Yoga Journal I wrote about Robert in several publications, including the January/February 1998 issue of Yoga Journal and the Fall 1995 issue of Inner Directions. I also helped write on with Ganeshan, Editor of Ramana Ashram's publication, The Mountain Path, found elsewhere on this site. Robert enjoyed Inner Directions because he liked and trusted the editor, Matthew Greenblatt.  When I wrote the Yoga Journal piece, Robert was gravely ill. The article contains much the same information as available elsewhere on this site. Unfortunately, magazines have, from a scanner's point of view, difficult formats to read and translate. Therefore, I used the scanner only for the first page of each article, and then used an unformatted text file for the rest. This keeps the size down as well as the loading time.

THE MYSTERIOUS SAGE Of SEDONA   By Edward Muzika   A student reflects on the life and death of Robert Adams, an American who achieved awakening at the feet of Ramana Maharshi.   Robert Adams, who taught a small group of students quietly and unobtrusively for 30 years in Los Angeles, was one of the best-kept spiritual secrets of our time. He founded no ashrams, centers, or institutes, never lectured in public or taught workshops, was rarely interviewed or photographed, and published no books. Even toward the end of his life, when word about him had begun to spread, his weekly meetings—or satsangs—never exceeded 50 participants. And yet he was perhaps the only American to embody and transmit the nondual experience and teachings directly from Ramana Maharshi, considered by many to be one of the greatest of all modern spiritual masters of India. Ramana Maharshi had a spontaneous awakening at the age of 16. Gripped by the fear of death, he stretched out like a corpse, stiffened his body, and said to himself, "Well, my body is dead. I see it. It will soon be cremated. But who is it that dies?" His intense inquiry into this question resulted in the realization that the body dies, but Self-Awareness never decays. This Self-Awareness, he later said, "is unrelated to anything. It is also self-luminous. Even if this body is burned, it will not be affected. Hence I realized, that very day, that I was that Awareness." This realization never left him. Soon after his awakening, the young boy left home and made his way to the holy mountain Arunachala. He spent many years there, meditating in a cave, never speaking. Eventually Ramana Maharshi became celebrated as a self-realized jnana (wisdom) yogi, a great master of the spiritual tradition known as Advaita ("not-two") Vedanta.

Though many can discuss this tradition in great length and with great learning, Romana was one of the very few who had a direct experience of realization of non-duality. Eventually an ashram grew up around him, and his presence drew spiritual seekers from all over the world. For the most part he taught through silence, and his first two books, Self Inquiry and Who am I?, were composed of written answers to questions posed by devotees. When he did begin to speak, he typically came back again and again to the same point: "Everyone says ‘I’ without understanding the significance of that pronoun. The seeker of truth should first asked a question "Who am I?" As often as an idea or thought our rises, then and there, the seeker should ask himself, "To whom has this idea occurred?"" This process, he taught, would lead to liberation. A Dwarf and a Siddhi Like his guru Ramana, Robert Adams had a spontaneous experience of awakening as a young boy. Born in 1928 in the Bronx, Robert’s earliest memory was of a 2 foot high dwarf with white hair and a white beard who would stand at the foot of his bed and jabber at him in a language he could not understand. This little man finally disappeared when Robert was seven. After the little man stopped coming, Robert developed a Siddhi, a power. By this time, he said, he felt the world belonged to him. Whenever he wanted something, he just repeated God's name three times, and within minutes or hours it would be given to him. Once, after he thought he would like to take violin lessons and so read cited God's name, his uncle showed up with the violin, saying he thought Robert might enjoy learning the instrument. By the time Robert was 14, he hardly studied at all. Whenever a test came up, he would again just say, "God, God, God!" and the correct answers would come. One day, just before taking an algebra test, he repeated God's name three times. Then rather than the algebra answers, something else came to him--a great awakening. About the experience itself Robert always remains reticent, saying it was inexpressible. "But," he said, "it changed my life completely." In fact, Robert began to change so much his mother thought he was going mad. He was no longer interested in food, school, books, friends, or hobbies. He had no idea what had happened to him, and began exploring Eastern religious books. One day happened on the book Who am I? by Ramana Maharshi. Upon seeing Ramana's photograph, he said, "I was shocked. The hair on my head and neck stood up. The little man who had lectured me all those years was Ramana." Robert attended meetings and had long conversations with spiritual teacher Joel Goldsmith. Eventually he discovered the autobiography of a Yogi by Paramhansa Yogananda, and made up his mind to study with him. So at age 16 he left home for Encinitas, California. Taken in by Yogananda, the boy asked to become a monk at the Self Realization Fellowship monastery. But Yogananda refused the request. "He couldn’t wait to get rid of me," Robert remembered. "I kept asking him why he taught all the practices, Mantras, affirmations, and healing techniques, when all of the missed the point of self realization? Yogananda’s attitude was, "I've done very well, thank you, doing things this way!" Because of the nature of Robert’s spontaneous awakening and his connection to the little white-haired dwarf, Yogananda told Robert that Romana was his true teacher. Meeting Ramana During the fall of 1946 Robert traveled to India, arriving by train in the town of Tiruvannamalai, a few miles from Arunachala mountain, the site of Ramana Maharshi's ashram. Early the next day, while walking towards the ashram, he spotted Ramana coming down the path towards them. An electrifying energy coursed through his body. He felt completely open. As Ramana got closer, Robert stripped off all his clothes and dropped at his feet. Ramana reached down, grabbed Robert by his shoulders, looked into his eyes and said, "I have been waiting for you. Get up! Get up!" Robert stayed at Ramana ashram for almost 3 years, during which time he bought a jeep for the ashram to bring in supplies from town and helped build a large hospital using money from an inheritance. During the late 1940s Romana was almost constantly ill with severe arthritis and other ailments, including the cancer that eventually killed them. Few visitors were allowed to stay for more than a few weeks at the ashram, so Robert lived mostly in the caves above. He later said, "It was with Ramana that my eyes were opened to the meaning of my experience." After Ramana died, Robert wanted to visit several other saints in India, but had no money left. The famed Ramana biographer Arthur Osborne, hearing about Robert’s situation, gave him $7,000 to continue his travels and spiritual education. Robert wandered across India and roamed the world off and on during the next 30 years. He said he wanted to make sure he had not missed anything. No matter where Robert traveled, he was discovered, and a group of disciples grew up around him. But he always resisted being tied down to an ashram or community and soon moved on. Eventually, however, he decided it was time to stop and take on a small group of students, to whom he would pass out his understanding. Without publicity or fanfare of any kind he calmly began holding satsang in Los Angeles. Into the silence I first met Robert Adams in June of 1989. I had been a Zen monk for many years and still had not found what I was seeking. I received a doctorate in psychology and started my own psychotherapy practice. But examining my emotions just seemed to make me more aware of my unhappiness. Over the next few years I would hear Robert say the most perplexing things: "Nothing is as it appears to be. The world is not real. You are not your body, you are not a human being, you are God, the absolute, omniscient, immortal, all loving-perfection." But a day later he would say, "Nothing exists-not the world, not your body, mind, not the Absolute or God. These are all just words." One day he would say, "Don't get excited; whatever you see, touch, hear, or feel is not real. Look within and find who you really are." Another day he would say, "What is the worst thing that can happen to you? You can die, and what is so bad about that?" I never knew how to take his comments. They flew in the face of the evidence of my senses, which constantly showed me the external world as solid and real. Still I trusted him and his teachings, because of his utter peacefulness. He always maintained the same bearing of deep equanimity whether in satsang, riding in a car, sitting in the park, or at lunch. He spoke with a quiet confidence, as if he were talking from a living and absolute constant experience, not mouthing philosophical knowledge learned from books or from Romana. Because I trusted him and his teachings, I changed. Everyone recognized that I was less arrogant, less confrontational, less angry, less stingy, less frightened of the world; I was softer, gentler, kinder. Many people, especially those coming from other traditions emphasizing the transmission of teachings or of shakti (spiritual power), found our satsang meetings boring. Robert did not present techniques to find bliss or God, or make life work better. There was little chanting and few external signs of devotion among his disciples. Lastly, Roberts Parkinson's disease slurred his speech, hampering easy understanding of his words. (I always accused him of getting the disease just to make people listen harder.) He also spoke slowly, and with long gaps between sentences. He emphasized silence rather than content. Some newcomers found the whole experience lacking in energy, understanding, devotion, or even basic comprehensibility. But because so much was lacking externally, those who stayed were drawn deep within the silence. In fact, silence is the best description of Robert. Silence was his home, his source, his being, his teaching. Just being in his presence had a profound effect on many people. Some were overcome by happiness, others by peace. Some felt deep relaxation that lapsed into a barely conscious "sleep." Some experienced sinking into light; others a dissolving into emptiness as the world dissolved into them; others a deep bliss and nothing else. For each it was different. Mostly Robert was imperturbable-he never complained, never lacked a ready smile or humorous comeback, and I never saw him angry. He took a disarming lite, even wry, approach to the spiritual search. "Some of the group asked me to speak about suffering," he announced one evening. "I don't know if they want me to tell them how to suffer, or how to get rid of suffering," he laughed. "When you are suffering, you look for someone to relieve you of your suffering. But if you take this approach, when the one misery is taken away, another ensues. There is no end to it." "So what do we do? We leave the world alone. We inquire within. To whom has this come?" That is what you must do with every problem, with every tummy ache, with every happiness, and with everything you see in the world. Who is this I? Who gave it birth? Who is its source?" Another evening someone complained that self inquiry seemed "like a very intense activity." "No," Robert replied. "Do it in a comical way. Make a game out of it. Don't take it too seriously." "It's an inquiry a form of seeking, indicative of ego?" another student asked. "You have to use your ego to destroy your ego," said Robert. "You use your mind to destroy your mind." "Then there is no seeking after certain point?" "All seeking stops." "Why can we do that at the beginning?" The student persisted. "You can. Why don't you?" Robert laughed. Robert’s playful, mischievous style of teaching continued outside of satsang. In is very low-key way, he would say one thing to one person and a different thing to someone else. Sometimes he would appear not to remember promises, though his memory was excellent, or he would equivocate in such a way that everyone thought he had agreed to their separate and contradictory wishes. He denied being a guru, but acted like one and constantly extolled the virtues of the "realized being" or sage. He even appeared to set people up so they would clash with each other. For example, after I first met Robert I began transcribing all of his talks, with the idea of selling them at satsang, giving a percentage to Robert, and keeping apart for myself to start a publishing company for satsang. It all made sense. Robert did the talking, I recorded the talks, transcribed them, edited them, and wrote an introduction to cap things off. Thus a 50/50 split was fair, wasn't it? Things went along fine for a while, until one day I arrived at satsang to find new transcripts done by another student, Mary, on the table. She asked only for a donation. Then the next week, more transcripts appeared by yet another transcriber. I lost my cozy post of being Robert’s voice, my new business had gone down the tubes, and Mary and I were at loggerheads for time. It was painful, but effective. I realized that Robert was always adjusting the fire, "stirring the pot" to make egos bump into each other, creating a scenario in which the grosser aspects of the personality-jealousy, greed, the need for recognition or control-was brought into the open. Robber was a steel chisel, knocking off the ego’s flinty edges. Exodus From my first meeting with Robert, he had expressed interest in setting up an ashram in some other city. One month it would be a city in Chile or Argentina, and a year later a would be Calcutta or Nova Scotia. Offers were always coming in from around the world, asking Robert to visit or live there, and he usually Ran these offers by me and a few others. I called the the "City de jour" game. But the game turned more serious during March of 1995; he seemed more determined to move. One fateful August day while driving Robert to satsang, I asked Robert, "Robert, isn’t it about time we checked out Sedona?" The people there had offered him everything he needed, including a residence and a satsang house. How could he refuse such generosity and declarations of love? Robert decided to move by the end of September, just four weeks away. (Ed’s note, not in the article as written, but in the manuscript I gave the editor: Robert confided in me one day, "Just watch, they will renege on everything they promised once I get up there." This is exactly what happened.) During this time Roberts Parkinson's disease was growing worse, but he only joked about his illness. Attendance at satsang was increasing, for no apparent reason. One evening Robert called me up to the chair where he was sitting, cupped his hand by his mouth, and spoken to my ear: "They're coming to see the dying guru. The day I die, we’ll have a full house." Another time a devotee suggested that rather than have Robert give a talk, someone (mean himself) could read one of Robert’s earlier talks from a transcript. Robert’s response was, "there are many teachers who talk; there are many teachers who are silent; but there is only one teacher who mumbles!" Everything changed now at satsang in Los Angeles. Robert talked much as he always had, but yet he had a radiance and presence that he never revealed before. Rather than sitting back in his chair and disappearing into himself for half an hour before he talked, as was customary, he sat forward on the edge of his chair, grasping the microphone, looking at everyone intently. This was a very different Robert, one who knew that profound changes were the air. The power he was radiating was palpable. Robert still joked, but mostly he was silent. Sometimes he just looked deep into our eyes. Robert was pouring his all into us, giving us his last best shot. In Sedona, Robert lived with his wife in a spacious two-bedroom townhouse. The entire end of his living room was glass and faced Capital Butte, a mountain that looks remarkably like Arunachala. Robert often sat in a large easy cheer facing the mountain as the Sun rose. Twice a day he took his small dog, Dmitri, on walks. He slept very little, perhaps three hours a night, then he sat in silence from three a.m. until six a.m., joined by devotees all over the world who knew his schedule. Robert spent his last days talking with students. He gave two people explicit instructions to begin satsang in Sedona and Santa Monica. Too a few others he handed on the responsibility for taking care of his family. During his last days, Robert requested complete silence. Devotees said he could hear the slightest whisper, no matter where they were in the house, and he would call out for silence. A stroke took his vision in late February, but his mood never changed. Robert faced his passing with an attitude of happiness and excitement, as he were embarking on a great journey. Robert’s dog had died just a few months before, and he had said many times, "Dmitri keeps me grounded. When he passes so will I." And so it was. Two nights before he passed, devotees and family took him outside for last look at the mountain. He pointed upward towards its top and said, "Snow." Nobody understood, for there was no snow on the mountain. A day or so later, though, the snow began to fall, gently at first, then with growing fury. Within hours everyone in the house was trapped, unable to leave, and thus they were blessed to witness Robert’s passing in isolation from the outside world. On the evening before he passed, a great peaceful energy permeated his bedroom, and he began smiling and laughing. He said that Ramana had entered the room, along with Christ, Buddha, and many other saints and sages. He asked whether anyone else could see them and talk to Ramana and the others, just as he had predicted would happen after vision he had 10 years before. His body and face were aglow, and he radiated an energy that invigorated everybody. Students remark that they felt Robert was working at a subtle energy level, transforming and purifying them. Robert was fully conscious when he died and laughed and smiled to the end. He said there was no more pain, only "tingling," despite the fact he was now also suffering from liver cancer. Minutes before he died, he held his daughter's head, mouthing the words: "I love you; I love you!" His body was bathed by Mary, anointed with fragrant oils, and he was dressed in white linen and silk. Those of us who saw them him were overwhelmed by his beauty. Parts of his body remained warm for days, especially his feet and his chest. When Robert’s guru, Ramana Maharshi, was dying he told his grieving disciples, "They take this body for Bhagavan and attribute suffering to him. Is it not a great pity? They are despondent that Bhagavan is going to leave them and go away. But where can he go?" Robert left with a similar message. "When you wake up," he once said, "there is no such thing as being well or being sick. But you don't understand what I say to you, and you go to different doctors, taking colonics, going to healers all over the world. What you should be doing a searching for the self. Then you wake up. It was all a dream. The cancer did not exist. The searching for relief did not exist. I did not exist. You are free." Embedded in this article was a text box set apart with the following: On Waking from the Dream Awaken from this mortal dream. Who has to awaken? Ask yourself. There is no thing to wake up. Can you say why there is really nothing to say? We can play all sorts of games with Mantras, and tantric techniques, but for what end? Just know that you are nobody; there is absolutely nothing to do; you do not exist. This relieves you of everything. It relieves you of all responsibilities to yourself in the world. Some of you still believed that if you become this way you'll become so sarcastic and belligerent, will not care or be loving or kind, but this is not true. On the contrary, as you drop everything, as you let go of all your preconceived ideas, your doggedness, as you forget all of your rituals and all the things you been doing all your life, what we call love begins to function as you. What we call compassion begins to function as you. Living kindness, peace--these attributes will automatically take over, for you've lost all fear. When you've lost all fear for existence, love automatically takes over. You creative teacher to wake you up; what you are already awake and do not know it. A teacher gives you teachings, gives you grace, and what you understand is that you are already awake and in peace. In return you take care of the teacher. It is a reciprocal game. In your game, it is your dream. Therefore waken now and be free. Your heart has to be your guide. If you are sincere, you will know where to go and what to do. If you were working out of your ego, you will find fault with everything. I can tell you this much, everyone is in the right place. There are no mistakes. None have been made. Not are being made. Those people who are with certain gurus belong right where they are, for the time being. Turn within and your heart will tell you where to go.

The 1995 Inner Directions piece was written after several editors had approached Robert about writing something about him. He chose Inner Directions because he liked and trusted its editor, Matthew Greenblatt.

The Ultimate Happiness   A Conversation With Robert Adams   Robert Adams spent three years with the contemporary sage Ramana Maharshi from 1947 until the latter's death in April 1950. He has been holding meetings in the Los Angeles area for the past nine years. The following introduction and was compiled by Edward Muzika, Ph.D., one of Robert's students

Robert Adams: There is one thing I can tell you for sure. All is well. Everything is unfolding as it should. I can tell you that truly nothing is wrong anywhere. If you think you have a problem, that's the mistake — thinking you have a problem. As soon as you stop thinking, everything will go right.   Questioner: Isn't everything going right while you are thinking?   R: Yes, but you don't know it. Some of us don't think it is, saying, "I've got a problem," or "I'm involved in some-thing I can't handle which is bigger than I am," or "Some-thing hurts me," or "I feel anger." But I can assure you, there is nothing wrong!   All that you have to do is watch yourself. As soon as your mind starts thinking past your nose, grab it — not your nose, but your thoughts. You can grab your nose too if you want (laughter). Grasp your thoughts with your mind, and put a stop to them any way you can, either by observ-ing the thoughts or by practicing self-enquiry and asking to whom they occur. Whatever you need to do, do not allow yourself to think. If your mind does not think, you will be exceedingly happy. You will have unalloyed happiness.   Some people ask me, "Robert, why don't you just speak the highest truth all the time?" Some others tell me to speak in such a way that they can understand what I am talking about (laughter). So that is the dilemma. I do whatever I have to do. I plan nothing. Everything is extemporaneous. I have no rehearsals.   A man called me yesterday telling me he had been practicing for two weeks, took a seminar and paid seven hundred dollars, and is still not realized. I get calls like this all the time. What you say determines the answer I give you. But there is a standard answer. Think of the question, "When will I become self-realized?" Before I answer this one I usually ask "Please tell me what do you mean by `I'?" Then I further ask, "What do you mean by `Self-realization?"' They usually become silent, so I finally ask, "Who do you think the `I' is? Who wants to become Self-realized?"   If you can't do anything else, surrender to consciousness. By surrender, I mean surrender your ego, your problems, your emotions, your fears, your frustrations and anger. Give it all up. Say, "Take it, consciousness!"   Do not get carried away by your emotions. Stop in the middle and watch. Watch your emotions ruling you. Watch your fears controlling you. Watch your anger arise. Do not try to stop it, just watch and observe. Look intelligently and realize who it is that is getting angry. It is not you. It is not even your ego because there is no ego. It is not your body because there is no body. It is not your mind because there is no mind. Therefore, what is making you angry? Nothing.   I was talking about all the phone calls I've been receiving. People still ask what I think about this or that teacher, this or that person, or why shouldn't they go to see other teachers as well? I really don't know what to say. You have to do what you have to do. I can tell you that the more people you consult, the more confused you'll become. I don't care if you never come back here again because I am not looking for anything.   If you do find a teacher that you seem to have an affinity for, you should stick around for a while. If you run from teacher to teacher, you will become totally confused. Every teacher has his place. You will be attracted to the person you have to be with for as long as necessary. It depends on where your consciousness is.   Q: Robert, throughout the spiritual literature there are distinctions made between a gradual path and instantaneous enlightenment. A lot of this stuff about passing through stages — I can't relate to it. It just doesn't make any sense to me.   R: What can't you relate to?   Q: Just the idea that you pass through one stage to the next stage.   R: This is for the person who is striving. The truth is there is nothing to pass through. It appears that some people, who need to understand these things and research them for themselves, will be helped to see where they are coming from. Perhaps you don't need it.   Q: The state of happiness you talk about I would not callhappiness. The state seems far above happiness — happiness as the opposite of sadness.   R: You are right.   Q: Sadness could even come into that state you are I and it would only be something that was passing through with no identification.   R: You are right. As an example, I can cry at a funeral but I realize who is crying. I can have sadness if I want to but I am never really sad.   Q: The state of non-attached mind, that's really the closest thing to it, isn't it?   R: That's true. I am looking for words to describe things. More importantly, there is always total happiness. It i not human happiness. For most people to be happy, there has to be a person, place, or thing involved in their happiness. In true happiness, there are no things involved. It's a natural state. You will abide in that state forever.   Q: From the standpoint of practice, I have noticed that no matter what state arises, the problem is whether I am willing to let this go. Is it important for me to stay in my emotional state. The answer is that there is nothing you can do anyway as it come and goes.   R: Act as if there is something yo can do, even though there is nothing you can do. If you were passing a starving man in the room. don't think there is nothing you can do. Give him a piece of bread.   Q: But in that state of mind arising, emotions arising, perceptions arising, there is nothing you can do.   R: Except watch. Just watch. Just observe. Another thing to consider is this: if you were here as avisitor, having only one meeting with me, and you would never see me again, I would expound the highest truth to you and take off. You would say how great that is. But when I see you twice a week or more, I begin to know you quite well, and everything I say is to help you grow because that is what is needed at that time, since I'm going to be with you again. To people who were with Ramana Maharshi as devotees, he didn't expound absolute truth to them all the time. He would talk to them like an ordinary person. He would inquire about their welfare, their health, about their problems, and he would give them practical advice. He wouldn't say, "Nothing matters because nothing exists." They had problems. So he would talk to them in a practical manner.   Q: If we don't see progress within ourselves and see we are continually getting upset, we shouldn't let that bother us?   R: Keep observing, keep watching, keep focusing on the Self, and there will be nobody to ask who is bothered or who is not bothered. You only ask such a question when your attention is more on the bothering than it is on the Self. If you change your attention to the Self, see what happens.   Q: The question is, is that gradual?   R: For some people. It depends on how much time you give to it.   Q: We can't just turn our emotions off. When I go to work sometimes, I find such an intensity there, with people snapping at each other, I get caught up in it. Of course I be-come aware, usually after the fact, asking myself, "will this disappear gradually by abiding in myself, or will I someday suddenly awaken?"   R: In the morning, when you first open your eyes, that's the time to work on yourself. Ask yourself, "Who am I? How did I get here?" Reconcile yourself with yourself. If you do that upon first waking up, the whole day will be good, without these problems. Just don't go straight to work. Get up an hour early if you have to. See yourself for what you are, and realize the truth. Focus on the self. Ask yourself, "Who Am I?" and wait. Concentrate on the source of "I Am," or say to your-self, "I Am, I Am," and then go to work. Then you will see changes. You will build up a power that you will carry with yourself all day long.   Q: To follow that "I" to its source, to find the "I" by self-enquiry and abide in it seems to mean non-existence, statelessness.   R: Don't worry about being non-existent. Simply observe the "I," and watch it going into the heart.   Q: It is not so much a following then, but that it hap-pens by itself?   R: It happens by itself.   Q: When I contemplate "I Am," does it means that al-ready I am the Self?   R: Yes it does.   Q: Robert, it's because we have the concept we are not the Self that we miss the fact that we are abiding in the Self all the time. As Ramesh Balsekar has said, we only have the doubt we are not the Self, but the truth is we have always been it.   R: Exactly. When we don't see that, we go through all these troubles and play all these games, until we realize we are the Self. Then that is it. But it's fun.   Q: If we don't have the Self and are saying, "I am it," what is to keep that from becoming a parrot-like repetition?   R: It doesn't become a parrot-like repetition if you do it with your breath. When you inhale, say "I." When you exhale, say "Am." A subtle change of energy takes place within the Self, and you will become more peaceful, calm, and soon you will lose all identification with your body and mind. You will remain as "I Am."   Q: Robert, when we do self-enquiry, actually that is the beginning step to find the "I." When we develop a sense of abiding in the "I," there isn't much need of enquiry because we go straight to the abidance.   R: Self-enquiry has no beginning. If you practice "Who Am I," it sounds simple, but is very powerful. Only say, "Who Am I?," then pause, then say it again, "Who Am I?" Never answer the question. Just keep repeating "Who Am I?" Eventually, something will happen.   Q: I'm asking, if you develop a sense of self-abidance, you can watch states come and go, watch identification with the ego, and then self-enquiry is not necessary if you can go directly to that.   S: If you are abiding in the Self, there is no ego to watch — there is only the Self. You watch the ego with the mind, not with the Self. If you abide in the Self, there is nothing else. You are finished. You're cooked. Everything else is of the mind. When I say abide in the Self, I mean for-get everything and be yourself. There is nothing else to know at that point.   Keep observing, keep watching, keep focusing on the Self, and there will be nobody to ask who is bothered or who is not bothered. You only ask such a question when your attention is more on the bothering than it is on the Self. If you change your attention to the Self, see what happens.