**Dialogues with Lama Denis and Arnaud Desjardins**
**A WOMAN.** I would like to ask you for clarification on the word "consciousness." It seems to me that there are two levels of consciousness: one where we are aware of what arises within us—of duality, of our deeper nature, and at the same time our emotions, as if two things coexist—and then another consciousness, which is the sensation of simply being, even if it only manifests for very brief moments. Could you connect what I refer to as these two types of consciousness?
**LAMA DENIS.** The issue with terminology—and Arnaud can correct me if I’m mistaken—seems to arise because, in Vedanta, "consciousness" is used both at the relative, relational (and therefore dualistic) level and to refer to the mind beyond duality. In contrast, in the Dharma, consciousness is used in a restricted and precise sense, meaning awareness of something: consciousness always involves an object. In this sense, consciousness is inherently dualistic. Emptiness, as understood in the Dharma, is the absence of consciousness, specifically the absence of dualistic awareness. This absence is an immediate experience—immediate in the sense of being devoid of intermediaries or media and also in the sense of being fully present in the instant.
**ARNAUD.** Yes, this is a critical point to clarify to avoid confusion when reading texts on Hinduism or Buddhism, as they use the word "consciousness" differently. The Sanskrit term *chit*, translated as "consciousness," is applied at various levels. For example, "consciousness" may refer to the simple fact of being conscious rather than unconscious, as in a coma or fainting. But it is also used to signify ultimate consciousness—consciousness that is no longer aware *of* anything, the pure subject without an object. So, the fundamental question becomes: is there a subject conscious of an object?
We must understand that there can be no real distinction between the Absolute and the relative; otherwise, the Absolute ceases to be absolute. If we say "the Absolute and the relative," it implies that the Absolute stops here and the relative begins there, which would negate the Absolute's absoluteness.
The Absolute can exist without the relative, but the relative cannot exist without the Absolute. The relative is an expression or manifestation of the Absolute. To use a very simple analogy, there isn’t, on the one hand, the singular, immutable ocean (for the sake of the image) and, on the other, the waves. The ocean is in the waves, the waves are in the ocean, the ocean *is* the waves, and the waves *are* the ocean. We could assert: the Absolute is the relative, and the relative is the Absolute.
In Hindu terminology, one also often encounters the terms "real" and "unreal." The word *sat*, translated as "being," also means "real." The world we experience is simultaneously real and unreal—the real underpins the unreal. The unreal is the transient that appears and disappears, while the real is what endures. If we remove the unreal, what remains is the real. And if we remove the real, what remains? The absurd answer would be: "Only the unreal remains." But if the real were removed, nothing would remain. If the waves disappear, the ocean remains, with or without waves. But if the ocean were magically removed, no wave could subsist.
Whether we say, in Hindu terminology, "the Absolute is the relative," "the real is the unreal," or we use the image of the ocean and the waves, it always conveys the same idea: pure Consciousness and the forms of consciousness. Consciousness takes on various forms—a thought, a perception, a conception, a desire, an emotion—everything that arises within us. Generally, the level we inhabit, which constitutes our existence and experience, is this ever-changing, limited, divided surface, termed the "unreal." But the unreal is an expression of the real, and the forms of consciousness are expressions of singular Consciousness. We cannot make a distinction that creates a separation.
The Vedantic approach attempts to strip the subject of everything that can be objectified—that is, made into an object of awareness by a subject. From the Hindu perspective, the witness (*sakshin*) observes everything that occurs within us.
To begin, we establish a distinction between the seer and the seen. I see that there is sadness; I neither oppose nor reject it, nor do I merge with it. I acknowledge and observe: right here, right now, on an emotional level, there isn’t much joy—there is sadness. On a physical level, I notice: there is no sense of being energetic and full of life; there is a sense of fatigue, exhaustion, and even the edge of illness. Even thoughts can be seen and recognized: this specific thought has crossed my mind; these are the thoughts assailing me this morning, pulling me in a certain direction. Initially, this creates a dissociation—often termed *viveka* (discernment)—between the witness and the seen, provided the witness truly remains a witness, without taking sides in any way, whether to judge as good or bad, to love or dislike. The emphasis is on the perfect purity of this vision, often compared to a mirror that remains neutral, reflecting both a toad and a rose.
At first, a sense of being—*I* or *me*—is entwined with past and present perceptions and forms: I am tall, I am short, I am sick, I am healthy, I am happy, I am desperate. Gradually, the witness begins to emerge, creating what seems to be dissociation and even, if not carefully observed, duality. The witness does not change. What changes constantly is what is seen, but the act of witnessing remains unchanging.
Initially, the witness is weak, fragile, almost non-existent, yet it is the most real part of us. It is the pure subject. Over time, the witness stabilizes, becoming less frequently engulfed or absorbed (what my own guru called the subject being absorbed by the object). Gradually, a neutral, unaffected background of consciousness emerges and stabilizes. Later, we discover that the distinction between spectator and spectacle, or subject and objects, is not a real one. All forms of consciousness emanate from formless Consciousness. However, in the Vedantic practice, we begin by dissociating subject and object, spectator and spectacle, while admitting from the outset that this is not a true distinction—just as there is no real separation between waves and the ocean. What we are conscious of is transient; what is conscious is immutable. Above all, do not confuse the witness—or rather the "witnessing stance of consciousness"—with the ego.
**Q: Should the ego be eliminated?**
**LAMA DENIS.** The notion of the ego is often difficult to grasp. In modern spiritual language, the ego is frequently discussed, and rightly so, as it lies at the heart of the problem. However, the ego is often vilified, even demonized, especially in certain cultural contexts, leading to enormous difficulties in our relationship with ourselves. Identifying with the ego, we become "bad" or "evil," and this relationship to oneself can become depreciative and self-aggressive. We repress the ego without realizing that the one repressing is itself the ego. This paradoxical situation means that repressing the ego sustains the ego, and anti-ego struggles perpetuate the very problem they seek to address. This suggests that struggle and repression (as in many other cases) are not the right method.
Instead, it is necessary to move beyond repression and develop an attitude of gentleness and acceptance. However, this gentleness and acceptance do not mean permissiveness or complacent laxity, where one indulges every impulse without discernment.
Broadly speaking, the problem of the ego exists both in the East and the West, but it is more pronounced and specific in the Western context. This may be due to the intensification of ego in the West, marked by extreme competitiveness, as well as cultural and traditional factors. Christianity, for instance, often conveys a self-denying attitude that can become depreciative, self-aggressive, and even morbid.
Additionally, the transmission of Dharma in the West and its translation have been heavily influenced by Western mentalities. The Tibetan concept *da* or the Sanskrit *atman*, often translated as "ego" or sometimes "self," encompasses a wide range of meanings. It includes notions of "I," "me," "ego," "self," "soul," "being," and even "Self." Our experience of "me, I," in its empirical form, has both an authentic and illusory nature. It is neither entirely real nor entirely unreal but fluctuates between authenticity and illusion in a constant interplay of reality and unreality. Our ordinary experience is the dualistic version produced by ordinary consciousness, based on the non-dual primordial experience of clear light.
EN