Beyond Meditation

Nidagha approached Ribhu with great earnestness. "Master, I understand your teachings intellectually. Now I wish to realize them directly. Please instruct me in meditation so that I may attain Self-realization."

Ribhu looked at his student with compassion. "You wish to meditate. Very well. Tell me, who will meditate?"

"I will meditate," Nidagha answered.

"And what will you meditate upon?"

"Upon Brahman, upon the Self, upon pure consciousness."

"So there is a meditator—you—and an object of meditation—Brahman. Are these two or one?"

Nidagha paused. "If they are two, then I cannot be Brahman. But you have taught me I am Brahman."

"Exactly," Ribhu said. "The very structure of meditation—a subject focusing on an object—reinforces the illusion of duality. The meditator believes himself to be separate from what he meditates upon. But if you are already Brahman, what could you possibly meditate upon? Can the eye see itself? Can fire burn itself?"

"Then should I not meditate at all?"

"Listen carefully," Ribhu said, leaning forward. "There are stages of understanding. For the beginner, meditation on form and qualities may be helpful—it purifies the mind and develops concentration. For the intermediate student, meditation on formless awareness is taught. But for the mature seeker, even this must be abandoned."

"Why abandoned?"

"Because meditation implies effort, and effort implies a doer. The doer is the ego, and the ego is the very thing to be seen through. You cannot use the ego to transcend the ego. You cannot use doing to reach being. Every effort you make to become enlightened takes you further from the recognition that you are already the light itself."

Nidagha looked troubled. "But if I make no effort, I simply remain in ignorance. And if I make effort, I reinforce the ego. What then is the way?"

Ribhu smiled. "This is the crucial question, and the answer is subtle. The way is neither effort nor non-effort, but clear seeing. Look: Is there ever a moment when awareness is absent?"

"No, I am always aware."

"Even in deep sleep, something knows the blankness—otherwise how would you report that you slept deeply? Awareness is never absent. So what exactly are you trying to attain through meditation?"

"Perhaps not attainment, but... clarity?"

"But awareness is already perfectly clear. It is thoughts that are unclear, not awareness. Awareness itself is pristine. It is like space—it receives all objects but is never stained by them. What enters space does not improve or diminish it. Similarly, what arises in awareness does not improve or diminish it."

"So the practice is simply to recognize this?"

"Not even 'practice,'" Ribhu replied. "Practice implies repetition toward a goal. But you are already the goal. Simply see what is true right now. Not tomorrow, not after years of effort, not after achieving some special state—but now, in this very moment. What is aware? Not who—what. Don't answer with words; simply look."

Nidagha fell silent. His mind, which had been preparing for instructions, found nothing to grasp.

"This," Ribhu whispered, "this not-knowing, this stillness before the next thought—THIS is what you are. Not the thoughts that arise, not the experiences that come and go, but this awareness that is present before, during, and after all experiences. It was never lost, so it cannot be found. It was never absent, so it cannot be attained. Simply rest as what you are."

"But this seems too simple," Nidagha said. "Surely enlightenment requires great effort and practice?"

"The mind loves complexity because complexity gives it something to do. Simplicity terrifies the mind because simplicity means the end of its rule. But truth is always simple: You are That. Not 'you will become That.' Not 'you must work to become That.' YOU ARE THAT. Right now. The only practice is to stop pretending you are not."