Stillness is Fulfillment

Janaka sat motionless, his breathing soft and even. After a long silence, he spoke.

"Master, in this stillness, I find something unexpected. I thought stopping would mean boredom, emptiness, the absence of experience. But there is a fullness here I cannot name."

Ashtavakra smiled. "You have discovered what the sages call 'purnam'—fullness, completion. The mind fears stillness because it believes life is in movement. But the Self knows that true life is this—unmoving, unchanging, complete."

"It is strange," Janaka said. "All my life I sought fulfillment in achievements—conquering kingdoms, acquiring knowledge, pleasing the gods. Each achievement brought satisfaction, but only for a moment. This stillness brings a satisfaction that does not fade."

"Because it is not dependent on anything external. Achievements come and go; circumstances change. The fulfillment you found in them was borrowed—a reflection of the Self's fullness mistakenly attributed to objects and events. But the fullness you feel now is the Self recognizing itself."

"Why did I not know this before?" Janaka asked. "It seems so simple, so obvious."

"Because you were looking outward. The eye cannot see itself; the mind cannot think itself. To know the Self, you must stop—stop seeking, stop thinking, stop doing. In that stopping, what you are reveals itself."

"And action? Must I renounce my kingdom, my duties?"

"Renunciation is another form of seeking," Ashtavakra said. "The one who renounces the world still believes the world has power over him. True stillness is not the absence of activity but the presence of awareness in all activity. Rule your kingdom, fulfill your duties—but remain rooted in this stillness. Let action arise from fullness, not from lack."

Janaka considered this. "So the stillness can remain even while the body moves?"

"The stillness is never disturbed. It is like the depth of the ocean—waves may rise and fall on the surface, but the depths remain undisturbed. You are the depth, not the waves. Let the body-mind do what it does; you remain as you are."

"I feel I have searched my whole life for this moment," Janaka said. "And now that I am here, I realize I never left."

"That is the joke," Ashtavakra laughed softly. "The seeker finds that he was always at the destination. The lover discovers he was always with the beloved. The fulfillment you sought in the future was present in every moment—you simply did not notice because you were too busy seeking."

"And what of goals? What of purpose?"

"Let them come if they come. The Self does not need a purpose; it is complete as it is. If purpose arises through the body-mind, let it be. If it does not arise, let that be too. You are not diminished by purposelessness, nor enhanced by purpose."

Janaka placed his hands on his heart. "This stillness—it feels like coming home. No, not coming home. Realizing I never left home. I was always here."

"Always here," Ashtavakra agreed. "That is the meaning of the word 'ātman'—the Self that is ever-present, ever-full, ever-free. You are That. Rest in That. Let the world do what it does; you have found the treasure that cannot be lost."

"No words can describe it," Janaka whispered.

"Words arise from it and dissolve back into it. The stillness is before words, during words, after words. It is the silence in which all sounds appear. Be that silence, and all questions answer themselves."

Janaka bowed deeply. "Thank you, master. Or rather—thank you, Self, for revealing yourself to yourself through this form called Ashtavakra."

"Now you understand," Ashtavakra said. "There was only ever the Self, playing all roles, speaking all words, resting in eternal stillness while appearing as motion. Welcome to what you always were."