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.
    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?
    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:
    - 
        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.
 
 - 
            
 - 
        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.
 
 - 
            
 - 
        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.
 
 - 
            
 - 
        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.
 
 - 
            
 - 
        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?
    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. 
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