A short biography by John M Evans. Part 1

Followers of our recent series on early Zen masters (See Archives in the sidebar), may be interested in this new session of short biographies on masters of Advaita Vedanta in southern India. Advaita has many similarities with Zen.

In the dark, dissolute days of 8th Century India, the ancient religion of Hind was riven by faction and weakened through moral disintegration. Many Brahmin priests were openly corrupt. The traditional Vedic lore had degraded into superstition and was now a mere excuse for clerical power. Buddhism had spread across the sub-continent as the inheritor of Upanishadic purity and the disdainer of gods. It was time, many thought, for the healing balm of a unifying synthesis.

Shankara (c. 788-820) is perhaps the one Indian metaphysician who can claim comparison with Gautama Buddha in the influence he has had on the philosophy of his countrymen. Ostensibly, he lived for only thirty-two years. If that is so his achievement is the more remarkable. Today he is associated with the non-dual religious practices of Advaita Vedanta, which evolved from the Upanishads, a later development of the ancient Vedas hymn/scriptures.

Vedanta (meaning the end of the Vedas) is the basis for most modern Hindu thought. It has two separate, yet interlinked, offshoots, one a dualism known as Sankhya; and Advaita, meaning non-dual. Shankara was numbered in the latter camp.

Shankara is perhaps best known for his tale of the snake and the rope. This simple analogue depicts Brahman (the rope) and man’s illusory response to it (the snake).

The story begins with a man making his way through the jungle at dusk, hoping to reach home before dark. At this time there are many wild animal and insect sounds, even the the roar of a tiger and the almost-silent cheetah.

The man’s state of mind is far from tranquil. As his path approaches a large, shadowy banyan tree, he notices something dangling from one of the branches. This region is notorious for its many deadly cobras and puff adders. He freezes, hardly able to move. Behind him comes the sound of a big cat on the prowl. Caught between the two dangers he crouches beneath a nearby bush, shaking in terror, and certain that a horrible death awaits him that night.

As the dawn starts to break in the East, the first glimmers of light pick out the moist branches of the jungle canopy. The animal sounds have long since ceased and the birds are beginning to get about their business. Shivering with the cold, the man crawls out from beneath the bush scarcely knowing where he is. As he wearily raises his head, he notices a piece of rope hanging from an old banyan tree.

It seems that Shankara was fond of presenting his arguments in parable form, as had the Buddhists in the days before the Hindu revival. This particular story illustrates the Advaita view of the world — ‘God alone is real’ — which is very similar to Zen, by showing God (Brahman) as the rope, or reality, and the world as the snake, or delusion. The snake is what is technically known as a superimposition (adhyasa) caused by ignorance, which the frightened man projects onto the rope, thus veiling its true nature.

The upshot of this is that, while the snake is obviously not real, the rope certainly is. It is the true reality. The world (snake) is therefore a manifestation of the rope (Brahman), which can only be removed by a close enquiry into the existence of the snake. This enquiry reveals the absence of the snake and the presence of the rope.

Next : Part 2 — Shankara’s thought.

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”.

If you would like to receive Andrew’s weekly emails, click on the link below the quote.

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

The Times (London) is reporting an interesting speech on spiritual values given by the Head of the British Army.

General Sir Richard Dannatt

General Sir Richard Dannatt, Chief of the General Staff, said that Christian leaders and chaplains in the Army needed to equip soldiers for the spiritual issues at stake.

“In my business, asking people to risk their lives is part of the job, but doing so without giving them the chance to understand that there is a life after death is something of a betrayal,” he said.

“I think there is very much an obligation on . . . a Christian leader to include a spiritual dimension into his people’s preparations for operations, and the general conduct of their lives,” he said. “Qualities and core values are fine as a universally acceptable moral baseline for leadership, but the unique life, death, resurrection and promises of Christ provide that spiritual opportunity that I believe takes the privilege of leadership to another level.” In his speech, reported in this week’s Church of England Newspaper, the Chief of the General Staff said that a true leader’s authority came down to the nature of their character and the degree of their integrity.

“Character defines the person – it answers the question as to whether this is someone to emulate and with what enthusiasm. Integrity establishes the moral baseline to lead.”

An interesting viewpoint from the very outspoken General.