Prose-section 29
In plain words
Disciple, that complete Brahman which can be neither grasped nor let go, which mind and speech cannot reach, which cannot be measured and has no beginning or end: that is what we are, what you are, what all other living beings are. The words “That” and “you” have been examined in this way, and the great sentence “That you are,” with many other great sentences, speaks of the Brahman and the individual they point to. But it does not state their identity through the plain meaning of the words. Because of the imagined, unreal adjuncts of cause and effect, the Lord’s maya and the rest on one side, the individual’s five sheaths on the other, the plain meanings carry opposite properties, like the sun and a firefly, a king and a servant, the ocean and a well, Mount Meru and an atom, and they cannot be one. Of the ways of taking a word by implication, two are of no use here: dropping the plain meaning altogether, and keeping it altogether. The sentences use the third, which drops part and keeps part. When someone says “This is that Devadatta,” the sentence sets aside the conflicting circumstances and makes known that he is one man. In the same way, the scripture that denies the duality imagined in Brahman, together with your own discriminating knowledge, sets aside on both sides, by the reasoning “not this, not this,” the unreal, seen, conflicting adjuncts, imagined like the snake in the rope or a dream. Take away from a king his kingdom and its burdens, and from a servant his shield and the rest, and they are one as human beings, neither king nor servant. In the same way, without Lord and individual, what is left is consciousness alone, undivided, of one taste, with no conflict in it; and through this pure implied meaning the sentences plainly declare an identity of nature. The great knowers live in this undivided oneness of Brahman and Self. So you too: set aside the body and the other unreal things thoroughly, as “not I,” and with a clear understanding know yourself thus: “I am the complete Brahman, truth, knowledge and bliss, consciousness itself, exceedingly subtle like space, shining always.”
Word for word
Disciple, we, you and all other individual selves are that complete Brahman which cannot be grasped or abandoned, is beyond mind and speech, immeasurable and without beginning or end. The great sentence ‘That you are’ and many other great sentences declare the identity of Brahman and the individual, disclosed by examining the words ‘that’ and ‘you’. They do not declare this through the literal meanings: owing to the imagined, unreal causal and effect adjuncts—the Lord’s māyā and so forth, and the individual’s five sheaths—those meanings possess mutually contrary attributes, like sun and firefly, king and servant, ocean and well, or Mount Meru and atom, and do not admit oneness. Of the modes of implication, wholly abandoning and wholly retaining the literal meaning are of no use here. The sentences therefore employ implication that abandons and retains. Just as ‘This is that Devadatta’ excludes contradictory attributes and establishes the identity of the person, the authority of revelation, which negates duality imagined in Brahman, together with one’s discriminative knowledge, removes on both sides the unreal, perceived, contradictory adjuncts, imagined like a rope-snake or a dream, by reasoning ‘not this, not this’. When the adjuncts of king and servant, such as sovereignty and shield, are removed, they are one in humanity, apart from their roles as king and servant. Similarly, apart from Lord and individual, what remains without contradiction is consciousness alone, indivisible and of one essence. Through this pure implied meaning, the sentences clearly declare identity of nature. The great knowers dwell in this indivisible identity of Brahman and Self. You too should thoroughly negate the unreal body and the rest as ‘not I’ and, with a clear intellect, know yourself: ‘I am complete Brahman, reality-knowledge-bliss, consciousness [existence or pure: the page’s சுத is unsettled], exceedingly subtle like space, ever shining.’