Atma Vichara is sometimes known as "the royal way" or "the quick way" to awakening.
"Atma" means consciousness or awareness or the unfathomable intelligence. "Vichara" means inquiry into. So Atma Vichara means "inquiry into consciousness itself."
We all long for happiness. But we think that this happiness will come from objects or concepts, which cannot provide it. Nevertheless, we search for the next object or concept that will bring us happiness—and when it doesn't, the next one, and the next one.
So we long for more money or respect or more friends or more love or prestige. We long for heaven or God or awakening. We long for and long for, and it never ends, because it is the very nature of the mind to keep longing no matter what it has.
Atma Vichara reverses this, and asks us to inquire into the very source of this longing. We ask: "Who is it that is feeling this longing?" And when we look, we find nothing there but awareness itself.
When we catch ourselves thinking about ourselves we ask, "Who is it that is thinking about this 'me'?" And when we look we cannot find any personal someone. All we can find is awareness itself, searching for it.
When we feel sad and depressed we can ask, "Who is it that is feeling sad and depressed?" And we won't find anyone there. All we'll find is the awareness itself that is asking.
When we feel lonely and fearful we can ask, "Who is it that is feeling lonely and fearful?" And all we'll find is the vast consciousness itself in which this loneliness and fear is momentarily residing.
But whatever the contents of consciousness, those contents don't affect it, anymore than the weather fundamentally affects the sky. The sky may contain clouds or sunshine or rain, but the sky itself is unaffected. It continues to be pure spaciousness, no matter what the weather.
Or imagine a mirror. A mirror is not concerned about what is reflected in it. If there are many reflections it does not feel busy. If there are no reflections it does not feel bored. It just reflects whatever is there.
So it is with consciousness. The objects of consciousness come and go, like fireflies in the night. Desires come and go. Feelings come and go. Thoughts come and go. States of mind come and go. But consciousness always remains, always there. It has always been there, and indeed, is there now—pristine, pure, unsullied by anything.
The great 14th century Zen master Bassui used this so-called path. He would sit in isolated forests and hear a bird and ask, "Who is it that is hearing this bird?" And he could never find any "I" there, but only awareness itself. There was no "person" hearing it, but only aware spaciousness, like the sky.
The great 20th century master Ramana Maharshi used this as well. He would inquire, "Who am I?" or "What is this 'I' that my mind keeps thinking about?" And ultimately he couldn't find any personal somebody, but only the endless Self that has no boundaries anywhere. He could only find the awareness in which the question was taking place.
Hence the saying of the great masters that in reality there is no personal life. They say it in different ways, in different cultures and different times, but it's the same thing:
"There is no separate being, only Buddha-nature."
"I live not, but the Father liveth in me."
"Only the Self exists."
"There is nothing but the One."
—jim sloman, 3/6/01 for Mar 6
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