You cannot give up karma

You cannot give up karma, not because you are bound to karma, its because you were and can never be a karta. Karta is mithya, and atma is satyam, satyam is never connected with mithya, mithya is non separate from satyam. Satyam is pure clay. Mithya is pot , jug etc. 

Because the distinction is seen and atma is seen as satyam karma is never a problem. Karta is never a problem. 

The other fact is atma is anantam. Anantam is not a corrolary, its the svarupa of atma.

Its easier to understand sat and chit, atma is, atma is consciousness.

But anantam is a bit involved.

The method is as follows:

You use the shabda pramana to see that atma is anantam. Here the word see refers to understanding directly gained from shabda pramana, other pramanas like pratyaksha and anumana have no access to this understanding that only the shabda praman offers.

The pramana is the meaning of the mahavakya, the mahavakya and its meaning is itself the pramana. Just the eye and its vision (what is seen).

So here meaning of tat tvam asi helps us know atma svarupa is anantam , the word anatam is clarified.

How? By understanding tat pada. Tat pada is isvara lord, who is non separate intelligent and material cause. This lord is obviously satchit, but also this lord is by himself bigger than any bigness.

Imagine all of space, and isvara is the truth about space. Which means isvara is neither inside, nor outside space, in fact space is a derivative of maya the material cause, and this material cause maya is non separate from isvara. This automatically means this isvara is limitless wrt space time as being the very mother of time alongside maya. 
Now being the truth about maya, as maya is mithya, the nature of isvara is then of course anantam. The limitlessness cannot be a property of maya, as maya has no even being of its own. Only a being can have isness, and only what IS can be limitless. As it has to be 'something' to be limitless. Also limitlesness cannot have a limited being as its ashraya or its truth. Therefore the svarupa of isvara is limitless. 

In the tat tvam asi, the jiva, avasta traya sakthi is equated to this limitless existence consciousness that is the satyam, truth about maya sahita isvara, maya sahita isvara being mithya. Jivatvam is also mithya. Negating mithya, at the paramartha - atma is isvara, non dual reality, which is sat chit ananta svarupa, non dual , unchallenged, whole without a second. 

__PRESENT

Om

 Among the earthly mother and the mother of the universe who is more reverential 

It is indeed the earthly mother 

For she beareth in her womb and delivers with pain yet fondles and cries in joy her beloved child 

Accepts their faults and tenders to the child often sacrificing her humanly nature 

The heavenly mother holds all power 

Yet it’s the powerless human mother who fights against all odds

Her love is not just divine , it’s a force untold 

Its a continuation of the umbilical cord

She fed you in the wound , fed you post birth and feeds blessings forever 

Between the heavenly and the earthly mother

The earthly mother wins the battle 

As the greater of the two 

And so would heavenly mother agree 

For it’s her power that manifests as the human mother 

Om tat sat

Standpoints

 From the standpoint of individual and world I am the non dual isvara shakti

From standpoint of truth I am turiyam, here no questions arise

When questions arise I am isvara

When questions arise about my truth, it is said I am turiyam

The dialogue with isvara is seen as dialog with self

I see self itself as isvara

OM

OM

I am brahman

I only appeared as though as a jiva due to error and appeared to undergo transformations in time. In reality I am changeless. Now I appear as this bhakta praying to my own nature as bhagavan. 

OM

The Night of the Brahmastra

The night drew tight her fist; the heavens turned.
No star would look on me; I hid in shame.
Then Kama came, red-handed, crowned with scorn,
And drove me face-first into begging dust.

O depth of depths! My name was filth and loss.
I was a thing unfit to stand or speak.
My shield lay split; my blade forgot its truth.
I crawled, I wept, I cursed my very breath.

I loathed myself. The worms seemed nobler far.
The ground rose high; I lay beneath the low.
Each breath confessed my smallness and my stain.
The wheel rolled on and did not know my name.

No god replied. No dawn would own my cry.
Hope itself turned its face and walked away.
I was undone, unworthy even of fall—
For falling needs a height I did not have.

And there—
Where nothing else would answer,
Where even despair lay spent—
A stillness stood, stark, unsparing, bare.

My Teacher stood within that wordless hush.
He spoke no word; yet all instruction held.
He offered no escape, no promised light—
Only the truth that one last cut remained.

I took the final edge—unborn, uncaused,
Ajati-vada, keen before all time—
Not with hope,
Not with courage,
But because no other thing was left to do.

I did not strike at Kama, nor at self.
I cut the lie that said I was the maker,
That I had borne this world or held its weight.

The cut was clean.
The cut was sufficient.
That stroke itself was Brahmastra entire.

No fire followed.
No echo came.

And in that same plain instant,
Chains failed to close.
No karma found a place to stand.
The wheel stood still for lack of birth.

Kama stood emptied—
Not slain, but finished.

Only then—
Not joy, but breath returned.
Not triumph, but a great unburdening.

From dust I rose, not lifted, but restored.
My kingdom—long usurped—came back to me:
Not land nor throne, but sovereign inner ground,
Where thought obeys and peace stands sentinel.

There was a crown, yet none could see its weight.
There was a joy, yet quiet, firm, and true.
No shout proclaimed it; happiness sufficed—
A settled sun that does not need to blaze.

Now walk I soft upon the narrow rope,
High o’er the dust and clamor of the world.
I rule my step; I answer to the real.
No pride attends me; gratitude alone.

The night did not exalt me—
It returned me to myself.

The fall was dream.
The Teacher stood.
I woke.

The world itself was never born at all.

Borrowed Garments

 

Borrowed Garments

I am a wanderer—
yet still my feet at eventide
return unto the selfsame threshold,
as doth a river,
which though it roam by winding banks
forgets not whence it sprang.

Each day I eat of what doth find me,
as birds that neither sow nor store,
though heaven knows my name
and lays its portion
ever in the same outstretched hand.
I sit with naught held forth,
and yet become the board
where many a silent hunger meets.

I live by what doth come—
by season, weather, hap, and grace—
and still the furrows meet the plough,
the lamps are lit at fall of dusk,
the door unbars when need is ripe.
I keep no reckoning of what I owe,
yet all my hours spend themselves
in quiet service,
as fire gives warmth
and counts it not a gift.

I leave no mark upon the road,
and yet the road grows long behind me.

They say the renouncer owneth naught—
then name me this:
what owns the sky,
that wears all hues
and keeps not one?
I pass through rooms and years
as players pass through borrowed garb,
nor take the costume for the flesh,
nor feel compelled
to lay it down.

Kaupinavantam khalu bhagyavantam

I am a sanyasi of course

Of course I take bhiksha each day , it happens to be at the same home

Of course I sit expectationless, same time meeeting a million expectatations

Of course I live off what comes by luck, same time doing all that is to be done

I dont have any duties, Same time performing duties unlimited

I am the non doer, but everything appears to be done

Who said I am not sanyasi, of course I am

Wearing a grhsta costume

OM