Question and answer 29

Why are we told to meditate with the attitude 'I am That' — holding that we are not even different from that being of light, shining like a lamp's flame, that we picture in meditation?

(a) Here is the point of holding yourself not even different from that being of light. Scripture itself, describing what meditation should be, says: 'Meditating on that being — thumb-sized, gleaming like lightning, shining like a lamp's flame, seated in the middle of the all-pervading Heart-lotus with its eight petals — the very petals called Kailāsa, Vaikuṇṭha, the Supreme Abode — a person attains immortality.' Hearing that, it would be easy to slip into thinking 'that is one thing, I am another', to meditate on it as something apart, or to imagine it as confined to one place. Seeing no difference at all heads off exactly those mistakes. (b) And here is the point of the attitude 'I am That' — soham: sa + aham = soham. 'Sa' is the Supreme Self; 'aham' is the Self that shows itself as 'I'. In this city that is the body — called Brahmapura — on the lotus-throne of the Heart, dwells the living Śiva-liṅga: that is, you yourself. Draw the ego-mind, which wanders outward thinking the body is 'I', back into the Heart. Let the sense of 'I' fixed on the body fall away. Stay perfectly still, simply asking, Who is it, here in this body? — and what pulses there, subtly, as 'I, I', turns out to be nothing but the Supreme Self: everything, and yet none of it, shining everywhere with no difference between outer and inner. That very Brahman is what 'I' has always meant, and it is what shines in the flame described earlier. Take it as something other than your own very substance, rather than as your own very substance, and ignorance never actually leaves — which is exactly why you are told to hold that attitude. Keep at this sustained attention, this soham, unwaveringly, for a long time, and the darkness of ignorance in the Heart, and every obstacle that ignorance throws up, will fall away, and knowledge complete in itself will be won. To know the being that dwells in the cave of the Heart, in this city that is the body, is nothing less than to know God in the fullness of his being. The knower lives at ease in this city of the body, with its nine gates. The body itself is the temple; the soul itself is Śiva. Worship him this same way — as 'I am That' — and liberation follows. This body, the five sheaths together, is itself the cave, and what dwells within it is exactly what scripture calls the Lord of the Cave. Since the Self alone is what every god is truly made of, meditating on the Self — on your own self — is the highest meditation there is. Every other meditation is already folded into this one, and exists only to lead you here, so once this is won, none of the others are needed. To know yourself is to know God, with nothing left over. To meditate without knowing the very self doing the meditating, imagining God to be something else, somewhere else, is — say the great ones — like measuring your own shadow with your own foot, or like flinging away, far off, the matchless Kaustubha jewel already in your hand, to go hunting for a scrap of shell.

What is the purport of the instruction to meditate, with the attitude 'Soham' (I am That), holding oneself not different even from the light-natured entity that shines, in meditation, like the flame of a lamp?

(a) The purport of being told to hold oneself not different even from that light-natured entity is this: since the scriptures, on the mark of meditation, say — 'Meditating on that entity, of the measure of a thumb, gleaming like lightning, shining like the flame of a lamp, in the middle of the all-pervading Heart-lotus together with its eight petals — the very petals spoken of as Kailāsa, Vaikuṇṭha, the Supreme Abode — a man attains immortality' — [one is told to see no difference] so that faults such as the notion 'that is one thing, I am another', meditating on it as something separate, and a limiting or localising misconception of that entity, should not arise. (b) The purport of being told to meditate with the attitude Soham is this: sa + aham = soham. 'Sa' is the Supreme Self; 'aham' is the Self that shines as 'I'. In the city that is the body, called Brahmapura, on the lotus-seat of the Heart dwells the jīva, the Śiva-liṅga — that is, oneself. Gathering the ego-formed mind, which wanders outward taking the body and the rest to be 'I', back into the Heart; letting the sense of 'I' attached to the body depart; and, remaining perfectly still together with the enquiry 'who is it that is in the body', enquiring — the very nature of the Self that pulsates there subtly as 'I, I' turns out to be the nature of the Supreme Self, which, being both everything and nothing in particular, shines everywhere with no difference of outer and inner; and since that same Brahman is the real meaning of the word 'I', and shines in the flame-form spoken of earlier — since to regard it as something other than one's own very substance, rather than as one's own very substance, would leave ignorance undeparted — one is told to hold that attitude. If, for a long time, one meditates without wavering on this entity through this sustained attention that is Soham, the darkness of ignorance in the Heart, and every obstacle that is ignorance's own effect, will depart, and complete knowledge will be attained. In this way, to know the entity dwelling in the cave of the Heart, in the city that is the body, is itself to know God, who is utterly all-full. The knower dwells at ease in the city that is the body, with its nine gates. The body itself is the temple; the jīva itself is Śiva. Worshipping him through the attitude Soham brings liberation. The body, made of the five sheaths, is itself the cave; and the scriptures, too, call the Supreme who dwells within it the Lord of the Cave. Since the Self alone is the substance of which every deity is made, meditation on the Self — on one's own self — is the highest of all meditations; since every other meditation is already contained within this one, and since those other meditations are taught only for the sake of accomplishing this one, once this is accomplished the others are not needed. To know oneself is itself to know God. To meditate without knowing the very self that meditates, imagining the deity to be something else, elsewhere, is said by the great ones to be like measuring one's own shadow with one's own foot, and like throwing far away the matchless Kaustubha jewel already in one's hand, to go searching for a tiny piece of conch-shell.