There’s a moment in every spiritual seeker’s journey when a simple question cracks open a whole world of clarity: Who am I, really? For those studying texts like the Hastamalakiyam under the guidance of teachers like Swami Advayatmananda, this question is not meant to remain a philosophical musing or a theoretical puzzle. It is meant to be answered directly and experientially, in real time.
In this second class of a seven-part series, Swami Advayatmananda continues to unfold this ancient yet urgently relevant inquiry through the lens of Advaita Vedanta, with warmth, humor, and deep clarity.
He begins, characteristically, with a chuckle — “That cough is always my sound check” — and leads the class into chanting and settling into the teaching. But very quickly, we are reminded: this is not philosophy as theory. This is a tradition rooted in shabda pramana, a means of knowledge through words, wielded by a guru to reveal your own nature, right now.
And what is that nature? According to the Upanishads and explicated by Adi Shankaracharya, it is Atma — the self — which is not the body, not the mind, not the senses, not your thoughts or emotions, but pure, limitless awareness.
To get there, one begins with viveka, discernment — recognizing what is real and lasting versus what is transient. This gives rise to vairagya, often translated as dispassion, though Swamiji explains it more accurately as objectivity born of understanding.
Using Puja Swami Dayananda’s humorous analogy, vairagya is like a bald man walking through the shampoo aisle — not because he hates shampoo, but because shampoo simply holds no relevance to him. He is untouched by it, not opposed to it.
In the same way, when you clearly see that the things of the world cannot touch your essential self, you don’t reject them with disdain — you simply remain unentangled. This sets the stage for true inquiry.
Swamiji emphasizes: Vedanta is not a theory-practice split, like learning a dosa recipe and then having to cook it to get the result. Vedanta is more like being told — in real time — that the tenth man is not missing. You’ve simply miscounted.
He tells the classic Vedantic story of the ten boys who cross a river. After counting only nine, each boy thinks one of their companions has drowned, forgetting to count himself. A passing sadhu watches them with a smile — because the “missing” person was never missing. In the same way, you are not missing your true self. You’re miscounting.
So, how does language lead to direct knowledge?
Because you’re already present. You’re already aware. You already meet the prerequisites for knowing the Self. The words of the teaching point to what is already the case, just overlooked. This is not indirect knowledge, like inferring fire from smoke. This is direct knowledge — like turning around and seeing the tenth man standing there, realizing, “Oh! That’s me.”
And here enters the grand metaphor of the pot and space — a cornerstone of Vedantic teaching.
Swamiji presents “Mr. Potspace,” or ghatakasha, the space seemingly enclosed within a pot, lamenting its smallness. He wishes he were like “Mahakasha,” the great space outside. But, of course, space is indivisible. The pot doesn’t confine space; it merely appears to. Space was never bound by the pot.
In the same way, you — the Self — are not confined by the body, mind, or senses. These are only the pot. You are the space. You don’t need to merge with the limitless; you already are the limitless. You simply need to recognize that the apparent limitations don’t define you.
This is why Vedanta is called a pramana, a means of knowledge — not a belief system. No mantra, no puja, no action can give you freedom because you were never bound to begin with. Any practice you take up is only valid in terms of preparing the mind to receive this knowledge, not to produce it.
And if there’s a problem, it’s only one of superimposition (adhyasa). As Shankaracharya explains in his foundational Adhyasa Bhashya, we mistake the non-self (body, mind, thoughts, emotions) to be the self, and we attribute the self’s qualities (awareness, existence) to the non-self. Just like mistaking a rope for a snake, we suffer because of a misperception.
This mutual superimposition is what fuels samsara, the cycle of suffering. We take the attributes of the inert body-mind (which are known to us as objects) and say, “I am fat,” “I am sad,” “I am blind.” But anything that is objectified cannot be the subject. You, the subject, are the knower, and anything known cannot be you.
Swamiji brings this home with a brilliant metaphor of the sun and the moon. The moon appears luminous, but it only reflects the light of the sun. Similarly, the mind reflects the awareness of Atma. When the subtle body departs, the physical body is recognized as inert. Yet, we mistake that reflected awareness as belonging to the body-mind.
This error is the crux of spiritual ignorance. And the antidote is not some mystical experience or retreat into a cave — it is clear, sustained inquiry. Recognizing, here and now, that you are not the contents of your mind, but the awareness that illumines them.
You are not the pot. You are not the shape, size, or form. You are the space in which it all appears — indivisible, all-pervading, untouched, and ever-present. As Swamiji says, “The space does not exist in the pot; the pot exists in space.”
Ultimately, what liberates us is not effort but understanding. Not belief, but knowledge. Not action, but clarity.
You are the ever-present awareness that gives reality to the present moment. This is not something you become. It’s what you already are — waiting to be recognized.
As always, Swamiji closes with the peace chant, playfully instructing us how to pronounce the Sanskrit correctly while reminding us: this tradition is not abstract philosophy — it is a living, breathing revelation of your Self.
And when you see it, you’ll laugh — like the sadhu on the riverbank, who knew all along: you were never missing.
Credits:
Based on Hastamalakiyam – Class 2 of 7 by Swami Advayatmananda
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