DHRITARASHTRA: 1. O Sanjaya, tell me what happened at Kurukshetra, on the field of dharma, where my family and the Pandavas gathered to fight.

“The Gita,” says Mahatma Gandhi, “is not a historical discourse. A ­physical illustration is often needed to drive home a spiritual truth. It is the description not of war between cousins, but between two natures in us – the Good and the Evil.” Volumes have been written about the battle which is said to have taken place on the field of Kurukshetra, located north of Delhi, but for the spiritual aspirant, the battle described in the Bhagavad Gita is not limited to a particular historical setting. Sri Krishna’s message is as valid today as it was centuries ago, and it will continue to be so tomorrow, for it describes the eternal truth of life that the fiercest battle we must wage is against all that is selfish, self-willed, and separate in us. Today when the world is being torn asunder by war, when violence stalks our streets and invades our homes, when anger disrupts our relationships and separateness pervades our consciousness, Sri Krishna’s immortal words, given to us in the Gita, are of urgent practical value. The violence we see about us is a reflection of the anger and self-will burning deep within us. Most of us carry a conflagration around with us in the depths of our consciousness, and many of us are skilled tacticians in guerilla warfare right in our own homes. The war the mystics of all the world’s great religions talk about is not the one erupting in the Middle East or in Southeast Asia that makes newspaper headlines; it is the one erupting from the fierce self-will afflicting all of us, estranging individuals, families, communities, races, and nations.

Once I was on a train going from Delhi to Simla, high on the Himalayas, and on the way we passed through Kurukshetra, the historical battlefield of the Bhagavad Gita. My fellow passengers were talking about the tremendous battle which took place there, and when we arrived at the scene, they eagerly climbed out to have a look. To me there was no need to disembark, because I already had an inkling that the real battlefield in the Gita was right inside each passenger on the train. The language of battle is often found in the scriptures, for it conveys the strenuous, long-drawn-out campaign we must wage to free ourselves from the tyranny of the ego, the cause of all our suffering and sorrow. By setting before us the inspiring ideal of the victorious man or woman as one who has conquered himself or herself, the mystics urge us on to fight this battle and eradicate all that is selfish in us.

How can we ordinary men and women, living in the midst of our family and society, achieve such a victory? In the Gita Sri Krishna gives us the precious jewel of spiritual wisdom, of immediate practical value to everyone’s life. He tells us how we can learn to fight the battle against self-will and separateness through the practice of meditation and its allied disciplines, and he shows us how in our own daily lives we can gain the will and the wisdom to transform anger into compassion, fear into courage, and greed into tireless striving for the welfare of others.

SANJAYA: 2. Having surveyed the forces of the Pandavas arrayed for battle, Duryodhana, the prince, approached his teacher and spoke.

3. “O my teacher, look at this mighty army of the Pandavas; it has been assembled by your gifted disciple, the son of Drupada.

4–6. “There are heroic warriors and great archers who are the equals of Bhima and Arjuna: Yuyudhana, the mighty Virata, Drupada, Dhrishtaketu, Cekitana, the valiant king of Kashi, Purujit, Kuntibhoja, the great leader Shaibya, the powerful Yudhamanyu, the valiant Uttamaujas, the son of Subhadra, and the sons of Draupadi; all these command mighty chariots.

7–8. “You who are the best of the brahmins, listen to the names of those who are distinguished among us: Bhishma, Karna, and the victorious Kripa; Ashvatthama, Vikarna, and the son of Somadatta.

9. “There are many others, too, heroes giving up their lives for my sake. They are all proficient in war and armed with a variety of weapons.

10. “Our army is unlimited and commanded by Bhishma; theirs is small and commanded by Bhima.

11. “Let everyone take his proper place and stand firm supporting Bhishma.”

Religion is realization of the unity of life; this is the supreme purpose for which we have come into the human context. Our intellectual orientation, useful though it is in helping us solve some of our problems, tends to make us forget that the scriptures of the great religions are meant to be personally experienced in daily life. I appreciate the scholarly editions of the Gita, the Bible, or the Dhammapada that abound in footnotes and appendices, but I always ask myself: will this approach show me how to translate the teachings of Sri Krishna, Jesus the Christ, or the Compassionate Buddha into my own life? Will it prepare me to undertake the long, exhausting war I have come into this world to win?

Sri Krishna insists we do the actual fighting in this battle ourselves, but with his infinite mercy, he outlines the battle plan and gives us the maps, weapons, and strategies necessary to win. The first tip the Gita gives us is on the nature of the contesting armies, the Kauravas and the Pandavas. The Kauravas are usually identified with the forces of darkness that bring about death and despair, and the Pandavas with the forces of light which bring abiding joy and unshakable security. The ancient Sanskrit scriptures throw a flood of light on this dichotomy by describing it as a choice between preya and shreya. Preya, the passing pleasure that seems pleasing to the senses but soon fades into its opposite, is what we choose when we indulge in injurious physical habits or retaliate against others. Shreya, the good that leads to lasting welfare for the whole, is what we choose by cultivating healthy habits, by bringing conflicting parties together, and by putting the happiness of those around us first. These two conflicting forces are very much in evidence in the world today: on the one hand we have made great strides towards eliminating poverty and disease, but on the other hand, we have stockpiled sufficient arms to kill every man, woman, and child on the face of the earth several times over. We seek peace and freedom for all, but we are letting the selfish pursuit of personal profit and pleasure destroy our families, our communities, and even our society. As Sri Ramakrishna, the great saint who lived in India in the last century, was fond of saying, “If you want to go east, don’t walk towards the west.” Such is the confusion of our lives that we have forgotten there is this choice to be made at all, and in fact we no longer know whether we are running east or west.

Another set of beautiful Sanskrit terms for describing the perennial opposition between the forces that elevate us and those that bring about our downfall is nitya and anitya. Nitya refers to that which is eternal and unchanging, and this is what we seek by forgiving those who harm us and supporting those who differ from us. Anitya is that which fades away and brings suffering in its wake, and this is what we seek when we give in to an angry impulse or do what leads to self-aggrandizement at the expense of our family, community, and society. When we fight others, whether physically or in the mind, we harm them and ourselves, but when we fight all that is base and self-willed in us, we bring lasting joy to everyone. This is a central theme in all the great scriptures. We can all learn to conquer hatred through love by drawing on the power released through the practice of meditation to throw all our weight, all our energy, and all our will on the side of what is patient, forgiving, and selfless in ourselves and others.

Sanjaya: 12. Then the powerful Bhishma, the grandsire, oldest of all the Kurus, in order to cheer Duryodhana, roared like a lion and blew his conch horn.

13. And after Bhishma there was a tremendous noise of conchs and cowhorns and pounding on drums.

14. Then Sri Krishna and Arjuna, who were standing in a mighty chariot yoked with white horses, blew their divine conchs.

In this greatest of all battles between the forces of good and evil, Arjuna represents you and me, and Sri Krishna, the Lord of Love enshrined in the heart of every creature, is his best friend, his dearest companion, and above all, his beloved teacher and guide. Sri Krishna is not someone outside us, swinging between Neptune and Uranus; he is closer to us than our body, nearer to us, as the Sufi mystics put it, than our jugular vein. The word Krishna comes from the Sanskrit root krish, ‘to draw’; Krishna is the one inside us who is drawing us to himself all the time. The title Sri means ‘Lord.’ Sri Krishna is eternal and omnipresent; he is our real Self. Whether we call him the Christ, the Buddha, or Allah, he is the supreme Reality underlying consciousness and uniting all creation.

Sanjaya: 15. Sri Krishna blew the conch named Pancajanya, and Arjuna blew that called Devadatta. The mighty Bhima blew the huge conch Paundra.

16. Yudhishthira, the king, the son of Kunti, blew the conch Anantavijaya; Nakula and Sahadeva blew their conchs as well.

17–18. The king of Kashi, the leading bowman, the great warrior Shikhandi, Dhrishtadyumna, Virata, the invincible Satyaki, Drupada, all the sons of Draupadi, and the son of Subhadra with the mighty arms all blew their conchs.

19. And the noise tore through the heart of Duryodhana’s army. Indeed, the sound was tumultuous, echoing throughout heaven and earth.

The tumult and confusion of warfare are the same no matter what the times or circumstances, no matter who the contestants or what the issues involved. In ancient India it was the mighty bowman and the strong elephant, today it is the missile and the tank, but the dreadful disruption of life which results is the same in both cases. As the Compassionate Buddha said more than two thousand years ago, “Hatred will never cease by hatred at any time. Hatred ceases only through love. This is an eternal law.” We can never bring an end to violence by using violent means; far from resolving conflicts, hostility and retaliation drive people further apart and make havoc of life.

The tragedy of self-will is that it leads to increasing insecurity, ill health, loneliness, and despair. This cannot but be the discouraging prognosis for those who pursue personal profit, power, prestige, and pleasure at the expense of the welfare of their family and community. In the beautiful words of St. Francis of Assisi, “It is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.” Most of us suffer from the mistaken belief that it is in grabbing that we receive, it is in venting anger that we improve our relationships, and it is in having our own way that we find fulfillment. Unfortunately happiness escapes us the more we clutch at it by manipulating those around us and accumulating more material possessions. Security is not found in a stockpile of weapons but in mutual trust and respect among individuals, races, and nations; peace is not found in asserting our rights over others but in assuring the lasting welfare of our extended circle of family and friends. This is the great insight that comes in meditation: on the spiritual path there is no possibility of defeat, for the Lord – called Sri Krishna by some and the Christ by others – is in the depths of our consciousness to support us, guide us, and help us win the war against our self-will.

One of the glorious names for Sri Krishna, used here and elsewhere throughout the Gita to remind us of the complete, unending joy lying within us, is Hrishikesha, ‘he whose hair stands on end with joy.’ The name used here for Arjuna should also inspire us: Dhananjaya, ‘conqueror of wealth.’ This is the perfect epithet for the person who meditates, for he discovers that real wealth comes from giving freely of himself to others. We do not learn to do this overnight; we do not go to sleep selfish one evening and wake up the next morning with every trace of self-will gone. The battle against the ego is a long, agonizing affair that may take our entire lifetime. When we accept this challenge, all the boredom goes out of life; every day brings new tests of our endurance, strength, and desire to win the battle. All our angry, aggressive instincts are harnessed to the effort; instead of anger using us, we control it and use it as a source of tremendous power. We can take heart from the great mystics who have successfully met this challenge. As the Buddha declared twenty-five hundred years ago: “One person may conquer in battle a thousand times a thousand others; but the true heroes are those who conquer themselves.” It is only the mystics who can understand what struggle is required to extinguish self-will, to gain the patience that will not be exhausted by any attack and the forgiveness that will bear even with those who slander them.

Sanjaya: 20. Then, O Dhritarashtra, lord of the earth, having seen your son’s forces set in their places and the fighting about to begin, Arjuna spoke these words to Sri Krishna.

ARJUNA: 21–22. O Krishna, drive my chariot between the two armies. I want to see those who desire to fight with me. With whom will this battle be fought?

23. I wish to see those assembled to fight for Duryodhana, those who desire to please the evil-minded son of Dhritarashtra by engaging in war.

SANJAYA: 24–25. Thus Arjuna spoke, and Sri Krishna, driving his splendid chariot between the two armies, facing Bhishma and Drona and all the kings of the earth, said: “Arjuna, behold all the Kurus gathered together.”

26–29. And Arjuna, as he stood between the two armies, saw fathers and grandfathers, teachers, uncles, and brothers, sons and grandsons, in-laws and friends. Seeing his kinsmen established in opposition, Arjuna fell into confusion and mournfully spoke these words:

ARJUNA: O Krishna, I see my own relations here with the desire to fight, and my limbs are weak; my mouth is dry, my body is shaking, and my hair is standing on end.

One of the best definitions of confusion is doing what is unnecessary and failing to do what is necessary. This is our condition in life when we clash with our family and friends and fail to fight our worst enemy, our own self-will and separateness. Arjuna is beginning to realize that the battle he must wage is against what he has always considered to be a part of himself. Faced with the task of ridding his consciousness of every trace of selfish desire, Arjuna, like you and me, moans and groans to Sri Krishna: “How can I possibly fight these people, my best pals, with whom I have painted Hastinapura red?”

We have been so conditioned to search for happiness in sense-­pleasure that defying these urges appears to be a denial of life itself. Actually the opposite is true. As we progress on the spiritual path, our vision begins to clear and our passions begin to come under our control, and we discover that we have been pursuing agitation instead of joy and accumulation instead of security. The curious thing is that we are convinced we can isolate pleasure as our own private possession, although it has escaped our grasp time and again. We may have failed in the past, but the next time we think we will succeed for sure, and we go on trying. The other day, while going for a walk, we saw two Alsatians that reminded me of our flair for chasing pleasure and profit. These two dogs were trying to catch a rainbow over a water sprinkler so they could take it home to their doghouse. One after the other they would come, jump into the spray, and snap at the rainbow hovering there. As soon as one had finished his jump, the other one would follow right on his heels as if to say, “You don’t know how to do it. Let me show you,” over and over again. This is what you and I do when we try to catch the rainbow that is personal pleasure, power, profit, and prestige. Even though we go through the experience many times, we do not seem able to learn from it. The Gita very compassionately says that the sooner we learn this lesson in life, the better it will be.

It is not surprising that we follow passing pleasure instead of abiding joy when we consider the extensive influence of the mass media and the widespread use of advertising. From childhood onwards we are conditioned to believe that we are our body, senses, and mind, and that happiness lies in satisfying their whims and desires. We have become so accustomed to telling Mr. Ego “You say, I do” that the very idea of questioning his authority by training the senses and changing our attitudes makes us tremble in anxiety. In meditation we begin to suspect that the ego is really a tyrant who has usurped the throne from our real Self, called the Atman in Sanskrit, which is the source of all wisdom and beauty in life. Once this suspicion arises, the days of the ego’s tyranny are numbered, and the cloud of confusion which has blinded us begins to be dispelled.

Arjuna: 30. My skin is burning, and the bow Gandiva has slipped from my hand. I am unable to stand, and my mind seems to be whirling.

31. The signs are evil for us. I do not see that any good can come from killing our relations in battle.

32. O Krishna, I do not desire victory, or a kingdom, or pleasures. Of what use is a kingdom, O Govinda, or pleasure, or even life?

Arjuna is suffering from a very contemporary malady, paralysis of the will. This is the crux of many of our problems. We say we want to put an end to war, yet we go on making missiles, guns, tanks, and bombs, and arming other countries in the name of peace. We are alarmed about violence, yet we let our children watch hour after hour of violent television programs. We are concerned about pollution, but we pour pollutants by the ton into our rivers and oceans; we make the air unfit to breathe and strip the earth of irreplaceable resources. Even when we can clearly see the urgency of stopping pollution and putting an end to violence, we lack the will and the wisdom to translate our desire into effective action.

Though Arjuna deplores this state of inertia and self-pity, he is unable to shake it off. This is often our problem too; we can diagnose our shortcomings and even give a brilliant synopsis of the world’s woes, but as long as our knowledge is limited to intellectual analysis, we will not have the capacity to make the world more peaceful; we will not be able to prevent pollution or even bring together estranged families and friends. It is the deeper will and wisdom which come through meditation that enable us to tap the creative resources and untiring energy lying latent in our consciousness.

Looking at the opposing army, Arjuna is plunged into confusion. His special bow, Gandiva, slips from his grasp, and his mind reels at the prospect of fighting. This confrontation comes to all of us who are in earnest about putting an end to the cause of our sorrow and suffering, our petty little personality driven by self-will. Success on the spiritual path requires the highest kind of courage we can muster, for every ounce of our strength and resolution will be tested. It was my spiritual teacher, my mother’s mother, who showed me through the example of her own life that it is the nonviolent person who cannot be frightened; the violent person can always be threatened with greater violence. If you want to see real bravery, look at the person who is patient under attack, who will not retaliate, who will suffer rather than inflict suffering on others. This is the heroic ideal Jesus the Christ gives us to follow: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven.” Sri Krishna, in his infinite grace, helps Arjuna find this source of strength within himself, just as he enables us, when we turn to him, to become patient when attacked, forbearing when provoked, and loving when hated. This is the way we grow fearless and strong enough to grapple with the grave problems that threaten our world.

Arjuna: 33–34. Those for whose sake we would desire a kingdom, or pleasures, or happiness – teachers, fathers, sons, even grandfathers, uncles, in-laws, grandsons, and others with family ties – they are engaging in this battle, renouncing their wealth and their lives.

35. Even if they were to kill me, O Krishna, I would not want to kill them, not even to become ruler of the three worlds. How much less for the earth alone?

36. O Krishna, what satisfaction could we find in killing Dhritarashtra’s sons? We would become sinners by slaying these men, even though evil.

37. The sons of Dhritarashtra are related to us; therefore, we should not kill them, O Madhava. How can we gain happiness by killing members of our own family?

38–39. Though they are overpowered by greed and do not see evil in the decay of the family or the sin in injuring friends, we see the evil which comes from the destruction of the family. Why shouldn’t we turn away from this sin?

40. When a family declines, ancient traditions are destroyed. With them are lost the spiritual foundations for life, and the entire family loses its sense of unity.

41. O Krishna, where there is no sense of unity the women of the family become corrupt. With the corruption of the women, O Varshneya, society is plunged into chaos.

To realize the unity underlying all life and live in harmony with this awareness, we do not have to quit our jobs, leave our family, drop out of school, or turn our back on society. Living in the midst of our extended circle of family and friends provides the perfect context for learning to see the Lord in everyone, everywhere, every minute, for in these deep personal relationships we can easily forget ourselves, our comforts, and our conveniences in ensuring the joy of others. This is a straightforward way of reducing our self-will, which is the only obstacle standing between the Lord and us.

In these verses Arjuna has addressed Sri Krishna very appropriately by using two of his family names: Madhava, ‘son of the Madhu clan’; and Varshneya, ‘he who belongs to the family of the Vrishnis.’ The family has always been a symbol of unity and selfless love in spite of the serious problems that have afflicted it from time to time. Arjuna’s confusion over his family responsibility is ours as well, for we have let competition and self-interest tear our families apart. Husband and wife compete against each other, parents and children compete, sister and brother compete; even the grandparents are trying to get into the act. This competitive tendency has spread from the home to the school and campus, to organizations, and of course to international relationships. It breeds distrust, suspicion, and jealousy wherever it goes. As our security increases through meditation, we find we do not need to compete, for the source of joy and wisdom is right within us. Competition has so distorted our vision that we are defensive towards even our dear ones, but as our meditation deepens, we see what lasting joy there is in trying to complete one another rather than compete against one another.

If just one person in a family takes to the spiritual life, he or she can slowly transform the home from a battleground into a citadel of strength for family and friends alike. This is particularly true when the woman takes to meditation, for she is in an advantageous position to support and inspire others with her selfless love, patience, and forbearance. Over a period of time, her quiet example will enable her partner, parents, children, and friends to grow strong and secure. My grandmother used to tell the girls in my ancestral family that it was their privilege to light up the home with their generosity and forgiveness; she showed them in her own personal life how everyone cannot but respond to such a woman, and how family and friends eagerly return to such a home. We should bear in mind that this concept of family loyalty and unity is not limited just to parents and children; those who deeply care for each other’s welfare are a family in the best sense of the word, and it is by extending our capacity to love and support to a widening circle of friends that we transform our life into a permanent force for good in the world. Anandamayi Ma, the great woman saint of modern India whom my wife, Christine, and I have had the blessing of meeting, expresses this awareness of unity when she says: “The different organs of the human body fulfill different functions; some more noble certainly than others, but for the good of the body they must all be cared for. In the same way, try to treat with equal love all the people with whom you have relations. Make a habit of this and soon you will perceive that all humankind is as your family. Thus the abyss between ‘myself’ and ‘yourself’ will be filled in, which is the goal of all religious worship.”

Arjuna: 42. Social chaos is hell for the family, and for those who have destroyed the family as well. It disrupts the process of spiritual evolution begun by our ancestors.

The perennial truth expressed in the scriptures, which we can realize in our own lives, is that all creation is evolving towards the unitive state. Any sensitive person can appreciate the grandeur of this process; just observe a hive of bees at work, or walk through a forest, or live with a selfless person, and you cannot but be profoundly moved by the way every aspect of creation can work with all the rest as a unit in perfect harmony. This truth has far-reaching application in our daily life. On the one hand, every time we violate the unity of life by venting our anger on those around us, or by harming our fellow creatures, we work against this evolution; on the other hand, every time we forgive others, do what benefits them, or alleviate the distress of any creature, we contribute towards this evolution. By striving to live in accord with this unity we bring about the fulfillment of all creation, which of course includes our own, but by going our separate ways, we obstruct the evolution of consciousness towards the unitive state.

The unity underlying life is so complete and pervasive that when we inflict suffering on the smallest creature, we injure the whole. When we refrain from habits that harm others, when we take up jobs that relieve suffering, when we work to put an end to anger and separateness, we strengthen the whole. John Donne reminds us of this when he says, “No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.”

There is nothing more important in life than learning to express this unity in all our relationships: with our family and friends, with our colleagues and fellow workers, with other communities and countries, with other races and religious groups, and with other creatures. This is the way we come to see the presence of the Lord.

Arjuna: 43. The timeless spiritual foundations of the family and society are destroyed by these terrible deeds which violate the unity of life.

44. It is said that those who have lost sight of this unity dwell in hell.

Arjuna is beginning to see the terrible consequences of disunity. We have a tendency to think of heaven and hell as physical domains located on some celestial map, when really they describe our state of being right here on earth. This is the practical meaning of unity and separateness in our daily living; we have a taste of heaven every time we forget ourselves in ensuring the joy of others, and we have a bitter dose of the other place when we think or behave unkindly.

Violence, war, pollution, estrangement, and insensitivity to our fellow creatures are external manifestations of the disunity seething in our consciousness. Because we live on the surface level of life we are often unaware of the anger and fear burning deep within us. It is only after practicing meditation for some years that we learn to descend into the depths of our consciousness where we can observe these negative forces at work and put an end to their disruptive activity. Right from the first days of our sadhana, the spiritual disciplines we practice begin, however slowly, to transform our character, conduct, and consciousness. When the divisiveness which has been agitating us and making life difficult begins to mend, we get immediate evidence in our daily life: our health improves, long-standing personal conflicts subside, our mind becomes clear and our intellect lucid; an unshakable sense of security and well-being follows us wherever we go, and whatever challenges loom before us, we know we have the will and the wisdom to meet them effectively.

Unification of consciousness can turn the most ordinary of us into a spiritual force; this is the power of the unitive state that we enter in the climax of meditation, called samadhi in Sanskrit, when our heart, mind, and spirit come to rest in the Lord. Swami Ramdas, a delightful saint whom we met in his ashram in South India, summarizes this in simple, clear words: “All sadhanas are done with a view to still the mind. The perfectly still mind is universal spirit.”

Arjuna: 45. This is a great sin! We are prepared to kill our own relations out of greed for the pleasures of a kingdom.

It is easy to see why Arjuna represents you and me so well, for with a few well-chosen words he is able to point right to the cause of our disrupted relationships and increasing insecurity. With dismay he tells Sri Krishna how he fears the devastating consequences of not keeping in mind the unity underlying all life. For personal pleasure and profit we are willing to sacrifice the welfare of our family and friends, our society and environment. In Arjuna’s time, it was greed for a kingdom; in ours it is greed for a higher salary, a prestigious home, and a partner who will always agree with our opinions. As long as we seek to be lord and master over our petty personal kingdom, we bar the door to the Lord of Love within us, and confusion and chaos reign. This is the inevitable consequence of violating the unity of life by attempting to go our own separate way.

The Bible tells us we cannot love both God and Mammon at the same time, and in the spiritual tradition of India, great sages like Sri Ramakrishna will remind us that for Rama – the source of abiding joy – to come into our lives, Kama – the craving to satisfy our personal desires – must go. Our capacity for joy is so great that going after passing pleasure is like throwing a peanut in an elephant’s mouth and ­expecting him to be full. We are so trapped in our self-willed existence that we do not realize how clouded our judgment is and how tragically we waste the gift of life trying to acquire another car, which will pollute our environment, or enjoy an extra gourmet meal, which will add to our weight and injure our health.

The English mystic William Law describes how most of us go through life under the illusion that satisfying selfish desires can bring happiness: “A life devoted to the interests and enjoyments of this world, spent and wasted in the slavery of earthly desires, may be truly called a dream, as having all the shortness, vanity, and delusion of a dream; only with this great difference, that when a dream is over nothing is lost but fictions and fancies; but when the dream of life is ended only by death, all that eternity is lost, for which we were brought into being.” As long as we have not seen someone who has conquered all that is self-willed in himself, we will find it hard to believe that we can cast off this spell of separateness and awake to the unity of life. But in the world’s great religions, we have mystic after mystic showing us that this is possible if we are willing to change the direction of our lives through the practice of meditation. In our own time we have the inspiring example of Mahatma Gandhi, who attained the unitive state and helped many others undertake the struggle against all that is selfish and separate. His real name was Mohandas K. Gandhi, but in India we prefer to call him by the title Mahatma, ‘the great soul,’ because by reducing himself to zero he was able to identify himself with the four hundred million suffering people of India and bring about not only their political emancipation but a spiritual renewal as well. Sometimes he is known as Gandhiji, the ji being added to his name as a sign of affection and respect. Such was Gandhiji’s spiritual stature that he could transform little people made of clay into heroes and heroines. During India’s struggle for independence, we had a leader from the North-West Frontier Province whose people were very brave and enduring, but also rather violent. Gandhi had the daring to go into their midst and tell them that if they really were brave they would throw away their guns and learn to fight nonviolently. Their leader, Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan, responded to Gandhi’s challenge and transformed himself into such an invincible combination of courage and gentleness that he became known as the Frontier Gandhi.

Even one person standing against violence, whether it is in the home, in the community, or between nations, can become a source of inspiration for everyone who comes in contact with him. The words from the Sermon on the Mount are not just to be illuminated in manuscripts; the Dhammapada is not just to be inscribed on stupas; the Bhagavad Gita is not just to be etched on palmyra strips and carried in our hip pocket as a talisman. The man or woman who practices the teachings of these great scriptures will become aware of the unity of life, and this awareness will give constant strength and inspiration to those who seek to turn anger into compassion, fear into courage, and selfishness into self-forgetfulness in the joy of the whole.

Arjuna: 46. If the sons of Dhritarashtra, weapons in hand, attack me in battle, and if they kill me unarmed and unresisting, that would be better for me.

My spiritual teacher, my grandmother, did not know how to read or write, but she knew Sri Krishna, and she gave me the message of the Gita in language that all of us can remember. All life is a battlefield, she used to tell me; whether we like it or not, we are born to fight. We have no choice in this, but we do have the choice of our opponent and our weapon. If we fight other people, often our dear ones, we cannot but lose, but if we choose to fight all that is selfish and violent in us, we cannot but win. There is no such thing as defeat on the spiritual path once we join Sri Krishna, but if we try to fight against him, we shall never know victory.

When we fight others, we are harming everyone; when we fight all that is base and self-willed in us, we are benefiting everyone. This is the constant theme of the great scriptures. We need not be impressed by anyone who recites the scriptures or observes all the outer rituals of religion, but we cannot help being impressed by those who can forgive, who can forget harm done to them or turn their backs on their own personal profit and prestige for the welfare of all. From the Old Testament we have these words: “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.” It is the same theme as in the Hindu and Buddhist scriptures. Conversely, those who are quick to anger are the weakest, most pathetic, and most harmful of human beings.

Unfortunately, in our day anger is considered to be part of expressing oneself, a vital means of communication. We have anger groups, called by other names, and we have anger seminars, called by other names, in which people agitate one another and send each other out as harmful influences into their homes and society. We have anger books, anger plays, and even films glorifying the angry man or woman. After attending a violent movie like this, people may come to us with virulent words and fling these words at us like lances. But if we can sit secure and patient and, after they have exhausted themselves, comfort them by our patience, win them over by our love, we are practicing the words of the Bible: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.”

The capacity to be patient, to bear with others through thick and thin, is within the reach of all those who will practice meditation and put the welfare of those around them before their own. We do not realize what tremendous energy for selfless living we have lying dormant within us. Because we see the world through eyes of separateness, we think of ourselves as frail, fragmented creatures, with hardly any strength to stand up in life and make our contribution. But when we take to the spiritual path and start putting into practice the wise, compassionate counsel Sri Krishna gives us in the Gita, we shall discover our real stature and be able to contribute in good measure to life.

SANJAYA: 47. Overwhelmed by sorrow, Arjuna spoke these words. And casting away his bow and his arrows, he sat down in his chariot in the middle of the battlefield.

Arjuna, like you and me, wants to contribute to his family’s happiness and his country’s welfare, but he falls despondent at Sri Krishna’s feet because he does not know how to make this contribution. Sri Krishna has not yet opened his divine lips to reveal himself to Arjuna as the supreme Teacher, but he will soon do so in the second chapter, giving Arjuna the practical instruction and guidance he needs to shake off this depression and inertia.

My ancestral family used to render a community service by staging a performance of Kathakali, the traditional dance drama of Kerala, in the open courtyard of our home under the warm evening sky of spring. Everyone was welcome, and hundreds of people would come from the village and surrounding neighborhood to see these stories from India’s spiritual tradition enacted, to refresh their memory of the scriptures and deepen their devotion to the Lord who is always present in our consciousness. During the opening scenes the children would fall asleep on their mothers’ or grandmothers’ laps, but as soon as Sri Krishna is about to come on stage the mothers awaken them and they sit up with eyes wide open. Everyone gets ready: people who were nodding become alert, and those who were talking become silent. We concentrate the moment we hear Sri Krishna is coming, because he is our real Self. So for me, the real Gita begins with the second chapter where the Lord begins to teach. When we see Sri Krishna, it is a reminder that beneath all our surface deficiencies and seeming drawbacks, there is always present in our hearts the source of all joy and security who is the Lord.

To discover the Lord within is the supreme purpose of life, worthy of all our time, energy, resources, and dedication. For most of us, pain and suffering are necessary to make us grow up. Like little children learning to walk without support, we have to learn to walk without clutching at pleasure or profit. Watch a child learning to walk; it can be a pathetic sight to watch the little one get up only to fall down again and again. It is tempting to say out of sympathy, “Alfred, don’t bother to get up. Just lie there and we’ll bring everything to you.” But this would permanently stunt poor Alfred’s capacity for living.

It is reassuring to remember that many before us have learned to stand up to life’s challenges; the mystics of both East and West tell us in inspiring words how all boredom and drabness go out of life in this greatest of all adventures. We must learn to be vigilant constantly; we cannot lapse into lack of watchfulness for one minute. Swami Ramdas describes the joy of rising to this challenge: “There is no greater victory in the life of a human being than victory over the mind. He who has controlled the gusts of passion that arise within him and the violent actions that proceed therefrom is the real hero. All the disturbances in the physical plane are due to chaos and confusion existing in the mind. Therefore to conquer the mind through the awareness of the great Truth that pervades all existence is the key to real success and the consequent harmony and peace in the individual and in the world. . . . The true soldier is he who fights not the external but the internal foes.”

All the capacity for fighting, all the aggressive capacity we waste in conflict with others, can be harnessed through the practice of meditation to fight against our own self-will and separateness. This is a twenty-four-hour fight, because even in our dreams we can learn to dispel fear and anger. But it will take many, many years of valiant and unceasing resistance to win the peace that passeth all understanding.

When we meditate every morning we are putting on armor for the day’s battle against our own impatience, inadequacy, resentment, and hostility. Of course, it is going to be extremely painful and distressing when we have to put all around us first and ourselves last, but at night when we go to bed there is such a fierce joy in the knowledge that we have contributed in some measure to the joy and growth of our family and community, even though we have suffered deeply ourselves. Often, however, when we have to choose to suffer ourselves rather than bring suffering to others, we do exactly what Arjuna does at the end of this chapter: we moan that we will not, cannot fight.

Without the grace and guidance of the Lord none of us can win this battle. In inspiring words, Sri Krishna will rouse us to action by reminding us that our real Self is pure, perfect, and untainted, no matter what our past errors. It does not matter what mistakes we may have committed or what trouble we may have brought on ourselves and others out of our ignorance; if we surrender ourselves completely to the Lord of Love who is always present in the depths of our consciousness, we will discover that these mistakes never touched us. We can throw away the ugly ego mask at last if we will turn our face to the Lord, take to meditation, and do everything possible to bring peace and security to our world.