Skip to main content

Sadatma ekatva darṣana:

  



   'I want' 'I want', 'I want'

     rings in the background as Tanpurā

'I lack', 'I lack', 'I lack '

joins as melody in the symphony

'Why me', 'Why me', 'Why me'

explodes as drumbeat in the band 


The family tree of Jivā is rooted in Avidyā

Avidya delivers the baby called Kamā

Kama delivers the baby called Karmā

Karma delivers the twins Pāpā and Punyā


Jiva may exit through the sahasrā 

that will not give him mokshā

Desire is the driver for ajñāni

It brings him back to samsarā


Ajñāni wakes up from sleep

Ajñāni is born again after death 

Ajñāni comes back even after pralayā

Cycle of birth and death continues forever and ever


Jñani knows the truth of sadātmā

Jñani knows the truth of sarvatmā

Jñani knows the advitiya ekatvam

Jñani rides the desire so never returns


Swamini Svatmavidyanandaji Chandogya Upanishad class 57




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Just Be ( Summa Iru)

Just Be (Summa Iru)  As I sat in the weekly satsangs on Ramana Maharshi, Bhagavan’s question echoed within me: “When are you coming to Tiruvannamalai?” That question did not remain a question for long. It ripened itself. The long vigil of Maha Shivaratri, chanting the Ramana Tamil parayanam and the 26th chapter of the Ribhu Gita, deepened the saṅkalpa into something steady and irreversible. After a week-long Vedanta camp in Rishikesh, the journey unfolded almost on its own. Flights were booked. A car was arranged from Chennai. For the first time, plans were made not for the world or family, but for the Self. And in that sincerity, something remarkable happened: the universe did not resist. No one in the family objected. It was as if life itself stepped aside. Despite war and unrest disrupting travel across the world, when asked, “Are you still going?” the response arose effortlessly: “If it has to happen, it will.” In the bustle of Rishikesh, the mind wandered through sense objects...

A Tale of Two birds

  A   Tale of two birds Old Īśvara had a farm, And on this farm He had a tree, And on this tree there sat a bird, With a  coo coo  here, and a  coo coo  there, Here a  coo , there a  coo , Everywhere  coo coo ! This bird eats the berries, Some are bitter, some are sweet. Fluttering here, fluttering there, Restless in its endless search. Old Īśvara had a farm, And on this farm He had a tree, And on this tree there sat a jīva, With a  glub glub  here,  and a  glub glub  there , Here a  glub,  there a  glub   , Everywhere  glub glub   ! The jīva whines in sorrow, The jīva whines in fear. Forgetting its true nature,  It suffers birth after birth. Old Īśvara had a farm, And on this farm He had a tree, And on this tree the jīva met the Guru, And the jīva turned into a bhakta. She asks, “Give me this, give me that,” She prays in sorrow and distress. She makes her bargains and deals Slowly c...

Exit from Abhimanyu Syndrome

Exit from Abhimanyu Syndrome Should I sleep away from the drama of the world, Or awaken to the stillness in which it appears? Should I wake up from the dream of the waking state, where name and form parade as truth? Or accept them as they are? Should I stop attempting to rewrite the script of life? Or engage in the scenes of the play with a playful attitude? Should I stop projecting a personal movie, Or recognize that I am the light that makes all images possible? Should I reject the world as a mere phenomenon? Or release identification with body and mind? Should I rest in the wisdom of internal calmness ? Should I be that mystical Swan  meandering gracefully in the water  abiding in self right now? If not I, Who will see this? If not now, When will this seeing occur? Who am I is the question of Viveka What am I up to is the question of Vairagya When there is nowhere to go, and nothing to attain, I dwell in these questions, not seeking answers, for the questions themselves are...