That art thou

“That art thou” is the pinnacle of teaching in the Chandogya Upanishad, a central text of Hinduism.

“In the beginning, there was Existence alone; that is one only, without a second.

He thought ‘Let me be many and let me grow forth.’ Out of Himself, He thus projected the universe.

He entered into every being and every thing. All that is has its self in Him alone.

He is the Self. And that, Svetaketu, That art Thou.”

They called this “existence itself” Brahman, and the individual soul they called Atman. Hence the central spiritual revelation: Atman is Brahman.

The different religions conceive of “existence itself” by different names, but they all have some form of “that art thou” moment.

I think it ultimately comes down to the individual. For some, being “children of God” is the most powerful and moving expression of our relationship with the divine.

For others “it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” makes the most sense.

In fact in Christianity there are countless ways of expressing the good news that we are not separate from God.

In Buddhism we see a new approach to convey non-separation by doing away with the hallowed Hindu notion of atman. Anatman means “no atman”. There is no self and no Brahman. All is “empty” of self, sunyata.

Yet this emptiness is itself enlightenment, another realisation that we are not separate from all that is.

And as Buddhism evolved people found new ways of expressing non-separation, focusing on Buddha-nature within ourselves and all sentient beings, focusing on Buddhas and Bodhisattvas in devotion, prayer, and oneness, with numerous esoteric and mystical practices and sects each having their own emphasis and nuance.

Whatever the teaching, all seek to bring us to a point of realising we are not and have never been separate from the power that created all existence. And further that we should therefore fear nothing, want for nothing, but instead dwell in the love, joy, and contentment of being one with the divine.

Two Birds on a Tree: different models of selflessness

Discussing the illusion of self control with a friend the other day, it became clear that the idea of self as an illusion is not for everyone.

Is self truly an illusion?

It depends on what you mean by ‘self’, what you mean by ‘truly’, and what you mean by ‘illusion’. Heck, while we’re at it: it depends on what you mean by ‘is’ as well.

But before we worry too much about precise definitions of terms, it might be worth considering some of the other ways this central phenomenon of selflessness is framed.

I’ve been focusing mainly on the analogy between the illusion of a self who is in control from a Buddhist perspective, and Christian perspective of pride as the desire to be like God in the sense of (paraphrasing Aquinas) desiring, as our last end of beatitude, something which we can attain by the virtue of our own nature.

But there are other models or frameworks that attempt to describe the same phenomenon of selflessness. One notable example is found in the Upanishads, a Hindu scripture, where the individual human being is shown to contain two ‘selves’: one that is involved in the world, and the other that is conscious but not involved.

two birds of golden plumage, inseparable companions, are perched on a branch of the same tree. One of them tastes the sweet and bitter fruits of the tree; the other, tasting neither, calmly looks on.

On the same tree, the individual self (jiva), deluded by forgetfulness of his identity with the divine Self, bewildered by his ego, grieves and is sad. But when he recognizes the other as the Lord worshipped by all and His glory, he becomes free from grief.

The site where I found these excerpts from the Svetasvatara Upanishad contains a much better commentary than I could produce. The following explains the meaning of the two birds:

The form of every sentient being has two indwellers–the two Selves just like the two birds. However, they do not have the same experience of the tree. The individual self, the jiva, tastes the fruit of the tree in the form of the inner and outer senses, and according to the quality of that experience is made happy, unhappy, contented, discontented–and so forth. The individual thus undergoes experience sometimes laughing and some times weeping, immersed in thought and bewildered by his own helplessness.

The Supreme Self, on the other hand, tasting neither [sweet or bitter experiences], calmly observes. God also experiences because He is an indweller of all and is aware of all that the individual spirit experiences, yet, He looks on without eating–without being affected or conditioned by such experiences. But He does know exactly the effect and conditioning that accrues to the individual Self. He is experiencing right along with us, but unlike us is not pulled into a mistaken identity with the body-mind and its experiences.

We are drowned, submerged, in the deadly ocean of samsara, of continual birth, death, pain and pleasure. Sankara points out that the individual self is overwhelmed with confusion because it cannot understand what is really happening to it, and why. Just like a piece of driftwood on the heaving sea, it is lifted up and down, thrown onto the shore and then pulled out to sea again. So it grieves at its helplessness and hopelessness.

All is changed, though, when the individual sees, right in the core of his being, the very God he has been hitherto worshipping as separate from himself. Experiencing within his own being the presence and the glory of God–and thereby realizing that glory as his own–the individual becomes liberated from sorrow.

There are other models, other methods, and other attempts to explain the central phenomenon. These efforts have their own historical and social contexts. For example, one might view the Buddhist insistence on no-self or anatman as, in part, a refreshing reaction against the Hindu doctrine of atman – the inner self or soul, the ‘Supreme Self’ depicted in the Upanishad above.

The startling idea that we have an inner self that is divine can, over time, be taken for granted and fall far short of the reality depicted in the Upanishads. The Buddhist response reframes that reality in newly-startling terms: there is no atman, there is no enduring, divine, inner self. The nature of all phenomena is sunyata – emptiness.