Nonduality and Animal Behaviour: Understanding How Dogs Perceive Reality
Most conflicts between humans and animals do not arise because animals are violent or humans are weak. They arise because humans forget how animals perceive reality. Dogs, especially street dogs, do not respond to our words, beliefs, professions, or intentions in the way we imagine. They respond to state. They sense whether a being standing before them is internally divided or internally whole. This difference alone often decides whether a dog barks, chases, attacks, ignores, or quietly settles.
A dog does not encounter us as a psychological story. It encounters posture, breath, facial tension, rhythm of movement, and the invisible but very real coherence or incoherence of the nervous system. When a human lives in inner division—fear mixed with courage, friendliness mixed with suspicion, dominance mixed with anxiety—the body leaks signals. These signals create edges, and edges invite testing. Barking, circling, and chasing are not moral judgments; they are responses to fragmentation. When a human is internally unified, however, something entirely different is perceived. The body moves as one piece. The breath flows evenly. The face carries no agenda. To a dog, such a human does not appear as another competing individual. He appears as part of the environment.
Nonduality and the “Mountain Effect”: Why Coherence Dissolves Conflict
This is why the metaphor of “being one with the mountain” is not poetic exaggeration. When a person is inwardly undivided, the animal nervous system reads scale, not size. The human feels large, not because of muscle or dominance, but because there is no resistance to push against. Animals do not fight mountains, rivers, or weather. They adapt to them. In the same way, a coherent human presence often dissolves confrontation before it begins. The dog does not submit; it disengages. Dogs primarily challenge what they perceive as a threat to their territory. A nondual being makes the least claim on resources and shows minimal territorial behavior, which dogs instinctively respond to positively. In practical life, one must of course keep possessions in order to live, but inwardly one remains nondual—akin to being possessionless. A mountain may hold countless forms of natural wealth, yet inwardly it is almost possessionless.
How Dogs Read the Human Face and Body
Dogs are highly sensitive face readers, but not in the emotional sense humans assume. They read movement, contrast, breath, and eye tension. Wide eyes, exposed sclera, projecting chin, forward breath, and sudden motion activate reflexive circuits, especially in abnormal or stressed dogs. A relaxed, upright head with the chin slightly tucked—not collapsed—soft eyes that are neither staring nor fearful, and a neutral, peripheral gaze communicate something very specific: awareness without challenge. This posture is not submission; it is protection without aggression. Children, especially, must be taught this, because most bites occur when fear and excitement amplify facial signals.
Limits of Nonduality: Rabies, Extreme Stress, and Reflex Behaviour
It is important to understand that nonduality is not a magic shield. It works well with normal, socially regulated dogs, particularly when encounters are individual and calm. It does not reliably work with rabid dogs, severely injured animals, starving animals, or highly aroused packs. Rabies damages inhibition. In such cases, subtle presence gives way to raw reflex. Calm behaviour reduces reactions as long as perception is intact. When perception collapses as in rabies, severe pain or hunger, reaction runs on reflex. Sometimes instinctive actions—creating distance, increasing physical silhouette, using barriers—can pause an attack, as in the experience of lifting a large boulder overhead during a rabid assault.The dog probably sensed my body as being huge, with my face partially shielded by it. This is why the technique of increasing apparent body size—such as holding a stick or a bag wide in front with both hands or becoming tall lifting both hands up—sometimes works. However, these actions should be done softly and calmly, with a nondual attitude and without fear, in a defensive—not attacking—sense. One should never attack, because we can almost never overpower a beast. That pause may save seconds. But only medicine saves lives. Washing wounds thoroughly and seeking vaccination and immunoglobulin is not optional. There is no spiritual immunity to rabies, and pretending otherwise costs lives.
Essential Safety Education for Children Around Dogs
Children should also be clearly advised never to pelt stones or sticks at dogs, never to pass close to a sleeping dog, and never to stare continuously into a dog’s eyes, as this is read as a challenge. Children can easily underestimate the strength of small-looking dogs, so they should be made aware that even smaller dogs possess hidden, inherent strength and can cause serious injury. They should not rush or run suddenly, because dogs often interpret such movement as an act of theft or escape. Instead, one should calmly walk back in a slow, reverse motion without turning the back, keeping the dog in peripheral view. Even while increasing distance, it is safer to remain partially oriented toward the dog, gazing sideways rather than fully away, because dogs sometimes approach silently from behind and may bite without barking. Facing the dog inhibits this and often repels further approach. Most importantly, children should avoid displaying fear, as dogs read facial expressions in a very direct, gross manner. These behaviors should not be acted or pretended; they must be genuine, because dogs can easily sense the difference between performance and real inner state. nearby elder people should be called for help, never to walk alone in dog prone areas. If an attack occurs despite all precautions, becoming passive by curling the body inward and protecting the head and neck does not usually encourage further aggression. Most dogs attack in response to movement, noise, and interaction, not from an intent to continue harm indefinitely. When these signals suddenly disappear, the feedback loop sustaining the attack often collapses, leading the dog to disengage once arousal drops. This approach does not guarantee safety in every situation—especially in cases involving packs, rabies, or extreme predatory states—but it can significantly reduce the severity of injury by protecting vital areas. Passivity here is not surrender, but the withdrawal of signals that fuel aggression, buying critical time until the animal disengages or help arrives.
Personal Experiences of Nonduality and Aggressive Dogs
Once, while I was in a state of full nonduality arising from śarīra-vijñāna darśana, I approached the door of a stranger’s house. Suddenly, a dog jumped toward me with intense anger—barking fiercely, teeth fully exposed in a way that felt genuinely dangerous. I remained standing as I was, without reacting outwardly, and slowly called the owner in a calm voice. The dog stopped right near my feet and began wagging its tail. In a similar incident some years earlier, within three years of my dream-state awakening, a dog tethered by a chain at a house broke free and charged toward me with comparable aggression, yet again stopped near my feet in the same manner. I had gone there to treat that dog and had treated him earlier as well, so perhaps some remembrance existed. More recently, during a phase of what I call quantum-darśana nonduality, I encountered a stray dog at a shopkeeper’s house. It jumped toward me with an intensity of aggression that is difficult to describe fully. I raised my hands calmly and, with a gentle smile, spoke softly—playing lightly, saying that I meant no harm, asking it to calm down. The dog stopped near my feet, allowed me to touch its body affectionately, and then walked away peacefully, sniffing the grass with curiosity. I do not know whether the dogs were responding with amazement to a sensed state of nonduality, or whether nonduality itself prevented the bites. Perhaps both explanations are partially true.
Pack Dynamics: Why Groups Behave Differently
Pack dynamics reveal another layer of reality. A single dog reads a human. A pack reads itself. Once arousal crosses a threshold, individual awareness collapses into collective rhythm. Even calm dogs may act against their own earlier disposition. This is why packs often target crowds rather than solitary, coherent individuals. Chaos mirrors chaos. Coherence has nowhere to land in noise. Leadership in packs functions only while the pack remains socially regulated. A socially intelligent leader can anchor calm and prevent escalation—but only before ignition. Once panic spreads, hierarchy dissolves and physics replaces psychology. This is true for dogs and humans alike.
Street Dog Leadership and Shared Territory: A Real Example
A lived street example illustrates this more clearly than theory. A patwari—a revenue employee—used to attend early-morning yoga classes at a temple. A stray pup settled with him first, drawn by routine, calmness, and predictability. The dog was physically cared for by his family and became part of that household’s daily management. Much later, another person entered the same street. Normally, a street dog would respond to a late entrant with suspicion, barking, or chase. Instead, the dog responded with amazement and closeness, without anger or testing. This was not because of association alone. It was because the newcomer did not enter as an intruder but as coherence. There was no territorial counter-pressure, no dominance, no fear. The dog sensed no edge.
Over time, two bonds coexisted naturally. One bond was logistical—food, shelter, routine, survival. The other was orientational—calm presence, non-interference, inward settlement. Dogs are capable of this maturity. They can eat in one place and orient emotionally to another. They attach inwardly not to who gives the most, but to who disturbs them the least. That is why some attachments feel quiet and deep rather than clingy or possessive.
In a later incident, when a territorial dog beneath a car triggered an alarm and other dogs began assembling, the street dog positioned itself near the coherent human, growled without charging, and faced the others. It did not bark hysterically. It did not attack. It held space. That single act communicated affiliation, legitimacy, and controlled authority. The pack dispersed—not out of submission, but because the situation was re-evaluated and arousal dropped below ignition threshold. In pack situations, dog-to-dog signals override human presence. Calm human behavior matters because it allows such leadership to function rather than amplifying chaos. A similar neighbourhood experience happened to me when I was at the peak of nonduality. The dog used to look at me with a sense of closeness mixed with amazement.
What Dogs Ultimately Teach About Nonduality
All of this carries an important lesson for children and society. Animals are not enemies. They do not understand our words, arguments, or moral self-images. They understand whether we are at war inside or at peace. Teaching children not to scream, stare, run suddenly, or invade animal space is not fear-based education; it is intelligence-based education. Most bites are preventable when perception replaces panic.
Dogs do not practice nonduality consciously. They never left it. They live without inner conflict. Humans leave that ground through excessive thought and return to it through coherence. When humans return, animals respond naturally—not as disciples, but as mirrors. Life stops pushing back, and the mind stops splitting. In that sense, dogs encourage nonduality not by instruction, but by rewarding wholeness with peace.
Conclusion: Nonduality as Practical Wisdom
Nonduality, then, is not a belief system. It is a way of being that reduces friction with life itself—including animals. Wisdom lies in holding presence, science, safety, and compassion together. Presence prevents many conflicts. Medicine saves lives. Education saves society.
Animals do not understand what we say.
They understand whether we are whole.