The Nature of the Wise

Janaka approached Ashtavakra with a question that had long puzzled him.

"Master, you speak of the wise and the ignorant. I have met many who claim wisdom, yet their lives seem troubled. How does one recognize true wisdom? What are its signs?"

Ashtavakra considered the question carefully.

"The wise one is like a lotus in muddy water. He lives in the world—he eats, sleeps, works, speaks—yet he is not stained by it. The mud cannot touch him because he does not belong to the mud."

"But how does he remain unstained? Does he avoid worldly activities?"

"Avoidance is not the way. The one who avoids is still entangled—he is running from what he fears. The wise one neither seeks nor avoids. He allows life to flow through him without resistance. He acts when action arises, rests when rest arises. There is no internal conflict."

"I have seen some who seem peaceful but are merely suppressing their desires. Is this wisdom?"

"No. Suppression is warfare. The wise one is at peace not because he has conquered his desires but because he sees them for what they are—appearances in awareness, no more real than ripples on water. He does not fight them; he simply does not identify with them."

"And what of attachment? The wise one surely has loved ones, possessions, responsibilities."

"He has them as the sky has clouds. They appear, they pass. He enjoys what is pleasant without clinging; he endures what is painful without resisting. His heart is open to all experience, yet nothing sticks."

"This seems inhuman," Janaka said. "A man of stone."

"Not at all. The wise one feels more deeply than others, not less. He laughs fully, weeps fully, loves fully. But he knows these are movements in consciousness, not threats to his being. The stone cannot feel; the sage feels everything, including the vast peace beneath all feeling."

"How does he relate to others?"

"With compassion, naturally. He sees himself in all beings because he knows there is only one Self. He does not help others out of duty or morality but because their suffering is his suffering, their joy is his joy. Division is illusion; he acts from unity."

"And his speech? How does the wise one communicate?"

"His words arise from silence and return to silence. He speaks when needed, is quiet when silence serves. His words carry weight because they come from stillness, not from the need to be heard or understood."

"Does he have preferences? Does he like some things more than others?"

"Preferences may appear through the body-mind, as natural tendencies. But the wise one does not believe these preferences define him. He can enjoy tea or wine, solitude or company, yet he is not disturbed when he cannot have what he prefers. He is satisfied in all circumstances."

"And fear? Does the wise one fear death?"

"How can awareness fear its own disappearance? The wise one knows he was never born and will never die. The body will fall—this is certain—but he is not the body. He greets death as he greets sleep: a transition in appearance, no threat to what he is."

Janaka smiled. "You are describing yourself, master."

"I am describing what you are when you stop pretending to be what you are not. The wise one is not a special category of person. He is simply a human who has stopped believing lies about himself. This is available to all."

"Then let me stop believing," Janaka said.

"You already have. The very seeing of these truths is the end of false belief. Rest in what you see. Be what you are. That is all."