Jesus says:
“It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh profits nothing.”
Nisargadatta asks:
Who are you before you say what you are?
Between these two statements lies almost the entire spiritual journey.
We spend our lives saying:
I am this body.
I am this name.
I am this story.
I am what happened to me.
I am my successes.
I am my wounds.
I am my fears.
But all of these appeared after the simple fact:
I am.
Before “I am someone,” there is simply being.
And perhaps awakening begins when we stop confusing what appears with what we are.
The Person Appears
The body changes.
Thoughts change.
Emotions change.
Beliefs change.
Our story changes.
Everything we normally call “myself” is constantly moving.
Nisargadatta therefore asks us to look deeper.
If you can observe the body, you are not merely the body.
If you can observe thoughts, you are not merely thought.
If you can observe the personality, perhaps the personality is not your final identity.
Jesus points beyond the flesh toward spirit.
Not because the body must be hated.
But because the body cannot tell us what we ultimately are.
Born Again
Jesus said:
“You must be born again.”
Perhaps this new birth is the death of a mistaken identity.
The old identity says:
I am separate.
I am vulnerable.
I can be diminished.
I can be destroyed.
The new birth begins with another possibility:
What I truly am may not be the person I have spent my whole life defending.
This is not the improvement of the ego.
It is the questioning of the ego.
The Kingdom Is Not Elsewhere
Jesus said that the Kingdom of God is within.
Nisargadatta continually brought the seeker back to the simple sense of being.
Both teachings interrupt our endless movement outward.
We search for peace in circumstances.
For completion in relationships.
For security in possessions.
For God somewhere beyond ourselves.
But perhaps the distance between us and Truth never really existed.
Perhaps only a mistaken identity stood in the way.
Love Is Recognition
Jesus’ command to love our enemies is almost impossible for the separate self.
The ego survives by division:
me and you,
friend and enemy,
innocent and guilty,
victim and attacker.
But if our deepest nature is not separation, then love becomes something greater than morality.
Love becomes recognition.
And forgiveness becomes the willingness to look beyond the temporary person toward what cannot truly be divided.
Before “I Am”
Nisargadatta finally goes beyond even the sense “I am.”
The experience of being conscious appears and disappears.
What, then, is prior to consciousness itself?
He calls it the Absolute.
Jesus speaks of the Father.
We should not pretend that their teachings are identical.
But both eventually lead thought toward its limit.
There comes a point when Reality cannot be explained.
It can only be surrendered to.
What Remains?
Remove the name.
Remove the history.
Remove the body as identity.
Remove the memories.
Remove every description you have ever given yourself.
What remains?
At first:
I am.
And behind even that?
Silence.
Jesus points toward Spirit.
Nisargadatta points toward the Absolute.
And both leave us with the question that the mind can never completely answer:
Who are you before you become someone?
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