3.3.9. Beyond Duality
“Form is emptiness; emptiness also is form.
Emptiness is no other than form; form is no other than emptiness.”— Prajñāpāramitā Hṛdaya Sūtra
It strikes me as both tender and astonishing that what we seek has always been so close. The more I explore, the clearer it becomes: the obstacle was never the world, nor even my tangled thoughts about it, but the very habit of dividing life into this and that. Beyond this habit lies a gentle, wordless clarity—a glimpse of a freedom that is neither earned nor constructed, but simply noticed.
Duality arises through a subtle function of the mind that fashions conditional reality. While this function is deeply learned, it runs so instinctively that few can even comprehend its existence, let alone work to loosen its hold.
Without the web of concepts and stories, experience itself is nirvāṇic. Even in the most desperate circumstances, if one were to break free from cognition and rest in pure awareness, suffering would find no foothold. It is only through cognition—especially when tangled with the equally delusive notion of a conceptual self—that suffering emerges. This can be hard to grasp at first, but it matters profoundly. Why? Because once we see that saṃsāra is nirvāṇa when cognition ceases, everything comes together. We no longer have to search elsewhere for the culmination of this work—it lies directly before us.
If we could only rest in awareness without habitually inspecting the objects that dance through our sense and mind fields, our entire existence would settle into peace. To discover how to do this is the path of the bodhisattva; to recognise why it matters is perhaps the first mark of a bodhisattva.
A bodhisattva sees that conditioned existence is illusory, yet at first lacks the ability to demonstrate this insight to others. They become painfully aware that even knowing the delusion themselves, it is nearly impossible to convey. They recognise the suffering in others but do not yet wield the means to share their vision directly. In many ways, the bodhisattva’s path resembles the training of a master: they begin already free, yet turn inward again to refine themselves into a more potent guide, moving toward Buddhahood.
Through deepening insight into reality’s nature, the bodhisattva learns to maintain unbroken mental tranquility. Some reach this through meditative mastery and cessation (nirodha), others through sharp wisdom that leads to analytical cessation, where the five senses and mind uncouple, allowing direct experience of the unconditioned.
The Vajracchedikā Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra (Diamond Sūtra) describes how the bodhisattva’s practice cultivates profound selflessness. At first, this is merely a conceptual emptiness. With growing insight, however, it matures, and the bodhisattva becomes utterly indifferent to phenomena—seeing them both as singular, since all are empty of self, and as a dazzling display of endless differentiation. In this universal emptiness, there are neither truly good nor evil things or beings, only the vivid unfolding of the tantra.
Thus, the bodhisattva grows increasingly unconcerned with acts of charity or harm done to them. This is easily mistaken for saintly benevolence or superhuman forgiveness, but it is something far stranger. They accept a role akin to Poimandres, the divine mind guiding humanity—free from clinging or worry, half-awake in comparison to ordinary awareness. Understanding intimately the forces that drive defilement and delusion, they appear immensely patient, like a parent who knows that falling is part of a child learning to ride.
This progression can unfold entirely passively. Kind-hearted beings with profound insights will, over countless lifetimes, gradually evolve into Buddhas—this is the standard, exoteric path. Those who discern bodhisattva traits might enter more hidden schools: the esoteric or mystical traditions. Here the methods vary widely, often tailored to the disciple’s capacity. The more rapid the approach, the more intellectually demanding it tends to be. These secret tantras are handed down through intimate master-pupil lineages, enhanced by ritual, discipline, and initiatory rites much like the old mystery religions.
Knowledge of the subtle body—whether through direct anatomical understanding or symbolic deity practice—accelerates the journey from bodhisattva to Buddha. Deities can be seen as archetypal maps of sub-entities within the mind that shape fortune or illness. Meditating on these structures, or recognising them in the winds (prāṇa) and channels (nāḍīs), eradicates any foothold for a conceptual self.
Other bodhisattvas, if gifted with keen insight, pursue the swiftest vehicles. Sometimes, after intense training or a sudden mystical breakthrough, they pierce the Veil of Isis, touching non-dual, non-conceptual awareness. Once able to rest in this state of non-cognition, they reach the eighth bhūmi — a stage or plane of bodhisattva development. Systems differ, some speaking of ten bhūmis, others more. At this point, objectification and subjectification cease so thoroughly that the bodhisattva cannot fall back into confusion.
Phenomena in the sensory fields arise and vanish with dazzling speed, like lightning flashes. Our cognition selects certain flashes, stringing them together into the illusion of stable, enduring objects. Without cognition, this illusion dissolves. Phenomena appear as flickering formations of countless tiny lights, arising and ceasing. There is no clinging, no false sense of permanence. Each moment is fresh, spontaneous, free of cognitive bias or commentary. Awareness simply shines.
This subtle awareness exists in all sentient beings, but so fleetingly that although it is present even now, we do not grasp it. The bodhisattva learns to recognise this awareness, which cannot be enhanced or altered. It is identical in Buddhas and ordinary beings, but the bodhisattva comes to focus entirely upon it, until only this remains.
When first touched through what can only be called non-effort meditation, everything is transformed. In the aftermath, phenomena appear translucent, radiant. Once the mind is persuaded to rest within itself and not rush out toward objects, a deeper knowing — jñāna — emerges.
Two stages still lie beyond. The ninth bhūmi blends the meditative state of non-cognition with the ordinary, so that even when cognition returns, the underlying peace remains. This endures until the final habit of thought itself fades, and the being manifests as a Buddha.
Does this make sense? I love how it all comes together. The answer was always there, right in front of us. But first, we had to get ourselves out of the way — this “self” that obscures the simple truth that our suffering is needless.
Buddha-nature lies dormant in every sentient being. But beings get caught up “being the being.” To glimpse this subtle layer demands the deepest tranquility, so profound that it is almost beyond reach. Enlightenment is noticing this tiny fissure in reality — and as humans, we stand uniquely poised to recognise it.
Now, our path turns. Until this point, we were reclusive, carefully tending our solitude. But once seen, what once wounded us now only strengthens us. This is where the old alchemical texts urge us to “turn up the heat.” Like peacocks, we learn to transform poisons without needing to think it through. As our understanding of emptiness deepens, we carry the burdens of saṃsāra ever more lightly.
Beyond duality lies a luminous simplicity we’ve long overlooked. By softening our grasp on thought and allowing awareness to rest in itself, we step out of the restless dance of becoming. In this gentle undoing, life reveals its radiant, effortless grace.
This text is excerpted from the upcoming book Citrinitas: A Course in Modern Alchemy. The complete volume will include additional study guides, glossaries, and extended teachings. Learn more about the book here.