A Game of Ropes and Snakes

Shankara’s view of what it means to be real comes from his predecessor, Gaudapada, and from the Upanishads. No object, no kind of knowledge, can be absolutely real if its existence is only temporary. Absolute reality implies permanent existence. For example, we often have different experiences while dreaming during sleep. Those experiences often contradict the experiences we have while awake. And of course, both our waking and dreaming experiences cease when we’re deep into dreamless sleep. And so every object of knowledge, whether external or internal, is subject to modification and therefore not “real.” Here in the West, we don’t often recognize that thoughts and ideas are also objects of knowledge.

Behind all our experiences lies the Reality. This deep consciousness alone is the only constant feature of all experience. Vedanta sits squarely between realism and idealism. Western realism and idealism are both based on the distinction between mind and matter. For Vedanta, though, mind and matter fall into the same category as objects of knowledge.

According to Shankara, the world-appearance can be likened to an imagined snake which ends up being just a piled/coiled rope. When the truth is known, the snake-appearance vanishes into the reality of the rope. In like manner, the world vanishes into Brahman for the illumined soul. This snake-appearance idea can also be found in the Ashtavakra Gita in a lesson given by sage Ashtavakra: “The universe rises from you like bubbles rising from the sea. Thus know the Atman to be one and enter even thus into (the state of) Dissolution. The universe, being manifested like the snake in the rope, does not exist in your who are pure, even though it is present to the senses; because it is unreal. Thus verily do you enter into (the state of) Dissolution.”

Other systems of Hindu philosophy (Sankhya, Nyaya, etc…) insist that the phenomenal world holds objective reality. Advaita Vedanta disagrees, insisting: there is no ultimate reality to the world of thought and matter. Mind and matter, which are finite objects with relations, are a misreading of Brahman… like confusing a rope to be a snake.

At this point, it should be made clear that according to Shankara there’s a difference between non-real and non-existent. Simply put, the world-appearance “is and is not.” In the state of every-day consciousness (ignorance) it is experienced and it exists as it appears. However, in the state of illumination it is not experienced and ceases to exist. Shankara also distinguishes between private illusions of the individual and the world illusion. He refers to private illusion as pratibhasika (illusory) and the world illusion as vyavaharika (phenomenal). So pratibhasika would apply, for example, to a man’s dreams – which cease to exist during his waking hours. However, the other, vyavaharika, continues through his waking life – until he comes to realization of the Truth through knowledge of Brahman.

This seeming paradox – the world being non-real yet having existence – is a fact. And Shankara calls this fact Maya. Maya has its basis in Brahman, but only applies to the phenomenal world of names and forms. This leads us to a deep philosophical issue: the relationship between the finite and the Infinite; the problem of how the phenomenal world came into being.

“If we believe that the finite has an absolute reality of its own and that it has emerged from the Infinite and is an actual transformation of the Infinite, or if we regard the Infinite as the transcendental first cause of the phenomenal world, then we must admit that the Infinite is infinite no longer. A God who transforms Himself into the visible universe is Himself subject to transformation and change – He cannot be regarded as the absolute reality.”

We surpass this difficulty if we consider the world as Maya. Further, this explanation of the universe is in perfect accord with modern science. Some might point out that the Upanishads state that the universe emerges from, subsists in, and eventually merges back into Brahman. Shankara doesn’t disagree, but explains it differently: The universe is a superimposition upon Brahman.

In this way Brahman remains entirely unchanged. It is not transformed into this universe, but appears to us as this universe, in our ignorance. We superimpose the apparent world onto Brahman just as we sometimes superimpose a snake onto rope.

It should be noted that the idea of superimposition (vivartavada) is inseparably linked to the Theory of Causality. Causal relation exists in the world of multiplicity – which is Maya. Within Maya, the mind cannot function without causal relationships. Here’s the twist: To speak of cause and effect with reference to the Absolute is absurd. To seek to know what caused the world is to transcend the world. To seek to find the cause of Maya is to transcend Maya – and when we do that, Maya vanishes because the effect ceases to exist. How can there be a cause to a non-existent effect? Thus the relation between Brahman and Maya is unknowable by the human intellect.

Coming up: Maya is an unreal fact.

Om Shanti

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Dem Bones

About a week ago I thought I had my entire weekend planned out. I was to work all day Saturday. That evening would mean adult beverages and color hard-baked eggs festively. The following day, Sunday, was meant to be spent in Ohio at Ikea with only my beloved as we took our time wandering the immense place and gathered a handful of new display cases for his Masters of the Universe collection and my collection of Ganesha murtis.

Mother nature had other plans, though, and those plans included dumping a bunch of snow. Everywhere I looked and every new person I asked gave me a different answer as to the ETA of said snow storm. Hoping to play things safe rather than sorry, we postponed the egg coloring and moved up the Ikea trip. It was all the same, I suppose. And even better, it meant my best had his first trip to Ikea.

We get to Ohio that night and, with less time than we preferred, we made our rounds and got in line at the check out.

The crowds at Ikea are typically very mixed. I suppose Ikea has something for everyone. I recall noticing an unusually large percentage of Indians. Wearing a bright red t-shirt with nothing but a nice white Om on the front center, and with dharma tattoos visible, I assumed I’d catch some attention while we wandered Ikea’s acreage. But I didn’t really… until we reached the checkout.

Before us in the line were a small Indian man, only slightly older than myself and two female companions. We had been standing behind them for some time (the line was moving VERY slowly) before they actually noticed me. Then, the man turned around and began questioning me.

He asked about my Om shirt. He asked about the Om Purnam ink I have on my left wrist and the abstract Ganesha ink on my right forearm. He kept saying things to me as he questioned me and my response was always either, “I know” or to basically finish his sentences with the point he was assuming I didn’t already know.

I’ve said it before, and I suppose I’ll say it a million more times before this life is extinguished: Not all Hindus have brown/olive skin.

Everything this guy asked me or started to point out I explained I already knew. Eventually, he said something like, “In the fall we have a Ganesha holiday. It’s called Ganesh-”

And I cut him off, “Chaturthi. I KNOW.” I followed that with a very casual, but slightly annoyed, “I’m Hindu, too.”

His response? “No.”

I could feel my face reddening and my eyebrows being drawn toward the third eye. “What?” he asked soon after. As patiently as I could I explained, “I know those things already, sir. I’m also Hindu.” He virtually ignored what I’d just said and began to ask about the leg tattoo I’d referenced during his earlier questioning of me. To this, I turned slightly and exposed my calf where my newest Ganesha ink is located. He nodded (mind you, to the Western eye this nod is more of a bobble), flatly told me I could only have tattoos of gods on my arms, and then simply turned around and said not another word to me.

Me = floored.

Earlier today I messaged an Indian bahin (sister) that I have in Atlanta. She’s very very dear to me and my life has certainly been better since knowing her. In my message I asked her what that bit about my leg tattoo was all about. She explained that he wasn’t necessarily trying to be mean (I’m not sure I’m convinced) and that it IS generally frowned upon to have a god inked onto your leg – because the legs is connected to the foot and the foot is “dirty.” Knowing what I know about Hindu “protocol,” this sounds about right. My bahin wouldn’t lie to me and I know she wouldn’t say something to hurt my feelings.

But now I also know why religion often has a bad name.

For one, I think this points to an interesting …um, allow me to call it a double standard. It’s not really, but for now I’m calling it that. The feet are “dirty” and yet gurupadapuja is a heart-touching ritual that I, and many Hindus, adore. I understand that there’s an immense element of humility involved in padapuja… The feet are so dirty and the only part of my guru’s body I’m even “fit” to touch are his/her feet. I get it – I get it. But I don’t buy it.

For another, all things are connected and interconnected. I’m reminded of that old children’s song, “Dem Bones.” For your enjoyment, you’ll find the lyrics to that song here. Check it out and you’ll see what I’m getting at.

If my unholy foot can cause my calf to be “soiled,” then by extension my thigh, my hip, my waist and my torso are also unclean simply because “dem bones” are all physiologically connected. And virtually every other part of me branches out from there. Using that math and following that logic, it shouldn’t really matter whether Ganesha sits permanently on my arm or my leg (in my case He’s to be found on both!) because not a single square inch of me is fit to bear an image of god.

And forget the Ganesha on my leg. The “Om Purnam” shloka wraps around my left wrist. Traditionally, the left hand is also a no-no. Does that mean that this is also viewed as disrespectful? Please picture me rolling my eyes and tossing my arms up in resignation. That’s just about where I am by this point.

I once read a book titled, “What’s Right with Islam is What’s Right with America.” (Or something like that) It broke apart the essence of Islam, and also the essence of what America represents. In both cases, culture gets in the way. Islam offers great things to the world, but Arab culture has virtually ruined it. The founding principles of America are what has, since its beginning, made it an incredible world power. And today we see the culture of Americans ruining so much – in our homeland AND abroad. I think I apply the concept of that book to my expression of Dharma.

As a practicing white American Hindu I’m freed from many of the ridiculous, detrimental, and selfish aspects of the typical American lifestyle and culture. And as a practicing white American Hindu I’m simultaneously freed from the proportionate ridiculousness of Indian culture.

I’m never usually for “picking and choosing.” Consistency. Dependability. Predictability. Stability. Those are all super valuable words and concepts that all should strive to implement in their lives. But I also think as we move in life it’s necessary at times to pick and choose. True or not, the Buddha is often quoted as having said, “Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.”

To think that God would ever feel disrespected by this particular expression of my bhakti definitely does not agree with my reason or common sense. I understand the cultural/religious background involved… but I simply don’t agree with it. And you can bet I told that man in the Ikea checkout line, too.

I told him with my mouth.

Om Shanti