अतद्वादीव कुरुते न भवेदपि बालिशः ।
जीवन्मुक्तः सुखी श्रीमान्संसरन्नपि शोभते ॥ २६ ॥
A Jīvanmukta is sukhī—inherently fulfilled, totally satisfied, and ever reveling as the Presence. We often speak of “living in the present moment,” but a better way of putting it is being the Presence. In fact, the two terms are redundant. Presence itself means Being or Abiding.
Such an abiding one, śrīmān—one endowed with inner richness—is a Jīvanmukta, ever liberated. Though such a one acts in the world (saṃsaran api), he or she is always reveling in one’s own ānanda-svarūpa. That is śobhā (śobhate), true beauty. For such a person, all actions are a form of revelry. Even while doing, such a one is really just Being.
Outwardly, it may appear that this person is performing various activities, but there is no seriousness about them. The world is understood to be unreal, like a dream. Actions become revelry because, in and through all activity, there is only the experience of Presence.
Why is this person doing anything at all? Why even get up from where one is? There is really no answer. Once Reality is understood, and the joy of Being oneself is discovered, everything else appears as a mere dream. Nothing can truly give happiness, and yet, like a wheel cut off from its engine, life rolls on for some time and then naturally comes to rest.
The activities of the body–mind equipment are seen as the person’s actions, but in reality, they are simply happening through the vehicle. There is no doer; things are just happening. And so, such a person may appear to be doing something—according to the mental makeup and circumstances—yet he simply is.
He may even appear dull (bāliśaḥ), because he seems to have no compelling reason to do anything, and yet there is a vast difference. This is a person so fulfilled that there is no need to act for fulfillment. Every act is a luxury. Even goals are luxuries. He simply enjoys everything, because wherever he goes there is only the same Presence. In fact, he does not really go anywhere—there is nowhere else to go.
There is a story of a Swami who was walking in one direction. People who saw him passing offered their namaskār to him. After some time, the same Swami was seen walking back in the opposite direction. One of the people asked him, “Swami, why are you returning now?”
The Swami replied, “There is no particular reason. I was walking that way, but the breeze caused my long hair to fall across my face. So I am now walking in the opposite direction.”
