Here Is How I, as an Awakened Person, Live
Not body. Not mind.
First off, I don’t consider myself awakened or enlightened. In fact, I don’t consider myself anything.
Many texts and people call the events that transformed me into ‘nothing’ as an awakening.
People often ask me:
“What is life like for you? How do you feel? Do emotions disturb you? Do you feel upset? How do you face difficult challenges?”
I find those questions irrelevant now.
But I know they are important to some people. They want to know what exactly changes when you get awakened.
Awakening is a gift.
An extraordinary gift that transforms the person into an extremely ordinary person. It does not boost your status. In fact, it dissolves any that is left.
The process
July 2020. First Covid lockdown. Silence started to seep into me.
People around me thought I was going into depression. My dental work was down for many months. Besides my profession, my personal life was down too. I cried for many months, facing intense emotional turmoils.
My outer and inner situation was bad. Quiet bad.
Anxiety. Frustration. Fear. Jealousy. Insecurity. Unpredictability.
Everything was rolling inside me all at once. The roller coaster ride overwhelmed me.
Thankfully, my years of spiritual training helped me.
I knew that the tears I shed were not just a sign of helplessness. They were a release, a spiritual cleansing.
The screams that I let out were not just a sign of frustration. They were conscious cathartic process.
Although I did it all behind locked doors. But others could sense something was seriously off. For them, it was a madhouse.
Sometimes, I also thought the same, but I gave myself time, and more time, and some more time.
These months gave me a much-needed break to dive deep inside myself. I immersed myself in my learnings and spiritual practices.
Those few months were the concentrated version of what I had lived for over 35 years.
Intense. Heavy. Crazy.
Slowly, everything subtly started to take shape without me knowing it.
Utter Stillness
In late July 2020, silence wrapped around me.
In a few weeks, it overpowered me so densely that I could not utter a single word without putting in much effort. The effort to roll my tongue to speak was enormous. It felt equivalent to moving a mountain.
I could not speak or even whisper.
Also, I could not think.
My mind magically disappeared. I didn’t have any desire to think or analyze what was happening.
Even the thought of finding out (what was going on with me), was exhausting.
Everything fell silent. From outside to deepest of inside. It was pure stillness.
There was such fulfilling peace and satisfaction. There was no need or want to be anything else than being with what was happening.
Not body
The silence felt home.
There was so much stillness that not even a wave of a single thought crossed my mind. It was like a silent lake amid the serene Himalayas.
I became still. Utterly still.
This stillness was something that ancient texts and Bhagwad Geeta talked about.
While chewing food, I was still. I realized I was not eating, chewing, or gulping. I was still.
When I washed my face, I realized the skin was wet, but the water did not touch me. ‘I’ was not wet.
When my legs were walking, I realized I never walked. The body was moving, but ‘I’ was still.
The body was doing what it had to. Actions were being performed. Yet I was untouched by any of this.
I was separate from the body, the mind, and any actions.
I was that stillness that many call consciousness. I realized the meaning of Bhagwad Geeta shaloka —
nainaṁ chhindanti śhastrāṇi nainaṁ dahati pāvakaḥ na chainaṁ kledayantyāpo na śhoṣhayati mārutaḥ
Literally, it translates to
Weapons cannot shred the soul, nor can fire burn it. Water cannot wet it, nor can the wind dry it.
It was not a philosophy for me. I was living it.
Limitlessness
Alongside all these, a strange occurrence happened. I could not feel my body.
The density of the body disappeared. I could not feel the body even when I touched it with my hands. I could not feel walking or even doing anything.
It was like losing touch and feeling of body. But it was a mere loss of gross sense, and I gained a subtle sense of expansion.
I was not limited to my body. It felt like I expanded to everywhere.
I felt boundless.
I was expanded to the tree I saw, the brick wall near me, the sofa where I sat, the people in the house and outside, the sky I gazed at, and the bee that hummed.
Nothing was separate from me.
The state
People poked me to speak. They saw me staring at the wall or tree for hours. They thought I had gone nuts.
But I had no desire to explain what was happening. I was blissed out in silence and utter stillness.
This state went on for nearly two months.
During this stillness, my friend called, who was in a deep crisis. I didn’t want to speak, but the compassion within me felt to share.
It forced me to speak.
For the first time after this incident, I talked with a low tone, huge gaps, and more silence than words.
It was a massive discomfort to speak.
Silence was pulling me in. Compassion was pulling me out. It felt like stretching too much.
But still, somehow, it happened.
New reality
It took me over a few months to come out of that silence.
Words started pouring in. Thoughts started to happen. Conversations began.
It has been close to 4 years now, but one thing never changed after that — utter stillness.
Recently, I went to a local fair with my friends and a kid. There was so much rush. The noise was deafening.
Everyone went for a ride except me and my one friend.
She shared, “One of our common friends has shared in her status that she will not spend time with anyone angry, fearful, or insecure in their life. I laughingly said, then only Ruchi is left with whom you can live.”
I said, “But I scold in an angry way where I have to.”
Surprisingly, she said, “But I have never seen you like that.”
I laughed and said, “Yes, I do where it is needed. I have to act while my inside is always still.”
Even when I’m screaming, dancing, singing, or jumping up and down with kids, there is stillness.
I’m that stillness, not the activities that are performed.
When my best friend died in 2021, I cried insanely. I could see the profound pain and tears flowing nonstop. But it could not touch me. I was detached from the emotional pain.
In August 2021, my body was bedridden for two days. I felt an insane pain in my back. I shrieked in pain whenever I tried moving it. But I could see that pain plainly.
The pain was there. But I was unaffected by that physical pain.
When I argue and take a stand for myself in my conservative society, there is stillness. When I laugh while shaking my belly, there is stillness. When I cry at other’s pain, there is stillness.
The peace, stillness, and bliss never went out. It always is. No matter what the outside is like.
Nothing affects the internal state. Nothing affects me.
On rare occasions when ripples start, they subside in a few moments. And again, stillness wraps.
When any emotion arises, it is immediately recognized. Actions may be taken according to the situation, but stillness never leaves.
Around the periphery, anything can come and go, but the stillness has become permanent.
Currently…
Awakening, enlightenment, or self-realization are fancy words. Once you experience them you see it is just life happening.
I’m not special or extraordinary. I’m what you are. What everyone is.
The curtains of ego sometimes become apparent in me but eventually, get burned in the fire of consciousness. The thing is, now, they don’t affect me.
Thoughts come and go. Emotions come and go. Everything had become a wind passing by.
Currently, silence is pulling me more inside.
On some days, my eyes don’t want to open. It feels nice to sit in silence. Long sittings happen effortlessly.
I sometimes drag myself to write or do work.
Life is mysterious and a lovely gift that unfolds every moment to bring us closer to our true selves.
Let’s see what's brewing in life’s belly. Maybe I should not drag myself more into the outer world. What do you say? ;)