Ashtavakra Gita

The Clear Space of Awareness
Elegantly translated by Dr. Thomas Byrom


The man who is pure of heart                                
Is bound to fulfill himself 
In whatever way he is taught.

A worldly man seeks all his life, 
But is still bewildered.

Detached from the senses,                                        
You are free.

Attached, you are bound.

When this is understood, 
You may live as you please.

When this is understood,                                            
The man who is bright and busy 
And full of fine words 
Falls silent.

He does nothing. 
He is still.

No wonder 
Those who wish to enjoy the world 
Shun this understanding!

You are not your body.                                               
Your body is not you.

You are not the doer. 
You are not the enjoyer.

You are pure awareness, 
The witness of all things.

You are without expectation, 
Free.

Wherever you go, 
Be happy!

Desire and aversion are of the mind.                 
The mind is never yours. 
You are free of its turmoil.

You are awareness itself, 
Never changing.

Wherever you go, 
Be happy.

For see!                                                                                     
The Self is in all beings, 
And all beings are in the Self.

Know you are free, 
Free of "I," 
Free of "mine."

Be happy.

In you the worlds arise                                                  
Like waves in the sea.

It is true! 
You are awareness itself.

So free yourself 
From the fever of the world.

Have faith, my Child, have faith.                         

Do not be bewildered.

For you are beyond all things, 
The heart of all knowing.

You are the Self. 
You are God.

The body is confined                                                      
By its natural properties.

It comes, 
It lingers awhile, 
It goes.

But the Self neither comes nor goes. 
So why grieve for the body?

If the body lasted till the end of time,                
Or vanished today, 
What would you win or lose?

You are pure awareness.

You are the endless sea                                                 
In whom all the worlds like waves 
Naturally rise and fall.

You have nothing to win, 
Nothing to lose.

Child,                                                                                           
You are pure awareness, 
Nothing less.

You and the world are one.

So who are you to think 
You can hold on to it, 
Or let it go?

How could you!

You are the clear space of awareness,                
Pure and still, 
In whom there is no birth, 
No activity, 
No "I."

You are one and the same. 
You cannot change or die.

You are in whatever you see.                                    
You alone.

Just as bracelets and bangles 
And dancing anklets 
Are all of the same gold.

"I am not this."                                                                     
"I am He." 
Give up such distinctions.

Know that everything is the Self. 
Rid yourself of all purpose.

And be happy.

The world only arises from ignorance.              
You alone are real.

There is no one, 
Not even God, 
Separate from yourself.

You are pure awareness.                                             

The world is an illusion, 
Nothing more.

When you understand this fully, 
Desire falls away.

You find peace.

For indeed! 
There is nothing.

In the ocean of being                                                       
There is only one.

There was and there will be 
Only one.

You are already fulfilled. 
How can you be bound or free?

Wherever you go, 
Be happy.

Never upset your mind                                                   
With yes and no.

Be quiet. 
You are awareness itself.

Live in the happiness 
Of your own nature, 
Which is happiness itself.

What is the use of thinking?                                       

Once and for all, 
Give up meditation. 
Hold nothing in your mind.

You are the Self, 
And you are free. 
 

Ashtavakra Gita

Awareness 
Elegantly translated by Dr. Thomas Byrom


Yesterday                                                                 
I lived bewildered, 
In illusion.

But now I am awake, 
Flawless and serene, 
Beyond the world.

From my light                                                       
The body and the world arise.

So all things are mine, 
Or nothing is.

Now I have given up                                       
The body and the world, 
I have a special gift.

I see the infinite Self.

As a wave,                                                                 
Seething and foaming, 
Is only water

So all creation, 
Streaming out of the Self, 
Is only the Self.

Consider a piece of cloth.                           
It is only threads!

So all creation, 
When you look closely, 
Is only the Self.

Like the sugar                                                        
In the juice of the sugarcane, 
I am the sweetness 
In everything I have made.

When the Self is unknown                          
The world arises, 
Not when it is known.

But you mistake 
The rope for the snake.

When you see the rope, 
The snake vanishes.

My nature is light,                                              
Nothing but light.

When the world arises 
I alone am shining.

When the world arises in me,                   
It is just an illusion: 
Water shimmering in the sun, 
A vein of silver in mother-of-pearl, 
A serpent in a strand of rope.

From me the world streams out             
And in me it dissolves, 
As a bracelet melts into gold, 
A pot crumbles into clay, 
A wave subsides into water.

I adore myself.                                                        
How wonderful I am!

I can never die.

The whole world may perish, 
From Brahma to a blade of grass, 
But I am still here.

Indeed how wonderful!                                    
I adore myself.

For I have taken form 
But I am still one.

Neither coming or going, 
Yet I am still everywhere.

How wonderful,                                                      
And how great my powers!

For I am without form, 
Yet till the end of time 
I uphold the universe.

Wonderful!                                                                 

For nothing is mine, 
Yet it is all mine, 
Whatever is thought or spoken.

I am not the knower,                                         
Nor the known, 
Nor the knowing.

These three are not real. 
They only seem to be 
When I am not known.

For I am flawless.

Two from one!                                                          
This is the root of suffering.

Only perceive 
That I am one without two, 
Pure awareness, pure joy, 
And all the world is false.

There is no other remedy!

Through ignorance                                               
I once imagined I was bound.

But I am pure awareness.

I live beyond all distinctions, 
In unbroken meditation.

Indeed,                                                                             
I am neither bound nor free.

An end to illusion! 
It is all groundless.

For the whole of creation, 
Though it rests in me, 
Is without foundation.

The body is nothing.                                           
The world is nothing.

When you understand this fully, 
How can they be invented?

For the Self is pure awareness, 
Nothing less.

The body is false,                                                    
And so are its fears, 
Heaven and hell, freedom and bondage.

It is all invention.

What can they matter to me?

I am awareness itself.

I see only one.                                                           

Many men, 
One wilderness.

Then to what may I cling?

I am not the body.                                                 
Nor is the body mine.

I am not separate.

I am awareness itself, 
Bound only by my thirst for life.

I am the infinite ocean.                                     

When thoughts spring up, 
The wind freshens, and like waves 
A thousand worlds arise.

But when the wind falls,                                    
The trader sinks with his ship.

On the boundless ocean of my being 
He founders, 
And all the worlds with him.

But O how wonderful!                                        

I am the unbounded deep 
In whom all living things 
Naturally arise, 
Rush against each other playfully, 
And then subside.