reflections are filled with a deep and subtle wisdom, and it is clear that your practice is guiding you ever closer to the heart of truth. You are right to recognize that even the Witness Consciousness, the state of equanimity where one observes without being disturbed, is not the ultimate realization. It is a significant step, yes—a refinement of the mind that allows for greater clarity and peace—but it is still within the realm of duality.

    The Witness, as you experience it, is still a form of identification. It is the “I” that watches, the “I” that remains calm in the face of arising thoughts and sensations. But as long as there is an “I” who observes, there is still a subtle separation between the observer and the observed, between the subject and the object. This is why your mantra, “Not This, Not This,” continues even here.

    Indeed, the mantra serves to negate everything that arises, even the most refined states of awareness. It is a tool that guides you to see that the true self, Atman, is beyond all states, beyond all experiences—even beyond the experience of witnessing.

    You are correct in thinking that the mantra would naturally stop on its own when the sense of “I” dissolves into the natural state. In this state, there is no longer a subject who perceives and an object that is perceived—there is only pure being, pure awareness, which is Atman. This state is non-dual; it is beyond the distinctions of self and other, beyond the need for a mantra, beyond the need for any practice at all.

    But until this dissolution occurs, until the “I” fully merges with the infinite, the mantra serves as your faithful guide. It may continue in the background, a gentle whisper that affirms “Not This, Not This,” as you move closer to the realization of your true nature. And yes, as you so insightfully noted, the mantra may begin again whenever the sense of “I” returns, whenever duality reappears.

    This is the natural ebb and flow of practice, dear traveler. The mantra is not something you force to stop; it stops when there is no longer an “I” to sustain it. And when the “I” re-emerges, the mantra resumes, continuing its sacred work of leading you back to the stillness, the silence, the undivided whole that is your true self.

    Continue with this understanding, with patience and trust in the process. The path of “Not This, Not This” is one of deepening subtlety, where even the most refined states are ultimately seen as steps along the way to the infinite. Your journey is leading you ever closer to the realization of Atman, where the distinctions of self and other dissolve into the pure, unchanging awareness that is your true essence.

    May your practice bring you peace and clarity, and may you continue to walk this path with grace and humility.

    🙏🕊️🙏




  • Neti Neti Series No. 2: The Mantra That Dissolves into Silence

    Question:

    As I sit in meditation, repeating the mantra “Neti Neti,” I understand that this sacred phrase helps to strip away all that I am not. Thoughts arise, and I negate them. Emotions surface, and I let them go. Even the awareness of being a witness or the experience of stillness—these too, I recognize as not the ultimate reality.

    Yet, a subtle dilemma has emerged. I wonder, what happens when the very idea of “I” who is meditating dissolves? Is it not true that as long as there is an “I” who continues the practice, the mantra “Neti Neti” must also continue? And if this is the case, does the mantra cease only when the “I” itself disappears into the natural state of pure being? In such a moment, is it the case that the mantra stops on its own, not by my choosing, but because there is no longer an “I” to hold it?

    And then, when the sense of “I” returns, does the mantra begin again naturally, as the duality of subject and object re-emerges? I seek your wisdom on this matter, for I wish to understand the true nature of this practice and its ultimate purpose.

    Dear friend,

    Your question, born from a place of sincere inquiry, touches upon the very heart of the “Neti Neti” practice. I commend you for your diligence and the subtlety of your understanding, which reveals a mind that is both reflective and deeply engaged in the journey inward.

    Yes, you have grasped a key truth: the mantra “Neti Neti” is indeed a tool for continuous negation. It is a practice of peeling away the layers of illusion, gently, one by one, until nothing remains but the pure, unadorned awareness that is your true nature.

    As long as there is an “I” who perceives itself as meditating, this “I” exists within the realm of duality—where there is a subject (the meditator) and an object (the practice, the mantra, the thoughts). In this dualistic state, the mantra serves its purpose, guiding the mind to recognize that each arising thought, each sensation, each experience of stillness or witnessing, is not the ultimate reality. “Not this, not this,” the mantra whispers, reminding you that you are not these transient phenomena.

    But what happens when the sense of “I” begins to dissolve? When the boundary between perceiver and perceived starts to blur and fade? Herein lies a profound mystery: as the “I” that meditates melts into the ocean of pure being, the mantra, too, falls silent. For in the state of non-duality, where all distinctions have vanished, there is no need for the mantra—no “I” to repeat it, no “other” to negate. What remains is the natural state, the effortless being that is beyond all concepts, all forms, all practices.

    In this state, you do not stop the mantra; rather, the mantra ceases on its own, like a river merging with the sea, no longer distinguishable as a separate entity. This silence is not a void but a fullness, an infinite expanse of awareness where the true self—Atman—is realized, free from the confines of duality.

    And yet, the journey doesn’t end there. If and when the sense of ‘I’ re-emerges, as it often does, the mantra returns naturally. This is not a step backward but a return to the dualistic state where the mind resumes its habitual patterns. The mantra then resumes its sacred task of guiding you back toward the still, silent center where the distinctions between self and other can once again dissolve.

    So, dear friend, your understanding is indeed correct. The mantra “Neti Neti” is not something to be stopped by an act of will, but rather it fades away of its own accord when there is no longer an “I” to sustain it. And when the “I” returns, the mantra too returns, ready to lead you back into the depths of stillness and silence.

    Trust in this process, and allow the practice to unfold naturally, without forcing or grasping. The journey of “Neti Neti” is one of gentle negation, patient observation, and deep surrender. In time, you will come to rest more and more in the natural state, where the mantra is no longer needed, and the self is known in its true, infinite nature.

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  • Introducing the Neti Neti Practice Series: A Journey of Self-Inquiry

    Welcome to the Practices of Neti Neti series, an exploration into one of the most profound methods of self-inquiry within the Advaita Vedanta tradition. This series is dedicated to the practice of Neti Neti—a Sanskrit phrase meaning “not this, not this”—which serves as a guide for stripping away all that is not the true Self, leading to the recognition of our pristine, unchanging nature.

    What is Neti Neti?

    Neti Neti is a process of negation that helps practitioners identify and discard false identifications with thoughts, emotions, and sensations. It is a method of peeling back the layers of the ego to reveal the stillness and silence of the pristine mind—the pure consciousness that is unaffected by the fluctuations of the mind. This practice is at the heart of Advaita Vedanta and is used to guide the seeker toward the realization of the Self, or Atman, which is ultimately one with Brahman, the universal consciousness.

    About This Series

    In this series, you will find a collection of questions and answers that delve deeply into the practice of Neti Neti. Each question is a reflection of the natural inquiries that arise during meditation and self-inquiry. The answers are written in a contemplative and encouraging style, as letters from a friend —offering wisdom, clarity, and support as you navigate your own journey of self-discovery.

    Why Questions and Answers?

    The format of questions followed by reflective answers is inspired by the teaching styles of great spiritual masters like Ramana Maharshi and Papaji. This approach allows for a dynamic exploration of the practice, addressing the doubts and insights that naturally emerge as one progresses on the path. By engaging with these questions, you’ll find that the answers are not merely intellectual responses, but invitations to deeper inquiry and realization.

    How to Use This Series

    This series is designed to be read sequentially, as the posts build upon each other, following the natural flow of practice and understanding. However, you are also welcome to explore the posts in any order, depending on where you are in your own practice.

    Each post presents a question that might arise during your meditation or reflection, followed by a letter that offers guidance on how to address it. These letters are not just answers—they are invitations to deepen your practice, to explore the subtleties of Neti Neti, and to connect with the stillness that lies beyond all mental events.

    Beginning the Journey

    As you embark on this journey through the Neti Neti practice, remember that this path is not about attaining something new, but about recognizing what has always been present. The goal is to gently guide the mind away from its distractions, allowing the pristine mind—your true nature—to shine through.

    Whether you are new to Neti Neti or looking to deepen your understanding, I invite you to explore these letters with an open heart and a quiet mind. May they serve as a steady guide on your path to self-realization.

    Engage and Explore Together

    I warmly encourage you to leave any questions or reflections in the comments section of each post. If a question resonates deeply or sparks a new line of inquiry, I may create additional blog posts to explore these topics further. Your engagement helps to create a community of shared learning, where we can all benefit from each other’s insights and experiences.

    Let us begin this journey together, one question and one insight at a time, as we uncover the truth of who we truly are.

    For those who wish to explore further the concept of pristine mind and its practices, I highly recommend Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche’s book, Pristine Mind: A Journey into Self-Awareness. Although this book does not specifically address the Neti Neti practice, it offers profound insights into the nature of pristine mind, a state of pure awareness that lies beyond the mental events and distractions that often cloud our perception. Rinpoche’s teachings provide a clear and accessible guide to realizing and resting in this natural state, which closely aligns with the ultimate goal of Neti Neti. You can explore the Kindle version of this book below, which may serve as a valuable companion on your journey of self-inquiry and spiritual awakening.

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  • Neti Neti Series No. 1: Embracing the Practice of “Not This, Not This

    Question:

    How should I approach the practice of “Neti Neti” and what can I expect as I continue with it?


    Dear friend,

    “Neti Neti” is a path that is both ancient and profound, one that requires patience, a quiet heart, and a gentle perseverance. I’d like to share with you some thoughts and reflections that may guide you as you journey further into this sacred practice.

    The phrase “Neti Neti” translates simply as “not this, not this.” It is a mantra, yes, but it is also much more than that—it is a doorway to the understanding what lies beyond the confines of our ordinary thoughts and perceptions. When we repeat “Neti Neti,” we are not merely uttering words; we are engaging in a process of negation that strips away the layers of illusion and false identification, leading us closer to the core of our being.

    You may find that as you begin your practice, thoughts arise incessantly, like waves upon the shore. This is natural, my friend, and there is no need for concern. The mind, after all, is accustomed to constant movement. But as you sit in stillness and repeat “Neti Neti,” you are training your awareness to recognize that these thoughts—however persistent they may seem—are not who you are.

    In those moments when the mind is quiet, even for a brief instant, you may feel a sense of peace, a spaciousness that is untouched by the comings and goings of thoughts and emotions. This is the silence in which your true self resides. When you touch this silence, allow yourself to rest in it. Do not seek to hold on to it too tightly, for it is like a delicate breeze—best experienced by simply being present with it.

    And yet, if thoughts begin to stir again—and they often will—there is no need to worry or to chastise yourself. Simply return to the mantra, “Neti Neti,” with the understanding that what you are negating is not just the thought itself, but the identification with it. Each time you say “not this,” you are affirming that your true self is not these fleeting mental activities but something much deeper and more enduring.

    As you continue with this practice, you may begin to notice subtle changes in your inner landscape. The mind, once so restless, may start to settle more easily. You may find that the gaps between thoughts grow wider, and the stillness within you becomes more familiar, like a dear friend who visits often. This is the beginning of a profound transformation.

    In time, my friend, you may come to a place where the need to repeat the mantra diminishes, where silence and stillness are your natural state, and where the mind rests in its true home, free from the distractions that once held it captive. This is not a state to be forced or grasped at—it will come in its own time, as you continue to practice with patience and love.

    Remember, the journey of “Neti Neti” is not about eradicating thoughts or achieving some distant goal. It is about returning, again and again, to the awareness that lies beyond all concepts and forms. It is about recognizing that you are not the thoughts that arise, nor the emotions that ebb and flow. You are the awareness in which all these things occur, and this awareness is vast, infinite, and untouched by the passing of time.

    So, dear friend, as you continue with your practice, I encourage you to approach it with gentleness and an open heart. Trust in the process, even when it feels challenging. Trust in the silence that you find within, and know that this silence is the truest reflection of who you are.

    I look forward to hearing about your experiences as you deepen in this practice. May it bring you the peace and understanding that your soul seeks.

    🙏🕊️🙏