Luminous Darkness in the Centre of Ourself

I aim to show – not philosophically, but experientially – how knowledge and devotion paths are the same. The path of knowledge, jñāna yoga, involves self-investigation, while the path of devotion, Bhakti yoga, involves prayer or surrender to God. Initially, these paths appear different at the mountain's base. Yet, as we ascend, they converge. This approach, valid for both philosophers and devotees, starts with the assumption that ourself is present now, a fact of experience. Similarly, God must be present now, or God would not be omnipresent or infinite. We can't know what we are objectively; we can't be what we know. We approach ourself, a blind spot at our core, dark because it's unknowable yet shining with being – a luminous darkness. Jesus, Buddha, and Ramana Maharshi would find the same at their core. If God could express its experience, it would say, 'I am,' free from the limitations of subject–object relationship.

I aim to show – not philosophically, but experientially – how knowledge and devotion paths are the same. The path of knowledge, jñāna yoga, involves self-investigation, while the path of devotion, Bhakti yoga, involves prayer or surrender to God. Initially, these paths appear different at the mountain's base. Yet, as we ascend, they converge. This approach, valid for both philosophers and devotees, starts with the assumption that ourself is present now, a fact of experience. Similarly, God must be present now, or God would not be omnipresent or infinite. We can't know what we are objectively; we can't be what we know. We approach ourself, a blind spot at our core, dark because it's unknowable yet shining with being – a luminous darkness. Jesus, Buddha, and Ramana Maharshi would find the same at their core. If God could express its experience, it would say, 'I am,' free from the limitations of subject–object relationship.