We now stand at the door of one of the most fundamental enigmas of meditation—an issue that has long confounded sages, pierced through levels of deception, and finally brought about release:
It is not simply a philosophical question. It is a matter of existence.
Once asked in the proper spirit and understood through immediate experience, this question doesn’t merely transform you—it melts you away. And what we are left with is the truth itself.
Let’s tread this holy path, gently, carefully, and inwardly.
At the beginning of meditation, we acquire techniques:
But these are mere external forms. Soon, the question deepens—not what one is doing, but who does it?
Are you the witness of breath?
Are you the chanter?
Are you the silent witness?
And if so—who is this you?
From the very earliest Upanishads to the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, from Buddha’s teachings to Osho’s revolutionary insights, meditation is finally the art of witnessing—sakshi bhav.
The breath is flowing… and you are observing. Thoughts are arising… and you are observing. Emotions arise and pass away… and you are observing.
But who is this observer?
Is it the mind?
The intellect?
The ego?
Osho tells us:
“The observer is not the mind. The observer is your pure presence, your being.”
This witness is not something you construct. It is already present. It is your authentic nature.
In order to reveal the real meditator, we need to strip away the false selves:
If you can watch something, then you cannot be it.
This is the inner key:
The observer and the observed must be different.
You can observe your thoughts—so you are not the thoughts.
You can observe your emotions—so you are not the emotions.
You can observe your breath—so you are not even the breath.
Then… who’s left?
Only the observer—pure, formless, silent.
This is the true meditator.
Now is the most subtle turn in meditation.
You have seen the breath, the body, the thoughts, the feelings. But now, direct the gaze inward upon itself.
Who is observing?
Can the observer observe the observer?
This is the meditative koan, the inward paradox.
Initially, it appears impossible. The mind reels, resists, desires to define.
But then—when the mind lets go—something remarkable occurs.
The observer drops into itself.
There is no duality—no watcher, no watched.
Only awareness itself exists.
Not a person aware—just pure awareness.
In Vedantic terms, this is Chaitanya—the aware principle.
In yogic terms, this is Purusha—the witness, distinct from Prakriti.
In Osho’s parlance, this is no-self—a presence transcending identity.
You cannot understand it. You cannot describe it. You can only be it.
This is the last irony: the moment you discover the authentic meditator, the meditator is dead.
There is no “one” meditating now.
There is only meditation—a boundless, centerless awareness.
No ego, no identity, no duality.
“When the observer becomes the observed, duality ends. That is the door to Samadhi.” — Osho
This is the killing of the psychological self and the rebirth of the eternal now.
Let us embark on this inquiry together.
Stay for 10–15 minutes.
Don’t try to make sense of it. Just experience it. Rest in it. Let the observer dissolve into itself.
One last word of wisdom from Osho: Many meditators make a trap of themselves—the delusion that “I am the witness.”
Even this “I” is an ego of sorts.
The genuine witness is unnamed, unclaimed, nonpossessive. It does not say “I am witnessing.” It merely exists.
“Real witnessing contains no witness within it. It is simply awareness—without center, without boundary.”
So shed even the thought of being a meditator.
Just be.
Dear one, in the meditation dance, all methods, all practices, all language lead to one:
The ever-silent center of your being.
The true meditator is not the one who practices—but the awareness behind all practice.
You are not the doer. You are not even the observer.
You are what all observing takes place in.
This awareness is the last step—and the first gateway.
The one who started out fades away. What’s left is truth.
Still. Silent. Eternal.