Hamlet's 'To Be or Not To Be' Through a Vedantic Perspective
When Hamlet poses the iconic question, "To be, or not to be," he is not simply contemplating life versus death. This soliloquy represents a profound pause at a nuanced threshold—where the burden of maintaining a personal identity becomes overwhelming. The exhaustion Hamlet feels stems not only from external suffering but from the relentless effort to uphold an ego that must constantly respond, react, and endure in the face of life's challenges.
The Ego's Endless Narration and Inner Struggles
From a Vedantic viewpoint, Hamlet's words reveal an ancient human fatigue with the ego's continuous narration of existence. When he envisions death as sleep—"a consummation devoutly to be wish'd"—Vedanta acknowledges this longing but interprets it differently. It suggests that what is truly sought is not the cessation of being, but relief from the strain of misidentifying with the ego.
The "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" are not merely external adversities. They also include internal blows inflicted by comparison, ambition, wounded pride, and unmet expectations. Life often appears hostile because the ego insists on occupying the center, demanding that events validate its sense of importance. Thus, the real suffering lies not in what occurs, but in the belief that everything happens to "me."
Fear of Losing Authorship and the Role of Ignorance
Hamlet's hesitation before the "undiscover'd country" reflects a fear deeper than the fear of death itself. It is the fear of losing authorship—the ego trembles at the thought of a state where it no longer narrates experiences or claims ownership of thoughts and actions. Advaita Vedanta identifies this fear as avidyā, or ignorance, not as a moral failing but as a mistaken understanding of the self. It emphasizes that the true Self does not perish; only confusion does.
The Guru's Presence and the Path to Stillness
This is where the concept of the Guru enters the reflection—not as a dramatic savior or an authority who grants liberation arbitrarily, but as a presence that facilitates stillness. In the light of the Guru's consciousness, the incessant activity of self-definition begins to slow down. Consummation with the Guru is not about absorbing one personality into another; it is the quiet recognition that the distance between seeker and sought was always imagined.
Such consummation cannot be manufactured by desire alone. It may be devoutly wished for, but it does not occur through mere effort or surrender performed as an act of will. It happens when the mind becomes transparent enough to see through itself. In this sense, it is neither the seeker's achievement nor the Guru's gift; it is simply clarity arising when resistance dissolves.
Advaita's View on Personality and Action
Advaita does not demand the destruction of the person. The personality remains functional, expressive, and human. What falls away is the belief that this personality constitutes the core of one's being. One continues to speak, work, relate, and act—but without the compulsive need to defend an identity. The person is no longer carried as a burden.
Hamlet concludes that thought drains action of its vitality and that reflection weakens resolve. Vedanta responds gently: thought only paralyzes when it is disconnected from insight. When understanding deepens, action flows without the heaviness of doership. One does not need to choose between being and not being; one simply ceases to be confused about what one truly is.
Resolution Beyond Choice and Suffering
The true resolution of Hamlet's dilemma does not lie in selecting death over life or silence over struggle. It lies in seeing that the one who suffers, hesitates, and fears is not the Self. When this is perceived—not intellectually, but inwardly—the question itself loses its grip.
What remains is not disappearance, nor transcendence as an achievement, but a quiet abidance. Life continues, but without the constant pressure to secure meaning through identity. This, in the Advaita vision, is the real consummation—not an ending devoutly wished for, but a truth gently remembered.
