Gita key verses course 49 – The Quest for Oneness – Where it is right and where it goes wrong?
This discussion is going to be one of our concluding discussions on the Bhagavad Gita. We will have two more discussions after this. We will be discussing a topic that we have already hinted at in many ways, but we will address it directly for the first time: the search for oneness—where it is right and where it goes wrong. This will be based on Bhagavad Gita 18.55.
In Bhagavad Gita 18.55, Krishna says: “Devotees can know me as I am, actually. And having understood me in this way, they enter into that unlimited reality.” This verse, at first reading, can give a sense of oneness. It seems to say that through devotion, you can know me in truth, and after knowing me, you will enter into the one.
However, the actual word used is not “oneness,” but “anantaram,” meaning “unlimitedness” or “unlimited reality.” Now, what is that unlimited reality? That is often the subject of much philosophical debate. From today’s context, we will try to understand the sense of oneness.
Oneness is a very hotly debated subject, especially in the broad Indic philosophical context. There have been centuries of conflicts over this concept. However, I will not approach the subject from that traditional perspective. Yes, there are traditional debates by commentators from both the impersonalist and personalist traditions. In fact, both traditions have used war metaphors to describe their conflict—especially between the Madhva tradition and the Shankara tradition.
For instance, one commentator wrote a book called Advaita Kaalanala, meaning “the ultimate fire of destruction for Advaita.” On the other hand, the Advaitins (followers of Shankaracharya) wrote a book called Madhva Mukhamardana, meaning “smashing the face of Madhva.”
In Indian tradition, the confrontation between oneness (Advaita) and duality (Dvaita) has been a long-standing contest. In the past, when books were not easily accessible and printing was not available, scholars wrote books for scholars. They would often send these books to their opponents by having them carried on elephants. This back-and-forth exchange continued for generations. The debate over Advaita and Dvaita primarily revolved around the interpretation of Vedantic truths, especially statements from the Upanishads.
In contrast, today, oneness has a particular resonance and appeal. I will approach the quest for oneness from a contemporary perspective. Why is oneness so popular today? Almost any philosopher from the broad Indian background, and many spiritual teachers in general, tend to gravitate toward oneness. Most mainstream spiritual teachers advocate for oneness.
However, many of today’s spiritual teachers are not deeply learned in scripture, and their followers are often not particularly interested in scripture either. As a result, when we use scriptural arguments to refute impersonalism, they may not resonate much with people. The attraction to oneness or the orientation toward it is not necessarily rooted in scripture but in something else.
The concept of Advaita was re-envisioned in modern times—not as a merging into the absolute, but as an attempt toward harmony and unity in this world. I will explain this difference and elaborate on it further. Traditionally, Advaita Vada spoke of oneness at the transcendental level, where everything merges into the non-differentiated Brahman. In contrast, modern Advaita, sometimes called neo-Advaita, focuses on achieving oneness here and now, in the world, as a solution to disunity and disharmony.
This modern approach to oneness has great appeal today because the world is divided in many ways. Yes, the world has always been divided, with different people practicing different faiths or holding different belief systems. Historically, these people did not interact as frequently. Geographical and theological divides were often aligned. However, today, there is much more interaction due to tourism, trade, employment, and politics. As a result, differences in belief systems are more apparent, and addressing those differences has become a pressing issue. Oneness, in this context, seems to offer a logical solution.
In fact, many Indian spiritual teachers use oneness as a moral higher ground when engaging with Christianity. Christians often claim that Jesus is the only way to salvation, while proponents of Advaita claim that there is only one way—the same oneness can be found in all manifestations of the divine, whether it is Jesus, Muhammad, Krishna, or others. In this way, the Advaitins position themselves as more broad-minded and inclusive, contrasting with the exclusivity of Christian claims.
Thus, the appeal of oneness is not only in terms of the diversity we experience in the world but also in how we can avoid that diversity leading to conflict. For that, oneness is seen as a means of harmonization.
But it goes beyond harmonizing to homogenizing, trying to make everything into one in some ways. This is a bit of an elaborate contextualization for what I am speaking about. The way I’m approaching the subject is not by quoting scripture and explaining what this or that scripture says. I’ve already given a series of classes in my Upanishad course, where we talk based on scripture. But today, I am going to speak about why impersonalism appeals so much in today’s world and how we can address the longing for oneness. That’s why the title is focused on oneness, not impersonalism.
Oneness is indeed appealing, and even bhakti (devotion) and wisdom fulfill that longing for oneness. How they fulfill it is what we will discuss today. So, I will cover three points: What’s right about the longing for oneness? What’s wrong about it? And finally, how oneness can be understood holistically.
The Problem of Multiplicity
Multiplicity leads to confusion. It’s not just duality that we experience in the world. Duality is a philosophical concept where we see categories like male and female, Indian and Pakistani, American and Russian, etc. These are opposites, but we don’t only encounter duality; we encounter multiplicity. It’s not just about two-ness; it’s about the many. Multiplicity can distract us, divide us, delude us, and degrade us. Let’s look at these one by one.
How Can Multiplicity Distract Us?
There are so many things to pay attention to, and we keep looking for something new. We often hope that this new thing will bring us pleasure, but it never does. We’re left forever dissatisfied. This craving, driven by multiplicity, is a key force behind materialism and consumerism. The consumer industry constantly bombards us with new products. But this applies even in the spiritual domain, where people, instead of focusing on one spiritual path, jump from one to another. The allure of exploring multiple paths leads them to believe that all paths are one, so they no longer have to evaluate each individually. Oneness can be seen as a simplistic solution to the problem of multiplicity.
How Can Multiplicity Divide Us?
Multiplicity divides because people are not just attracted to different things, but even to opposite things. We’re not just talking about casual interests. For example, someone may prefer pizza while another prefers paratha—that’s fine. But when we talk about ultimate interests, things get more serious. For instance, if my ultimate belief is that only one God is real, and all other gods are false, I might feel compelled to destroy the beliefs of others. Multiplicity can create conflict, especially when it comes to ultimate beliefs.
How Can Multiplicity Delude Us?
Multiplicities, from both a scientific and traditional philosophical perspective, are ultimately superficial. Whether you look at it from the scientific standpoint, where everything is made up of atoms or subatomic particles, or from the traditional Sankhya perspective, where everything is made of the five elements (earth, water, fire, air, ether), everything boils down to a single source. From this view, multiplicity is an illusion. In science, the universe’s sensory properties—like beauty, taste, or color—are difficult to explain from the perspective of fundamental particles, which are insensate and colorless. Similarly, in traditional philosophy, how do attractive forms arise from basic elements? This complexity is confusing, leading to the delusion that multiplicity is real.
How Can Multiplicity Degrade Us?
In the pursuit of the new, we often become obsessed and irrational. We might become immoral or even insane. Insanity can occur when people become addicted, but even in the pursuit of sensual pleasures, we can lose our moral compass. In situations where there is a multiplicity of desires, people often act irrationally, wanting what others have—whether in relationships, politics, or consumer goods. Multiplicity breeds problems.
Is Oneness the Solution?
Yes, we hope that by seeing everything as one, the problem of multiplicity will disappear. The quest for oneness promises focus, harmony, elevation, and enlightenment. These qualities correspond to the four issues I raised about multiplicity—distraction, division, degradation, and delusion. We believe that finding one underlying reality beneath all the multiplicity will bring peace and clarity.
But is oneness truly the solution?
Oneness is often discussed today not just in terms of the ultimate reality, but also as a way to achieve harmony and unity in this world. This is a modern redefinition of Advaita (non-dualism)—not just as an abstract philosophical concept, but as a path toward unity in a divided world.
Now, let’s step back and reconsider what we are actually seeking when we pursue knowledge. Are we simply looking for information? For example, we may seek to know the capital of a country or the name of a river. That’s one kind of knowledge. But when we seek ultimate knowledge, we’re really searching for the biggest explanatory category that can account for everything. What is an explanatory category?
Consider when Newton observed an apple falling and asked, “What made the apple fall?” He wasn’t just asking about this one event; he was asking about the broader question: “What makes things fall?” This was not simply an answer to a specific event but an attempt to discover a general law—gravity, which explains many events. An explanatory category is a broader framework that helps us make sense of things.
Similarly, if you meet someone who doesn’t speak English, you might need to find out what language they speak. This becomes the explanatory category for understanding communication. In the same way, when we seek knowledge, we are seeking a bigger explanatory category, one that can help us understand the underlying unity of everything.
If our phone or laptop stops working, we don’t just ask, “Why did it stop working?” and accept, “Oh, because a particular component of the software got corrupted.” That’s not enough. There could be many different reasons why the computer got corrupted—viruses, software issues, or something else. It’s an explanatory category. We can delve deeper into the cause, but often, we don’t need to analyze everything in great detail. What we’re ultimately looking for is one explanatory category that can explain everything.
For instance, science has been seeking a “theory of everything” or a “grand unified theory.” Many different scientific theories exist, and scientists have been searching for a grand theory to unify them all. However, they are realizing that this search is elusive and that finding such a theory might be very difficult. Still, the idea of oneness is also an intellectual quest. The world is full of multiplicity, and to make sense of it, we need one explanatory category to simplify things. For example, we place people into categories based on behaviors, such as how we act in the workplace versus at home. These categories help us navigate life and make sense of the world.
The search for knowledge, then, is essentially a search for explanatory categories that help us understand the world. For many, oneness is the explanatory category that can explain everything. If we believe everything is one, we hope that conflicts will disappear. For example, in sociology, when people fight over religion, race, caste, or nationality, thoughtful individuals may stress our oneness as human beings. We are all part of the same species, and why should we fight over superficial differences? In movies about sectarian violence, characters may say, “Can you tell which blood belongs to a Hindu or a Muslim? We’re all the same.” The idea here is that oneness could dissolve our conflicts.
We might even extend this oneness beyond human beings to include animals. After all, animals also experience pain and suffering, so we should treat them with compassion too. The search for oneness seems like a natural solution to the problems caused by complexity and multiplicity. With so many conflicts in the world today—due to interactions between people from different cultures, technological advances, and increasingly complex jobs—oneness feels like an antidote to the fragmentation and division we experience.
So, there is much right with the search for oneness. However, the issue isn’t with the quest itself but with how we conceptualize oneness. When searching for oneness, we often make certain assumptions that influence our understanding of it. For example, one assumption is that for something to be truly one, it must be formless and impersonal, because form and personality tend to dilute and divide. Specifics—like gender, nationality, or personality—are seen as divisive, while universals—such as the idea that we are all human—are believed to unite.
While there’s truth in the idea that specifics can divide, we must ask: Does removing these specifics actually unite us? If we reduce everything to a single, formless entity, does that solve the problem of division? We can say, “We are all human beings,” but what does that really mean? Our shared humanity might seem like the common ground, but what exactly does it entail? We all experience pain, but we don’t always experience the same types of pain or the same responses to it. Someone who follows a vegetarian diet might feel pain when they see others eating meat, while a non-vegetarian may feel pleasure from it. So, is sentience, or our shared capacity for feeling, really the key to oneness?
This raises a deeper question: Is oneness rooted in something more profound than just emotion? Beyond our emotional aspirations, is oneness grounded in philosophical reality? If we remove all divisive factors—race, religion, and gender—what are we left with? The concept of a formless, impersonal oneness often leads to a state of being that is devoid of emotion, desire, and love. And while such a state might be peaceful, it can feel lifeless, akin to a stone.
It’s easy to claim, “I love humanity,” because it’s a concept that feels good to say. But when it comes to loving individual human beings, it’s much harder. As the comedian said, “I love humanity; it’s only human beings I have a problem with.” Why? Because relationships with real people come with their own complexities. People have personalities, desires, and habits that might clash with ours. It takes commitment, humility, tolerance, and sacrifice to truly love and care for others.
So, while it’s easy to say we love humanity as an abstract concept, truly loving human beings—flaws and all—is where the real challenge lies. And when we claim to love humanity, it’s often more about feeling superior to others. The emotional appeal of oneness is powerful, but we must consider whether oneness, when stripped of its specifics, is truly the solution we seek.
The love for humanity must be expressed through love for specific human beings. Only then can that love for individuals expand. However, oneness, when conceived in a simplistic way—”we are all one”—strips reality of everything that makes it attractive. It can reduce our existence to something lifeless and impersonal, almost like a stone.
This is where the Bhagavad Gita and the Bhakti tradition offer insight. They explain that not all things or qualities are equal. Similarly, not all specifics are the same. It’s not the specifics themselves that divide us, but the nature of those specifics. If we consider things in terms of material and spiritual specifics, we can make a distinction.
Let me come back to this idea later using a four-quadrant diagram, but for now, consider this: there is a point of origin where there are no specifics at all. Material specifics—such as differences in race, nationality, or personality—can divide us, while spiritual specifics are different. Spiritual specifics are part of the ultimate reality. Now, how these spiritual specifics can unite us is a larger discussion, but the assumption that removing all specifics will unite us is not entirely accurate. Removing specifics might remove everything that drives us to action and everything that makes life worth living.
Imagine a world without people—just an amorphous concept of humanity. Who would we love? Who would we connect with? We can’t have a deep, reciprocal relationship with an abstract idea of humanity. We need specific people to love, even though these people might have problems and we might have problems. The solution isn’t to depersonalize everyone and focus solely on a conceptual oneness.
While oneness is desirable, if we extend this idea to a psychological or spiritual level, it could lead to stripping away everything that motivates us to act. When people say we shouldn’t fight over sectarian differences, that’s true. But why shouldn’t we fight? It’s because we care about specifics. For example, we see one person wounded, and then another. We recognize the shared human suffering, but it’s through the perception of individual experiences that we understand this shared pain. Our emotions are driven by specific experiences, and emotions are essential for a life well-lived.
Can we absolutize oneness? I mentioned earlier that I would approach this from a contemporary perspective, but some philosophical considerations are relevant here. Two fundamental questions arise for those who assert that oneness is the ultimate reality: Where does multiplicity come from? And why are we attracted to it?
If there’s only one ultimate reality—Brahman, as described in the Upanishads—then where does the multiplicity of the world come from, and why are we so drawn to it? Some argue that this multiplicity is an illusion, but if that’s the case, then why do we experience it? If Brahman is the only reality, then where does the illusion of multiplicity originate? And why does our consciousness engage with it?
These questions are crucial because if there is only oneness, then the multiplicity we experience must be an illusion. But if we accept the existence of illusion, we must also accept that it has some reality within our experience. This leads us to a concept of “two-ness”—the coexistence of illusion and reality. So, where does the illusion come from? And how does it relate to our perception of reality?
One way to think about this is through the famous example of the mirage. There is no water in the mirage, but for me to mistake the mirage for water, there must have been some experience with water to trigger that illusion. Similarly, where does my perception of the illusion come from? There is reality, and there is illusion, but there is also the perceiver—me—who perceives the illusion.
So, if everything is ultimately one, we must ask: Where does the perception of the illusion come from? This is a central mystery of consciousness, and it can be explored from both a philosophical and scientific perspective. From a scientific standpoint, reality is constantly changing, and the idea of a constant, unchanging reality is often an operational fiction. For example, when we look at a burning candle, we perceive a stable flame, but in reality, the flame is constantly changing. The concept of a constant flame is useful for us, but it doesn’t fully capture the dynamic nature of reality.
To understand the mystery of consciousness or the nature of oneness, we need to understand the components involved: the reality, the illusion, and the perceiver. We might say, “Everything is just a reflection” or “All of this is an illusion.” But even when we consider this in philosophical terms, we must ask: Where does the perception of this illusion come from? The perception of illusion, the perception of being a perceiver—these are key aspects of the deeper mystery of consciousness.
There are two categories to consider here: Pratibimbhavad (the world as a reflection) and Mayavad (the world as an illusion). The world is often described as a shadow or a reflection—these are different ways of understanding reality. There are many ideas within this framework, but I will just broadly categorize them here.
Reflection is possible only when there is a reality to reflect, and when there is an observer to perceive the reflection. If oneness is the ultimate reality, then why does illusion exist? And why is there someone perceiving this illusion?
The holistic understanding is that there is a reflection and there is a reality. The material form, personality, and variety represent the reflection, while the spiritual form, personality, and variety are the reality. I will explain this in more detail later.
Now, let’s explore oneness from a more holistic perspective. When we perceive the world, there are three components involved:
- The subject of consciousness—which is ourselves, the perceiver.
- The object of consciousness—what we are perceiving.
- The stream of consciousness—the connection or flow between the subject and the object.
For example, if an alcoholic sees a bottle of alcohol, they are the subject, the bottle is the object, and the stream of consciousness flows from the object (the bottle) to the subject (the alcoholic).
On a psychological level, the concept of “we are all one” might make sense, but when we examine oneness philosophically, we reach this conclusion: oneness would imply that the stream of consciousness is the only reality. The distinction between the subject and the object would vanish, leaving only consciousness. In this view, both the object and the perceiver are illusions. Only the stream of consciousness remains.
However, this raises a significant question: If there is nothing to perceive and no one to perceive it, can we truly say that perception exists? If there is no object to be conscious of and no subject to be conscious, what does consciousness even mean? Consciousness without a subject and an object seems paradoxical. What would this kind of consciousness experience? If there’s nothing to experience, can it really be considered consciousness?
At the intellectual and emotional levels, this form of oneness may feel incomplete. If everything is an illusion, then where does that leave us emotionally or philosophically?
This is a point often raised by animal rights activists when they argue that oneness should extend beyond humans to other species. They call the human-centered view “speciesism,” suggesting that humans should evolve to respect and care for all living beings, not just their own species.
Yes, it’s important to move beyond speciesism, but we do this because we have observed that animals, too, experience emotions and suffer like humans. Our attraction to animals and the recognition of their sentience expands the circle of compassion. The key idea here is that we extend our love to all living beings because we recognize shared characteristics with them.
However, the challenge with the simplistic idea of oneness is that it removes the very basis of affection. If there is no subject and no object, then where does affection or compassion come from? The basis of compassion is recognizing another as a subject with similar traits or experiences. If both subject and object disappear in the notion of oneness, then there is nothing left to experience or connect with.
This is why simplistic ideas of oneness—whether emotional or philosophical—are incomplete.
The Bhakti tradition offers a more nuanced perspective: Unity in diversity. The Bhagavad Gita teaches that there is not just unity in diversity, but also diversity in unity. What does this mean? It means that the subject of consciousness, the object of consciousness, and the stream of consciousness all exist within one ultimate reality. Oneness does not require the dissolution of subject and object; it means understanding that both are part of one reality.
What is this ultimate reality? According to the Bhakti tradition, it is a personal absolute.
To understand this, consider the relationship between the devotee and God. Often, when we approach God—such as Krishna—we think of ourselves as distinct from Krishna. We are here, and Krishna is there, and we are worshipping Krishna. But the deeper understanding is that we are already part of Krishna. It is not that we are here and Krishna is there; Krishna is here with us.
This realization occurs as we worship and connect with Krishna, not just externally, but internally as well. As our devotion deepens, we come to realize that Krishna resides in our hearts, and we are not separate from Him.
In Bhakti philosophy, Krishna is both the object of consciousness (the deity we worship), the subject of consciousness (He is within us, and we are His consciousness), and the stream of consciousness (the connection that flows between us and Him). Krishna embodies all of these aspects.
When we understand oneness in this way, we don’t see Krishna solely as an image on the altar. Krishna, in his inclusive reality, includes all of us. In the Nectar of Devotion, Srila Prabhupada explains that Krishna means both Himself and His energies. We may differentiate between Krishna and His energies for the sake of worship, but philosophically, Krishna encompasses all His energies, including us.
So, when we speak of oneness in the Bhakti tradition, we see it as a dynamic reality. Krishna is the subject of consciousness, the object of consciousness, and the stream of consciousness—all in one. This vision allows for a deep, enriching understanding of both individuality and unity.
From a mundane perspective, the subject of consciousness is a biological being—a human, an animal, or a plant. But from the spiritual perspective, the subject of consciousness is an embodied soul. The soul is pure, and the physical body is just a temporary vessel. The soul experiences the world through this body, but its true nature transcends material limitations.
The soul’s consciousness is filtered through its embodiment. So, what is the object of consciousness? From a material perspective, it is the various worldly objects we perceive. However, from a spiritual perspective, the object of consciousness is the all-inclusive ultimate reality with its various energies.
Take the example of being attracted to someone’s beauty. At one level, because this beauty is temporary, it could be considered an illusion. Yes, that is one way of looking at it. But another way to view it is to understand that this beauty is a spark—just a manifestation of Krishna’s ultimate beauty. It’s only when we see this beauty as separate from Krishna’s beauty that we fall into illusion.
In essence, the object of consciousness is not merely specific worldly objects. It is those worldly objects in connection with Krishna. For example, when we see the beauty of nature, if we understand that this beauty ultimately comes from Krishna, we gain a holistic vision. Thus, we don’t need to dismiss the objects of perception as illusion. The objects of perception are real; it’s just that we often perceive them as disconnected from the ultimate reality.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna repeatedly says, “Among mountains, I am the Himalayas. Among rivers, I am the Ganga. Among water bodies, I am the ocean.” He provides specific examples of objects that represent His essence. By saying, “I am these,” Krishna is not dismissing these objects as illusions. Rather, He is pointing out that these are manifestations of Krishna, and we can perceive them from a holistic perspective as part of His divine reality.
What about the stream of consciousness? The stream of consciousness is often seen as the product of the materially agitated mind or the activated brain. There are brain signals, emotions, and mental processes. While this is part of it, the stream of consciousness is ultimately the innate energy of spiritual personality. There is the supreme spiritual personality—Krishna—and smaller individual personalities, like ours. Our consciousness is a part of the cosmic consciousness, which is Krishna. Krishna is the supreme person, and we are finite persons.
So, for attaining oneness, we don’t need to remove the subject and the object of consciousness, leaving only the stream. Instead, we must recognize that the subject, object, and stream are all part of one reality, and that reality is Krishna.
For the purpose of reciprocation with Krishna, Krishna may appear as the object of perception and we as the subject. That’s fine. But even when we worship Krishna on the altar, we understand that Krishna is not only on the altar. He is also in the heart of the person standing next to us. While we may not perceive Krishna in the other person right now, we intellectually accept this understanding and gradually move toward that realization.
Moving forward, if we consider this from a broader perspective, there is the reflection and the source of the reflection. Both are real. The reflection can be seen as the material form, personality, and material specifics, while the source of the reflection is spiritual.
For example, we might think a mirage is real because we have experienced water elsewhere. Similarly, we are attracted to forms in this world because there is an attractive form elsewhere. The teachings of the Gita are clear: both the reflection and the source of the reflection are real. Materialism, however, holds that the reflection is real, but there is no world beyond this—everything beyond is just a fantasy created by religious teachings. On the other hand, impersonalism argues that the source of the reflection is real, but the reflection itself is false. Nihilism holds that nothing is real—this world and everything else are false.
The teachings of the Gita go beyond just personalism; they are transpersonal. To understand personalism, we must consider the limitations of material personality, which can lead to frustration. People let us down, disappoint us, or betray us, which might lead us to seek impersonalism—escaping from the limitations of interpersonal relationships. However, even those who seek solitude eventually yearn for connection, because we all desire reciprocation.
Impersonalism lacks reciprocation, which leads to emptiness and frustration. Transpersonalism offers a solution. It posits the existence of an all-attractive personality with whom we can have unending reciprocation, leading to ultimate fulfillment. That personality is Krishna. To attain oneness, we don’t have to remove subordinate explanatory categories.
When it comes to form, we must recognize that material form is not eternal. That’s why we are attracted to forms, but eventually, they decay. On the other hand, formlessness is difficult to conceive and relate to. How do we develop any kind of relationship with formlessness? It’s not very attractive. The answer is transcendental form, which is eternal and eternally attractive. Krishna’s form is transcendental and includes us all as part of His ultimate reality.
The ultimate oneness is not achieved by dissolving individuality, but by harmonizing our intentions. This means recognizing that serving Krishna is in our ultimate interest. We may serve Krishna in different ways, but our shared goal is to serve Krishna.
Oneness is not about eliminating the subject and the object. Rather, it is about understanding that both the subject and the object are within one reality. It’s similar to how we view a family or a nation: we may have distinct roles, but we share common interests. Similarly, when we talk about not fighting over differences, such as religion or race, we are advocating for the harmonization of intentions, not the denial of differences.
Harmonization of intention happens when we have an inclusive vision of the ultimate reality. The oneness of love—if that is what we want to experience—is what we all long for. The oneness of love requires the two-ness of lover and beloved, and then it unifies them through their shared love. This is the oneness of Bhakti. It is a harmonization of intention, not a dissolution of individuality.
The Bhagavad Gita urges us to go beyond the urge to merge and to embrace the longing for loving. The urge to merge may lead to some peace, but it is an unsatisfying, unfulfilling peace. On the other hand, the longing for loving leads to enduring fulfillment, which is what the Bhagavad Gita guides us toward.
When Krishna speaks, He is not merely referring to entering into an impersonal void or a stream of consciousness. He is talking about entering into the ultimate reality, where everything is seen as part of one ultimate reality. That is the call of the Bhagavad Gita: a call to enduring spiritual love, not a call for oneness that denies the reality of love. It is a oneness that celebrates the eternal, supreme reality of love.
To summarize what we’ve discussed today: we began by discussing why oneness has become so appealing in today’s world. The world is so divided and fragmented that we long for oneness. Then, I talked about what’s right about the quest for oneness. Multiplicity divides, deludes, distracts, and degrades us, leading to conflicts in society. When there are conflicts, people often say, “Don’t focus on your sectarian differences—see the oneness of humanity.” That’s one reason we long for oneness. In philosophy and science, too, we seek explanations—not just specific explanations, but broader explanatory categories, ultimately searching for the grand unified theory.
Then, we discussed what’s wrong with the quest for oneness. Yes, specifics divide us, but the removal of specifics doesn’t necessarily unite us, because what drives us is the experience arising from the specifics. A formless, emotionless, loveless reality is not what we aspire to.
We also briefly discussed the philosophical problem with oneness: if we talk about oneness, where does our perception of something other than oneness come from? That perception requires both the pursuit of things wrongly and the existence of perceivers who wrongly pursue them. If there is a reality and a reflection, then for the reflection to exist, there must be a reality that reflects it falsely, a medium to reflect it, and a perceiver who sees it differently.
In reality, there are three components: the object of consciousness, the subject of consciousness, and the stream of consciousness. If we take simplistic ideas of oneness to their ultimate conclusion, they require the dissolution of both the subject and the object. What remains is just a stream of consciousness—and even that may not be conscious without a perceiver.
The Bhakti tradition explains oneness differently. It doesn’t require dissolving individuality, but rather shows that everything belongs to one reality as its diverse energies. The object of consciousness, the subject of consciousness, and the stream of consciousness are all parts of Krishna. Krishna is not just one reality among many, but the one reality that unifies all realities, manifesting as the various realities we perceive. The worldly objects that attract and delude us are not illusions. Our perception of them may be an illusion, but they themselves are real. The journey toward reality is about seeing them properly.
We discussed the concept of four quadrants, where material specifics and spiritual specifics differ—one below the zero point on the negative axis, the other on the positive axis. When considering reflection and reality, the Gita teaches that both the reflection and the source of reflection are real. Materialism holds that only the reflection is real, while monism or impersonalism argues that only the source of the reflection is real, and nihilism claims that nothing is real. The Gita’s teachings guide us beyond the urge to merge and toward the longing for loving, leading to ultimate fulfillment.
Thank you very much. Hare Krishna.
Now, we have a few questions. Let’s see how many we can address:
- Entering the Kingdom of God: Krishna is not just explaining everything at once. He points us toward the spiritual world, which is ultimately a realm of loving reciprocation. The “kingdom of God” is a place of loving relationships between Krishna and His devotees. It’s not about entering an impersonal void but entering into a realm where the subject (the devotees) and the object (Krishna) of love coexist and reciprocate.
- Is the reality we experience an illusion of the ultimate reality?: The concept of “illusion” here can be compared to an exam created by a teacher for a student. The world we experience is like that exam—created by the ultimate reality (Krishna) for the soul to experiment with different alternatives. After this experimentation, the soul eventually turns toward Krishna.
- If souls are discrete, how are they parts of Krishna?: Souls are discrete parts of Krishna in the sense that they maintain individuality while being connected to Him. Think of it like being part of a nation or family: we are discrete individuals with unique identities, but we are also part of a larger whole. Similarly, souls are individuals with free will, but they are also part of Krishna, the Supreme Being. The soul’s individuality does not contradict its connectedness to Krishna.
So, this way we can understand.
Now, is seeing the objects as disconnected from Krishna an illusion in my mind when I perceive the objects as real and not from Krishna?
Well, perceiving the objects as real is not the problem. The problem is perceiving them as separate from Krishna. Beauty is real, taste is real, fragrance is real. So, what’s the issue? The issue is that we think these objects can satisfy our longing for happiness. We constantly long for happiness, but permanent happiness can’t be found in separate objects.
Now, is oneness to be understood in qualitative or quantitative terms?
When discussing oneness, it’s a bit complicated. What do we mean by oneness? Generally, Prabhupada uses the terms “qualitative” and “quantitative” to explain that we are like a drop and Krishna is like the ocean. So, is the drop the same as the ocean or different from it? Well, quantitatively, it’s different. Qualitatively, it’s one. That is one way to understand it.
At the same time, the drop and the ocean analogy is not a complete example, because no analogy is perfect. When the drop enters the ocean, does it still exist? Generally, to our observation, it does not. But if you consider the drop made of fundamental water molecules, then the molecules continue to exist. So, at a quantitative level, there is difference, and at a qualitative level, there is oneness. This analogy holds true in that context.
How did the living entity fall down and get separated from Brahman, according to Mayavad?
Generally, the question of origins has no good answer. No philosophy that I have encountered provides a satisfying answer. There are bad answers, worse answers, and worst answers. For example, materialism says that consciousness came spontaneously from matter, which is the worst answer. Mayavad, on the other hand, suggests that everything is illusion, which is a worse answer. The idea that the soul fell from the spiritual world due to envy of Krishna is a bad answer. So, there are no good answers, in my understanding.
What exactly is sayujya, and what happens when the soul attains sayujya liberation?
Sayujya liberation refers to merging with the impersonal effulgence of Brahman. When the soul enters that effulgence, it stays there but doesn’t lose its individuality—rather, it conceives that it has lost its individuality. It’s a matter of perception. If a soul strongly desires oneness in the sense of dissolving the subject and object, it may experience the blinding effulgence of Brahman, where there is no distinct object (like Krishna) to perceive. That’s why we have prayers like “hirandamayana, patreana, sattvayana,” asking for the removal of that blinding brightness so we can see Krishna. The soul may stay in the effulgence of Brahman for varying lengths of time, depending on the nature of the soul.
Are we calling monists Mayavadis?
Today, when I refer to Brahma, Madhvaites, Gaudiya Vaishnavism, Advaitins, and Dvaitins, our tradition hasn’t actively engaged in debates with Advaitins, although there have been some discussions. Our focus has generally been on establishing the supremacy of Krishna’s sweetness, rather than directly refuting impersonalism.
Mayavadis don’t use the term “Mayavadi” to label themselves. The term was coined by a prominent Advaitin scholar in the 13th or 14th century. Mayavadis assert that everything we experience is Maya (illusion), and the ultimate reality is beyond our direct experience. They do not claim that the ultimate reality is Maya, but that everything we currently experience is an illusion.
Do Mayavadis use God to explain Mithya (illusion)?
Yes, there are different levels at which explanations are given. For example, Advaitins assert that the Paramarthic reality is Brahman, and the other realities are Vyavaharic, or operational. Brahman comes into contact with the material world in different ways, manifesting as matter (Tamas), the soul (Jiva), or the supreme Lord (Ishvara) depending on the mode of nature it interacts with.
In this framework, worshipping God can be seen as a means to transcend illusion. The idea is that through worship, one progresses toward the ultimate realization of Brahman, beyond the material and personal distinctions.
So thank you very much!
Hare Krishna.