Planet Advaita

August 4, 2002

http://www.wie.org/j20/balsekarintro.asp

Close Encounters of the Advaita Kind

The Euphoric Nihilism of Ramesh Balsekar

An Interview with Ramesh Balsekar

by Chris Parish

-----------------------------

Epilogue

As I stumbled past the doorman and out into the bustling Bombay streets, my

mind was reeling. How could it be, I asked myself as I made my way through

the crowd, that an intelligent, educated man like Ramesh Balsekar could

really believe that everything is predestined, that before we are even

born, our fate is already etched in a kind of ethereal granite? Could he

really be serious in his insistence that our entire life, with its

seemingly endless stream of choices and decisions, of precarious

opportunities to set our own course for better or for worse, is actually,

from the first breath, a fait accompli? While I traversed the sidewalk in

search of a café in which to find respite from the chaos, the difficult

turns of our brief dialogue swirled in my head. Yes, " Thy will be done " is

the essence of most religions, I thought to myself, but for the great

mystics and sages who have made such utterances throughout history,

surrender to the will of God has meant far more than simply accepting that

there is nothing that anyone can do to affect the circumstances of their

life. Surely what has been traditionally referred to as " God's will " is

that which one discovers when one has absolutely given up the ego, when all

self-centered motives have been extinguished, leaving one utterly

surrendered to doing God's will, whatever it may be! For Jesus, or

Ramakrishna, or Ramana Maharshi to say that he was surrendered to God's

will was one thing. But to say that this is true of everyone seemed at that

moment to reflect a peculiar and even dangerous form of madness—and one

that could be used to justify the most extreme forms of behavior.

Balsekar's statement, " What you think you should do in any situation . . .

is precisely what God wants you to think you should do, " means that to him

the enlightened Buddha is no more doing the will of God than the serial

killer who is attacking his next victim.

I had come into the interview expecting some disagreement, but somehow even

Balsekar's books—in which all of these ideas are clearly and repeatedly

expressed—had not prepared me for my encounter with the man himself. How

had he come up with these ideas? I wondered. And why? Around and around my

thoughts went, recalling everything from his chilling claim that even when

we hurt someone, we need not feel guilty, for we are not responsible for

our actions—that even " Hitler was merely the instrument through which the

horrible events that had to take place took place " —to his assertion,

defying all common sense, that we have no power to control our behavior or

even to influence the behavior of others. And all of this in the context of

his science fiction description of each of us as " body/mind organisms "

acting out our " programming. "

Suddenly the welcome sight of a tea shop appeared through the smog, and as

I made my way inside, I was relieved to find the kind of quiet oasis for

which I had hoped. It was there, at one of the many empty tables, as the

first sip of sickly-sweet milk tea passed my lips that, in a flash, it hit

me. I was not drinking the tea! I was not sitting at the table! In fact, I

was not the one who had entered the tea shop. And I was not the one who had

just been tormented for an hour in discussion with a man who at that moment

was beginning to seem like the sane one. In fact, it had never been me

doing anything. It was as if a burden I had been carrying for my entire

life was suddenly lifted into the sky by a hot-air balloon, whisked away,

never to return again. All those years I had struggled to be a better, more

honest and generous human being—all that effort I had made to renounce my

tendencies toward superiority, selfishness, and aggression—had all been a

folly, all foolishly, needlessly based on the self-important idea that I

had some control over my own destiny, and the petty presumption that what I

did to " others " ever mattered anyway. How could I have been so misguided?

But wait, it wasn't even me who was misguided! As if through parting

clouds, suddenly now I could see clearly that what I had thought of as " my

life " had in fact been only a mechanical process. The person I had thought

I was was just a machine. And the world in which I thought I had been

living was not, as I had assumed, a world of human complexity, but one of

mechanistic simplicity, of perfect order, a mathematical playing out of

programs in motion since the beginning of time.

As the clinical perfection of God's scientific plan started to open up

before me, the ecstatic thrill of absolute freedom—from worry, from care,

from obligation, from guilt—began to rush through my veins like a torrent

of undammed rivers. And with it came an enveloping, resounding peace, an

absolute cessation of tension, in the recognition that no matter what

apparent ambiguity or uncertainty I might encounter thereafter, no matter

what seemingly difficult decisions I might face, I could always rest

assured that whatever choice I made was exactly the choice that God wanted

me to make. The mysterious sense of an Unknown that had tugged at me for so

long had evaporated. The others in the café turned their heads as I laughed

out loud, a long belly laugh, and mused to myself what a fantastical game

life would be if everyone understood how it all really works, if everyone

could at least get a glimpse of how free we could be, if we all lived on

Planet Advaita.

August 5, 2002

okay but if this is the matrix how the hell do we get

out of here ariel --- Jan Sultan

<swork wrote:

<HR>

<tt>

<a

href= " http://www.wie.org/j20/balsekarintro.asp " >http://www.wie.org/j20/balsekari\

ntro.asp</a>

Close Encounters of the Advaita Kind

The Euphoric Nihilism of Ramesh Balsekar

An Interview with Ramesh Balsekar

by Chris Parish

-----------------------------

Epilogue

As I stumbled past the doorman and out into the

bustling Bombay streets, my

mind was reeling. How could it be, I asked myself as I

made my way through

the crowd, that an intelligent, educated man like

Ramesh Balsekar could

really believe that everything is predestined, that

before we are even

born, our fate is already etched in a kind of ethereal

granite? Could he

really be serious in his insistence that our entire

life, with its

seemingly endless stream of choices and decisions, of

precarious

opportunities to set our own course for better or for

worse, is actually,

from the first breath, a fait accompli? While I

traversed the sidewalk in

search of a café in which to find respite from the

chaos, the difficult

turns of our brief dialogue swirled in my head. Yes,

& quot;Thy will be done & quot; is

the essence of most religions, I thought to myself,

but for the great

mystics and sages who have made such utterances

throughout history,

surrender to the will of God has meant far more than

simply accepting that

there is nothing that anyone can do to affect the

circumstances of their

life. Surely what has been traditionally referred to

as & quot;God's will & quot; is

that which one discovers when one has absolutely given

up the ego, when all

self-centered motives have been extinguished, leaving

one utterly

surrendered to doing God's will, whatever it may be!

For Jesus, or

Ramakrishna, or Ramana Maharshi to say that he was

surrendered to God's

will was one thing. But to say that this is true of

everyone seemed at that

moment to reflect a peculiar and even dangerous form

of madness—and one

that could be used to justify the most extreme forms

of behavior.

Balsekar's statement, & quot;What you think you should

do in any situation . . .

is precisely what God wants you to think you should

do, & quot; means that to him

the enlightened Buddha is no more doing the will of

God than the serial

killer who is attacking his next victim.

I had come into the interview expecting some

disagreement, but somehow even

Balsekar's books—in which all of these ideas are

clearly and repeatedly

expressed—had not prepared me for my encounter with

the man himself. How

had he come up with these ideas? I wondered. And why?

Around and around my

thoughts went, recalling everything from his chilling

claim that even when

we hurt someone, we need not feel guilty, for we are

not responsible for

our actions—that even & quot;Hitler was merely the

instrument through which the

horrible events that had to take place took

place & quot;—to his assertion,

defying all common sense, that we have no power to

control our behavior or

even to influence the behavior of others. And all of

this in the context of

his science fiction description of each of us as

& quot;body/mind organisms & quot;

acting out our & quot;programming. & quot;

Suddenly the welcome sight of a tea shop appeared

through the smog, and as

I made my way inside, I was relieved to find the kind

of quiet oasis for

which I had hoped. It was there, at one of the many

empty tables, as the

first sip of sickly-sweet milk tea passed my lips

that, in a flash, it hit

me. I was not drinking the tea! I was not sitting at

the table! In fact, I

was not the one who had entered the tea shop. And I

was not the one who had

just been tormented for an hour in discussion with a

man who at that moment

was beginning to seem like the sane one. In fact, it

had never been me

doing anything. It was as if a burden I had been

carrying for my entire

life was suddenly lifted into the sky by a hot-air

balloon, whisked away,

never to return again. All those years I had struggled

to be a better, more

honest and generous human being—all that effort I had

made to renounce my

tendencies toward superiority, selfishness, and

aggression—had all been a

folly, all foolishly, needlessly based on the

self-important idea that I

had some control over my own destiny, and the petty

presumption that what I

did to & quot;others & quot; ever mattered anyway. How

could I have been so misguided?

But wait, it wasn't even me who was misguided! As if

through parting

clouds, suddenly now I could see clearly that what I

had thought of as & quot;my

life & quot; had in fact been only a mechanical process.

The person I had thought

I was was just a machine. And the world in which I

thought I had been

living was not, as I had assumed, a world of human

complexity, but one of

mechanistic simplicity, of perfect order, a

mathematical playing out of

programs in motion since the beginning of time.

As the clinical perfection of God's scientific plan

started to open up

before me, the ecstatic thrill of absolute

freedom—from worry, from care,

from obligation, from guilt—began to rush through my

veins like a torrent

of undammed rivers. And with it came an enveloping,

resounding peace, an

absolute cessation of tension, in the recognition that

no matter what

apparent ambiguity or uncertainty I might encounter

thereafter, no matter

what seemingly difficult decisions I might face, I

could always rest

assured that whatever choice I made was exactly the

choice that God wanted

me to make. The mysterious sense of an Unknown that

had tugged at me for so

long had evaporated. The others in the café turned

their heads as I laughed

out loud, a long belly laugh, and mused to myself what

a fantastical game

life would be if everyone understood how it all really

works, if everyone

could at least get a glimpse of how free we could be,

if we all lived on

Planet Advaita.

</tt>

<td align=center><font size= " -1 "

color=#003399>

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