In 19th Century America, Ralph Waldo Emerson knew all about the non-dual vision.

“Standing on the bare ground — my head bathed by the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part and parcel of God.”

Perhaps the most accessible of the Upanishads propounding the non-dual vision is the Katha Upanishad. This scripture describes how a youth, Nachiketas, sacrifices himself to Yama, the God of Death, in order to discover the secrets of immortality. The god grants him three boons which Nachiketas uses to extract the innermost secrets of the universe. In the process he rejects all offers of material powers and pleasure, prompting the god to name the ultimate fire sacrifice after Nachiketas himself.

The story is fascinating in that it has some parallels with the early experiences of the youthful Ramana Maharshi of South India who, at the age of sixteen, was confronted with death in the form of an existential seizure. Instead of collapsing in terror, Ramana boldly faced up to it and extracted the inner essence of the life/death experience.

Apart from the Upanishads, the other major work which constitutes the bedrock of Vedanta and, for that matter, all else in Hindu India, is the Bhagavad Gita. This sublime scripture, sometimes regarded as an Upanishad, has a more practical edge than many other texts of this period. For this reason it is often seen as a work of karma yoga (union through action).

In fact, the jnani (a man of vision or knowledge), is given the prominent place in the scripture. “The jnani and I are one,” says Krishna, the embodiment of God in the Gita.

Nevertheless, the bhakti (devotee) finds his consolation in the Bhagavad Gita, and Mahatma Gandhi used it as authority for his particular gospel of action and work in the world. Like many other great scriptural outpourings, the Gita satisfies all manner of persons.

The book, as we now know it, comes down to us as part of the Mahabharata, a vast epic poem of war and conflict, said to be the longest in the world. The Gita, however, stands out from it, almost as the New Testament shines out of the Bible against the darker qualities of the Old, where “an eye for an eye” becomes “turning the other cheek”.

The spirit of the Gita, as with the Upanishads, can be represented by a few short extracts. The non-duality of the work as a whole is expressed perfectly by Krishna’s words to Arjuna.

‘When a man sees that the God in himself is the same God in all that is, he hurts not himself by hurting others; then he goes to the highest path.”

Again, in a great declaration, Krishna speaks for the All.

I am the Father of this universe, and even the Source
of the Father. I am the Mother of this universe, and
the Creator of all. I am the highest to be known, the
Path of purification … I am the Way, and the Master who
watches in silence; thy friend and shelter and thy
abode of peace. I am the beginning and the middle and
the end of all things: their seed of Eternity, their
Treasure supreme.

From these deeply spiritual teachings, arose Buddhism, Jainism and later a Hindu/Buddhist synthesis, the Advaita Vedanta of Shankara.

We occasionally reprint Andrew Cohen’s weekly email quote if it touches on a matter that particularly interests us. This week’s excerpt is titled, “The Evolution of Gender”.

The question posed concerns gender in the postmodern age — which may now have passed — and especially in the state of consciousness beyond ego, which we term “enlightenment”.

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The Evolution of Gender
If enlightenment is the experience of consciousness beyond ego, then what does that consciousness look like, expressed through postmodern men and women? What happens to our identity, to fundamental self-structures like gender, when we take that leap beyond ego? This has always been a confusing matter, but it is even more so in a time and cultural context when so many of us are unclear about what the contours of a male or female identity should be. As both men and women evolve from traditional to post-traditional roles in culture, religion, and society, the roadmap for what it means to be a man or a woman, beyond some very basic distinctions, has become less and less clearly defined. And for those of us who are endeavoring to pioneer new stages in the evolution of consciousness and culture, this uncharted terrain is the very place in which we choose to live. So what does it mean to be a man or a woman as we develop beyond conventional structures and post-conventional confusion to post-postconventional clarity?

Andrew Cohen