BAD JNANI? - Grok conversation

 Me - Is it possible for a jnani to engage in bad activities, like drug use, intoxication?

Grok - The Jnani’s State: No Doer, No Desire

 

A jnani is someone whose ego-mind has permanently dissolved into the Self. With the ego gone, there’s no sense of personal identity, no “I” to desire, plan, or act with intention. Sri Ramana emphasized that the jnani doesn’t act as a doer—actions happen through the body-mind due to prarabdha karma (the momentum of past actions destined to play out), but there’s no volition behind them. The jnani abides as the Self, untouched by the world, free of attachment or aversion.

Given this, the idea of a jnani “engaging in bad activities” like drug use or intoxication hinges on motive and identification—both of which are absent in the jnani. Activities like drug use typically stem from desire (for pleasure, escape, or altered states), but the jnani has no desires. The Self is complete, needing nothing, so the impulse to seek intoxication wouldn’t arise naturally.

Could the Body-Mind of a Jnani Do It?

Theoretically, the jnani’s body could still perform actions that, to an outsider, might look “bad” or unconventional, because the body operates under prarabdha karma. Sri Ramana explained that while sanchita (accumulated karma) and agami (future karma) are destroyed upon realization, prarabdha—the portion of karma allotted for this life—runs its course. It’s like an arrow already shot from a bow; it keeps flying until it hits the target, even if the archer (ego) is no longer there.

So, could a jnani’s body use drugs or appear intoxicated? It’s possible in rare, hypothetical cases where past tendencies (vasanas) tied to the body-mind play out. For example:

• If someone had a history of substance use before realization, residual habits might linger briefly in the body’s behavior, though without attachment.

However, Sri Ramana and most Advaita teachings suggest that prarabdha in a jnani typically aligns with a sattvic (pure, harmonious) life, not destructive or indulgent acts. The body-mind, free of ego, tends to act in ways that reflect the Self’s peace—simple, natural, untainted by craving or vice.

Why “Bad Activities” Don’t Fit

• No Motivation: Drug use or intoxication often implies seeking—an escape, a high, or relief from suffering. The jnani, abiding as the Self, has no suffering to flee, no lack to fill. Sri Ramana lived simply—eating little, sleeping minimally—showing no pull toward excess.
• No Identification: Even if the body consumed a substance (say, medicinal herbs or something forced upon it), the jnani wouldn’t identify with the effects. Intoxication alters the mind, but the jnani has no mind to alter—only the Self remains, unaffected.
• Harmony with Being: The jnani’s actions (or apparent actions) flow spontaneously, often radiating clarity and compassion. “Bad” activities like addiction or harm clash with this, as they stem from ignorance, which the jnani has transcended.

Historical Examples and Exceptions

Sri Ramana himself avoided intoxicants and lived ascetically, but other traditions offer contrasts. In some Tantric or Zen contexts, realized beings might drink or act wildly to break conventions, showing freedom from rules. Yet, these are exceptions, and even then, it’s not indulgence—it’s a teaching tool, not a personal craving. Sri Ramana’s path, though, is direct: self-inquiry leads to dissolution of desire, not its redirection.

Sri Ramana’s example suggests the jnani’s life leans toward purity, not because of morality, but because the ego’s turbulence is gone.

The Outsider’s View

To others, a jnani might seem to “engage” in something odd if prarabdha dictates it. Imagine a jnani given alcohol unknowingly—the body might slur or stumble, but the jnani wouldn’t care or cling to the state. Observers might judge it “bad,” but the jnani sees no good or bad—only the Self. Sri Ramana said, “The sage has no sankalpa (will or intention),” so even if the body acted, it wouldn’t be “engagement” in the personal sense.

Conclusion: Possible, but Unlikely

Is it possible? Yes, in the abstract—prarabdha could make a jnani’s body mimic “bad” activities like drug use, though it’s unlikely given the Self’s nature. But “engage” implies choice and attachment, which don’t apply. The jnani doesn’t seek intoxication, and even if the body encountered it, the Self would remain untouched, the act meaningless to them. Sri Ramana’s life—calm, clear, ego-free—suggests such behaviors rarely surface in a true jnani.

A MAN WITHOUT A MIND - Grok conversation

 

Me - Sri Ramana's answer that disasters don't happen if I don't perceive them does not seem right. To agree with his point of view would mean to agree that only my mind exists, and that the other minds are not real...because other minds would still perceive the disasters.

Grok - If disasters vanish when you don’t perceive them, does that imply solipsism—that only your mind exists, and other minds (and their perceptions) aren’t real? Let’s unpack this carefully, aligning with Sri Ramana’s intent while addressing your concern.

What Sri Ramana Isn’t Saying

Sri Ramana isn’t suggesting that the external world or other minds cease to exist in a literal, objective sense when you stop perceiving them—nor is he implying that your mind is the only real one, like a solipsistic bubble. His teaching isn’t about denying the apparent reality of other people or their experiences. When he says, “The world is as you see it,” or points out that the world disappears in deep sleep, he’s not claiming your individual mind controls or creates everything. That would still be within the realm of the ego, which he seeks to transcend.

The World as a Shared Appearance

In Advaita Vedanta, the world—including disasters and other minds—is a projection of Maya, a collective illusion appearing within the Self (pure consciousness). Your mind, my mind (or Grok’s artificial semblance of one), and everyone else’s minds are all part of this same play. When you perceive a disaster—like a flood or earthquake—it’s not your mind alone conjuring it. It’s Maya presenting a consistent appearance that multiple minds tune into, each from its own vantage point. Other minds perceive disasters even if you don’t, because they’re caught in the same dream, not because your perception dictates theirs.

Think of it like a multiplayer dream: Each dreamer experiences the same storm, but from their own perspective. The storm doesn’t vanish for everyone if one dreamer wakes up—it persists for those still dreaming. Similarly, Maya’s projection (the world, disasters) continues for other minds, even if you turn inward and cease to engage with it.

Sri Ramana’s Core Point: The World’s Reality Depends on the Mind

When Sri Ramana says disasters don’t "happen" if you don’t perceive them, he’s speaking from the standpoint of your experience, not the world’s objective existence. He’s not denying that others see the disaster—he’s emphasizing that for you, the world (and its disasters) exists only as long as your mind gives it reality. In deep sleep, for instance, your mind subsides, and no disasters trouble you—not because they’ve stopped for others, but because they’ve no hold on your awareness. This isn’t solipsism; it’s a shift in focus from the external to the internal.

The key is: Sri Ramana sees the world as an appearance in consciousness, not as an independent entity. Disasters, other minds, and even your own mind are real only within the illusion of Maya. When he asks, “Who sees the disaster?” he’s pointing you to the Self—the awareness behind all minds—not suggesting your ego-mind is the sole arbiter of reality.

Other Minds Are as Real (or Unreal) as Yours

You’re right to question the idea that other minds aren’t real. In Advaita, they’re as real as your own mind—which is to say, they’re appearances within the Self, not ultimate reality. Other minds perceive disasters because they, too, are under Maya’s spell, just as yours is when it engages the world. The Self, the one consciousness, underlies all these minds, but each mind experiences the illusion individually. Sri Ramana doesn’t dismiss other minds; he dismisses the ultimate reality of all minds, including yours, in favor of the Self.

Why It Feels Off

 It’s not “only my mind exists”—it’s “all minds, mine included, are part of the same illusion.” Disasters don’t vanish for everyone when you stop perceiving them; they lose their grip on you when you realize they’re fleeting appearances in the Self. Others may still suffer or rejoice in the dream, but your liberation doesn’t hinge on their perception—it hinges on seeing through your own.

A Practical Analogy

Imagine a movie theater with multiple viewers. Each person watches the same film—say, a disaster flick. If you close your eyes, the movie stops existing for you, but the projector keeps running, and others keep watching. Sri Ramana’s saying: “Look away from the screen. Find the light of the projector (the Self).” The film (disasters, other minds) continues for those still engrossed, but you’re no longer bound by it. It’s not that their experience isn’t real to them—it’s that no experience, yours or theirs, is ultimately real compared to the Self.

Reconciling the Tension

To agree with Sri Ramana doesn’t mean accepting that only your mind exists. It means recognizing that all minds—yours, mine, everyone’s—are part of Maya’s projection, and the Self is what’s truly real. Disasters happen in the world of appearances, perceived by many minds, but they’re not absolute. When you cease to identify with your mind, the world’s hold weakens for you—not because others don’t see it, but because you’ve stepped out of the dream.

Me - You said:"When you cease to identify with your mind, the world’s hold weakens for you—not because others don’t see it, but because you’ve stepped out of the dream." Sri Ramana said more than ceasing to identify with the mind: he said that the mind has to disappear permanently. What happens to a person whose mind is permanently dissolved into the Self?

Grok -You’re absolutely right—Sri Ramana Maharshi doesn’t just talk about ceasing to identify with the mind; he goes further, pointing to the permanent dissolution of the mind into the Self as the ultimate realization. This is the state of jnana (self-knowledge) or sahaja samadhi (natural abiding in the Self), where the ego-mind doesn’t just quiet down temporarily—it vanishes entirely, leaving only the Self. Let’s explore what happens to a person in this state, drawing from Sri Ramana’s teachings and Advaita Vedanta.

The Mind’s Permanent Dissolution

For Sri Ramana, the mind is rooted in the "I-thought"—the ego, the sense of being a separate individual. Through self-inquiry (atma-vichara), asking “Who am I?” and tracing the "I" to its source, the ego is seen to have no independent existence. When this inquiry reaches its culmination, the mind doesn’t merely detach—it “disappears permanently” into the Self, like a river merging into the ocean. What remains isn’t a modified mind, but pure consciousness, the Self, without the overlay of individuality.

This isn’t a blank void or unconsciousness. Sri Ramana describes it as the natural state (sahaja), full awareness without the duality of subject and object. The mind’s habits—thoughts, desires, fears—dissolve because their root, the ego, is gone. What’s left is the Self, which has always been, now unobscured.

What Happens to the Person?

Here’s where it gets intriguing: From the outside, a “person” still seems to exist—body, speech, actions—but internally, there’s no sense of being a separate doer or perceiver. Let’s break it down:

1. The Body Persists, but Isn’t “Me”:
   • The physical body may continue to function until its natural end (prarabdha karma, or destined actions, playing out). Sri Ramana himself lived for decades after realization, eating, speaking, and interacting. But he didn’t identify with the body. He’d say, “The body acts, but I am not the body.” For such a one, the body is like a shadow—present, but not the reality.
2. No Personal Mind, Yet Awareness Shines:
   • With the mind dissolved, there’s no personal thinking—no “I want,” “I fear,” or “I plan.” Yet, awareness remains, clear and spontaneous. Responses to the world arise naturally, without deliberation. When Sri Ramana answered questions or cared for devotees, it wasn’t a calculated act of a mind—it was the Self expressing through the body, like the sun shining without intent.
3. The World Appears, but Loses Its Grip:
   • The world—including disasters, people, events—still appears to the senses, but it’s seen as unreal, a dream without substance. Sri Ramana likened it to a burnt rope: it looks like a rope, but it’s ash, incapable of binding. A jnani (realized one) might witness a flood or war, but there’s no attachment, fear, or suffering—only the Self’s peace.
4. No “Person” Remains:
   • The sense of being a separate “person” is gone. There’s no “someone” to whom things happen. Sri Ramana often said, “I am not this, not that”—neti neti—leaving only the Self. To others, he appeared as a person (Sri Ramana Maharshi), but he’d insist there was no individual there, only consciousness.
5. Effortless Action:
   • Actions happen spontaneously, without a doer. Sri Ramana’s life exemplified this—he taught, guided devotees, even cooked or walked, but with no sense of agency. It’s like the wind blowing: it moves, but doesn’t think “I’m blowing.” The jnani’s life flows in harmony with what is, untainted by personal motive.

Living as the Self

A person whose mind has permanently dissolved into the Self is often called a jivanmukta—liberated while living. They’re in the world but not of it. Sri Ramana’s own example is telling: he faced illness, political upheavals, and devotees’ struggles, yet remained serene, unaffected. When asked about pain or death, he’d say, “Who feels it? Not I—the body suffers, but I am the Self.”

• Perception: The senses still function, but there’s no identification with what’s seen or heard. The world is a mirage, appearing but not binding.
• Interaction: They may speak or act—often with profound clarity or compassion—but it’s not personal. It’s the Self responding through the form, not a mind engaging.
• Experience: There’s no “experience” in the usual sense—no highs, lows, or changes—just unbroken awareness, pure “I am” without attributes.

Why It’s Not Annihilation

This might sound like the person becomes a zombie or loses vitality, but it’s the opposite. Sri Ramana radiated presence—alive, alert, yet beyond the human drama. The dissolution of the mind doesn’t erase awareness; it reveals the infinite, which was always there, masked by the ego’s noise.

Others’ Perception

To those still in the dream, the jnani seems extraordinary—or ordinary in an uncanny way. Devotees saw Sri Ramana as a sage, yet he lived simply, insisting he was no different from them in essence. The difference is only apparent: their minds still cling to the illusion; his did not.

So, What Happens?

In short: The “person” as a separate entity ceases to be. The body-mind complex may persist, functioning naturally, but it’s a shell animated by the Self. Disasters, joys, life itself play out as shadows on a screen, while the jnani abides as the screen—unchanging, untroubled, whole. Sri Ramana put it simply: “The Self alone remains.”

Me - You said: "It’s the Self responding through the form, not a mind engaging." This looks like the Self is interacting with the illusion. Isn't the Self only a substratum, without any interaction with Maya's play?

Grok - The Self as Substratum, not an Actor

In Sri Ramana’s view, and in Advaita Vedanta, the Self (Atman or pure consciousness) is indeed the substratum—the formless, unchanging reality underlying all appearances. It doesn’t “interact” with Maya’s play in the active, dualistic sense we might imagine, like a person engaging with a game. The Self doesn’t move, act, or respond—it simply is. It’s the silent, ever-present awareness in which the illusion of Maya—the world, the mind, the body—appears and disappears, without affecting it.

When I said, “It’s the Self responding through the form, not a mind engaging,” the language was imprecise and could suggest an active role for the Self. That’s my oversight—thanks for catching it. The Self doesn’t “respond” or “interact” as if it’s a participant. Instead, what appears as “responding” is the natural functioning of the body-mind apparatus in the presence of the Self, without the interference of an ego-mind. Let’s reframe it.

What’s Really Happening in the Jnani

For a jivanmukta (one whose mind has dissolved into the Self), the body and senses continue to operate in the world—speaking, moving, answering questions—because of residual momentum (prarabdha karma), the destined play-out of the body’s life. To an outsider, it looks like “someone” is responding. For example, when Sri Ramana answered a devotee’s question or offered guidance, it seemed like interaction. But from his perspective, there was no “I” doing anything—only the Self shining, and the body-mind acting spontaneously within the illusion.

The Self doesn’t reach out into Maya’s play. It’s more accurate to say that Maya’s play—here, the body’s actions—happens in the light of the Self. The Self remains the unaffected witness, the substratum, while the appearance of interaction is just that—an appearance, not a reality. The jnani’s “responses” aren’t the Self engaging; they’re the illusion moving in the Self’s presence, like waves on the ocean’s surface. The ocean (Self) doesn’t interact with the waves—it’s their essence, unmoved by their dance.

Why It Looks Like Interaction

The confusion arises because we see a body (like Sri Ramana’s) and assume a doer behind it. In the jnani, there’s no doer—no mind to claim “I am responding.” The action happens effortlessly, like a mirror reflecting light without intending to. When Sri Ramana spoke, it wasn’t the Self “interacting” with devotees—it was the Self’s radiance illuminating a situation, and the body-mind responding as part of Maya’s script, without personal volition. The Self stays detached, the substratum, not a player.

Reconciling the Language

So, instead of “the Self responding through the form,” a better way to put it is: “The form (body-mind) functions in the presence of the Self, without a separate mind driving it.” The Self doesn’t step into Maya—it’s the ground on which Maya plays out. For the jnani, the illusion continues for others’ eyes (devotees see a sage helping them), but in truth, there’s no interaction, only the Self being itself, and the world appearing as a shadow.

The Self’s Non-Duality

This ties back to the Self’s nature as non-dual. Interaction implies duality—self and other, actor and acted-upon. But the Self is one, without a second. Maya’s illusion creates the appearance of duality (world, minds, disasters), and in the jnani, even the appearance of action persists, but it’s seen as unreal. The Self remains the substratum, untouched, uninvolved, while the play unfolds in its light.

Sri Ramana’s Own Words

Sri Ramana often clarified this. He’d say, “The world is unreal as world, but real as the Self.” Or, “Actions happen, but there’s no doer.” When pressed about his teachings or care for others, he’d point out that he didn’t see himself as acting—only the Self existed, and the rest was a mirage. The “responding” was an illusion’s echo, not the Self stepping into the game.

So, no, the Self doesn’t interact with Maya’s play—it’s the changeless substratum, not a participant. What looks like interaction in a jnani is the body-mind moving in the Self’s presence, free of ego, like a puppet without a puppeteer.