The Advaita and Buddhist Traps of Binary Thinking

Binary thinking splits the world into opposites—true or false, real or unreal, self or no-self. We try to choose between them, but in doing so, we miss the truth: reality is beyond opposites. On the spiritual path, binary thinking tricks us, pretending to offer clarity while keeping us stuck. 

Before realisation, I was as trapped by it as any other spiritual seeker—though I didn’t realize it at the time. I thought I was being analytical. I’d weigh two options, two concepts and decide which one I believed. But belief itself was a trap, and the very act of choosing between binaries was keeping me bound to illusions.

In my own journey, I often found myself oscillating between extremes. At times, I would cling to the world as real. At other times, I would reject the world as an illusion, retreating into detachment and disconnection. Neither approach brought peace, because both were rooted in binary thinking.

But after realisation, from this space of clarity, I can see that reality doesn’t fit into these neat categories. It’s vast, fluid, and paradoxical. To see it clearly, you have to let go of the need to resolve opposites. You have to allow them to coexist.

The Illusion of Opposites

Opposites arise together; they define each other. You cannot have “light” without “dark,” “up” without “down,” or “real” without “unreal.” The opposites only exist in relation to each other, and their apparent separation is an illusion. One of the most common spiritual binaries is the idea of “real” versus “illusion.” Many teachings emphasize that the world is an illusion, a projection of the mind. I clung to this idea for a long time, using it as a way to detach from the pain and suffering of life. But even this detachment became a new form of attachment. I was attached to the idea of unreality, to the rejection of the world. But if the self is an illusion, what about the world? Is it also an illusion? And if the self and the world are both illusions, who or what is experiencing them?

These questions felt urgent and existential. But they were all rooted in the same binary thinking. I was trying to separate self from not-self, real from unreal, subject from object.

Another spiritual binary I struggled with was the idea of “self” versus “no-self.” Teachings like “I am not the body” and “I am pure awareness” pointed me in the right direction, but they also created a new kind of division. I became fixated on rejecting the body, rejecting the mind, rejecting anything that seemed “not me.” But this rejection only reinforced the illusion of separation.

Now, I see that there is no separate self, but there is also no “not-self.” There is only awareness, expressing itself in infinite forms. The moment you stop trying to divide them, you see that they were never divided to begin with.

From here, I can see that the body and mind are not obstacles—they are expressions of the same awareness that I am. The body is not “me,” but it’s not “not me” either. It’s a wave arising in the ocean of being, as temporary and as beautiful as the wind rippling across water. To reject it is to reject the ocean itself.

Nagarjuna’s Negation

I have to credit Nagarjuna for helping me see through the trap of binary thinking. Nagarjuna, a philosopher of unparalleled depth, dismantled the constructs of the mind through his profound method of negation. His teachings, rooted in the Madhyamaka school of Mahayana Buddhism, expose the limitations of binary thinking and lead us toward a direct experience of reality as it is—free from concepts. His philosophy of negation was like a lifeline when I was drowning in the mind’s dualities. By dismantling every fixed position—every “truth” the mind clings to—he pointed me toward the spacious awareness beyond opposites.

The cornerstone of his approach is the tetralemma, which breaks down any binary concept into four possibilities:

1. Something exists.
2. Something does not exist.
3. Something both exists and does not exist.
4. Something neither exists nor does not exist.

On the surface, these options seem contradictory or even nonsensical. How can something both exist and not exist? How can it neither exist nor not exist? These apparent contradictions are not meant to confuse us but to push us beyond the mind’s habitual need for certainty and resolution. Nagarjuna’s negation is not about providing answers but about dissolving the very questions that imprison us.

The Tetralemma in Practice

Let me give you an example from my own practice. I often struggled with the question, “Does the self exist?” Using Nagarjuna’s framework, we can analyze this question as follows:

1. The self exists: This is the view most people start with—a belief in a stable, enduring self that is the doer of actions and the experiencer of life. From this perspective, the self is real, tangible, and central to existence. 
2. The self does not exist: Once the illusory nature of the self is seen, it is tempting to adopt the opposite view—that there is no self at all. 
3. The self both exists and does not exist: Here, we begin to glimpse the paradoxical nature of reality. The self exists as an appearance—dynamic, ever-changing, and dependent on conditions—but it lacks inherent existence. It is neither wholly real nor entirely unreal.
4. The self neither exists nor does not exist: This final position transcends the binary altogether. It points to the nature of reality, which cannot be captured by any conceptual framework. To say the self “exists” or “does not exist” is to impose a limitation on something that is beyond both.

By systematically negating each of these positions, Nagarjuna does not offer a new doctrine about the self. Instead, he liberates us from the need to hold any position at all. The inquiry dissolves, leaving behind only direct insight into reality.

The question itself becomes irrelevant, and what remains is a spacious, effortless being. 

Beyond Affirmation and Denial

One of the most transformative aspects of Nagarjuna’s philosophy is his insistence that reality cannot be reduced to either affirmation or denial. The mind, conditioned to think in binaries, seeks to categorize everything into “true” or “false,” “real” or “unreal.” But these categories are inherently limited—they can point toward reality but never fully encompass it.

For example, consider the nature of a dream. When you are dreaming, the dream feels real; the people, places, and events seem solid and meaningful. Upon waking, you recognize the dream as unreal. But does that mean the dream never existed? It did exist—as an appearance, an experience—but its existence was transient. 

The Mind’s Compulsion for Certainty.

The mind craves answers, clarity, finality. It wants to know, “Is this true or false? Right or wrong? Real or unreal? It clings to answers, not because they are true, but because they provide a sense of control. And in its pursuit of certainty, the mind falls into the trap of binary thinking.

The Freedom Beyond Thinking

What’s left when you see through binary thinking? Freedom. Not the kind of freedom the mind imagines—freedom from something—but a freedom that simply is. It’s the freedom of being what you already are, without needing to define or defend it.

From this space, life becomes profoundly simple. The mind may still present its dualities, but they no longer have a hold on you. You see them for what they are—waves in the ocean, arising and dissolving.

If there’s one thing I would say to you, it’s this: don’t get caught in the mind’s games. Don’t waste your energy trying to resolve opposites. Instead, look beyond them. Rest in the consciousness that holds both. That consciousness is who you are. It’s who you’ve always been.