r/EasternPhilosophy

How often do we feel comfortable being inwardly naked in front of anyone?

Physical nakedness is perhaps easier. You can remove your clothes, and there is nothing more to hide physically. Lovers do that all the time. But inward nakedness is much harder. To become inwardly naked is to allow everything that you have been protecting, your fear, confusion, attachment, helplessness, ignorance and self-image, to be exposed.

There is an interesting story about Duryodhana. Before the war, Gandhari asked him to come before her completely naked. Her gaze, through years of austerity, had the power to make his body as strong as iron. Duryodhana went to her, but even before his own mother, he felt embarrassed and covered his genitals. That was the one part of his body that remained vulnerable.

The story is about physical nakedness. But look at the parallel with Arjuna.

Arjuna is also a mighty warrior. He is standing in the middle of a battlefield, with everything that he has known about himself and his duty suddenly collapsing before him. He is afraid, confused, attached and helpless.

And yet, he does something much harder than removing his clothes. He becomes inwardly naked before Krishna.

He does not protect his image. He does not try to maintain the image of the great warrior who knows what to do. He does not hide his confusion or manufacture arguments to appear right. He simply exposes his actual situation before Krishna.

And this is precisely why Arjuna becomes the worthiest recipient of the Gita. Because he was able to become inwardly naked.

It could have been very different. Arjuna could have thought, I am Arjuna. I am a great warrior. What will Krishna think if I reveal that I am afraid, confused and unable to decide? He could have protected his image and continued to argue from that image.

But if Arjuna had been afraid of this inward nakedness, the Gita would not have happened at all.

The Gita became possible because Arjuna was willing to say, in complete helplessness, that he did not know. He stood before Krishna almost like a child before his father, without protecting himself from being seen.

This is why Arjuna's nakedness is harder than Duryodhana's. Duryodhana could not even become physically naked before his own mother. Arjuna was willing to become psychologically naked before Krishna.

And this nakedness goes even deeper than the physical body. Revealing one's clothes does not necessarily reveal anything. Revelation happens when what is within is no longer protected. Arjuna had this willingness. And perhaps that is why the Gita became available to him.

The question, then, is not merely whether we can remove our clothes. The much harder question is: can we allow ourselves to be inwardly naked?

I was reading the commentary of Acharya Prashant on this verse of Mandukya Upanishad and the framing of dualistic knowledge as ignorance is my key takeaway.

Mandukya Upanishad, Verse 7

नान्तःप्रज्ञं न बहिष्प्रज्ञं नोभयतःप्रज्ञं न प्रज्ञानघनं न प्रज्ञं नाप्रज्ञम्‌।
अदृष्टमव्यवहार्यमग्राह्यमलक्षणमचिन्त्यमव्यपदेश्यमेकात्मप्रत्ययसारं प्रपञ्चोपशमं शान्तं शिवमद्वैतं चतुर्थं मन्यन्ते स आत्मा स विज्ञेयः ॥

Construe: The fourth is thought of as that which is not conscious of the internal world, nor conscious of the external world, nor conscious of both the worlds, nor dense with consciousness, nor simple consciousness, nor unconsciousness, which is unseen, actionless, incomprehensible, not inferable, unthinkable indescribable, whose proof consists in the identity of the Self (in all states), in which all phenomena come to a cessation, and which is unchanging , auspicious, and non-dual. That is the Self; that is the to be known.

What is being talked of here is the knowing (of the Self) which transcends all the dualistic knowing in which there is a knower and the known object. The knower knows all about the object but does not know themselves. The 'Self' in the verse in itself can not be known directly but what is accessible to know is the self which accumulates all the knowledge.

The dualistic knowing creates a separation between the knower and the known object- because they are seen as different entities. The knower ignorant of him/herself do not know that they are made of exactly the same fundamental entities as the object under knowing albeit in different unique combinations giving the illusion of something essentially different.

When the dualistic knowledge drops because it seen as rooted in the ignorance of the knower, the knower is able to spontaneously know and respond. The response is not coming from memory and concepts but spontaneous knowing.

It is not to assert that all practical knowledge is useless but the sage in this verse is merely warning against identification with specific knowledge. To protect the knower from being dominated by the knowledge. Because the greater the knowledge, the greater the chance of being dominated. And thus self-knowledge which is knowing the knower becomes even more necessary. However, this spiritual knowledge should not become a replacement for the worldly dualistic knowledge but should remain a continuous practice.

This is the crux of spiritual knowledge. It keeps the dualistic knowledge at its place.

Have you read this verse of Mandukya Upanishad? What do you learn from this verse of Mandukya Upanishad?

Source: https://acharyaprashant.org/en/books/book-mandukya-upanishad-english

This is a famous Sufi teaching story I read today, known as The Tale of the Sands. It was compiled by Idries Shah in his book Tales of the Dervishes. The tale is believed to have come from the tradition linked to Abd al-Afifi of Tunisia.

Far away, a river rose from the mountains. Flowing against rocks, passing through valleys, crossing plains, it moved onward. Many obstacles came in its way, but each time the river found its path. For it knew where it had to reach. It had to reach the sea. One day, a vast desert appeared before it. The river thought, “I will cross this too.” It began to flow over the sand with all its strength. But the sand absorbed its water. The river drew back. Then it surged forward again, faster. But the result was the same. The more it advanced in its old way, the more quickly the desert swallowed it. Just then, a soft voice came from within the sand: “Where do you wish to go?” “To the sea.” “Then why are you going this way?” The river said, “I am a river. I can only go by flowing.” The voice said, “Is your goal the sea, or to remain a river?” The river fell silent. Then the voice spoke again, “Look at the wind. It crosses this desert.” “But I cannot become the wind.” “You do not have to become the wind. You must let go of that form which you have taken to be your identity.”

The river grew afraid. It wondered, if it ceased to be a river, what would remain? Yet on the other side lay the sea. And for the first time, the river saw its stubbornness more clearly than its path. It surrendered itself to the warmth of the sun. It became vapour. The vapour became a cloud. The wind lifted it and carried it across that same desert which the river could not cross by its own strength. Then the cloud rained. And the water descended again upon the earth. Flowing some distance, it became a river once more. And at last, the river reached the sea.

The story does not end here. Reading this, I realized: our greatest trouble is not the path, but that “I” which says, “I will do it only this way.” We desire the destination, but we do not wish to release our habits. We fear change, because it seems that without our old form, we will not survive. But the river had seen one truth: Love for the destination and attachment to old patterns cannot walk together.

Are we actually seeking the truth, or are we merely trying to reach it without giving up the ‘I’ that we have identified ourselves with?

Source:-
The Tale of the Sands, Tales of the Dervishes - Idries Shah.