The Fool and The Wise

Ashtavakra spoke with gentle firmness.

"Janaka, listen to how the fool and the wise differ. Understanding this will sharpen your discrimination and settle your mind."

"I am ready, master. Show me the distinction."

"The fool looks at the world and believes it holds his happiness. He chases objects, accumulates possessions, seeks relationships—believing that if he could only arrange external circumstances correctly, he would be satisfied. He spends his entire life rearranging furniture in a burning house."

"And the wise one?"

"The wise one sees that no object has ever delivered lasting happiness. Each desire, once fulfilled, gives birth to another. The wise one stops chasing and looks within. There he finds what he was always seeking—the Self, complete and full, needing nothing from the world."

"But master, I see many seekers who look within and still suffer. What distinguishes them from the truly wise?"

"Excellent question. The seeker turns within but brings the seeking with him. He imagines enlightenment as another object to acquire—perhaps the most precious object, but still an object. He meditates to get something, contemplates to achieve something. He is still the fool, just with a spiritual disguise."

"Then what does the wise one do?"

"Nothing. He simply stops. Not in the sense of becoming passive—action may continue through him—but he stops seeking, stops acquiring, stops becoming. He rests in what is already the case. He recognizes himself as the awareness in which all seeking appears."

"Is this recognition something that comes suddenly or gradually?"

"It is always sudden. It is always now. You cannot gradually become what you already are. You can only suddenly recognize what you never stopped being. The appearance of gradual preparation is real, but the recognition itself is instantaneous—like suddenly seeing the face in a puzzle picture."

Janaka pondered this. "Master, I notice you still make a distinction between fool and wise. But if all is the Self, are not both equally That?"

Ashtavakra's eyes brightened. "Now you ask like a sage. Yes, both the fool and the wise are the Self. The Self plays at being ignorant; the Self plays at being awakened. From the highest view, there is no distinction. Foolishness and wisdom are both waves in the same ocean."

"Then why teach at all? Why guide anyone toward wisdom?"

"Because the teaching is also a wave in the ocean. The Self, playing as teacher, speaks to the Self, playing as student. The apparent movement from foolishness to wisdom is itself the Self's play. We do not step outside the play to teach—we are the play, teaching itself."

"This is dizzying," Janaka admitted.

"Only to the mind that tries to grasp it. To the Self, it is simply what is. Relax. You are not required to understand. You are only required to be what you are—and even that is not required, because you cannot stop being what you are."

"So the distinction between fool and wise is useful..."

"As a pointing. As a stepping stone. Use it to discriminate, to turn attention inward. Then release even that distinction. In the end, there is no fool and no wise one. There is only This—unnameable, undivided, complete."

"And I?"

"You are That. The one who asks is That. The one who answers is That. The question is That. The answer is That. Rest here, where no question arises because no questioner remains. This is the wisdom beyond wisdom—the foolishness that is wiser than any sage."