You Are That: The Role of the Guru in Revealing the Self

A qualified Vedantic teacher (guru) must embody three essential characteristics according to the traditional scriptures…

First, he or she should be a saṃpradāya-vid, one who has been taught by his or her own teacher in accordance with the traditional Vedantic teaching methodology.

Second, as a consequence of having been subjected to the traditional teaching methodology, he or she should be a śrotriya, one who knows how to properly unfold the teachings.

Third, he or she should be a brahma-niṣṭhā, one who stands unshakably established in self-knowledge – living it here and now.

The Challenge of Communicating Self-Knowledge Through Words

Vedānta communicates knowledge through words. For instance, it uses the term ātmā (self) when referring to the conscious being you know yourself to be – the “I”, the presence that's always available to every thought, feeling, sensation and experience generated by your body-mind complex.

It uses the term Brahman when referring to that same consciousness as the fundamental reality underlying everything in existence.

However, simply hearing these Sanskrit terms, or even their English translations like “awareness” or “consciousness,” conveys little meaning on its own. These words remain abstract concepts until a qualified teacher carefully unfolds their meaning and demonstrates how they point to something you can verify in your own direct experience, here and now.

How Words Convey Object-Related Knowledge

Words are especially effective when we use them to communicate knowledge about things we've directly experienced – that is, knowledge gained through perception. When everyone is familiar with an object, it’s easy to talk about it. But even when something is unfamiliar, words can still help us understand what it is by comparing it to something more familiar.

Here are a few ways this works:

1. Words can reveal what kind of thing something is (jāti) – for example, someone might not know what a capybara is, but calling it a rodent immediately places it in a familiar category. Or, when someone hears that an avocado is a fruit, even if they’ve never seen one, they get a sense of what it might be.
2. Words can describe its qualities (guṇa) – like saying a physalis fruit has a lantern-like husk and a mildly acidic flavor, or that a musical instrument has a deep, resonant sound and a wooden body. These qualities help us imagine or identify the object, even if we’ve never encountered it before.
3. Words can point to its actions or behaviors (kriyā) – for instance, we might not see a whirlwind directly, but we recognize it from the way it makes leaves and dust twirl through the air. Similarly, we recognize a fever from the way it raises body temperature and causes chills and sweating.
4. Words can also indicate relationships (saṃbandha) – such as when we identify an unknown person as the child of someone we know. Even if we’ve never met them, that connection helps place them in context.

Why Words Cannot Directly Reveal the Self

Unfortunately, words cannot be employed in any of these ways to identify the self.

The self cannot be perceived, since it is non-objectifiable.

It does not belong to any species, as it is secondless – meaning there's nothing like it. It has no second to be compared to.

It is inherently attributeless (unconditioned by qualities), since it is formless.

It has no relationship to any other entity, as there exists nothing other than itself that it could relate to. It is the only “thing” there is, so it doesn't have a relationship to something else.

Moreover, it is actionless for several reasons: it has no parts, so there is nothing separate within it to initiate or receive action. It is free from desire, since its nature is whole, complete, and perfect, leaving no need or motivation to act. It is unchanging, because it is all-pervading – and change is a necessary feature of any action.

The bottom line is that no words can precisely and comprehensively reveal the self.

For example, when we say the word “apple,” an image of an apple appears in our minds. However, when we hear the word “Brahman” or “ātmā” (even were we to refer to them as universal awareness and individual awareness), no such image appears.

Though the word registers in our mind, it does not result in understanding because it does not refer to a worldly object that we know. Since the self cannot be objectified (known as an object), the mind does not grasp anything in particular.

Moreover, while the statement “An apple is a sweet, red fruit” is successful in conveying information because all the words used pertain to the known world — trying to explain the self with another word indicating another non-worldly object does not help.

Hence, the statement “Brahman is the very same as ātmā” does not make us understand Brahman, since neither ātmā nor Brahman is known.

The Resolution: Words as Indicators

Because certain things that cannot be fully expressed in words, such as taste or emotions, can be appreciated directly by the senses and the mind, the question arises, “Might not Brahman-ātmā be directly known by the mind even though no words can directly define or describe it?”

Vedānta says no!

“The eye does not go there (ie: does not reveal it), nor speech nor mind,” says the Kena Upaniṣad 1.3.

Thus, we find ourselves in a seemingly irresolvable twofold predicament…

The means of conveying self-knowledge (knowledge that leads to liberation) consist only of words, and the assimilation of self-knowledge has to take place in the intellect.

The problem is resolved by understanding that within the context of self-inquiry, words are employed as a means of implication rather than direct denotation.

That is, words are not meant to convey their direct meaning, but rather their implied or intended meaning. Thus, the words of the scriptures should be understood as indirect expressions of their intended meaning.

Due to ignorance, however, we know neither the intended meaning of the words nor the method of arriving at that meaning, and therefore we are incapable of gaining knowledge by reading scripture on our own.

For example, to reveal that we are limitless awareness, the scriptures state Tat Tvam Asi, “You are that.” Taken at face value, the statement itself is simple enough to understand. But unless the implied meanings of “you” and “that” are properly unfolded, we cannot know the real meaning of the statement, nor can we assimilate its truth in a way that has any practical impact on the quality of our lives.

In other words, by simply understanding the literal meaning of its words, the statement neither makes any logical sense nor does it serve to alleviate our suffering. Thus, we need the help of a qualified teacher.

The Teacher Should Be Living – Dead Gurus Can't Take You All the Way

Since the teaching is intended to remove the ignorance genuinely taking self as an individual, and each individual is unique in regard to his or her aptitude, learning style, and level of understanding – it is important that the teacher be alive. No matter how wise he or she may have been while living, a dead teacher cannot properly wield the means of knowledge.

The living teacher's knowledge of and personal interaction with the student enables the teacher to get a read on the student and, thus, more appropriately handle the subject matter in order to communicate the teaching in a way that is digestible for the student.

Moreover, a dead teacher cannot effectively demonstrate how the student can apply the teaching to situations in his or her daily life. Finally, a dead teacher is not around to answer questions and address concerns, and thus is incapable of clearing our doubts. The teacher should be readily available, or at least accessible, in order to address the student's questions and clear up his or her confusions.

Teaching Should Accord with the Traditional Teaching Methodology

It is also important that the teacher has been taught by his or her own teacher in accordance with the saṃpradāya, or teaching tradition of Vedānta, for the teacher must have an accurate understanding of the traditional teaching and be able to effectively wield its prakriyās, or methods of self-inquiry.

No teaching is required to prove the existence of ātmā, or the self, as it is self-evident. Simply put, our existence proves we exist. The teaching need only correct our deeply ingrained misunderstanding of the nature of that existence.

The job of the teaching methods is to reveal the nature of the self and enable us to make an accurate discrimination between the self and the “not-self,” which in Sanskrit is referred to as ātmā-anātmā-viveka.

The Core Technique: Superimposition and Negation

The basic technique is to start from the platform of ignorance and then methodically deconstruct all erroneous notions concerning the nature of reality until ultimately only the essential truth remains.

In other words, initially, equal ontological status is granted to both ātmā (the self) and anātmā (all apparent objective attributes). Then all anātmā is systematically negated until the attributeless nature of ātmā is correctly understood.

This analytical process is known as adhyāropa-apavāda – meaning superimposition and negation – which is a powerful teaching technique used to guide a seeker toward the truth of the Self.

It works in two steps: first, something provisional is taught to help the student grasp a subtle truth (adhyāropa), and then that provisional idea is carefully taken back or negated (apavāda), allowing the real nature of the Self to be revealed.

For example, in the beginning, the teacher may say, “You are the doer” (kartā) or “You are the experiencer” (bhoktā). This is adhyāropa – a superimposition. The Self is not really a doer or experiencer, but this idea helps the student begin to reflect and inquire.

As understanding deepens, the teacher then says, “You are not the doer, nor the experiencer – you are pure, actionless awareness.” This is apavāda – the negation of the earlier concept. The false identity is removed, revealing the Self as it truly is: formless, changeless, and free.

Another example starts with the idea, “The Self is within the body.” This, too, is a superimposition. It gives the student a location to begin meditating on the Self. Later, the teacher clarifies: “The Self is not in the body – the body is in the Self, which is all-pervading.” In this way, the initial teaching is withdrawn, and a more accurate understanding is revealed.

So, adhyāropa-apavāda is not about contradiction – it’s a pedagogical strategy. It uses provisional ideas as stepping stones, only to later dissolve them, leaving behind the nondual truth: that the Self is beyond all attributes, free from action, desire, and limitation.

Well-known analogy of Superimposition and Negation

A well-known analogy in Vedānta for illustrating the method of superimposition and negation (adhyāropa-apavāda) is called Aruṇdhatī-darśana-nyāya – the analogy of pointing out the star Aruṇdhatī. This analogy reflects how truth is gradually revealed by negating what it is not.

Since Aruṇdhatī is a very small and faint star, it cannot be seen directly at first. So, the teacher begins by pointing to something more visible – the moon. Then, the gaze is shifted to a nearby group of seven stars (the Saptarṣi or Big Dipper). From there, attention is directed to a star called Vasiṣṭha. Finally, with careful guidance, the seeker is led to see Aruṇdhatī.

The Four Fundamental Methods of Analysis

While all the methods of analysis employed in self-inquiry are variations of basic superimposition and negation model, there are four fundamental prakriyās that play a crucial role in the unfolding of self-knowledge.

1. The first is dṛg-dṛśya-viveka, or the discrimination between the seer and the seen. This method distinguishes anātmā, the “not-self,” from ātmā, the self, through the logic that the seen object cannot be the seer, or subject, who sees it.
2. The second is avasthā-traya-prakriyā, or the analysis of the three states of experience. This method uses the experience of the waking, dream, and deep sleep states to arrive at the singular substratum of all three states through the logic of invariable coexistence (anvaya) and invariable co-absence (vyatireka).
3. The third is kārya-kāraṇa-prakriyā, or the analysis of the relation between cause and effect. This method establishes that since Brahman, which is ātmā, or the self, is the cause of manifestation, the effect, which is the manifestation, is anātmā, or “not-self.”
4. The fourth is pañca-kośa-prakriyā, or the analysis of the five sheaths. This method reveals the five functional parts of the body-mind-sense complex as anātmā, or “not-self.”

Using Apparent Attributes to Indicate the Attributeless

The scriptures face a fundamental challenge: how do you point to something that has no qualities, no form, no distinguishing features? How do you help someone recognize what cannot be objectified?

Scriptures borrow qualities from the body-mind complex to serve as pointers to the self – much like how we might use the warmth in a room to indicate the presence of an invisible heat source, or how wind moving through trees reveals the presence of air that otherwise can't be seen.

Similarly, when you observe knowing happening through the mind or seeing happening through the eyes, scriptures use these observable functions to point to the invisible Self that makes them possible.

So the Upanishads say “You are the Knower” or “You are the Seer” – not because the Self performs these actions, but because these activities in the body-mind help indicate the presence of the unchanging awareness behind them. The knowing and seeing are perceptible; through them, we're pointed toward what cannot be perceived.

Another Example: The Appearance of Sentiency

Another example is how scriptures use sentiency to point to consciousness. Your body-mind appears sentient – it knows, feels, perceives, thinks, responds. This capacity to be alert and intelligent is called sentiency. But once again, we're borrowing an apparent quality to point to something attributeless.

Take the sky again. It appears blue, but the sky itself has no color. Still, we use that appearance of blueness to point it out. Then later we understand, “The sky is colorless – the blue is just how it appears.”

Similarly, the Self appears sentient – knowing and feeling seem to arise in its presence. The scriptures say “You are conscious” to help us recognize the Self. Still, we use this appearance of sentiency to point out the self. Then later we understand, “The Self is not sentient– it is pure consciousness in whose presence sentiency appears when illuminating a body-mind, like sky appearing blue when light scatters through atmosphere.”

Similarly, self appears to have gained  sentiency-attribute when pervaded by the body-mind. The scriptures take advantage of the visible sentiency-aliveness to point out the invisible self.

Thus sentiency is a helpful pointer, but not an actual quality the Self possesses. 

The Glory of a Living Teaching

The true teacher is the person who has learned the teachings from a teacher belonging to the tradition and who, having assimilated the knowledge, stands with inviolable conviction in the knowledge that his-her true identity is whole and complete, limitless, actionless, ever-present, all-pervasive, non-dual awareness.

Such a guru has been taught the traditional teaching methodology by his-her own guru, and will know how to wield them in a way that will most effectively facilitate the student's assimilation of self-knowledge. Such a teacher will be careful to avoid using words in a manner that leads to erroneous conclusions.

He or she will also take great care to ensure that his teaching does not create concepts. We are not trying to gain knowledge of an unknown entity through conceptualization, but rather to recognize an ever-existent fact. In other words, we are not trying to build a “picture” of some reality, but rather to remove the blinders that currently prevent us from “seeing” what already is.

A good teacher will specifically mention whatever misconceptions are possible and negate them. And he will answer all questions and resolve all doubts they are based upon, which is imperative to the process of self-inquiry because the intellect will never accept anything fully as long as the least trace of doubt remains about it.

Knowledge Alone Does Not Qualify One to Teach

Enlightenment, or the assimilation of self-knowledge, however, does not in itself qualify one to teach.

Just because a person knows who he is does not mean he will be able to present the knowledge to you in a way that will set you free.

If he does not have an effective teaching methodology, he will not be able to systematically communicate the knowledge.

Choosing a Teacher: Practical Guidance

In choosing a teacher (guru), you should use common sense and discretion. Since we have not yet assimilated self-knowledge, we cannot properly identify one who has. The best we can do is choose a teacher belonging to the tradition, one who is devoted to the teaching of Vedānta and to properly applying its methodology.

The Ideal Teacher-Student Relationship

In a proper lineage, the teacher sees himself as the servant of the student. Vedānta is not some evangelical religion, so the teacher cannot actually teach unless the student asks for knowledge. Thus, the student has equal power in the relationship.

In fact, Vedānta's archetypal model of the teacher-student relationship is that of Lord Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna, as depicted in the Bhagavad Gītā.

Kṛṣṇa serves as the chariot driver for his friend Arjuna, and in that capacity guides Arjuna through the process of self-inquiry. This process culminates in Arjuna's assimilation of self-knowledge and consequent attainment of mokṣa, or ultimate inner freedom.  (Yes, we know Arjuna went to heaven in Mahabharata, which shows he didn't attain moksha, however, we can also create a scenario he did attain moksha).

As illustrated, the ideal nature of the teacher-student relationship is friendship.

Friends share equal status and a partnership characterized by mutual respect. A friend may know more than you, but he or she does not make you feel small because of it.

A friend is ready, willing, and more than happy to share what he or she knows with you.

Moreover, the familiarity of the relationship allows you to feel comfortable raising any questions you might have so that they can be effectively laid to rest once and for all.

Essential Qualities to Look For

Basically, the teacher should have a sound grasp of the teachings, the ability to effectively wield the teaching methodology, and a refined appreciation of dharma, or universal ethics.

These qualities should allow him or her to present the teachings with clarity and confidence and to behave in an honest and direct manner that remains untainted by any personal agenda.

As Zen Master Dogen said, “Next to good manners (ie: dharma), enlightenment is the most important thing.”

Simply put, the teacher should walk the talk.