The Knower

Maitreyī said, Sir, with this you have brought me into utter bewilderment. I do not understand it.

I am telling you nothing bewildering, my dear, he said. This Self cannot be destroyed. It is its nature never to be cut off.

And he showed her what it is that comes to an end. Where there seems to be a second, he said, there one sees another, one smells another, one tastes another, one speaks to another, one hears another, one thinks of another, one touches another, one knows another. But where everything has become one's own Self, then what is there to see, and what to see it with? What is there to smell or taste, to speak to or hear, and with what? What is there to think of, or touch, or know, and with what? With what would one know that by which all this is known?

This Self is not this, not this. It cannot be grasped, for it is never grasped. It cannot be destroyed, for it is never destroyed. It does not cling, for it never attaches itself. It is not bound; it does not tremble; it is not harmed. With what, my dear, would one know the knower?

You have been taught, Maitreyī. This, my dear, is immortality.

And having said this, Yājñavalkya went away.