Pure Motive - Part Two

Pure Motive – Part Two

There is a basic question at the foundation of any genuine spiritual life, and it's not the one most people think to ask. It's not what practice should I do, or how often, or even how do I practice correctly? It's simply: why am I doing this at all?

The nondual tantric tradition posits that genuine transformation depends not only on the techniques we use, but on the intention and orientation behind them. There is a world of difference between practicing for control or attainment, or to escape one’s problems, versus practicing with devotion for clarity and revelation.

That difference is not a small one and the reason we practice matters as much as how we do it.

When we practice in order to gain control over our emotions and circumstances, or even our spiritual progress, we are subtly reinforcing the very thing we are trying to transcend. We’re strengthening the ego's conviction that it is in charge, or that it should be. We’re not dissolving the illusion of control but just couching it in spiritual vocabulary.

The same is true of attainment. There is a fork in the road within the tantric tradition that is rarely discussed openly: the path of the siddha, who cultivates spiritual powers, versus the path of one who seeks simply to know themselves as Divine. Both paths access real forces. But somewhere on the road of power, a question must be asked: Who am I serving with these capacities? Am I serving the source of these powers, or am I serving myself?

It's easy to get caught up in power. That's why tradition teaches that even the power to liberate yourself is God's power liberating you. At a certain point there must be a surrender of even the idea that awakening is something you are doing.

Sādhana as Seva

One of the most reorienting insights comes from understanding spiritual practice not as self-improvement, but as seva, or selfless service. When you recognize that sādhana is the highest service you can offer to the God who dwells within you as your Self, something shifts. Then, practice is no longer a negotiation with a reward in sight. It's not saying to God: I'll surrender and open — but only if you give me this first. It becomes an unconditional offering.

This is the essence of bhakti yoga, which places devotion as the foundation of all spiritual practice. And devotion of this kind does not grasp or perform for gain. It simply opens and offers.

Our tradition speaks of Rudra-śakti samāveśa — a process by which, through the power of Consciousness Itself, we come to know ourselves as that Consciousness. There are stages in this unfolding, but the one from which everything else grows is a devotion to knowing our highest self. That devotion then expresses itself as serving unconditionally, which ultimately means that we surrender ourselves and all our misunderstandings. This is a dimension of seva that gets lived out every single day in all aspects of our lives.

The View Is the Means

There is a teaching I return to often: the view is the means. When we are practicing from pure motive, we are not standing apart from the Divine, looking toward It, trying to remove the obstacles between us. We are attempting to look from Its eyes. And that is a fundamentally different orientation.

Looking from God's eyes at a difficulty is not the same as trying to use spiritual practice to fix a difficulty. In the first, you recognize that the problem exists, but you are not limited by it. It is a wave on the ocean, not the ocean itself. In the second, however sincere your effort, you are still organizing your practice around the problem, which, in effect, keeps the problem at the center.

Nityananda says it plainly: as is your devotion, so is your liberation. Devotion does not eliminate difficulties. These two lines belong together. The depth of your devotion determines the depth of your freedom. And yet difficulties remain — not as obstacles to the path, but as the very terrain the path moves through.

When Intention Gets Derailed

Anyone who has practiced for more than a short time has watched something happen in themselves and in people they love. We experience momentum and clarity, and there is real opening. But then something uncomfortable surfaces. We encounter a dynamic that exposes a pattern, a fear, or a part of ourself we would genuinely prefer to ignore. In the face of that, our intention of pure motive quietly gets shelved.

This is what my teacher Rudi called the test. This is not a punishment or a sign you're failing — but the very moment that makes your intention real. Otherwise, it remains a beautiful idea: I'll do this if... I'll surrender when...

Pure motive, suddhabhāva, is the unwavering commitment that persists through those moments. Commitment does not mean willpower, but a genuine declaration: I am here to serve the freedom that is my essence. And if I am here to serve that freedom, what am I unwilling to be freed from?

Be Aware of Your Resonance

The word bhāva means resonance. It is the felt quality of your consciousness at any given moment. Suddhabhāva means pure resonance: the quality of a consciousness aligned with its own deepest intention.

You can feel when your resonance shifts. There is a quality of grasping that registers in the body as tension and contraction. It’s like a hand held tightly closed. And there is a quality of offering that feels like a release from that, like a hand opening to receive. That somatic awareness is not just a metaphor. It’s real feedback.

The invitation is to bring the awareness of motive into your practice — not to judge it, but to honestly see it. Ask: Am I practicing to get something or to avoid something? Or am I practicing because realizing my Self is the very purpose of my life and the highest service I know how to offer?

Knowing the answer to these questions is key to understanding that why we practice matters so much. The power of pure motive is the thread that runs through every genuine means of awakening. It is the recognition, deepening over time, that your intention and the Divine's intention are not two different things. They never were.