Ferit Arav has translated and commented on Vedantic texts. Four of these books have been published. Some of the translations were done by study groups and students of the School of Practical Philosophy.
I visited him in Hengelo, where I was warmly welcomed by Ferit and his wife Siny. Ferit tells me that, given his age (89), he doesn’t remember everything clearly and sometimes struggles for words, something I hardly notice in our conversation.
The project he’s currently working on is a translation of the Taittiriya Upanisad with Shankara’s commentary. It’s not included in the book “Seven Upanisads,” he tells me. This Upanisad is currently being studied by a group in the School he is part of.
It’s valuable that the millennia-old knowledge of Advaita Vedanta remains available, as it is on your website. How did you discover Vedanta, and why Vedanta?
There’s a question I’ve been asking myself for many years. It began when I was nine, in elementary school. One morning, standing about fifty meters from the school, I saw the students entering the playground, along with the teachers. Together, they then entered the school building. I thought: “They’re going to teach me writing, arithmetic, drawing, and things like that. But why don’t they tell me what a human being is?” I’ve carried that question with me my entire life. And this question, “Who am I?”, led me to Advaita Vedanta. There, I found the path that led me to the answer to that question.
Great! And how exactly did it come your way?
In my younger years, in my twenties, I briefly experienced a spiritual breakdown, and once that subsided, the question became increasingly intense. I began searching for knowledge in books and in various movements and organizations, such as the Yoga and Vedānta Foundation, Sufism, and the like. Then I saw an ad in the local newspaper that read: “What am I? What is the world? What is my relationship to the world? If these questions interest you, you are welcome to join us.” That’s how I ended up at the School for Practical Philosophy, which focused on Advaita Vedanta. That appealed to me. And I stayed there.
What exactly appealed to you?
At the School for Practical Philosophy, I found a solid foundation for working on similar topics alongside my own studies and further research, in groups with like-minded individuals. Being part of a school requires a consistent and disciplined approach that significantly contributes to one’s inquiry. Sharing one’s knowledge with others is also very inspiring.
Knowledge gained from studies, whether individually or in groups, remains primarily intellectual in nature. It doesn’t stick unless it’s put into practice. The school facilitates practical application of knowledge during periodic stays (two weekends and one week per year) at De Oxerhof study center, near Deventer. This has an impact on daily life.
You, along with others, have created and published Dutch translations of Vedanta texts. Was this your goal, or did it simply evolve?
It just happened that way. Something that appealed to me kept coming my way, and I picked it up. Without a specific, predetermined goal, it just happened naturally. That’s how the translation of Vivekacūḍāmaṇi (my first) came about when I was asked to discuss this work in a group.
Yes, great, you just told me in our preliminary conversation that you feel like an instrument, can you say something about that?
Yes, in retrospect, I saw my role as an instrument or messenger. Something was made available to me—after delving into it myself—to pass on. I don’t see myself as a teacher either. I consider myself a messenger. What others do with the message escapes me.
The School of Philosophy includes Vedanta in its curriculum. Could you tell us more about that? And about Vedanta’s role in the development of the School of Philosophy and Practical Philosophy?
The School is in the tradition founded by Shankara. Shankara’s tradition is pure Advaita Vedanta. The School also maintains contacts with the Shankāracarya (the representative of Shankara’s tradition) of the North (the Northern Jyotir Math), so that the flow of knowledge as needed is assured.
The school originally began with the teachings of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky. And Mr. (Leon) McLaren of England, the head of the School worldwide, later got in contact with the Shankaracarya of the North (Swami Shantananda Saraswati), and then Advaita Vedanta was introduced into the School. Similarly, Dr. (Francis) Roles of the Study Society, also in England, maintained contacts with the same Shankaracarya.
This knowledge, incidentally, consists of a collection of answers to questions posed by the school principal. It doesn’t constitute a structured learning process, but rather a source of practically applicable and highly inspiring “living” knowledge.
I read on the School’s English website: Vedanta is the main discipline, the main philosophy of the School. But they also practice other views, for example, those of Marcilio Ficino (a Renaissance humanist and Neo-Platonist). How does that fit together?
From the very beginning, there have been so-called side activities. Originally, these also related to Advaita Vedanta, such as phonology, calligraphy, and Sanskrit. But also economics, Vedic mathematics, and later Vedic astrology. Later, other disciplines were added, such as the Academia Marsilio Ficino, which, among other things, studies and translates Ficino’s works. There are also a number of activities initiated by students, such as the Gurdjief Movements. But the main teaching is Advaita Vedanta.
Do you see these directions as supporting each other or do you see them as existing ‘next to’ each other?
Some are ancillary, such as calligraphy, phonology, and Sanskrit, as well as other Vedic sciences. The School has also always included arts activities, such as sculpture and drawing, which are housed within the Académie Marsilio Ficino. In my view, these are secondary activities that, in an Advaita Vedānta environment, offer opportunities for latent talents to flourish.
Now in the Vedas, in your books you also mention it, there is a great deal of action (Karma Kandha) and there is meditation(Upāsana Kandha) and devotion part of, and then there’s the knowledge component (the Jnana Kandha, the Upanisads). I see this reflected within the School. The action component, including meditation, is a preparation (stillness and qualification of the mind) for the knowledge component. You mention “side activities,” including Vedic sciences like Vedic astrology, economics, and Vedic mathematics. How do you see that?
Although all students are part of the School, they do have a personal inclination in a certain direction. Towards knowledge, but also towards devotion, or good action, and so on. Therefore, there is room within the School for these directions. Some feel more at home in the direction of knowledge, and others more in devotion or action. Therefore, these three paths find ample space within the School.
The school is actually intended for people in the midst of society, such as householders, fathers, mothers, breadwinners, etc., without having to isolate themselves for the intensive practice of any of the three paths. Therefore, the school can be called a “fourth path” school.
Can you name these four paths in more detail?
The School doesn’t add anything to you. It acts as a catalyst: it helps you express what’s already present within you. This can be knowledge, devotion, or selfless action.
Personally, I am knowledge-oriented, which is also evident in my translations and books. As an intermediary, Shankara made the knowledge in the scriptures accessible to us. Besides these instructive works, however, he also left behind devotional texts. An example of this is the Bhavanyashtakam, which is included in the book “Śaṅkara’s Vedānta.”
Vedanta states: the underlying goal of every human being is freedom, by emerging from the experience of being a limited being. Knowledge is the only means to this end, because we are already free, yet unaware of it.
Vivekananda (Ramakrishna Order) taught that there are four paths to freedom: Karma Yoga (devoted action), Raja Yoga (stillness, meditation, samadhi), Bhakti (devotion), and Vedanta (self-knowledge).
All other Advaita Vedanta teachers (including Shankara and Dayananda) state: The first three cannot lead to freedom without knowledge, but they are a necessary preparation for the self-knowledge of Vedanta. No action can bring about something that is already so. A human being, as a cognitive being, always works with knowledge.
Sarvapriyananda also teaches ‘the four paths to freedom’ occasionally, but from his strong preference for knowledge, I sense that he is not entirely committed to the four paths teaching.
I see this playing field reflected in how the School for Practical Philosophy is organised.
Isn’t there a structure or vision within the School of Practical Philosophy to show students that the “sideways” are a preparation, a development towards the direct self-knowledge of Vedanta? Or is simply offering all possibilities sufficient?
Compared to the long history of many established institutions for human spiritual development, the school is still relatively young. It keeps its doors open in a rapidly changing society, making the proven knowledge handed down by tradition available to those interested. It is a living school where serious seekers of the meaning of their human existence find a fertile ground for their spiritual development. Whichever path you feel drawn to, they ultimately lead to the same destination. The “side activities” and the knowledge and application of Vedānta benefit each other.
Have you had a living teacher? Or who do you consider your teacher or master? Can I put it that way?
Yes, you could safely say that. I don’t have a physical, living teacher. As far as I can imagine. But I do have teachers who inspire me. And whom I experience within myself through receiving and passing on knowledge. Initially, that was Ramana Maharshi. And then Shankara, followed by Vasistha and Jesus. I was raised without a religion, but from a young age I recognized certain sayings of Jesus that resonated with me and held the same message for me as the words of Ramana Maharshi, Shankara, Vasistha, and some other teachers. I open my first book, Vivekacudamani, with:
Glory to Śrī Ramaṇa Maharṣi. Glory to Śrī Vāsiṣṭha. Glory to the Great Teacher Jesus. Glory to Śrī Ādi Śaṅkarācārya. Hidden within my heart, like forms of Myself, they point out the way for my feet to tread. May all who seek truth find in them a safe guide and refuge.
Brilliant! This is really your text, right?
Yes.
Beautifull. You gave a lecture and wrote a piece on the Great Sayings, Maha Vakyas in Vedanta and the Bible. Can you comment on their similarities and differences? How does the Bible or Jesus view non-duality?
In that lecture, I explained Jesus’ teaching on non-duality, and what struck me was the difference between Jesus’ own words and what others were saying about him at the time. Their content is completely different. Many speak of Jesus as a person who was born and performed certain miracles, gathered disciples around him, and that his father was a carpenter, and so on. But if you listen to his own words, it has a completely different content. What he says corresponds exactly with Advaita Vedanta. I illustrated this with examples in my lecture.
Can you give an example?
I’ll quote a short and well-known statement. He said, “I am the way. I am the truth. I am life.” And Advaita Vedanta says exactly the same thing. Namely: “Inquiry into the ‘I’ is the way. Where you arrive is the only truth. And what follows after, now that’s ‘life.'” There are several other statements like this.
At its core, it’s similar. I agree with you, of course. But isn’t there a difference in the execution? Advaita Vedanta makes everything very precise. And explains the panorama of reality precisely. That’s quite a difference from the teachings of Jesus. How do you see that?
I don’t see any difference, can you give an example?
Well, Jesus’ sayings are actually like the Great Sayings (Maha Vakyas), and they point directly to non-dual truth. I agree with you. And they are often formulated in a mystical way. But there isn’t necessarily a systematic explanation of these Great Sayings, a methodology for the practitioner. Isn’t that where the misunderstanding of Christianity arose? The methodology after the Upanishads and the methodology after Jesus are quite different, aren’t they?
Yes, look, Advaita Vedanta takes you by the hand, leading you step by step inward. And where you end up is the discovery of yourself. You discover what you truly are. Jesus also gives clear instructions that lead to the same result. With “let the dead bury their dead,” he tells us to leave the changeable and the transient behind and to focus (follow Me) on the eternal that is within ourselves. And what you have discovered, you will find confirmed in Jesus’s pronouncements. Another example: “I am the light that is above all. I am the All. The All has come forth from me and the All has touched me. Split a stick: I am there. Lift the stone: you will find me there” (Thomas 77). That is pure Advaita, in other words: “Brahman is omnipresent, immeasurable, etc.”
But the same applies to other scriptures, such as the Bhagavad Gita. When you descend into the Spiritual Path and make discoveries, you need confirmation. And if you find that confirmation in the sayings of Jesus or in scriptures like the Bhagavad Gita, then you know that what you have discovered aligns with the wisdom that has been proclaimed.
You wrote to me earlier that “Dṛg Dṛśya Viveka” is one of your favorite texts. Could you tell me why?
Because it’s so direct and recognizable, and so simply written. It begins: “Images are what is seen.” “There is a seer and something that is seen.” “Then the eye is what is seen, and the mind is the seer.” This takes us a step further. At first, the eye could distinguish images independently. But the eye itself is also changeable, and seen by the mind, because the eye can also undergo changes like illness and double vision, and things like that. And the mind is also changeable. Sometimes longing, sometimes angry. And those changes are also known. There is something in the background that sees the changes of mind. And this seer of the changes of mind has no other seer. That’s where you end up when you look at it this way. The unchanging, eternal existence. Also called the witness consciousness. And that is made so crystal clear in a single four-line verse. In the following verses, it is explained step by step. But the style is short, concise, clear, and direct. That’s why it’s one of my favorite texts.
You’ve given lectures on science and wisdom, spirituality, and physics. How do these relate to each other?
If you delve into both, they meet.
How?
That’s what’s explained step by step in those lectures. Quantum mechanics has shown that the deeper you delve into the question “what is matter?”, the more you discover that nothing exists other than energy. Science has also shown that the observer and the observed are not independent entities. Nothing exists independently of the observer.
Yes, there’s something there. The Satya Mithya teachings say: If you have an object, take this desk, for example, you can say: “It’s actually wood, it’s actually fibers, it’s molecules, it’s never what it seems to be, it’s always names and forms. I go deeper and deeper, to the smallest particles, to the zones. At a certain point, you can simply call it information, knowledge, pure knowledge, consciousness. It all comes back to that one ground.”
In dṛg dṛśya viveka Shankara says: ‘Everything that is perceived has five aspects. Existence (is-ness of all, sat), appearance (the knowing consciousness, cit), attraction (or degree of dearness, ānanda), name and form (in verse 20: asti, bhāti, priyaṃ, nāma and rūpa). And form and name ‘belong’ to the world. The first three ‘belong’ to Brahman, or the Self. Therefore, transcending form and name is recommended. What remains is what you truly are.
Advaita Vedanta states that “in essence, tangible forms are nothing other than existence itself (sat) or consciousness (cit).” You just said, “There is nothing but energy.” Do you then consider consciousness to be the same as energy? Isn’t energy made up of the gunas of potential maya, and that is dependently real, not truly real?
What is meant by energy, maya, or gunas is nothing more than manifestations of the one indescribable ground of existence. These manifestations, too, must ultimately be transcended.
The scriptures are there to be read and explained. But you can also write about them. I enjoy doing that. What is the purpose of translating and commenting on Vedanta texts yourself for you? The writing aspect, so to speak.
I’ve mainly limited myself to translation. Whenever an inner impulse arises, I follow it. This is how, in addition to the translations, the various treatises also came into being.
But you also write commentaries?
I explain certain things in footnotes. But I don’t really comment (as a bhāṣya). It just arises within you, without any ulterior motive. If there’s a need for it, you add an explanation.
What function does the writing process serve you? For me, it makes everything very precise and structures my thoughts.
For me it just arises, I contemplate it, and then I entrust it to writing.
Trust is a nice word in this one.
Look, what’s important is that your ego doesn’t play a role in it. No ulterior motives, so to speak. If you understand what it says, and you recognize it in yourself, then you record it.
Have you ever had, and artists know this very well, that when you are inspired, you have the feeling that you are being written (by Ishvara)?
Yes, that happens without a sense of self. When the ego interferes, the process is no longer pure.
Sometimes it’s difficult to find the right word for a Sanskrit word in Dutch. I’ve noticed that for a word like vairāgya (dispassion), there’s no single Dutch word. “Detachement” doesn’t quite cover it either.
Writing about Vedanta in Dutch or translating from Sanskrit into Dutch is therefore also an exploration of the Dutch language. What challenges do you face when translating Sanskrit texts into Dutch?
I also encounter shortcomings in the available languages. That’s why I add footnotes to my translations. If you look at Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, the first sutra reads: “Now Yoga is explained.” The second sutra encompasses everything. It reads: “Yoga is the cessation of thought movements.” In Sanskrit, it’s called: “yogaś citta vr̥tti nirodhaḥ.” Citta vr̥tti means movements of the mind. And yoga is the cessation of those thought movements. If you translate that literally, it doesn’t come across. Because what is citta vr̥tti? What are those thought movements? That requires explanation. They are of different natures. And when those movements in the mind disappear, that is the state of yoga. So some Sanskrit words require explanation.
Can you comment on the role and shortcoming of language in Vedanta teaching?
Language is essential for the transmission of knowledge. All those scriptures, in the form of dialogues between teacher and student, require language as a means of transmitting knowledge. The knowledge that ultimately resides within us all becomes available as we purify our minds. Patanjali described these steps (beginning with yama and niyama) so that you can function well in a community and thus have your inner affairs in order. As your mind becomes purer and is not immediately triggered by sensory perceptions or memories, it becomes easier to understand the teacher’s words and to get to know yourself. And this initially occurs through language. After that, you actually no longer need language. All you need to do is remove the obstacles in the mind and allow the knowledge that is already present to flourish.
In that stage where you no longer need language, we speak of nididhyāsana (direct contemplation of the self through present knowledge), right? You have the knowledge, but now you have to be able to see all the obstacles that arise in life in that light.
Yes, in addition to meditation, we also have a reflection exercise at school, where we reflect on a scriptural text. The point is to first become still and then investigate the meaning of the words, using pure reason. This leads to the emergence and recognition of the intended meaning of the words. And when that knowledge is established, we speak of nididhyāsana.
You just said it. In a silent mind, knowledge can arise. I also really enjoy my intellect, that swift, subtle world. The intellect plays an important role in Vedānta; in fact, it’s actually the key to freedom. People outside Vedānta sometimes say, “Vedānta is so intellectual!” They say it as if it were an obstacle. How do you see that?
I disagree. The intellect is an instrument that leads you to the inner self. And once you’re inside, you no longer need your intellect. So I certainly don’t see it as a hindrance, but as a tool, a means of the highest order.
I notice you frequently use words like “the inner self, inside, the silence within.” I ask this because “inside and outside” relates to the body. Do you use the word “inner” as equivalent to “the self, pure consciousness, which is neither inside nor outside, but the truth, the substrate of everything?” Or how would you define “inside or the inner self”?
In every action, physical or mental, we distinguish between the subject and the object, or “I” and “this.” This is characteristic of duality. However, when we search for the source from which this “I” arises, we are, as it were, drawn inward. Then both “I” and “this” dissolve into pure awareness, which alone remains, which is indescribable. The Self, pure consciousness, truth, substrate, the Absolute, Brahman, etc., are synonyms for this.
Does self-knowledge occur in the intellect?
Self-knowledge requires no means. You can consider the intellect as the bridge to self-knowledge.
But on the way there, you will first have to understand something.
Then you use the intellect. It is also said that the intellect is closest to the Self.
That makes sense, right? Because it’s the most subtle tool we have.
Yes, that’s the intellect.
How is it that this is considered “the highest knowledge,” yet so few people are engaged with it? We can see this, for example, in the low number of visitors to our websites. Could you elaborate on that?
I don’t feel called upon to answer that. The question of why that is the case isn’t mine. I can’t judge it. Again, I consider myself a messenger and know my limits.
Truth and love are two words. What comes to mind when you hear them together?
They are not different from each other. We make distinctions in the meaning of words that don’t really exist: Atman, Brahman, God, the Absolute, Knowledge, etc. But for all of them, it is true: It is one, it is indivisible, it is eternal, it is unchangeable. The same applies to Love and Truth.
Can you talk about pitfalls? For example, if someone claims to have “got it.” What is the playing field of so-called enlightenment and the pitfalls within it?
The question keeps coming up: “Am I doing it right?” A moment of doubt forces you to investigate further. This can vary from person to person. That danger of “I know!” is certainly present. Then your development stalls and you waste the opportunity to move forward.
Can you notice this in yourself? Are there any indicators of doubt?
Sometimes there are impulses from within that shake me awake, and for which I am very grateful. These impulses invite me to investigate further. To not rest until all doubt is dispelled. And until confirmation is found in the scriptures, which comes with great joy.
We also need to be open to continuing to learn, right? To recognize signals and act upon them. Swami Chinmayanda said something along the lines of: “It’s all well and good with this self-realization, but everyone needs to be vigilant until the end,” including the Swami himself.
Yes, very important. Vigilance, staying awake, alert. One moment of inattention and you’re immediately swept away by the current of the changeable and the fleeting.
There is only one reality, one universal truth, the Upanisads affirm. Yet, many cultures and religions exist on the world stage. How do you see Vedanta in this context? What makes Vedanta unique? Do you consider Vedanta unique?
Vedanta offers the possibility of self-knowledge. And Vedanta guides you on the path to self-knowledge. But it is certainly not the only path. And I see, for example, that the same truth is expressed in Yoga Vashistha and in the words of Jesus.
Don’t you consider Yoga Vashistha a Vedantic text? Or a text from the Vedic tradition?
I can’t say it’s not a Vedic text. I don’t know what the definition of a Vedic text is. Is that important?
Well, in India, there’s an important concept: Astika. This encompasses all the schools of thought that the Vedas consider authoritative for their knowledge.
My knowledge is insufficient to give a definitive answer to that. I don’t know enough about other sources. I feel at home in Vedanta, and that has guided me to myself. The same is true for the words of some other teachers, such as Ramana Maharshi, Vasiṣṭha, and Jesus. It’s quite possible that there are other similar teachings, but I’m not aware of them.
Whether we know it or not, everything points to the one reality. It must, reality is non-dual. And yet… I’ve done a lot of research. Ultimately, it wasn’t without reason that we arrived at Vedanta. For me, it’s unparalleled in its methodology. And the precision with which it guides the seeker from ignorance to truth. I’ve never encountered anything like it. Ultimately, of course, all mystical and religious movements speak of the same truth. There is only one truth.
What is the role of meditation in Vedanta?
Based on my own experience, I consider the practice of meditation very important. It contributes to a stillness of the mind. And only in a still mind can one distinguish between what is true and what is false, what is ephemeral and what is infinite, and between what you are not and what you are. Meditation leads to a stillness of the mind and is a path to self-knowledge.
And if I may add something to that, an objective, neutral mind is very important.
A silent mind. A silent mind is neutral.
In Vedanta, we learn that human life is mithya—relative, transient, changeable, dependently real. A certain Swami Abhedananda was once asked, “Swamiji, do you wish to return as a human being?” He replied, “Yes, indeed, to praise the glory of the Lord!” What does it mean to you to have appeared as a human being? What does being human mean to you?
I don’t know that statement, nor do I recognize it. When you dwell within, as described earlier, such questions no longer arise, nor is there anything of a changeable and transitory nature.
May I comment on that? What I think he meant is, and that’s the nature of the question: Being human is very special. We have the ability to reflect and therefore also the ability to self-knowledge. What he means, I think, is: “If I were not to return, because I no longer have karma, then I am simply pure Brahman, but in the appearance of being human, I, as a devout human being, enjoy love, with the knowledge (of a jivan mukta, a free being), and then I can see everything fully and freely as a miracle of appearance?” So that special state of being (apparently) human is what is meant.
What is the definition of ‘human’? Shankara said in the twentieth verse of his Brahmanānavalimala: Brahman is real. The world is an illusion. But he added: The individual is not different from Brahman. This means: You, as an individual, can remain in duality. Or you can transcend it. Either we remain confined to individuality, or we attain self-knowledge of what we truly are. This is possible for all of us. Ramana Maharshi stated: ‘As a human being, as an individual, you have a choice every moment. Either you identify with your individual body and mind, with your individuality, in which case you are subject to the laws of nature. Or you detach yourself from them. Then you are free.’ Does the question then still arise: what is ‘being human’?
The work is to recognize this. As an individual, you are subject to the laws of nature. All the consequences of past actions, with everything that entails: pain and pleasure, sorrow and joy. You have no free will. Or you can recognize this and gradually diminish your belief in your individuality. Then you will see what the scriptures and teachers say: “I am pure bliss, limitless, unchangeable, or whatever you want to call it.” But that is a process, it happens automatically.
You mention free will. A subtle topic. In reality, there is indeed no free will. But there is a kind of experience of free will, of the ego within the mind, in the search for that reality of the self. With that, you can, for example, choose to be dedicated to spiritual growth. In my opinion, that is an appropriate use of the ego. Can you nuance that? How do you see it?
Although usually unnoticeable, every human being harbors a longing for “home.” Throughout our lives, it is subtly present, beneath all our actions. Mumukshutva. This longing, however, remains obscured by the constant flow of mental activity, or thoughts, characteristic of the pursuit of happiness in the ephemeral. Only when this ethereal flow is interrupted, however briefly, can it shine forth in reason, the pure faculty of discernment. It reveals the difference between the changeable and transient on the one hand, and the unchangeable and eternal on the other. This has a purifying effect on the ego, which turns away from the worldly and turns increasingly inward, toward freedom, its original state.
Jesus also spoke about this. To his disciples’ question, “Where will our end be?” he replied, “Do you know the beginning, that you seek the end? Where the beginning is, there will be the end.” (Thomas 18)
Yes, they’re often paradoxes. It happens naturally, but you have to work hard for it. You have a choice, but you have to know what to choose. And that’s what the knowledge is for.
Knowledge is given to you. And the most important thing is perseverance, steadfastness, and discipline. And then you’ll naturally notice the progress.
That’s a beautiful ending. I found it a wonderful, enriching conversation. Thank you very much.
[Ferit concluded by guiding me through a short pause of silence].
OM TAT SAT