A satsang on February 23, 1981 begins powerfully:

[Sri Nisargadatta] Maharaj: If you have really understood the core of the matter no questions can arise. Questions arise only to an entity. The question is usually–“What can I do?” Where the “I” itself is not, who will want to know anything? (Prior to Consciousness: Talks with Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj, pp. 110-11)

Every time a question arises it must arise to and for ‘someone.’ This ‘someone’ is the one who wants to know. Thus philosophy is born.

But all philosophy, most especially contemplative philosophy, must also come to an end, and it comes to an end just when the core of the matter is so deeply understood that no question could possibly arise. It has sunk in that deeply. Put differently, meditation has deconstructed any notion of self such that there is no self there to ask the question in the first place.

To and for the nameless Absolute, no question can arise. Even for one abiding, one step lower, in pure I Am-ness or samadhi (meant in the Zen sense: concentrated unity), there can be no questions.

Understanding the core matter is not deep trust in some other; it is deep trust in Itself. For this reason, no question can arise (a) either because the pathless path is clear to the fading self abiding in I Am-ness or (b) because the illusory sense of self has been completely extinguished in the all-pervasive flames of the Absolute.

Contemplative philosophy, insofar as it is a pointer at the nameless Absolute, passes away–nobly so–just when the Unborn Absolute is absolutely clear. Accordingly, contemplative philosophy merges with the One-All where there are no questions, no answers, no words, no time, no space, no manifestation, no experience, no experiencer, no knowing, no knower, no desire, no desirer. Thus Nisargadatta: “Where the ‘I’ itself is not, who will want to know anything?”