Dattatreya

Qu'est-ce que l'Absolu ? Dieu existe-t-il ?

All is filled by the Self: formless Śiva, undivided and imperishable

Un Absolu impersonnelIl le dit expressément

The Avadhūta Gītā, which tradition places in Dattātreya's mouth, identifies the Absolute with the Self that fills everything and calls it Śiva, but in a strictly non-dual sense: from its second verse it asks how one could salute the formless, undivided and imperishable, when there is no one distinct to do the saluting. «All is brahman», the poem repeats, and there is neither a you nor an I. The Tripurā Rahasya, also attributed to his teaching, names that same ground as the goddess Tripurā and describes it as pure consciousness reflected in the world like a city in a mirror. In both texts the divine name does not designate a separate person governing from outside, but the consciousness that is the reality of all.

Qui suis-je ? Existe-t-il un vrai soi ?

You were neither born nor have died: the Self is Śiva, with no you or I

Le Soi est l'AbsoluIl le dit expressément

The Avadhūta Gītā denies one by one the identifications by which we usually define ourselves: for the sage there is no good or bad act of mind, body or speech, for he is the nectar of knowledge, pure and beyond the senses; he was never born, has not died and has never had a body; nor is there, ultimately, a you and an I, so that disputes over lineage and caste are false. What remains is the Self, which the poem calls Śiva, the supreme reality. The Tripurā Rahasya, also attributed to his teaching, reaches the same point by enquiry: the self is the pure consciousness that illumines all states, and in it the world appears like an image in a mirror.

Pourquoi souffrons-nous ?

Hope is the greatest suffering; expecting nothing, the greatest bliss

Le désir et l'attachementIl le dit expressément

In the Bhāgavata Purāṇa, the avadhūta whom tradition identifies with Dattātreya explains to King Yadu what he has learnt from his twenty-four teachers, and almost every lesson concerns desire and attachment. The pigeon that loses its young and throws itself into the net shows the danger of binding affection; the moth that flies into the flame, that of the senses; and the courtesan Piṅgalā, who spends the night waiting for a client who never comes, discovers that hope is the greatest suffering and expecting nothing the greatest bliss, and then sleeps in peace (11.8.44). The Avadhūta Gītā states the same in another register: pain belongs to one who believes himself body and agent, and it dissolves in the nectar of the natural (sahaja).

Que se passe-t-il après la mort ?

You were never born and have never died; you never had a body

Ce que je suis ne naît ni ne meurtIl le dit expressément

The Avadhūta Gītā answers with a formula that leaves no loophole: you were never born and have never died, you never had a body, and revelation proclaims in many ways that all is brahman. Death, like birth, belongs to the body and to the ideas of caste, lineage and action that the avadhūta has shaken off; the Self, which the poem calls Śiva, is imperishable and formless. The text's frame nonetheless keeps the belief in rebirth for others: its colophon promises that those who read or hear it will not be born again. Purāṇic tradition, for its part, makes Dattātreya one of the immortals who still roam the earth, which belongs to myth rather than doctrine.

Comment atteint-on la libération ou le salut ?

To be liberated is to know oneself as Śiva; enquiry dissolves what yoga prepares

Par la connaissance directeIl le dit expressément

The texts attributed to Dattātreya do not speak with a single voice. The Avadhūta Gītā understands liberation as immediate knowledge: there is no good or bad act for one who knows himself as the nectar of knowledge, and the liberated one lives in sameness of taste (samarasa), in the natural state (sahaja) that need not be produced because it already is. The Tripurā Rahasya makes enquiry (vicāra) the direct cause of liberation, preceded by devotion to the goddess, which awakens the desire for freedom. The Dattātreyayogaśāstra, by contrast, sets out a path of practice: four yogas —mantra, laya, haṭha and rāja— leading to absorption (samādhi). The tradition's synthesis places practice at the service of knowledge, not the reverse.

Faut-il un maître ?

Twenty-four teachers: everything teaches one who knows how to look

Le maître est à l'intérieurIl le dit expressément

The best-known teaching associated with Dattātreya is that of the twenty-four teachers, which the Bhāgavata Purāṇa places in the mouth of an avadhūta before King Yadu. The sage has had no human guru, but the earth, from which he learnt patience; the air, which passes among things without clinging; the sky, untouched by what it contains; the spider, which weaves its web and draws it back in; or the courtesan Piṅgalā, who discovered that hope is the greatest suffering. The lesson is twofold: anything can be a teacher to one who knows how to look, and whoever discerns is ultimately his own teacher. Paradoxically, later devotion has made Dattātreya the guru par excellence, source of lineages such as that of the Nāths.

Le monde est-il réel ?

The world is consciousness reflected, like a city in a mirror

Manifestation du divinCela se déduit de sa doctrine

The texts attributed to Dattātreya waver between two readings of the world. The Avadhūta Gītā, strictly Advaitic in tone, reduces it to appearance: all is brahman and there is truly neither you nor I. The Tripurā Rahasya, close to Śaiva and Śākta non-dualism, prefers another image: the universe appears in consciousness like a city reflected in a mirror, inseparable from it and without existence of its own, yet not for that reason empty, because it is consciousness itself, the goddess Tripurā, that manifests. The terms the Avadhūta Gītā shares with the Nāth yogis, sameness of taste (samarasa) and the natural (sahaja), point the same way: a non-duality that does not separate the transcendent from the immanent.

Qu'est-ce que l'amour ?

Sameness of taste: when the boundary between self and other falls

Ce qui apparaît quand le moi cesseCela se déduit de sa doctrine

The texts attributed to Dattātreya do not treat love as such, but they describe a state that takes its place. The Avadhūta Gītā calls sameness of taste (samarasa) the experience in which everything has the same flavour because there is no longer any difference between self and other, between one's own body and another's: the avadhūta dwells happily in an empty house, purified by that sameness. Of love as a bond, by contrast, the Bhāgavata has the avadhūta of the twenty-four teachers speak with caution: the pigeon that throws itself into the net after its young teaches that binding affection leads to ruin. What remains when the self falls is not indifference but an identity with everything that needs to cling to nothing.

Sommes-nous libres ou tout est-il déterminé ?

For the sage there is no good or bad act: he is pure knowledge

Il n'y a pas d'agentCela se déduit de sa doctrine

The Avadhūta Gītā does not discuss free will, but its doctrine leaves it without a subject. The sage declares that for him there is no good or bad act of mind, nor of body, nor of speech, because he is the nectar of knowledge, pure and beyond the senses. If there is no self that acts, neither is there a destiny weighing on it: action and its fruits belong to the body and mind, which the avadhūta has shaken off. The ideal that follows is that of the liberated one who lives spontaneously, in the natural (sahaja), like the python of the Bhāgavata that is content with whatever comes. Freedom does not consist in choosing well, but in not mistaking oneself for the one who chooses.

Pourquoi méditer ou prier ?

How can one salute the formless? Enquiry is returning to consciousness

Revenir à la source du jeCela se déduit de sa doctrine

Dattātreya's heritage gathers opposite attitudes to practice. From its second verse the Avadhūta Gītā asks how it could salute Śiva, formless and undivided, when it is that itself, and declares that, being Śiva, it has no one to bow to: dualistic worship and meditation are left behind. The Tripurā Rahasya, also attributed to his teaching, proposes an explicit path instead: enquiry (vicāra) into the nature of consciousness, which the work considers the direct cause of liberation and which earned the esteem of Ramana Maharshi. The Dattātreyayogaśāstra, finally, sets out the techniques of haṭhayoga. The common denominator is that every practice aims at recognising the consciousness one already is.

La raison peut-elle connaître l'ultime ?

The nectar of knowledge lies beyond the senses and beyond words

L'ultime est au-delà du mentalCela se déduit de sa doctrine

The Avadhūta Gītā presents itself as the song of one who has already left reasoning behind: the sage declares himself the nectar of knowledge, pure and beyond the senses, and denies one by one the categories by which the mind orders experience —you and I, caste and lineage, merit and demerit—. It invokes revelation («all is brahman») not as the premise of an argument but as confirmation of what is seen. The Tripurā Rahasya grants reason more: it makes enquiry (vicāra) the instrument of liberation and argues at length. But for it too, the consciousness sought cannot be an object of thought, because it is the light in which every thought appears.

Se retirer du monde ou le transformer ?

The avadhūta shakes off caste, rite and convention, and wanders free

Se retirer pour trouverIl le dit expressément

Dattātreya is the model of the avadhūta, «the one who has shaken off» social, ritual and moral conventions because he no longer identifies with anything they regulate. The Avadhūta Gītā describes him beyond castes and stages of life, with no one to bow to, dwelling happily in an empty house; the avadhūta of the Bhāgavata wanders homeless, learning from the air, which passes among things without clinging, and from the python, which is content with whatever comes. There is no project here of transforming society: the liberated one detaches from it. But neither does he withdraw to seek anything, for he lacks nothing; his withdrawal is the consequence of freedom, not its means.