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𑌅𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍𑌰 𑌗𑍀ð‘ŒĪð‘Œū ð‘ŒĶð‘Œķð‘ŒŪð‘‹ð‘Œ―ð‘Œ§ð‘ð‘ŒŊð‘Œūð‘ŒŊ𑌃

𑌅𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍𑌰 𑌗𑍀ð‘ŒĪð‘Œū is a 20-chapter dialogue of direct 𑌅ð‘ŒĶ𑍍ð‘Œĩ𑍈ð‘ŒĪ that keeps cutting through the same illusion: taking the body-mind to be the Self. It does not try to decorate life with new beliefs; it tries to remove the deeper misunderstanding that makes life feel like a constant struggle for security. The teacher's method is simple: return again and again to the witness standpoint (ð‘Œļð‘Œū𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍀) until craving, fear, and identity stories lose their grip.

So far the dialogue has moved through a clear arc. Chapter 1 answers 𑌜ð‘ŒĻ𑌕's questions about 𑌜𑍍𑌞ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ, ð‘ŒŪ𑍁𑌕𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋ, and ð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œū𑌗𑍍ð‘ŒŊ by warning against compulsive attachment to ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋ𑌷ð‘ŒŊs while pointing to the witness. Chapters 2-4 express recognition and then mature it into lived freedom. Chapters 5-9 keep tightening the insight: ð‘Œēð‘ŒŊ (dissolution of false identification), "no giving up and no grasping," a crisp definition of bondage as mind-movement, and finally ð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ𑌰𑍍ð‘Œĩ𑍇ð‘ŒĶ (mature disillusionment) and dropping ð‘Œĩð‘Œūð‘Œļð‘ŒĻð‘Œūs as the heart of peace.

Chapter 10 continues that disillusionment, but it does so with a sharp, almost ascetic honesty. 𑌅𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍𑌰 asks you to look directly at what keeps the mind hooked: 𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ (compulsive desire) and 𑌅𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ (wealth/power as identity). He even warns about using 𑌧𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ as a tool for those ends. Then he applies a strong lens of impermanence: friendships, property, and social arrangements are like a dream or a magic show. The purpose is not to make you cynical; it is to free you from confusing temporary arrangements with lasting refuge.

The chapters ahead keep deepening the same freedom in different keys. Chapter 11 shows how a stable inner conviction (ð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋð‘Œķ𑍍𑌚ð‘ŒŊ) dissolves suffering by removing doubt and mental argument. Chapters 12-14 describe 𑌜ð‘ŒĻ𑌕's settled stance where effort and inner agitation fall away. Then the text builds toward its longest section (Chapter 18), where freedom is described from many angles until it becomes unmistakably practical and natural.

Seen as a whole, Chapter 10 is a chapter of "enough." It repeats a single medicine: recognize what has never truly satisfied, stop fueling it, and let the mind rest. ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢð‘Œū (craving-thirst) is named as the essence of bondage, and the chapter says that rest comes not by rearranging the world again, but by ending the compulsion that keeps you rearranging. The summary is simple: drop the enemy of craving, see worldly supports as dreamlike, and let painful, restless action finally come to an end.

𑌅𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍𑌰 𑌉ð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌚 āĨĨ
ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘Œđð‘Œūð‘ŒŊ ð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œŋð‘ŒĢ𑌂 𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪð‘ŒŪ𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ𑌂 𑌚ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨð‘Œļ𑌂𑌕𑍁ð‘Œēð‘ŒŪ𑍍 āĨĪ
𑌧𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒŪ𑌊𑍍ð‘ŒŊ𑍇ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒŊ𑍋𑌰𑍍ð‘Œđ𑍇ð‘ŒĪ𑍁𑌂 ð‘Œļ𑌰𑍍ð‘Œĩð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻð‘Œūð‘ŒĶ𑌰𑌂 𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍁 āĨĨ 10-1āĨĨ

Meaning (𑌊ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
𑌅𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍𑌰𑌃 - the sage Ashtavakra
𑌉ð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌚 - said; spoke
ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘Œđð‘Œūð‘ŒŊ - having abandoned; leaving aside
ð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œŋð‘ŒĢ𑌂 - enemy
𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - desire; craving
𑌅𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - wealth; gain; power as possession
𑌚 - and
𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ-ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌕𑍁ð‘Œēð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - entangled with harm/misfortune; mixed with trouble
𑌧𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ𑌂 𑌅𑌊ð‘Œŋ - even 𑌧𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ
𑌏ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒŊ𑍋𑌃 - of these two (kAma and artha)
ð‘Œđ𑍇ð‘ŒĪ𑍁ð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - as a cause; as a means
ð‘Œļ𑌰𑍍ð‘Œĩð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 - everywhere; in all contexts
𑌅ð‘ŒĻð‘Œūð‘ŒĶ𑌰ð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - disregard; not treating as ultimate
𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍁 - do; adopt

Translation (𑌭ð‘Œūð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
Ashtavakra said: Abandon craving, the enemy, and abandon wealth that is entangled with harm. Even 𑌧𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ, when treated as a means for craving and wealth, do not treat as your ultimate. Practice non-importance toward these everywhere.

Commentary (𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑍁ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌧ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ):
This verse is intentionally provocative so that you examine what you serve. 𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ is called a ð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œŋ (enemy) not because desire as such is sinful, but because compulsive desire turns the mind into a servant. It makes you bargain with your dignity: you say things you do not mean, you chase validation, you trade peace for temporary relief. 𑌅𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ is not condemned as responsible livelihood; it is condemned as identity. When wealth becomes "who I am," it becomes 𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ-ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌕𑍁ð‘Œē - tied to fear, comparison, and endless maintenance. The verse then adds the sharpest point: even 𑌧𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ can become a tool for the same compulsion when it is pursued primarily for 𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ and 𑌅𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ.

This is not a rejection of 𑌧𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ; it is a purification of motive. The tradition recognizes a ladder of aims (𑌊𑍁𑌰𑍁𑌷ð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨs): 𑌧𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ, 𑌅𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ, 𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ, and ð‘ŒŪ𑍋𑌕𑍍𑌷. When the higher aim is ð‘ŒŪ𑍋𑌕𑍍𑌷, the lower aims must be held in the right place. If you practice ethics only because it gets you praise, power, or pleasure, the mind stays outward-facing and anxious. When ethics becomes inner alignment, it supports freedom. This is close to the gItA's warning about getting stuck in reward-seeking religion (ð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰𑍈𑌗𑍁ð‘ŒĢ𑍍ð‘ŒŊ-ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋ𑌷ð‘ŒŊð‘Œū ð‘Œĩ𑍇ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌃 ... ð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋð‘Œļ𑍍ð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰𑍈-𑌗𑍁ð‘ŒĢ𑍍ð‘ŒŊ𑍋 𑌭ð‘Œĩ): not "throw away the Vedas," but "do not reduce spirituality to transaction."

Practice by doing a motive-audit for one week. Pick one area: work, relationships, or spiritual practice. Ask honestly: "Am I doing this for clarity, or for 𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ/𑌅𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ?" Then choose one small act of 𑌅ð‘ŒĻð‘Œūð‘ŒĶ𑌰 (non-importance) toward reward: do one good action without announcing it, refuse one manipulative shortcut, or keep one boundary even if it costs praise. At the same time, strengthen inner 𑌧𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ: truthfulness, non-harm, and simplicity. The point is not to stop functioning; it is to stop being bought. When the mind sees that it can live without constant reward, it becomes freer, and ð‘ŒŪ𑍋𑌕𑍍𑌷 stops feeling like a distant theory.

ð‘Œļ𑍍ð‘Œĩ𑌊𑍍ð‘ŒĻ𑍇𑌂ð‘ŒĶ𑍍𑌰𑌜ð‘Œūð‘Œēð‘Œĩð‘ŒĪ𑍍 𑌊ð‘Œķ𑍍ð‘ŒŊ ð‘ŒĶð‘Œŋð‘ŒĻð‘Œūð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ ð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰𑍀ð‘ŒĢð‘Œŋ 𑌊𑌂𑌚 ð‘Œĩð‘Œū āĨĪ
ð‘ŒŪð‘Œŋð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇ð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰𑌧ð‘ŒĻð‘Œū𑌗ð‘Œū𑌰ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰ð‘ŒĶð‘Œūð‘ŒŊð‘Œūð‘ŒĶð‘Œŋð‘Œļ𑌂𑌊ð‘ŒĶ𑌃 āĨĨ 10-2āĨĨ

Meaning (𑌊ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
ð‘Œļ𑍍ð‘Œĩ𑌊𑍍ð‘ŒĻ - dream
𑌇𑌂ð‘ŒĶ𑍍𑌰𑌜ð‘Œūð‘Œēð‘Œĩð‘ŒĪ𑍍 - like a magic show; like illusion
𑌊ð‘Œķ𑍍ð‘ŒŊ - see; regard
ð‘ŒĶð‘Œŋð‘ŒĻð‘Œūð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ - days
ð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰𑍀ð‘ŒĢð‘Œŋ - three
𑌊𑌂𑌚 - five
ð‘Œĩð‘Œū - or
ð‘ŒŪð‘Œŋð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 - friend
𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇ð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 - land; field; property
𑌧ð‘ŒĻ - wealth
𑌆𑌗ð‘Œū𑌰 - house; home
ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰 - spouse; household life
ð‘ŒĶð‘Œūð‘ŒŊð‘Œūð‘ŒĶð‘Œŋ - heirs and relatives
ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌊ð‘ŒĶ𑌃 - possessions; prosperity

Translation (𑌭ð‘Œūð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
See possessions and supports as dreamlike or like a magic show - lasting only a few days (three, five, or so). Friends, land, wealth, houses, spouses, heirs, and related prosperities are not lasting refuges.

Commentary (𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑍁ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌧ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ):
The phrase "three or five days" is not literal arithmetic; it is a shock to the mind's false sense of permanence. The mind behaves as though the current arrangement will last: the current job, the current role, the current health, the current social circle. 𑌅𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍𑌰 says: hold it like a dream. A dream can be intense and even meaningful, but it cannot be a permanent refuge. Calling it 𑌇𑌂ð‘ŒĶ𑍍𑌰𑌜ð‘Œūð‘Œē does not deny the appearance; it denies the solidity we project onto it. The harm comes from mistaking temporary supports for the Self's security.

This lens changes how you relate to prosperity. It becomes less possessive and more grateful. You can care for friends and family without turning them into insurance against loneliness. You can build a home without treating it as a fortress against change. This is also why dispassion is compatible with love: dispassion is not coldness; it is freedom from clinging. The gItA makes the same point when it calls the world 𑌅ð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘ŒŊ𑌂 𑌅ð‘Œļ𑍁𑌖𑌂 ð‘Œē𑍋𑌕ð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - impermanent and unable to be a final refuge - not to produce despair, but to redirect the heart toward what is stable.

Practice by choosing one "support" you cling to and relating to it differently for a week. For example: if it is money, practice gratitude and restraint rather than anxiety and hoarding; if it is reputation, practice one act of quiet sincerity without performance; if it is relationship-security, practice one honest conversation without manipulation. Each day, do a short reflection: "This is a dreamlike arrangement; what truly matters is how I show up." Then take one action that reflects maturity: a kind message, a responsible plan, or a simple letting-go of needless worry. This trains the mind to enjoy life without demanding that life be permanent.

ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 𑌭ð‘Œĩ𑍇ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢð‘Œū ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļð‘Œū𑌰𑌂 ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘ŒĶ𑍍𑌧ð‘Œŋ ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 ð‘Œĩ𑍈 āĨĪ
𑌊𑍍𑌰𑍌ð‘ŒĒð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œū𑌗𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒŪð‘Œūð‘Œķ𑍍𑌰ð‘Œŋð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘ŒŊ ð‘Œĩ𑍀ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢ𑌃 ð‘Œļ𑍁𑌖𑍀 𑌭ð‘Œĩ āĨĨ 10-3āĨĨ

Meaning (𑌊ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 - wherever; in whatever place/condition
𑌭ð‘Œĩ𑍇ð‘ŒĪ𑍍 - there is; arises
ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢð‘Œū - craving-thirst; compulsive wanting
ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļð‘Œū𑌰𑌂 - bondage; the cycle of restless wandering
ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘ŒĶ𑍍𑌧ð‘Œŋ - know; recognize
ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 - there
ð‘Œĩ𑍈 - indeed
𑌊𑍍𑌰𑍌ð‘ŒĒ-ð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œū𑌗𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - mature dispassion
𑌆ð‘Œķ𑍍𑌰ð‘Œŋð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘ŒŊ - taking refuge in; relying on
ð‘Œĩ𑍀ð‘ŒĪ-ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢ𑌃 - free of craving-thirst
ð‘Œļ𑍁𑌖𑍀 - happy; at ease
𑌭ð‘Œĩ - become; be

Translation (𑌭ð‘Œūð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
Wherever craving arises, know that bondage is there. Taking refuge in mature dispassion, be free of craving and be at ease.

Commentary (𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑍁ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌧ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ):
This is one of the most practical definitions in the text: ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļð‘Œū𑌰 is not a place; it is a pattern. Wherever ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢð‘Œū is alive, the mind is pushed forward: "I must have this," "I must become that," "I must get rid of this." That pushing is bondage. Even in comfort, a craving mind is not free; it is anxious about losing. 𑌅𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍𑌰 is telling you to locate ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļð‘Œū𑌰 not in the outer world, but in the inner engine that makes the outer world into a prison.

The verse also distinguishes shallow and mature dispassion. Shallow dispassion is mood-based: you feel disillusioned after a disappointment, and then the craving returns. 𑌊𑍍𑌰𑍌ð‘ŒĒ-ð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œū𑌗𑍍ð‘ŒŊ is stable: it arises from understanding. You see the mechanism clearly: craving promises completion, delivers a brief relief, and then returns stronger. When you see that, you stop feeding it. This is why the tradition pairs ð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œū𑌗𑍍ð‘ŒŊ with ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘Œĩ𑍇𑌕: discernment makes dispassion intelligent rather than bitter. It also explains why Chapter 9 ended with "tendencies alone are the cycle" - ð‘Œĩð‘Œūð‘Œļð‘ŒĻð‘Œū and ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢð‘Œū are two sides of the same engine.

Practice by learning to recognize ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢð‘Œū in the body, not just in thoughts. Often it shows up as urgency, tightness, bargaining, or restlessness. When you notice it, pause and name it: "ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢð‘Œū." Then do a two-minute experiment: do not obey the craving and do not fight it; just watch it. Feel how it rises, peaks, and changes. After two minutes, choose a wise action: sometimes you do the thing (eat, rest, speak), but you do it deliberately, not compulsively. Sometimes you let it pass. Over time, this builds 𑌊𑍍𑌰𑍌ð‘ŒĒ-ð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œū𑌗𑍍ð‘ŒŊ: the mind learns that peace is possible without feeding every urge.

ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢð‘Œūð‘ŒŪð‘Œūð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰ð‘Œūð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘ŒŪ𑌕𑍋 𑌎𑌂𑌧ð‘Œļ𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĻ𑍍ð‘ŒĻð‘Œūð‘Œķ𑍋 ð‘ŒŪ𑍋𑌕𑍍𑌷 𑌉𑌚𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒĪ𑍇 āĨĪ
𑌭ð‘Œĩð‘Œūð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļ𑌕𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋð‘ŒŪð‘Œūð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰𑍇ð‘ŒĢ 𑌊𑍍𑌰ð‘Œū𑌊𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋð‘ŒĪ𑍁𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œŋ𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ𑍁ð‘Œđ𑍁𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ𑍁ð‘Œđ𑍁𑌃 āĨĨ 10-4āĨĨ

Meaning (𑌊ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
ð‘ŒĪ𑍃𑌷𑍍ð‘ŒĢð‘Œū-ð‘ŒŪð‘Œūð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 - nothing but craving-thirst
𑌆ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘ŒŪ𑌕𑌃 - consisting of; of the nature of
𑌎𑌂𑌧𑌃 - bondage
ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĪ𑍍-ð‘ŒĻð‘Œūð‘Œķ𑌃 - its destruction; its ending
ð‘ŒŪ𑍋𑌕𑍍𑌷𑌃 - liberation
𑌉𑌚𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒĪ𑍇 - is called; is said to be
𑌭ð‘Œĩ - worldly becoming; the cycle of ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļð‘Œū𑌰
𑌅ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļ𑌕𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋ - non-attachment; non-clinging
ð‘ŒŪð‘Œūð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰𑍇ð‘ŒĢ - by merely; just by
𑌊𑍍𑌰ð‘Œū𑌊𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋ - attainment; getting what comes
ð‘ŒĪ𑍁𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œŋ𑌃 - contentment; satisfaction
ð‘ŒŪ𑍁ð‘Œđ𑍁𑌃 ð‘ŒŪ𑍁ð‘Œđ𑍁𑌃 - again and again; repeatedly

Translation (𑌭ð‘Œūð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
Bondage is nothing but craving; the ending of that craving is called liberation. Merely by non-attachment to worldly becoming, contentment with what comes arises again and again.

Commentary (𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑍁ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌧ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ):
This verse is a direct continuation of the previous one: it defines 𑌎𑌂𑌧 and ð‘ŒŪ𑍋𑌕𑍍𑌷 in one stroke. Bondage is not primarily a punishment; it is a mental condition: the compulsion that says, "Without this, I am not okay." When that compulsion ends, freedom is present. The important word is ð‘ŒŪð‘Œūð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰 - "nothing but." The verse is not denying that there are external problems; it is saying that the experience of bondage is produced by craving, not by the mere presence of situations.

The second line adds a practical marker: contentment (ð‘ŒĪ𑍁𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œŋ) becomes natural when you loosen 𑌭ð‘Œĩ-𑌅ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļ𑌕𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋ - attachment to the whole project of "becoming someone." Many people seek contentment by improving circumstances, but contentment is mainly blocked by inner demand. When demand relaxes, you can receive what comes (𑌊𑍍𑌰ð‘Œū𑌊𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋ) without turning it into an identity-project. This is why freedom can appear "again and again" (ð‘ŒŪ𑍁ð‘Œđ𑍁𑌃 ð‘ŒŪ𑍁ð‘Œđ𑍁𑌃): every time you release demand, you taste a clean, simple satisfaction.

Practice by training the difference between need and preference. Make a small list of three things you chase as needs: approval, comfort, control, certainty, romance, success. Then, when one of those is threatened, notice the inner sentence: "I cannot be okay without it." Challenge that sentence gently. Do one breath of witness-remembering: the fear is known, therefore it is not the knower. Then convert one need into a preference: "I would like this, but I can be okay without it." Act from preference: communicate, plan, work - but without desperation. Over time, that simple conversion dissolves the felt bondage, and contentment starts to appear more often and with less effort.

ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œĩð‘ŒŪ𑍇𑌕ð‘Œķ𑍍𑌚𑍇ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĻ𑌃 ð‘Œķ𑍁ð‘ŒĶ𑍍𑌧𑍋 ð‘Œœð‘ŒĄð‘Œ‚ ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘Œķ𑍍ð‘Œĩð‘ŒŪð‘Œļð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĨð‘Œū āĨĪ
𑌅ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘ŒĶ𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘Œū𑌊ð‘Œŋ ð‘ŒĻ 𑌕ð‘Œŋ𑌂𑌚ð‘Œŋð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œļð‘Œū 𑌕ð‘Œū 𑌎𑍁𑌭𑍁ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œļð‘Œū ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĨð‘Œū𑌊ð‘Œŋ ð‘ŒĪ𑍇 āĨĨ 10-5āĨĨ

Meaning (𑌊ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œĩð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - you
𑌏𑌕𑌃 - one; alone
𑌚𑍇ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĻ𑌃 - conscious; aware (ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œĩð‘ŒŪ𑍇𑌕ð‘Œķ𑍍𑌚𑍇ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĻ𑌃 = ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œĩ𑌂 𑌏𑌕𑌃 𑌚𑍇ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĻ𑌃)
ð‘Œķ𑍁ð‘ŒĶ𑍍𑌧𑌃 - pure; stainless
ð‘Œœð‘ŒĄð‘Œ‚ - inert; insentient
ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘Œķ𑍍ð‘Œĩð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - the universe; the world
𑌅ð‘Œļð‘ŒĪ𑍍 - unreal; without independent reality
ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĨð‘Œū - so; likewise
𑌅ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘ŒĶ𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘Œū 𑌅𑌊ð‘Œŋ - even ignorance
ð‘ŒĻ - not
𑌕ð‘Œŋ𑌂𑌚ð‘Œŋð‘ŒĪ𑍍 - anything
ð‘Œļð‘Œū - that
𑌕ð‘Œū - what?
𑌎𑍁𑌭𑍁ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œļð‘Œū - desire to know; curiosity
ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĨð‘Œū𑌊ð‘Œŋ - even then
ð‘ŒĪ𑍇 - for you

Translation (𑌭ð‘Œūð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
You alone are pure consciousness; the world is inert and has no independent reality. Even ignorance is nothing - then what is there to know? Yet even so, you still have the urge to know.

Commentary (𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑍁ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌧ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ):
This verse aims at a refined form of bondage: spiritual curiosity that never ends. The mind hears "the Self is awareness" and immediately turns it into a new object to understand, analyze, and accumulate. 𑌅𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍𑌰 interrupts that: if you are already the conscious witness (𑌚𑍇ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĻ), and the world is ð‘Œœð‘ŒĄ (known object), what exactly are you trying to know? Even 𑌅ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘ŒĶ𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘Œū is called "nothing" because it is not a real substance; it is a mistaken identification. The cure is not collecting more concepts; it is seeing the mistake clearly and resting as the knower.

This is also why Advaita repeatedly emphasizes that the Self is self-evident. You do not "reach" awareness; you notice that awareness is already present, prior to every thought. The Kena Upanishad asks, in effect, "By whom is the mind moved?" and then points beyond the mind to the knower of mind. Here too the urge to know (𑌎𑍁𑌭𑍁ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œļð‘Œū) must turn inward: not toward more information, but toward direct recognition. Otherwise, the mind turns spirituality into endless reading and debating, and the heart remains unchanged.

Practice by turning curiosity into recognition. The next time the mind feels, "I need to understand this fully," pause and ask: "What is aware of this need to understand?" Do not answer with another thought. Rest for two breaths in the simple knowing. Then do one practical thing that expresses understanding: drop one craving, forgive one resentment, or simplify one choice. This transforms knowledge from "concept collection" into lived freedom. If you do study, study in a lighter way: read one verse, sit quietly, and look for how it points to the witness you already are. That is how 𑌎𑍁𑌭𑍁ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œļð‘Œū matures into peace.

𑌰ð‘Œū𑌜𑍍ð‘ŒŊ𑌂 ð‘Œļ𑍁ð‘ŒĪð‘Œū𑌃 𑌕ð‘Œēð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰ð‘Œūð‘ŒĢð‘Œŋ ð‘Œķ𑌰𑍀𑌰ð‘Œūð‘ŒĢð‘Œŋ ð‘Œļ𑍁𑌖ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ 𑌚 āĨĪ
ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļ𑌕𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘Œļ𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘Œū𑌊ð‘Œŋ ð‘ŒĻ𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ ð‘ŒĪð‘Œĩ 𑌜ð‘ŒĻ𑍍ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ 𑌜ð‘ŒĻ𑍍ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ āĨĨ 10-6āĨĨ

Meaning (𑌊ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
𑌰ð‘Œū𑌜𑍍ð‘ŒŊ𑌂 - kingdom; power; rulership
ð‘Œļ𑍁ð‘ŒĪð‘Œū𑌃 - sons; children
𑌕ð‘Œēð‘ŒĪ𑍍𑌰ð‘Œūð‘ŒĢð‘Œŋ - wives/spouses
ð‘Œķ𑌰𑍀𑌰ð‘Œūð‘ŒĢð‘Œŋ - bodies
ð‘Œļ𑍁𑌖ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ - pleasures; comforts
𑌚 - and
ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļ𑌕𑍍ð‘ŒĪð‘Œļ𑍍ð‘ŒŊ 𑌅𑌊ð‘Œŋ - even of one who was attached
ð‘ŒĻ𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ - lost; destroyed
ð‘ŒĪð‘Œĩ - for you
𑌜ð‘ŒĻ𑍍ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ 𑌜ð‘ŒĻ𑍍ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ - in birth after birth

Translation (𑌭ð‘Œūð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
Kingdoms, children, spouses, bodies, and pleasures - even when you were attached to them - have been lost by you, birth after birth.

Commentary (𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑍁ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌧ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ):
This verse uses the idea of many births as a powerful mirror for impermanence. Whether you interpret rebirth literally or psychologically, the point is the same: everything you cling to changes. Bodies change, relationships change, roles change, and what once felt like "my world" becomes a memory. Attachment does not prevent loss; it only adds fear and grief. The verse is not trying to frighten you; it is trying to make you honest: if loss is inevitable, why invest your identity in what must be lost?

This is a key step toward ð‘Œĩ𑍈𑌰ð‘Œū𑌗𑍍ð‘ŒŊ that is not bitter. Bitter dispassion says, "Nothing matters." Mature dispassion says, "Many things matter, but they cannot be my final refuge." That shift makes life healthier. You can love family deeply without turning them into a substitute for inner stability. You can enjoy comfort without building your worth on it. You can care for the body without being terrified of aging. Advaita invites you to locate stability in the Self as witness, not in the changing display.

Practice by reflecting on one "lost kingdom" from your own life: an old identity you outgrew, a relationship that changed, a job phase that ended, a version of health that passed. Notice how attached you were then, and notice how life continued anyway. Let that teach you where to place your weight now. Then choose one act of "loving without clinging" today: be present with a person without demanding they fix your mood, take care of health without panic, or enjoy a pleasure without excess. This trains the heart to be soft without being dependent, which is the lived meaning of this verse.

𑌅ð‘Œēð‘ŒŪ𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ𑍇ð‘ŒĻ 𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ𑍇ð‘ŒĻ ð‘Œļ𑍁𑌕𑍃ð‘ŒĪ𑍇ð‘ŒĻð‘Œū𑌊ð‘Œŋ 𑌕𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĢð‘Œū āĨĪ
𑌏𑌭𑍍ð‘ŒŊ𑌃 ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļð‘Œū𑌰𑌕ð‘Œū𑌂ð‘ŒĪð‘Œū𑌰𑍇 ð‘ŒĻ ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘Œķ𑍍𑌰ð‘Œū𑌂ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒŪ𑌭𑍂ð‘ŒĻ𑍍 ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĻ𑌃 āĨĨ 10-𑍭āĨĨ

Meaning (𑌊ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
𑌅ð‘Œēð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - enough; let it be
𑌅𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ𑍇ð‘ŒĻ - with wealth/gain (𑌅𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ)
𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ𑍇ð‘ŒĻ - with desire/pleasure (𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ)
ð‘Œļ𑍁𑌕𑍃ð‘ŒĪ𑍇ð‘ŒĻ 𑌅𑌊ð‘Œŋ - even with merit; good deeds
𑌕𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĢð‘Œū - with action; by action
𑌏𑌭𑍍ð‘ŒŊ𑌃 - from these
ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļð‘Œū𑌰-𑌕ð‘Œū𑌂ð‘ŒĪð‘Œū𑌰𑍇 - in the wilderness of ð‘Œļ𑌂ð‘Œļð‘Œū𑌰
ð‘ŒĻ - not
ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘Œķ𑍍𑌰ð‘Œū𑌂ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - rest; relief
𑌅𑌭𑍂ð‘ŒĪ𑍍 - has been; occurred
ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĻ𑌃 - mind

Translation (𑌭ð‘Œūð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
Enough of wealth and pleasure, and even of merit-making action. In this wilderness of saMsAra, the mind has found no rest from these.

Commentary (𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑍁ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌧ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ):
This verse is brutally compassionate. It says: even "good" things cannot give final rest if the mind is craving. Wealth and pleasure are obvious candidates for disappointment. But the verse also includes ð‘Œļ𑍁𑌕𑍃ð‘ŒĪ - merit - and 𑌕𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ - action. Even a life of good deeds can become restless when it is driven by inner hunger: hunger for recognition, hunger for control, hunger for future reward. Then even virtue becomes another way to avoid silence. The wilderness (𑌕ð‘Œū𑌂ð‘ŒĪð‘Œū𑌰) image is apt: you can wander endlessly in a forest of projects without ever reaching water.

Advaita is not against action; it is against the belief that action can manufacture inner wholeness. When the mind tries to become whole through doing, it becomes exhausted. The gItA offers a medicine here: act without clinging to fruits (ð‘ŒŦð‘Œē), and let action be offered rather than used. 𑌅𑌷𑍍𑌟ð‘Œūð‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍𑌰 goes even further: he hints that the mind's deepest rest comes from recognizing the Self as already complete. From that recognition, action may continue, but it is not fueled by desperation.

Practice by noticing the difference between wholesome action and restless action. Wholesome action is quiet and specific; restless action is hurried and endless. For one week, pick one area where you overdo: productivity, helping, socializing, spiritual consumption. Each day, stop one unnecessary action and sit in silence for five minutes. Watch what the mind does when it is not allowed to "earn" peace. Then do one action that is truly needed and do it slowly, without multitasking. This trains ð‘Œĩð‘Œŋð‘Œķ𑍍𑌰ð‘Œū𑌂ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋ (rest) not as laziness, but as freedom from compulsive doing.

𑌕𑍃ð‘ŒĪ𑌂 ð‘ŒĻ 𑌕ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋ 𑌜ð‘ŒĻ𑍍ð‘ŒŪð‘Œūð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ 𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŊ𑍇ð‘ŒĻ ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĻð‘Œļð‘Œū 𑌗ð‘Œŋ𑌰ð‘Œū āĨĪ
ð‘ŒĶ𑍁𑌃𑌖ð‘ŒŪð‘Œūð‘ŒŊð‘Œūð‘Œļð‘ŒĶ𑌂 𑌕𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĶð‘ŒĶ𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘Œū𑌊𑍍ð‘ŒŊ𑍁𑌊𑌰ð‘ŒŪ𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒĪð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ𑍍 āĨĨ 10-ð‘ŪāĨĨ

Meaning (𑌊ð‘ŒĶð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
𑌕𑍃ð‘ŒĪ𑌂 - done; performed
ð‘ŒĻ - not? (rhetorical: "has it not been done?")
𑌕ð‘ŒĪð‘Œŋ - how many?
𑌜ð‘ŒĻ𑍍ð‘ŒŪð‘Œūð‘ŒĻð‘Œŋ - births; lifetimes
𑌕ð‘Œūð‘ŒŊ𑍇ð‘ŒĻ - by the body
ð‘ŒŪð‘ŒĻð‘Œļð‘Œū - by the mind
𑌗ð‘Œŋ𑌰ð‘Œū - by speech
ð‘ŒĶ𑍁𑌃𑌖𑌂 - painful; sorrow-producing
𑌆ð‘ŒŊð‘Œūð‘Œļ-ð‘ŒĶð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - giving toil; exhausting
𑌕𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒŪ - action; labor
ð‘ŒĪð‘ŒĪ𑍍 - that
𑌅ð‘ŒĶ𑍍ð‘ŒŊ 𑌅𑌊ð‘Œŋ - even today; even now
𑌉𑌊𑌰ð‘ŒŪ𑍍ð‘ŒŊð‘ŒĪð‘Œūð‘ŒŪ𑍍 - let it cease; let it stop

Translation (𑌭ð‘Œūð‘Œĩð‘Œū𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĨ):
In how many lifetimes have you not done exhausting, pain-giving actions by body, mind, and speech? Let that compulsive labor stop, even now.

Commentary (𑌅ð‘ŒĻ𑍁ð‘Œļ𑌂𑌧ð‘Œūð‘ŒĻ):
The verse ends the chapter with a turning point: 𑌉𑌊𑌰ð‘ŒŪ - cessation. It is not telling you to stop all external work; it is telling you to stop inner compulsion. Many people live as if rest must be earned: "After I finish everything, then I can be okay." But "everything" never ends. The body keeps moving, the mind keeps planning, speech keeps arguing. This verse says: stop the painful, exhausting style of action. The style is the problem: action done from fear, identity, and craving. That style keeps reproducing suffering even when outcomes are good.

This is also a pointer toward the witness. When you recognize yourself as awareness, you begin to see that action is happening in the body-mind, but the Self is not a doer in the same way. That recognition softens guilt, pride, and burnout. You can still act responsibly, but you stop carrying the world as an existential burden. In the Advaitic vocabulary, you move from 𑌕𑌰𑍍ð‘ŒĪ𑍃ð‘ŒĪ𑍍ð‘Œĩ (doer-identity) toward simple functioning without inner claim.

Practice by making one clear experiment with 𑌉𑌊𑌰ð‘ŒŪ. Choose one habitual strain: arguing in your head, rehearsing future conversations, justifying yourself, or pushing productivity beyond what is sane. For one day, every time the strain appears, pause for one breath and say inwardly, "uparamyatAm" - let it stop. Then return to the immediate task: one email, one kind sentence, one simple step. If action is needed, do it; if rumination is happening, stop it. Also add one "rest in awareness" practice: sit for five minutes, notice thoughts, and remember you are the knower of them. Over time, this retrains the nervous system: you can live and act, but you do not have to suffer by compulsively carrying it all.




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