ARJUNA: 1. O Janardana, you have said that knowledge is greater than action; why then do you ask me to wage this terrible war?

Arjuna addresses Sri Krishna as Janardana, ‘he who stirs up the people,’ because he is being aroused by the Lord’s wisdom and love. But, like a worthy man of the world, he is not prepared to admit it. Instead he asks, “If you say that spiritual wisdom is the best path to Self-realization, then why do you ask me to fight against my passions and tyrannize over my senses? Just show me the path to spiritual wisdom and stop talking about discriminating restraint of the senses. Tell me about the spirit. As for the senses, I am content to believe you when you say I am not my senses. Let’s leave the matter there.”

Arjuna believes the paths of knowledge and action to be separate or even inconsistent. But there is no contradiction between these two paths. St. Francis will say that our knowledge is as deep as our action. There may be no connection between intellectual knowledge and the will, but spiritual wisdom always reveals itself in our actions.

ARJUNA: 2. Your advice seems inconsistent, O Keshava; give me one path to follow to the supreme good.

Arjuna is trying to judge with his intellect, which believes in classification. The intellect must divide and categorize. This does not mean that we should not value the intellect, but we should realize its limitations; it can see only the parts, not the whole. This tendency of the intellect often leads to problems on the spiritual path. Many people used to ask Sri Ramakrishna, “Is God personal or impersonal?” and he would say, very wisely, that He is both personal and impersonal. Shankara probably would say, on one occasion, “God is both”; on another occasion, “He is neither.”

Arjuna is thinking, “I wouldn’t have believed it, Krishna, if someone had told me you were not very consistent, but I see a contradiction, and in the Lord of Love this is not permissible.” Buddhim mohayasi ‘va me: “My head reels. Before I listened to those last eighteen verses, I had some idea of who I was. Now I don’t know who you are or who I am.” Nishcitya: “Think carefully. Don’t try to talk in a higher state of consciousness.” Then, Ekam vada: “Show me only one line of action. Be rigid.” Arjuna wants one single line of action, no eight steps on the path, no total way of life. Otherwise, as you and I do, he complains that he will become more and more bewildered.

This confusion, which many of us face as we start the spiritual life, will be gradually overcome through the practice of meditation as we begin to develop a higher mode of knowing called prajna in Sanskrit, which leaps beyond the duality of subject and object. In meditation, as we grow from day to day, many of the problems we now face will be transcended. As long as we are meditating sincerely, there may be no need even to try to understand the cause of our difficulties – to analyze them, dwell on them, or discuss them. There is no need because we are going to leave the slum where they live. After a few years of meditation, many of the physical and emotional problems in which we are caught will be left behind, even if at present they are so oppressive they will not let us sleep at night. As we gradually detach ourselves from the ego, those terrific conflicts of the past will seem like Gilbert and Sullivan operas.

SRI KRISHNA: 3. At the beginning of time I declared two paths for the pure heart, the intuitive path of spiritual wisdom and the active path of selfless service.

Long ago, when life was simple, when the environment was pure, when there was little competition, the Lord revealed two paths to Self-realization. For people whose self-will and separateness were very small, who could discriminate between the real and the unreal, who had an awareness of the unity of all life, he revealed the path of spiritual wisdom, or jnana. In those times, when people identified themselves very little with the body and ego, jnana yoga, or the way of spiritual wisdom, was feasible. Jnana is not an intellectual but an intuitive mode of knowing, which transcends the duality of subject and object. Arjuna, however, is a very active person, and for his type Sri Krishna recommends karma yoga, the path of selfless action. In our own age, when competition is rife, when we are so conditioned by the mass media, jnana yoga is extremely difficult except for a rare spiritual genius like Sri Ramana Maharshi. Karma yoga, too, is difficult, but when we live in the midst of so much suffering, all of us must learn to act as selflessly as possible for the amelioration of the problems which face mankind.

This verse, like almost all verses in the Gita, can be applied to our daily life in the modern world if interpreted in relation to the spiritual life. Many mystics will say that for people who are extroverted, more meditation is necessary, and for people who are introverted, more work. This is an adjustment which we shall find useful even in our daily sadhana. There are days when we just do not want to work. Meditation is the greatest thing on earth! After two and a half hours, we don’t want to get up: “Let us meditate for two more hours!” On days like this you really feel that meditation is the thing, that it is what you have to do all the time. But that is the day to get outside and start digging. When you feel highly contemplative, get a shovel and start digging. The urge to meditate is a good one, but it must be under your control. When you begin to work hard, attention is slowly turned outward, as it must be for every human being who wants to be healthy, happy, selfless, and spiritual. With vigorous exercise – particularly for the young, under no pressure, with no desire for profit or prestige – tensions are released. The senses turn outward, and you just want to keep on digging. The contemplative mood is gone, and now “shoveling, more shoveling, and still more shoveling” has become your slogan.

Just as some people are contemplative, there are others who are action-oriented all of the time. If they finish all of their work during the day and have a few free hours at night, they complain, “We keep awake at night. We will come to your place and do some typing.” This is not free work when we cannot keep quiet, when we cannot lie down and go to sleep peacefully at night. Such work, Sri Krishna says, should be discouraged. For people who are working all the time, who work compulsively, who cannot drop their work when necessary, more meditation is called for.

When lethargy is coming, that is the time to get after work. When tamas is descending upon us, that is the time to be rajasic, and when rajas is driving us, that is the time not to go back into tamas, but to go forward into sattva. This requires a certain amount of self-knowledge and comparative freedom from the sway of likes and dislikes.

SRI KRISHNA: 4. He who shirks action does not attain freedom, nor does he gain perfection by abstaining from work.

5. Indeed, there is no one who rests for even an instant; every creature is driven to action by his own nature.

Here Sri Krishna makes a significant statement about the necessity for hard work on the spiritual path. Though we give a good deal of time every day to the practice of meditation and to the repetition of the mantram, we still cannot abstain from work and expect to attain the spiritual state. We have all come into the world to make a contribution, to pay off old debts which have accumulated during millions of years of evolution. No one among ordinary people like you and me can abstain from hard work on the spiritual path. There will come a time for all of us when work will fall away, but if I can make a prediction, this is not likely to take place during the present century; so, during this century, let us make a virtue of necessity and be cheerful about our work. This is the message of the Gita, that without work none of us is likely to go forward on the spiritual path.

An effective safeguard against erratic impulses, against uncontrolled wisps of consciousness floating in our mind, is to concentrate completely on the job we have to do. One of my simple observations has been that many of us have difficulties in dealing with work we do not like because we cannot concentrate. When we have a job to do which we dislike, most of us find our attention wandering. We become like children. Children will be looking at this glass for a moment, then at this bell; after that there is nothing to look at and they start crying. This is what often happens to us. When we get a job that we do not like, we say that we are artists, that this job is drudgery, that we require work challenging our creative talents. This is often just a very euphemistic way of saying that the job is one we don’t like doing. I have seen that if we could only attend a little more to work we dislike, it would become interesting. It is not in the nature of the job to be interesting or not; it is in the nature of the attention we give to it. Anything, when we can give it our full attention, becomes interesting. And anything, when we do not give it full attention, becomes uninteresting.

We should give our full attention to whatever we are doing. This is not easy. When we try to concentrate upon a given job, even for a short time, we will often find our attention flickering. And then the question comes: “Am I concentrating, or am I not concentrating?” If we are observing ourselves like this all the time, we have introduced another distraction to divide our consciousness. The capacity to give full attention grows with effort, and if we keep giving more and more effort in everything we do, we shall benefit even in our meditation. It is not only by meditating that we deepen our meditation; it is by working hard, giving our concentrated attention, and taking into account the needs of the body for recreation and rest. In this way we make raja yoga, the path of meditation, and karma yoga, the path of selfless action, go together. This is Sri Krishna’s advice to all of us: by throwing ourselves into energetic, selfless action, we shall be deepening our meditation as well as serving the Lord.

There is a widespread notion that the spiritual life is a passive one. But Gandhiji exploded this long-held superstition by showing that when we lead the spiritual life and remove all selfishness from ourselves, we are able to contribute to life in the fullest measure. Gandhi transformed almost every phase of life in India during his lifetime, and if I can make a prediction, the twentieth century may come to be known not as the nuclear age, but as the Gandhian age, because it is only by renouncing violence and working for others without any selfish motive that we can continue to survive as the human race.

Naishkarmya, or ‘the state of worklessness,’ is the state attained by great mystics like Sri Ramana Maharshi, who was physically with us in India until 1950. For anyone coming into his presence, he could swiftly resolve their dilemmas. In orthodox Hindu circles he is considered an avatara, a divine incarnation. He was never involved in the world. He never committed any of the mistakes that even some of the greatest mystics have committed. Like Sri Ramakrishna, he was always pure, having attained illumination around the age of seventeen. When European writers would ask him whether it wasn’t possible for him to lead a productive life, he just used to sit and chuckle because his life influenced not only South India, but the entire world. By just one person attaining this stature, finding union with God, human evolution takes a step forward. And you and I, even without our knowledge, have benefited from the presence on earth of these great spiritual figures.

Naishkarmya is a glorious ideal whereby we help humanity by just sitting, and I can understand all of us being drawn by this ideal: we do not have to lift a finger; we just sit and everybody is helped. But now Lord Krishna points out that this state of worklessness, where action falls away and we become a living center of the divine spirit, is not reached by the path of inaction. It is not by abstaining from action, by refraining from work, by dropping out of society, by quitting school, by throwing up our hands in despair, that the state of naishkarmya is achieved.

When I say I have the softest corner in my heart for Arjuna, it is because he is so much like you and me. Now I imagine him asking just the question we would have asked. Arjuna begins, “Supposing, just for the sake of argument, hypothetically . . .”

Sri Krishna says, “Yes, you are talking about yourself. Go on.”

“If I were to put on saffron robes, grow my hair very long, wear a rosary around my neck, and go from village to village singing hymns, eating where there is a meal, sleeping where there is a temple, wouldn’t that also be a path to naishkarmya?”

Now Sri Krishna answers him, Na ca samnyasanad eva siddhim samadhigacchati: “Not through mere renunciation is perfection to be attained.” Even if you retire to the Himalayas, find the most isolated, ice-ridden cave there, get in, put out a sign saying “There is nobody here,” and live there for twelve years – even then you will not attain this state.

The Lord is emphasizing here that you and I have a debt to pay to the world. This concept of karma is personified in Sanskrit as Chitragupta, the “hidden auditor” in every cell of the human system. The moment I think a selfish thought, every cell in my biological system has received a minus, and the moment I think a selfless thought about my parents, partner, children, friends, and even enemies, as to how I can contribute to their welfare, every cell of my being has received a plus sign. Chitragupta doesn’t work an eight-hour day, but all the twenty-four hours, because even in our sleep he has to keep on, mostly giving minuses. His supply of minus signs is a big pile. Only once in a way does he have to give a plus.

When we were on the Blue Mountain, I was invited to address the local club of Indian businessmen which met in a hotel called the Ritz. When my wife and I arrived, we found the members dressed in fine British suits and carrying attaché cases. Telephones were ringing all over the place, and everyone was running about. It was a tense business atmosphere. At the dinner we said we were vegetarians, and the majority of them, being successful business people, must have thought that vegetarian food wasn’t strong enough to bring in high dividends, because they were asking us, “You mean even after wandering all over the West, you still stick to okra and eggplant?” So I told them I not only continued to be a vegetarian, but all my friends in the West had become complete vegetarians. At the end of my talk there was a question and answer period, and the secretary of the club, who was an Indian Christian, got up and said, “I presume that the law of karma is only applicable to people born into the Hindu or Buddhist traditions. May I take it we Christians are all exempted from this law?” I would be happy if he could have been exempted, but Jesus states the law of karma in precise terms, “As ye sow, so shall ye reap.” If we have caused suffering to other people, we are going to reap suffering. If we have added to the happiness of others, we will receive happiness more and more. And Jesus adds: “With what measure you mete, it shall be measured to you again.”

It is a terrifying thought for all of us that we have the choice of joy or sorrow, happiness or misery in our hands; and nobody is justified in saying, “My parents made me like this; my partner, children, and society made me like this,” because we all reap what we sow. In whatever troubled circumstances we live, in whatever country, we all have one choice: shall we go after our own profit and pleasure, or shall we forget these and add to the happiness and welfare of those around us?

SRI KRISHNA: 6. Whoever abstains from action while allowing the mind to dwell on sensual pleasure cannot be called a sincere spiritual aspirant.

Last Sunday we spent an Indian day in Berkeley. We went to a classical music concert given by Ali Akbar Khan, India’s greatest sarod player. Two days before the concert, I found my mind saying, “It certainly will be nice to listen to good Indian classical music.” Even while I was walking on the beach my mind was trying to jump out of control, and I had to get blunt with it and tell it to keep quiet. This is controlling the mind, not letting it jump out of my grasp into the past or the future. Even when good things are likely to come, I do not anticipate them, and every time my mind jumps out to try and meet them, I bring it back by repeating the mantram in order to keep it in the present. Then, when the event takes place, my mind will be all there, completely concentrated.

Even though we refrain from eating a large pizza, even though we keep our eyes from spinning like ocular tops when we go to the beach, if we are not struggling to keep the mind from dwelling on these sense objects, then we are what Sri Krishna calls mithyacara, ‘hypocrites.’ Particularly in the early days, the aspirant is expected to struggle as much as possible against the blandishment of the senses. It is not possible to be completely successful, but as long as we try our best to concentrate during meditation and to restrain the senses during the day, we are doing well. Of course, if we are yawning in meditation, we are not trying very hard; it is only by making a maximum effort that we develop the capacity to make greater effort.

Later on, when our meditation has been very good and we have really been concentrating, the Lord not infrequently tries to test us by placing us in a difficult situation. We get up from meditation confident that the mind has been stilled; we open the door and walk right into a booby trap. Such difficult situations enable us to verify the strength and validity of our meditation. As we can see from the life of every great mystic, it is when our capacities to govern our thoughts, to control our mind, and to unify our consciousness develop to an enormous degree that the tests, the problems we face, become more exacting. After all, a freshman is not asked to take the qualifying examination for the doctoral degree. When I was head of the department of English at my university in India, we had two examiners: the external examiner tried to see how much the students did not know, and the internal examiner, usually played by me, found out how much they did know. In meditation there will be all kinds of examinations by the external examiner, who is Kama, but the internal examiner, the Lord of Love, is always there within us to help us show who we really are.

SRI KRISHNA: 7. But they excel who control their senses through their mind and use them for selfless service.

This is a perfect description of Mahatma Gandhi. When Gandhi was in London, he made the discovery that taste lies in the mind. Whenever he discovered that something was good for the body, he would smack his lips over it and enjoy it as none of us can enjoy even the most delectable ice cream. In India we have a tree, called the neem tree, with the bitterest-tasting leaves imaginable. These leaves are said to have antiseptic value, and Gandhi, in a stroke of culinary genius, decided to make them into chutney. For him any discovery was translated immediately into action. He stripped the neem tree of a bagful of leaves and got his wife, Kasturbai, to grind them into a chutney; and it is said there was an unexpected exodus from the ashram when Gandhi started serving this bitter dish. It was in the bitterness of life we call grief that he used to find joy; he was at his best when taking on suffering to save other people. The same insight is given us in this verse. When we are involved in an unfortunate episode with our parents, partner, children, or friends, it is very bitter to pocket the resentment and try to behave affectionately. But doing this will benefit us like Gandhi’s neem chutney. At first it will be quite bitter, but if we swallow it, it will act as a disinfectant to remove the virus of selfishness, anger, and fear from our hearts. By acting selflessly, no matter how painful it is, there will come a time when we can enjoy not only what is pleasant but what is unpleasant as well.

SRI KRISHNA: 8. You are obliged to act, Arjuna, even to maintain your body. Fulfill all your duties; action is better than inaction.

Work is a necessity. Just imagine what would happen to people if they did not have the stimulus and release of daily work! That is why my granny used to say, “When God gave you a mouth, he gave you two hands with which to feed the mouth.” Instead of using our hands to manipulate others, or to attack our enemies, we should use them to sustain ourselves and others.

Eating, exercising, and all activities that keep the body healthy for serving others can be considered sacraments. The implication is that bodies which are overfed, overstimulated, and underexercised are not capable of learning to act selflessly. Good health is essential if we are to lead the spiritual life.

The Lord of Love gives Arjuna an axiom now: Action is better than inaction. Eons back in our evolution, when we were rocks, it was all right for us just to sit inactively; but in the human context, inaction is a violation of the basis of our existence. The Bible tells us we must earn our bread by the sweat of our brow. Hard physical work is good for us in the early stages of our sadhana, for it keeps us from dwelling on the body, a great cause of much of our tension. Work is a particularly effective tonic when it is performed without desire for profit, prestige, or power.

In order to practice the teaching contained in this verse, let us ask ourselves how much our daily work contributes to the welfare of our family and community. We are all given the choice in this life of acting for our own personal pleasure and profit, which will lead to ill will, frustration, and insecurity, or of acting for the benefit of others, which will lead to increasing health, security, and wisdom. If we lead a selfish life, by the time the body and senses wear out the story will have come to an end. If we lead a selfless life, our contribution becomes an eternal force, released into the stream of life, that will help in however small a way to elevate the consciousness of mankind. This is why people like Gandhi never die; his body was assassinated, but his spirit lives on in everyone who tries to be nonviolent.

SRI KRISHNA: 9. The world is imprisoned in selfish action, Kaunteya; act selflessly, without any thought of personal profit.

The Lord of Love continues in the same vein by telling Arjuna, Loko ’yam karmabandhanah: “The whole world is imprisoned in action.” This may strike us as removed from the facts of life because we are all under the impression that when we are pursuing prestige, pleasure, and power we are really free agents. It never occurs to us that we are so driven we hardly have any liberty to lift even a finger to help somebody lying helpless by the roadside. We begin life with action that is motivated by selfish desire, for this is the stuff of which ego-centered life is made. But after a certain period of experimentation with money, material possessions, pleasure, and power, the Lord expects us to find out that these things are not the real goal of life.

This reminds me of the game of hide and seek called “Kooee” which we used to play in my village. We would scatter ourselves throughout my ancestral home in little rooms where people were not likely to look for us, and then, when everyone was well hidden, we would shout “Kooee.” The person who was “it” would try to locate the call, which was very difficult because the house was large and full of echoes. “Kooee . . . kooee” – he would hear the voice from all sides and lose his sense of direction. Similarly, we hear the desire for pleasure or profit calling “kooee . . . kooee . . . kooee,” and we think, “Maybe that voice is coming from under the floor.” We tear up the floor, look all around under it, and discover nothing there after all. When we climb out, we hear the call again. This time we think, “Maybe it’s above the ceiling,” so we tear down the ceiling. We go on this way, trying to follow echoes, wasting time in endless searching until life is about to ebb out. This is applicable to almost all of us, because once we get caught in the sense game, in the profit game, in the power game, or in the prestige game, it can go on and on until it becomes an inescapable compulsion.

It is necessary for us to engage ourselves in selfless action, which we can learn to do over a long period of time. Sri Krishna refers to selfless action as yajna. There are many ways in which even the busiest people can serve the welfare of others. We can give our time, our money, our skill, our land. Yajna can take any form when we give to a worthy cause without expecting any return. To give in this spirit, Sri Krishna tells us, we must develop muktasangah samacara, the capacity not to get caught in any of our actions. When we get caught in our own job, our own interests, we lose our discrimination and forget the real purpose of life. One of the ways we get caught in our actions is by bringing our work home, from our job, our campus, or our factory. We do not have to put it in a briefcase to bring it home; we carefully store it in our minds where we can dwell on it all the time. When we can drop our work in the evening and pick it up completely the following morning, we are masters of our work. This capacity comes after a long time of striving to concentrate on the job at hand.

It is true that most of us are good at doing the jobs we like, but a necessary part of the spiritual life is to be able to do the things we do not like. Life has a subtle way of ferreting out what we do not like and sticking it right under our nose, where we cannot ignore or escape it. One of the eloquent laws of life is that when you do not dislike anything, only the things you like come your way, whereas if you dislike a job and quit, the next job will be even worse. Just as Gandhiji says taste lies in the mind, I would say the taste for work lies in the mind. When you understand that doing a particular job will enable you to function in freedom in all matters, whether you like them or not, joy will slowly begin to rise in your heart. Then you will want to verify the truth of this timeless teaching in your own life by working in whatever way you can for the welfare of others. In this connection, Gandhi is an inspiring example, showing that when you begin a life of selfless service you really become secure, established in the center of your being, which is divine.

SRI KRISHNA: 10. At the time of creation the Lord gave humanity the path of selfless service and said: “Through selfless service you will always be fruitful and find the fulfillment of all your desires.”

In the Hindu scriptures there is a miraculous cow called Kamadhenu that is said to grant all our desires. Here we have the term kamadhuk, ‘that which grants all our right desires.’ Any boon not connected with our profit or pleasure that we ask for in order to carry out spiritual work, to add to the welfare of our society or to the peace of the world, will be given to us.

In this verse Sri Krishna says that the very principle behind our individual growth lies in forgetting ourselves in living for the welfare of all. On this basis alone will we be granted peace, joy, beauty, and wisdom. Here the Gita urges us to regard our very lives as yajna by trying to act selflessly in all circumstances. When we talk about war, for example, we should include the guerilla strategies that go on in our homes. In this sense we can all claim ourselves as experts on warfare, because whenever we put ourselves first we are making war. But if we can learn to live for our family, our country, and our world, then there will be peace everywhere. So far, in thousands of years, we have verified this statement only negatively. In the last two thousand years there have been innumerable wars, and some statistician once calculated that peace treaties last on average only two years. Peace treaties do not produce peace. Until we have peace in the home and on the street we cannot have peace in the world. Sri Krishna’s language is thus applicable to political turmoil, to racial strife, and to domestic friction. In all of us there is a selfless motive and a selfish motive coming together in mortal combat most of the time. To establish peace in our hearts all we need to do is identify ourselves more and more each day with our selfless Self.

SRI KRISHNA: 11. Honor and cherish the devas as they honor and cherish you; through this honor and love you will attain the supreme good.

Sri Krishna uses the significant spiritual word deva, ‘divine being’ or ‘shining one.’ Artists often represent the splendor of the sage and the saint by the symbol of the halo, but the selfish person has a distinguishing mark, too – a dark cloud. Just as the saint radiates light, the selfish person spreads darkness; just as the saint lights up the path of ordinary people, the selfish person makes confusion worse confounded.

In Sanskrit literature, when a man addresses a woman, he often uses the title Devi. This perfect form of address is used even today in orthodox communities in India. Devi is also an epithet for the Divine Mother. When we address a woman as Devi, she cannot afford to be angry; she has to be patient and forgiving, she has to endure and forbear, as this is the way a devi behaves. My grandmother, even in her seventies, took our breath away by the glow of her skin, the gentleness of her eyes, and the resolute set of her mouth which said, “Self-willed people, be careful when you come near me.” Even some of my least spiritual uncles could not stay away from her. Everyone would gather around her because all were aware that here was beauty and femininity that time could not touch.

All of us are devas and devis, and we reveal the divinity of our nature in the details of daily life by serving and loving one another. When a man and woman love and honor one another, the relationship will grow more beautiful with the passage of time. We can foster this type of relationship in many ways. In Kerala little girls look after their fathers, grandfathers, brothers, and uncles. It is not just make-believe; they are actually learning to forget themselves by thinking about the needs of their menfolk. If I may say so, it is not easy to be looked after; it is a great art. To receive love gracefully and gratefully is one of the most difficult jobs in the world. But by trying harder each day to be loving towards those around us, we help everyone, including ourselves, to become devas and devis.

SRI KRISHNA: 12. When you engage in selfless service, all your desires are fulfilled by the devas. But anyone who enjoys the things given by the devas without offering selfless acts in return is a thief.

The Lord declares he has sent us into this world to serve one another, and anyone who lives for pleasure, profit, power, or prestige is stena, ‘a thief.’ The greatest motive for action we can have is the awareness that the Lord has given us life, time, and energy to contribute to the welfare of those around us. Remember the words of St. Francis, “It is in giving that we receive.” It is in always trying to receive that we lose everything, but when we give to those around us, we will have more and more to give.

SRI KRISHNA: 13. The spiritually minded, who eat in the spirit of service, are freed from all their sins; but the selfish, who prepare food for their own satisfaction, eat sin.

To eat to satisfy the palate, to crave for gourmet foods, to go to restaurants just to taste exotic food – all this, Sri Krishna says, is wrong. Food that we eat just to titillate the palate often disagrees with us, while temperate, nourishing food, cooked and served with love and eaten to strengthen our body and mind for serving others, is considered to be part of sadhana.

Eating good food is not a sin, but we should not dwell on it; we should not let our mind wander in meditation from the words of St. Francis to the cheese omelette we hope to have for breakfast. Even too much talk about food amounts to dwelling on it. See that you are eating nourishing, healthy food, and then forget about it. As the Chinese mystic Huang Po puts it aptly: “Thus there is sensual eating and wise eating. When the body composed of the four elements suffers the pangs of hunger and accordingly you provide it with food, but without greed, that is called wise eating. On the other hand, if you gluttonously delight in purity and flavor, you are permitting the distinctions which arise from wrong thinking. Merely seeking to gratify the organ of taste without realizing when you have taken enough is called sensual eating.”

What is important is what we do with the energy food gives us. As Jesus told the Pharisees: “Not what goes into the mouth defiles a man, but what comes out of the mouth, this defiles a man.” Of what use is it to procure hand-cultivated, organically grown food when we act violently or use resentful language? If instead we use our vitality to help other people, to wipe away their tears, our eyes will become brighter and our life a source of strength to a deeply troubled world.

SRI KRISHNA: 14. Living creatures are nourished by food, and food is nourished by the rain; this rain is the water of life that comes from selfless action, worship, and service.

Food is one of our ubiquitous topics. Here Sri Krishna reminds us that it is extremely important for us to eat the right kind of food, in the right amount, at the right time, and in the right company. Translated into daily life, this means eating healthy, nutritious food, in temperate quantities, that is prepared and served with love. It also implies that eating together is a great sacrament, a time not for acrimonious discussion but for a loving, peaceful atmosphere.

This verse suggests the delicate relationships existing throughout all nature. We know today from the work of ecologists that our actions can easily upset the balance of nature. In India vast forests have been cut down, and now people are worrying about the lack of rain. This reminds me of Gandhi, a skilled ecologist, who was so careful about using resources that he would clip the blank margins from newspapers and magazines for letter writing. I notice that little children in America write two words on a sheet of paper and throw it away, whereas Meera and Geetha, my two little nieces from India, have been taught to start writing way up in the left corner of a piece of paper and to fill the whole page down to the lower right comer. We should teach children the habit of using all resources correctly. By every economy we make in paper, we save a tree. In this connection, I would also say that many of the books written are only an injury to trees. Isn’t it Truman Capote who makes a pointed comment to the effect that many people who write are not writers but typists? We can always save a tree by not purchasing books that are not really necessary for our education, our job, our wholesome entertainment, or our spiritual development.

Many of the steps we must take to preserve our environment require us to change our habits, to transform our lives, and this is what all of us can learn to do through the practice of meditation. The basis of ecological improvement is to turn what is selfish and violent in us into selflessness and compassion. We do not realize the power little people have. My grandmother used to say that the elephant does not know its own size at all because it looks out at the world through tiny eyes, ridiculously small for its huge bulk. We, too, are much larger than we think, for the Lord lives in us. We cannot see ourselves as we really are, but if we could, we would say, “How big, how tremendous, how invincible!” Once we see who is within us, we are not afraid of any problem in the world – pollution, violence, or war. We can solve the transportation problem with our feet; we can solve the job problem with our own industries; we can change the present political framework by transforming ourselves. We shall find that everyone around us participates in the change we are able to bring about in our own lives. So whatever challenges confront us, whatever perils threaten to swallow us up, none of us need be despondent, for the Lord who is the source of all power, all wisdom, and all beauty is waiting to act through us.

SRI KRISHNA: 15. Arjuna, understand that every selfless act is born from Brahman, the eternal, infinite Godhead, and that he is present in every act of service.

In order to be a brahmin, we do not need to wear a sacred thread or to undergo purification ceremonies. Whoever tries to know Brahman, the supreme Reality embedded within us, is a brahmin. Another name for the brahmin is dvija, ‘twice-born.’ You and I are born once and we die once, but the brahmin is born twice and does not die at all. That is a very enviable state. According to the tradition of dvija, we are born once at the hands of the doctor or midwife. This is our physical birth. But we can be born again, to the joy of the spirit, if we put our ego to death. Now we imagine that when all our selfishness and separateness die, when all the desires that torment our heart are burnt to ashes, there will be a terrible funeral pyre. Actually it is a jubilant procession with bands in the front, people singing Hare Rama, and others strewing flowers all over our path. It is a day of great celebration for the whole world, because when we put the ego to death in ourselves we have done the greatest service we can render to others. Whatever our lives have been, they now become a constant source of support and inspiration and an unending reminder that this is the supreme state we have come into the world to attain. Meister Eckhart calls the second birth “a mighty upheaval”; to bring it about requires enormous endurance, immense patience, and the resolute dedication to overcome every obstacle on the path.

The desire and the capacity to eliminate our ego come through the grace of the Lord. You and I are really modest, humble people, and for a long time we cannot accept the idea that the Lord of Love could want poor, paltry us. To illustrate from my own life, many mornings I used to get up and say, “Is there anyone less suited for this high destiny than I am?” Finally, with utter humility, I accepted this boundless gift of the Lord’s grace, and since then there has been a continuing spring of joy and love for him.

SRI KRISHNA: 16. All life turns on this law, O Partha; whoever violates it, indulging his senses for his own pleasure and ignoring the needs of others, has wasted his life.

The Lord, our Creator, has written the law of selflessness into every one of our cells. This law is what the Buddha called dharma. The dharma of the human being is to turn anger into forgiveness and hatred into love. In practical, straightforward language, the mystics tell us that those who live for themselves die, while those who live for others live completely and joyfully. It is all too easy to say, “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.” Retaliation requires very little courage, but making the mind calm and compassionate when it is seething with fury requires tremendous courage and endurance.

The more we can reduce our ego, or self-will, the more our real personality, the Atman, can reveal all its beauty, wisdom, and love in our lives. Now we are all wearing a mask of separateness made from selfish desires for pleasure, profit, prestige, and power. To take off this mask of misery, we need only to call on the Lord and calm our mind with his holy name. By ceaselessly repeating the mantram when we feel a wave of anger or fear erupting in our consciousness, by using the power of the holy name to move closer to others when we want to go our own separate way, we will gradually pry off the ugly mask of the ego. Then we will know the boundless joy that springs from the loss of self-will.

Once when Sri Krishna was playing on his flute, Radha eyed it with jealous eyes and asked, “What has your flute done to enjoy the blessing of being held to your lips while you play upon it hour after hour?” In answer, Sri Krishna took the flute from his lips and turned it so Radha could see inside, saying, “Look, it’s completely empty, so it is easy for me to fill it with the melody of my divine song.” We, too, can become full of the Lord’s infinite love and abiding joy when we empty ourselves of all that is selfish and separate.

SRI KRISHNA: 17–18. But they who have found the Atman are always satisfied. They have found the source of joy and fulfillment, and no longer seek happiness from the external world. They have nothing to gain or lose by any action; neither people nor things can affect their security.

As long as we have a hankering for personal profit or power, we cannot act freely. Gandhi is the perfect model for us to follow in this respect, for he was able to work fifteen hours a day without any trace of tension or fatigue. Imagine the responsibility he had for the lives of millions of people in his satyagraha campaign, and for the state of peace or war between two countries. Yet because he had extinguished every desire for self-aggrandizement, he could always act in freedom. According to the Gita, all work motivated by selfish urges, no matter how subtle, is tainted. In order to follow in Gandhi’s footsteps, we need to embark on the exhilarating discipline of putting others first without any thought of whether or not we are going to be recognized or rewarded.

As long as there is a desire for anything external to us, there is a vacuum in our consciousness. If we think we will be happy if only we can get a million dollars, we are really claiming bankruptcy. If we feel we will be happy if only we can become president of our country, we are really saying, “I am now completely vacant – an utter vacuum.” Even in the daily activities of life, we cannot escape feeling we would be happy “if only . . .” But when we desire happiness conditioned by the possession of anything or anybody, we are likely to manipulate people and to work unconsciously at the expense of even our dear ones. Thus we should heed well Sri Krishna’s words: if you want to act in freedom, develop a sustained spiritual campaign to remove every vestige of self-will and separateness from your consciousness.

SRI KRISHNA: 19. Strive constantly to serve the welfare of the world; by devotion to selfless work a man attains the supreme goal of life.

Sri Krishna tells us, through Arjuna, to detach ourselves from our ego, to escape from the grip of our self-will so that we can act for the welfare of all around us. As we gain this freedom in action, we will begin, ever so gradually, to realize we are only an instrument of which the Lord is the operator. This truth, no matter how dimly perceived, gives tremendous motivation for removing every trace of selfishness in order to be as perfect an instrument as is within our power.

We like to think that we make big decisions and carry terrible responsibilities on our shoulders. Our shoulders are bent, our back gives us problems, and we are too tired to stand on our feet because of the weighty burdens we try to bear. Few of us realize there is somebody standing with arms outstretched, just waiting to carry our burdens for us.

In Kerala, the state in South India from which I come, there are stone parapets along the roadside at the height of a person’s head. When people need to rest from carrying heavy loads of rice or fruit on their heads, they stand next to the parapet and shift their load onto it. For us the Lord is the perennial parapet, standing at exactly the right height for each one of us. For those of us who are very selfish, he stands very tall to support an awesome load; for those of us who are average in selfishness, he stands about six feet high; and for the selfless, the parapet can hardly be seen because the burden is so light that almost no support is needed. Through the practice of meditation, we can gradually learn to shift our load into the Lord’s mighty arms. By developing this blessed capacity, we will be able to face the greatest of challenges, terrifying even to national leaders, with ease and equanimity.

SRI KRISHNA: 20. Keeping in mind the welfare of others, you should work in their service. It was by such action that Janaka attained perfection; others, too, have followed this path.

Janaka appears in the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad as a great king, and he is also renowned as the father of Sita, wife of Rama. Janaka attained complete illumination while reigning as king; he had a wife, a family, and a kingdom to attend to, and yet he remained an ideal lover of the Lord. We can be a perfect professor and lover of the Lord, a perfect nurse and lover of the Lord, or a perfect lawyer and lover of the Lord. But we cannot be a manufacturer of weapons and a lover of the Lord; it is not possible to work at the expense of others and progress greatly on the spiritual path.

The phrase lokasamgraham used in this verse is a famous one indicating the Lord sent us into the world to contribute to it. Whether we work on a large or a small scale does not matter, as long as we are doing the best within our power to make our parents, our partner, our children, our friends, and even our enemies happier. This means forgetting ourselves and reversing all the selfish inclinations we have followed. This going against what seems to be the grain of our nature is what makes the spiritual life seem so difficult. It is a hard thing to do, but by calling on the Lord, by repeating his name, it is gradually possible to extinguish our self-will. When we start living for others, we come to life. All our deeper capacities flow into our hands; our security increases and our wisdom grows, as does our creative ability to solve the problems that confront the world. Living and acting selflessly, we will be constantly aware that all life is one – that all men are brothers, as Gandhi would say – and that throughout creation there is an underlying unity binding us all together.

Today was smoggy, so we sought fresh air and freedom from the hurly-burly of city life by going to the Marina. We walked on the pier for a long distance, and from beginning to end it was a very depressing spectacle. I will describe it in some detail because it is good for us to know how our preoccupation with pleasure can blind us and make us callous, almost brutal. It is good for us to know this so that we can begin to transform these responses into the more positive ones of compassion and sensitivity to the welfare of all living creatures.

The pier was crowded with hundreds of men, women, and children, all fishing. There were chairs, sleeping bags, and transistor radios all over the place contributing to the pandemonium. A man was sleeping, but he still had his fishing rod in hand. There were little children six and seven years old, beautiful boys and girls being taught to kill fish. When one little boy caught one, his father came up to him, patted him on the back, and congratulated him saying, “Chip off the old block.” A little girl came squealing, “Mommy, I’ve got another one.” Parents were giving instructions to their children and friends to their friends. But to me the saddest sight of all was when the fish were landed. Still alive, they were dashed against the wooden plank, and the hooks torn away.

It is perhaps not fair to condemn or censure these people; we can only try to help them out of the situation by our own personal example. They were not really cruel, but insensitive. This can happen to all of us when we become preoccupied with our own pleasure and forget the unity underlying all life. When we were coming back from the end of the pier, we saw a big, broad, beautiful fish lying on the pier. As I don’t know much about fish, I asked my wife about it, and she said it was a sea fish that probably doesn’t often come close to shore. As I walked by, its eyes gazed at me in agony. It was almost telling me with its last breath, “Tell them about us.”

We shouldn’t say that we don’t know about these things, or that our children don’t know, for it is our duty in life to know about them. Ignorance of the law is not accepted as an excuse for crime. In the days of British rule, in an Indian court of law we couldn’t say we didn’t know Section XYZ of the Indian Penal Code by which we could be thrown into political prison. If we went to court and claimed we didn’t know about this section, the British judge used to say, “Two months in solitary,” and add some strong remarks. Similarly, when those little children fishing on the pier grow up, they cannot hide behind the shield of ignorance, for it is no shield at all. The law of karma is an impersonal, relentless force that doggedly follows everybody. The Buddha tells us, “You can try to find shelter in the skies, or in the bowels of the earth; the law of karma will come after you.” Thus it is the duty of all parents to tell their children that all life is one. William Blake, who saw this unity of life, said:

A robin red-breast in a cage

Puts all heaven in a rage. . . .

A dog starved at his master’s gate

Predicts the ruin of the State.

Even by putting a little robin into a cage, the cosmic order is ­violated; the law of karma is at work all the time in the smallest details of life. Everything is closely interwoven, and even a little hook causing pain in the smallest fish disturbs the consciousness of the Lord.

It is our duty, particularly where children are concerned, to remind others, as my spiritual teacher, my grandmother, reminded me, that we must respect our kinship with all living creatures. This can be conveyed in simple language like my granny’s. She used to tell me, “Squirrels have grannies, and if you hurt a squirrel, it’ll go complain to its granny.” I had never thought about animals like that, and it really opened my eyes. Likewise our children can understand the simple story that little fish have grandmas and grandpas to whom they run complaining and crying when we hurt them.

Although some biologists say that animals may not have any consciousness or emotions, we have to agree that as yet we do not know what animals do or do not feel. In fact, there may be some other mode of expressing their pain with which we are not acquainted. Two days ago, when we were coming back from Ramagiri, the conversation turned to cows. Someone who had grown up in Utah remarked, “We just leave them, even during the depths of the winter, and they thrive in the snow.” I would like to hear the Utah cow’s point of view. It may not know how to convey its feelings in the language with which we are accustomed, but if it could talk, I have an idea that it may not corroborate the statement that it is “thriving” in the snow. I have even come to suspect it is not advisable for children to have dogs, because even to have a pet you should have the capacity to put it first all of the time, and a little child is not capable of doing this unless guided by the parents.

In India we have had cows for five thousand years. Cows have always been an important symbol in the rural economy. People count their wealth in cows; instead of saying “We have four cars in our garage,” we say “We have four cows in our cow shed.” One of our cows, called Shobha, had been born in our home on the Blue Mountain, and my mother and sister brought her up from the time she was just a baby. She became a big cow and served us very well, giving us a lot of milk, curds, and butter, and then, like a human being, she became old, decrepit, and developed rheumatism. Some of our animal husbandry experts used to come and look at our cows and approve of them, but then they would tell my mother, “Why don’t you sell that one? Let her go to the butcher.”

My mother, who can get roused when we talk about her cows, said, “I have rheumatism just as that cow has, and do you think that I, too, should be discarded now that I am not able to serve people very well?”

We should try to practice this awareness of the unity of life in every relationship. Ten years ago, when I would go to restaurants where my eating habits caused consternation, I used to explain, “I’m a vegetarian.” They would suggest fish: “You are a vegetarian; you will love fish.” I used to add, “I do love fish; that’s just why I don’t eat them.” This is the point of the Gita: you eat fish because you don’t love them, and when you love something, you cannot eat it. Once we saw a French movie, which you couldn’t say was influenced by the Hindu mystics, in which a little boy who had pet rabbits was served rabbit for dinner. He said, “I don’t eat my buddies.” This is the language of the Gita: “You don’t eat your buddies.” Cats, dogs, cows, and rabbits – these are all our buddies.

Another way we can look at our deep kinship with all living creatures is in terms of the long story of evolution. According to this, our friend Garry was a little orchid long, long ago; that is why he likes them so much. He loves orchids and grows them and looks after them because of this faint memory that gives him a sense of unity with the orchid. There is a similar explanation, according to the theory of reincarnation, that today on the pier I remembered in a very dim way the days when I used to splash about in the water; and I remembered the joy and the sparkle of it and identified myself with the fish as if it were really I swimming about. This is what spiritual awareness means. The pain inflicted on the fish is in me. It was not the fish out there on the pier who were suffering, as separate beings; it was I who was suffering in them. This is how spiritual awareness shows itself in us; we begin to suffer in everything that is subjected to suffering. Until we become aware of this unity underlying all life, all talk of spiritual awareness is just playing games.

SRI KRISHNA: 21. What the outstanding person does, others will try to do. The standards such people create will be followed by the whole world.

The more gifted we are intellectually, spiritually, and even physically, the greater is our responsibility to contribute to life. Through the practice of meditation our deeper resources will come into play, and we will have to be increasingly careful about not writing or speaking a word that adds to the agitation of others or tends to separate friends, families, communities, races, or countries.

As householders we can begin to influence others beneficially right in our own home, starting with our children. Our idea of setting an example is to improvise a domestic pulpit and preach to our dear ones. I would say that all of us are preaching all the time through our actions, our words, and our thoughts. Little ones are ruthless observers. When I see a five-year-old watching me, I feel as though Sherlock Holmes is on my track. I can almost hear him saying, “Elementary, Dr. Watson. I can see the inconsistency between his word and deed quite clearly.” The way to make our children patient and loving is to be that way ourselves.

There are innumerable opportunities every day to set a good example to others. I have been asking Meera and Geetha to take off their muddy shoes outside so as not to bring dirt into the house. They paid no heed to my request because they saw me walking inside wearing my shoes. So the next time we were going indoors together, I just sat on the steps, and without making any comments I took off my clean shoes and placed them near the door. They sat down next to me and followed my example. On the subject of patience, my pen disappears every day, and I used to show an unconscious trace of annoyance and ask, “Who has been taking my pen?” Today when it was missing, however, I put on my best smile, looked at Meera and Geetha, and asked, “Has anyone seen my pen?” One of them brought it to me. Whether or not the pen was returned was not so important as their knowing I am continually trying to be patient with them.

Those who have children can become masters of patience, endurance, and steadfastness, because children will test you at every turn. When we are provoked, most of us get agitated, and it is on these occasions we can repeat the mantram. By continually calling on the Lord, who is the source of strength within us, we can make our lives an inspiring example to all those who come in contact with us.

I have been reading, too, about the tragic tendency among young people to experiment with drugs and how easily it can lead to heroin addiction. Doctors are telling us that as parents we can help our children by not making them drug-conscious – by not depending on drugs to go to sleep, to change our moods, or to become more active. If we really love our children, we will give up smoking and drinking and the use of pep pills and tranquilizers. Our children will be strengthened if instead of drugs we use the most perfect tranquilizer we have, the name of the Lord.

SRI KRISHNA: 22. O Partha, there is nothing in the three worlds for me to gain, nor is there anything I do not have. I continue to act, but am not driven by any need of my own.

23. If I ever refrained from this continuous work, everyone would immediately follow my example.

24. If I ever stopped working, I would be the cause of cosmic chaos, and finally of the destruction of this world and these people.

In these verses Sri Krishna is telling us how he, from whom the cosmos comes, in whom the cosmos exists, and to whom it returns, works incessantly for our welfare. Yesterday we saw a big spider’s web glistening in the light; it was perfectly woven and in the center sat a spider, having his siesta. The Upanishads tell us the Lord weaves the whole universe out of himself and sits in the midst of it, working hardest of all. It is difficult even to imagine the Lord’s labor. In a period of decline and dissent over twenty-five hundred years ago, he came as the Compassionate Buddha to toil for our enlightenment. He shed his Buddha body and no sooner got home when a call came from the shores of Galilee: “Trouble brewing – come quickly.” With hardly any rest, he went off again to look for suitable parents. He finally decided on Mary and Joseph, but there was no place in which to be born except a stable. With this humble birth the Lord came to us as Jesus and worked for us until his body was crucified. Then he went home only to hear another call of tribulation, this time from Arabia. He came again as an ordinary man who became united with Allah and gave us the Koran. Once again he returned home, but while he was recovering from the desert heat the call came for him to be born as Shankara in Kerala, then again in the nineteenth century as Sri Ramakrishna.

Our age, called Kaliyuga or the Age of Anger, demands a chain of incarnations, one after the other. If we really love the Lord, we should be able to say, “We do not want you to be so overworked. We’ll be good; we’ll meditate every day, repeat your name all the time, restrain our senses at every opportunity, and always put everybody else first.” In India there is a festival called Shivaratri, Shiva’s Night, popular especially among devotees of Shiva. Shiva stays awake 364 nights of the year looking after us, but on this last night we tell him tenderly that we will be selfless so that he can rest in peace. If we truly love the Lord, our proof is not to cause him any problems by being self-willed. When the Lord does not have a dire need to come into the human context as an incarnation, it means that every one of us has become aware of him. Since the Lord has toiled so long for us, it is not unreasonable for us to try to follow his personal example of selfless living. When our own little tragedies are interfering with our capacity to contribute to the welfare of our family or friends, it is good to remind ourselves of how the Lord labors for everyone’s benefit, no matter how distressing the context into which he is called.

Every time a great incarnation comes to us, even today, it is not to bring new truths or to establish a new religion. In fact, they do not come to teach us but to remind us of what we have forgotten – that we are neither our body nor our mind, neither our intellect nor our ego, but pure love, eternal and immutable. Any suffering inflicted on others is suffering inflicted on ourselves; any joy given to others is joy that will permeate our own consciousness.

SRI KRISHNA: 25. The ignorant work for their own profit, O Bharata; the wise work for the welfare of others, without thought for themselves.

It is difficult to persuade people not to go after personal profit, pleasure, prestige, or power, because it is asking them to go against the conditioning to which they have been subjected. The word “rebel” is often misused by our modern mass media. It takes a tremendous amount of endurance and an enormous faith in the Lord within to rebel. Playing games with our appearance is not rebellion. Real rebellion is going against our selfish desires and sense cravings. One of the greatest rebels in the world, Jesus, tells us: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you.” When the Buddha encourages us to seek nirvana, he is raising the banner of real rebellion. He is asking us to blow out our self-will, to extinguish our limited, selfish personality. To help others understand the truth of rebellion, it is of little avail to put pressure on them. The best way of influencing others is to show by our personal example how the spiritual life adds to the unity of the family, the peace of the neighborhood, and the security of the country. Lord Krishna tells Arjuna, whom he calls Bharata, the ‘representative of India’: “If you want to influence India, remove all that is selfish, all that is calculating, all that seeks self-aggrandizement in yourself, and you will help the whole country, from the Himalayas to Kanyakumari.”

I can testify to the incredible influence one little man, Gandhi, exercised over all of India. He lived in utter simplicity in a one-room hermitage, and yet he received everybody with the same love and respect, whether it happened to be a member of the British cabinet or a sweeper from Sevagram. When India became independent, the offices of president and prime minister were his for the asking; but he declined, saying that he wanted no reward, that he had worked for Indian independence in order to show the world how even the greatest of international problems can be solved nonviolently. On the night when all India celebrated independence, Gandhi went into prayer.

As the result of Gandhi’s contribution, people are taking nonviolence seriously all over the world; fortunately, it has become an important force even on our campuses today. In our own lives, if we want to find the joy of living in peace, we have to establish peace first in our hearts and our homes. We start by cultivating perfect love between all the members of our family; then we extend this love to the members of our community, and by expanding our love ever so gradually, we finally bring the whole world into its embrace.

SRI KRISHNA: 26. By abstaining from work you will confuse the ignorant, who are engrossed in their actions; perform all work selflessly, guided by compassion.

This is a very simple verse, yet far-reaching in its application to our lives. Sri Krishna is telling Arjuna, “You are always influencing others, not only your dear ones but also your antagonists.” On the one hand, when we hate our enemies, we are helping them hate us more; when we attack them, we are encouraging them to attack us back. On the other hand, when we forgive them, we are helping them forgive us, and when we move closer to them, we are drawing them closer to us.

Gandhi was always at his best with those who thought they were his mortal enemies. His favorite hymn, “Vaishnava Janato,” reminds us in its refrain that the true lover of the Lord is the one who returns love for hatred. All we need to do to love the Lord is love those that hate us and be compassionate with those who strike out against us. When we develop the capacity to love those whom we hate, we will be united with the Lord through his grace.

SRI KRISHNA: 27. All actions are performed by the gunas of prakriti; deluded by his identification with the ego, a man thinks, “I am the doer.”

Prakriti is the word used for anything that changes, anything that is impermanent, anything that is born and will die one day. The entire physical universe is within the realm of prakriti. The body is prakriti, which means that just as it was born one day, it will die one day. The Buddha, in one of his very tender moments, will tell those around him in reference to his body, “This house was assembled one day, and it has to be disassembled one day; what is there in this to grieve about?”

It is because we identify ourselves obsessively with the body that the very thought of dismantling the house fills us with terror. Last week, on our way to class from our home in Oakland, we saw a gracious old home which could have served a useful purpose for many decades. When we were passing by the next day it was gone. I could not help feeling a little sense of grief, because a beautiful home had been demolished. In this way we do feel a detached sense of loss when the house in which one of our dear ones lived has been dismantled. But if we can realize that we are not the house, but the dweller within it, we will lose our terrible fear of death.

The relationship between prakriti, the body, and Purusha, our real Self, may be explained with the homely metaphor of old clothes (see Gita 2:22). This coat that I am wearing is still rather new, only five years old. At the end of ten years, which is its natural span of life, when I have to discard it, I quietly take it off, throw it into the give-away box, and put on a new one. When I throw away this old jacket, I am not going to say, “My heart is broken; my old jacket is gone.” I will say, “Yes, it has served its useful purpose; now I will get a new one.”

Another important word used in this verse is guna, which denotes the three ultimate constituents of prakriti. The first is sattva, or law; the second is rajas, or energy; the third is tamas, or inertia. In each of us there is a different combination of sattva, rajas, and tamas. No one is entirely free from sattva; there is no one who cannot be selfless. You will find some of the most objectionable characters suddenly becoming very selfless towards their pet parrot or raccoon. We can all suddenly reveal ourselves in innocence.

The second guna, rajas, is predominant in many of us in the modern world. It is energy, restlessness, desire. This energy and restlessness, when directed inward, can help us progress rapidly on the spiritual path.

The third factor is tamas, which is inertia or lethargy. “What does it matter? Let the world go” – this is the attitude of tamas. Such an attitude is the opposite of spiritual wisdom. Everything matters on the spiritual path; it is little things, when put together, that amount to a great change. We may feel that we are small people, but working together, we are tremendous. In the realization that each of us can make a definite contribution to the world about us, tamas disappears. Gandhi, inspired by the Gita, tells us that evil has no existence of its own. We support it; that is why it exists. His program of noncooperation was based on his conviction that evil would cease to exist if we would withdraw our support from it. This knowledge enables us to transform tamas into rajas, rajas into sattva, and finally to go beyond all three gunas.

Our real Self, the Atman or Purusha, exists outside the realm of change and the three gunas. It is ever pure, ever free. But, deluded by self-will, we remain unaware of the Atman and identify ourselves with the mind and body, which are subject to change. It is helpful, even when we cannot realize it completely, to remind ourselves that we are not the mind. It is the mind that is angry, it is the mind that is afraid, it is the mind that is selfish, not our real Self. That is why the Buddha says, “Take the mind and throw it out.” It is very easy to say this, but extremely difficult to do. Yesterday I saw a boy at the ashram playing with a new toy. I asked him what he was playing with, and he explained: “It’s a yo-yo. You just can’t get rid of the thing!” This is the ego; you throw it anywhere and it will come back to you. No amount of saying “I am going to throw this far away” will eliminate the ego.

The surest way of reducing self-will is to begin to put the welfare of those around us first, to love others more than we love ourselves. We must not love only those who love us; we must learn to love our enemies as well. It is good to forgive those who have offended us. As St. Francis says, those who have not learned to forgive have lost the greatest source of joy in life. If, through the practice of meditation and the repetition of the mantram, we can forgive others from the depths of our being and transform our attitude towards them into selfless love, we will immediately be able to forgive our own mistakes and drawbacks. The more we forgive others, the more the Lord, who is within, forgives us.

SRI KRISHNA: 28. But the illumined man or woman understands the domain of the gunas and is not attached. Such people know that the gunas interact with each other; they do not claim to be the doer.

29. Those who are deluded by the operation of the gunas become attached to the results of their action. Those who understand these truths should not unsettle the ignorant.

The theory of the three gunas tells us about the nature of our desires. When we have desires which require urgent satisfaction, none of us, no matter what we try to do, can divest ourselves of the belief that we are these desires. If only we could jump out of this little circle of desires and look at any one desire, we would realize that it is not ours at all, because our real nature is ever full. Our real nature, the Atman, can admit of no desire, and when we say “I desire this,” “I cannot be happy without this,” we are making statements which are metaphorical. When I first arrived here from India, I was not used to automobiles. I have some acquaintance with them now, but the phrases that people use about automobiles used to strike me as rather puzzling. When I first heard someone saying, “I am out of gas,” I did not understand that he was talking about his car. Most of our statements which begin with “I desire” are in this category. This is what Sri Krishna is sending deep into Arjuna’s consciousness. When we say, “I desire money, material possessions, pleasure, power,” Sri Krishna says we are the victim of our own language.

The Lord tells Arjuna that when the senses and sense objects see one another, they are just drawn to each other. You and I have no part in this; we are neutral. This is such a compassionate, humorous, and factual observation, and Arjuna is so enraptured by it, that he begins to understand that we actually do not participate in any selfish desire or sensory attraction. We wrongly identify ourselves with these desires because we have been conditioned to do so in our home, by our friends, and by the mass media.

Attraction and aversion are closely related; they are the extremes of a pendulum. We are tied to what we hate; we cannot help thinking about people we hate. Naturally we think about those whom we love, but we also dwell on those we hate. As long as we believe we are our desires, we have to be a party in the quarrel of attraction and aversion, very often on the wrong side. But as our mind becomes less and less agitated through the practice of meditation, we shall see, to our great surprise, that we are just spectators. Once we understand this, we are free from the clamor of the senses, and they can no longer drag us into their quarrel of attraction and aversion.

When the senses and sense objects draw each other, do not be afraid that you will be swept away. Your desires may look towering, but through the grace of the Lord of Love within, you can learn to master even the greatest of them. In trying to release yourself from your involvement in the attraction and repulsion between the senses and sense objects, it is necessary to be very vigilant for a long time. It is by yielding to small desires that you are drawn gradually into greater desires. Today, for example, we took our nieces to the circus, and when we went in, everyone had a carton of popcorn. Someone very unsophisticated – someone, say, from a village in India – seeing that everyone has a ticket in one hand and popcorn in the other, might actually think that you couldn’t be admitted without popcorn. Our nieces had some, and to keep them company, I ate a little also. Then, after eating the popcorn, I got thirsty. I hadn’t expected this. But the salesboys, who had expected it, were right there selling cold drinks; and later, outside, the cigarette merchant was waiting too.

In the second line of this verse, Sri Krishna is reminding us, through Arjuna, that we should not disturb people by preaching at them; it is much easier to influence others through our personal example. When Gandhi was observing his day of silence, someone once asked him for a message. He just wrote, “My life is my message.” This is true of us also. We are always influencing those around us by our daily life, and when we try to lead the spiritual life, putting those around us first, we cannot help but win them over in the end.

SRI KRISHNA: 30. Completely absorbed in the Atman, without expectations, and free from the fever of the ego, fight your self-will, performing all actions for my sake.

You may remember in the first chapter where Arjuna, like you and me, says, “Why should I govern my passions, why should I reduce my self-will?” and refuses to fight. Sri Krishna now tells him, “You are not well now; you are suffering from the fever of self-will. But when your fever has subsided, get ready to fight. Do your very best: meditate regularly, try to restrain your senses, and put the welfare of those around you first.” In other words, Sri Krishna reminds us, we are all likely to make mistakes on the spiritual path, and we can be overcome by regret. But rather than regretting our mistakes, it is much more useful to forget the past and keep marching forward with renewed enthusiasm.

Sri Ramakrishna often refers to the fever of the ego from which all of us suffer to some degree. In many of us it is only a little above normal – ninety-nine degrees. We get on very well in life; we are loved and respected. But when the temperature begins to rise above one hundred, we become more and more dangerous, not only to ourselves but to the family and community in which we dwell. When we suffer from this fever, we become blind to the needs of those around us and to the unity of life.

Adhyatmacetasa means completely absorbed in the Atman. This complete absorption can happen to all of us as our meditation deepens through the grace of the Lord. We may be enabled to go through all of the last eighteen verses of the second chapter of the Gita, for example, without our mind wandering once, without falling asleep once. This indicates that we have reached a profound state of concentration in which there is unbroken continuity of meditation. When such a state is attained, those verses have become an integral part of our consciousness, and the proof of it will be seen in our life. When suffering comes, we are not agitated, because we are equal to it. All our compassion, which has been misspent on ourselves, now goes to the person who has caused us sorrow. When desires come, we do not identify ourselves with them; we are masters of our desires. If they are selfless, we welcome them; if they are selfish, we defy them with equal joy. We have gained freedom from selfish attachments, fear, and anger.

Nirashi means having no expectations; it is only when you have expectations that you have disappointments, get frustrated, become insecure, and try to manipulate others. Here Sri Krishna is giving Arjuna very strong counsel. He says, “Whatever I give, accept it gratefully: say yes if it is joy, say yes if it is sorrow. Then you will be free.” Gradually you will find that as you detach yourself from the results of your actions and stop worrying about results, you are able to concentrate better on your work. “If you want to give your best in any selfless service,” the Lord says, “choose the right goal, use right means, and don’t think about results; leave them to me.”

SRI KRISHNA: 31. Those who live in accordance with these divine laws with an unwavering sense of purpose, firmly established in faith, are released from karma.

The teaching which Sri Krishna gives to Arjuna contains the divine laws of existence, which are inscribed deep in our consciousness, written in the very cells of every creature. It is because these laws are within us that we suffer so much when we try to break them. As someone wisely said, we cannot break God’s laws; we can only break ourselves against them. Here the appeal of the Gita lies not in forcing us, saying thou shalt or thou shalt not, but in presenting us with two alternatives: one leading to abiding joy, unassailable security, and an enormous capacity for contributing to the welfare of others, and the other leading to sorrow, insecurity, and the suffering of those around us. The Lord tells Arjuna, “If you cannot shake yourself free from the fever of the ego, you will become a curse on the face of the earth. But if you can turn your back upon your own pleasure, profit, and prestige, and devote yourself to enriching your family, community, and world, you will become a great blessing to all.”

Thus all of us have the choice, in whatever country we live, whatever position we occupy, to live for ourselves or to live for others. The choice is left entirely to us. If we live for others, we live in complete harmony with the laws of life, bringing joy to those around us and to ourselves. If we live only for ourselves, as most of us are conditioned to do, we will plunge ourselves and all those around us into misery.

With the words mucyante te ‘pi karmabhih, “they also are released from karma,” Sri Krishna makes a promise, a promise that has been fulfilled in the lives of many who have surrendered to the Lord. When we devote ourselves completely to the service of all, our families’ needs are provided for by the Lord, who knows how to look after them better than we do. Sri Krishna tells Arjuna that if he will throw himself wholeheartedly into the service of mankind, he will be released from the responsibility of working for personal needs; these become the Lord’s responsibility.

When we dedicate our whole life unreservedly to the service of humanity, the Lord will magnify all our faculties. In some amazing way, even our sleep will be given us to serve others. As our meditation deepens, we will find that we need less sleep, less food, and more opportunities for service. We will find that we must use the tremendous forces placed in our hands. A family of two or three or four will not satisfy us; we will want a whole continent for our family, as Gandhiji had. When Mrs. Gandhi was asked how many children she had, her reply was, “I have four, but my husband has four hundred million.” As meditation deepens and self-will becomes less, we come to regard everyone as our own; if they have problems, it is our privilege to live for helping them to solve those problems. When at last we regard the entire world as our family, we will be enabled to draw upon the vast reservoir of love and wisdom lying unsuspected in all of us.

We should not mistakenly interpret Sri Krishna’s declaration as telling us to go serve others and neglect our own at home. It is not that we learn to love our family less, but that we learn to love everyone equally well. It is a travesty of the spiritual life to think that Gandhi did not love his family because he loved everybody else. His capacity to love became so limitless that he was able to flood the whole country and the whole world with it. Not only in India are his teachings cherished; all over the world we are beginning to see what a tremendous contribution this humble man has made to the welfare of all. Gandhi loved all humanity and showed us the way to regard all countries with love, trying to understand the other person’s needs exactly as we understand our own.

Here again Arjuna is very much like us; the prospect of having his resources magnified is very appealing. He would like to have his creative intelligence and capacity to love increased; he knows that they are in need of magnification. The Lord understands what is going on in his mind and tells him:

SRI KRISHNA: 32. Understand that those who violate these laws, criticizing and complaining about fate, are utterly deluded, and are the cause of their own suffering.

Here Sri Krishna cautions Arjuna that if he chooses not to observe the Lord’s spiritual laws, but lives for his own pleasure and profit, even the small capacities that he has will be reduced still further. Instead of being maximized, they will be minimized. We have only to look at people who live only for themselves to see how constricted their consciousness is, how easily they can be upset, and how people naturally avoid them. We cannot avoid making this choice between living for ourselves and living for others. If we try to serve others without turning our back on our own self-will, we will neither be able to serve others nor to help ourselves.

Ignorance and scepticism do not exempt us from the spiritual laws governing the world. Many people question the validity of these laws, and I remind them that whether we believe in them or not they apply equally to all of us. When I was speaking at the Kaiser Center in Oakland – not before a gathering of Hindu mystics but before hard-headed Kaiser businessmen – one of my friends there came up to me one day and told me in a very affectionate manner, “We like you, and we appreciate your talks, your enthusiasm, and your humor, but this law of karma isn’t applicable to us. We do not believe in it as you do in India. We live west of Suez, and the law of karma stops at Port Said.”

I just said, “All right, I’m going to the roof, and I’m going to wave my arms and fly over Lake Merritt.”

He got terribly upset and said, “Why do you want to try that? Don’t you know it will kill you?”

“Why should it kill me?”

“The law of gravity, man!”

So I said, “The law of gravity stops at Port Said; we in the East don’t subscribe to it. After all, it was not given to us by a Hindu mystic but by a British scientist.”

He came close to me, put his arm on my shoulder, and said, “My dear fellow, whether you believe in it or not, the law of gravity works.”

Then I put my arm around him saying, “Whether you believe it or not, the law of karma works everywhere, every day, in everyone’s life.”

This should remind us to start going beyond the law of karma by subordinating our personal feelings and desires to the welfare of all those around us. There are people who claim they know nothing of these laws. They will tell you, “I am completely ignorant. I always thought that by living for myself I would become secure. I always thought that by dwelling upon myself I would enhance my personality. You shouldn’t hold these things against me when I didn’t know.” Sri Krishna’s reply to this is that all of us are expected to use our common sense in observing who is secure, who is at peace, who is able to contribute to the welfare of others.

When we make the choice to lead a selfless life, we are really being practical and using our common sense. One of Gandhiji’s favorite hymns in his mother tongue says, “Lord, give me piety, give me devotion, but please don’t deny me common sense.” On the spiritual path there seems to be the mistaken belief in some minds that the less common sense we have, the more advanced we are on the path. If there is anybody terribly practical in life, it is the mystic. If there is anybody terribly impractical in life, it is the man of the world, because worldly people spend their whole lives in the pursuit of money, trying to follow a pattern of life that only fills them with insecurity.

SRI KRISHNA: 33. Even a wise man acts within the limitations of his own nature. Every creature is subject to prakriti; what is the use of repression?

Even though all of us are governed by the indivisible unity that is the divine principle of existence, on the surface level of life we are all individuals, with special samskaras. Though we are all one at the very source of life, no two of us are alike on the surface of it. This is the marvel of life – that we should be so different outwardly, yet in the deepest sense be one and indivisible.

In the Upanishads, there is a vivid description of how the one reality, the Lord, became very lonesome. The Lord, being advaita, ‘One without a second,’ had no one to play with, and just like a little boy he said, “I want boys and girls to play with, and animals and birds. But there is no one in the world but me, so whom can I ask to be my playmate?” He began to meditate, and thought, “Why don’t I ask myself?” Then he divided himself into millions of creatures, and when he looked around, he was surrounded by a big football team. He said, “Now I want a big stadium to stage all these big games. Let the world be my stadium.” This is the coliseum of the ego, and for the superficial observer, life is really like going to a big game. Everyone looks different – different clothes, different things to eat, different ways of cheering. But in this stadium it is the Lord himself who is playing on both teams. The home team and the visiting team are part of a conspiracy, just pretending to play against each other, to win or lose.

Once we begin to perceive the unity underlying all life, we will have nothing but love and respect for everyone around us, beginning in our home and extending to the entire world. We have only to look at the newspapers today, every page reporting violence and conflict, to see that the vast majority have forgotten this unity. Sri Krishna reminds all of us that in politics also we should never forget that there is only One; what conduces to the welfare of all is inclusive of the welfare of each one of us. There is no one in the world except the Lord disguised as many, but as long as we live for ourselves, pursuing our own private satisfaction and dwelling upon ourselves, we can never see this underlying unity. It is selfish people who see separateness everywhere because they look at life through their own selfishness, whereas selfless people see what is common to themselves and others. Spiritual awareness is seeing this basic unity.

The one Lord within, who has disguised himself as many, is the soul or Self in each of us. This Purusha, as it is called in Sanskrit, is what unites us all. Prakriti is what makes us appear separate. Our physical and mental being evolves according to the laws of prakriti. To use the language of Hindu mysticism, all of us have evolved through millions of lives to become human beings, but even among humans there are different degrees of evolution. From this point of view, those who are excited by money have come into the human context just recently. They have been wandering in the jungle as lions or tigers and have never seen money. No one uses currency in the jungle, so they have had no contact with money at all. When they come into the human situation, they are fascinated by the dollar, the pound, the rupee, and the ruble, because these are all new. According to this theory, when such people have been this way a number of times – have been to banks, bought shares, seen them going up and down, and been agitated – they slowly learn to look upon money as rather irrelevant. Then when they see it they say, “This is just metal; it has no intrinsic value at all.”

The process of learning is the same in the case of pleasure. People who have been through the sensory game a number of times do not get easily drawn into sensate stimulations. The compassion of this explanation can appeal to all of us, for it does not classify us as either good or bad. It is not good to sit in judgment on those who pursue ephemeral pleasure; in a little while they will find it fails to satisfy, because there is an innate need for a supreme purpose in every human being. We cannot live without a supreme purpose, and though we may mistakenly try to fulfill this purpose by building houses or sailing boats or painting pictures, we must eventually find that nothing finite will ever satisfy us. We can go to the moon; it is a great achievement, but after a while our eyes turn beyond to Neptune. Wherever we go in space, wherever we go in time, we find limitations. Our need is for infinite joy, infinite love, infinite wisdom and infinite capacity for service, and until this need is met, we can never, never rest peacefully. But from the very day we begin meditation, supplementing it by discriminating restraint of the senses and putting the welfare of those around us first, we have started after the infinite. We will find our very endeavor gives us joy.

We begin our journey towards the supreme goal of life from where we stand. All of us begin the spiritual ascent by accepting ourselves as we are. Just as it is good to be patient with others, it is equally necessary to be patient with ourselves. After all, when the desire to lead the spiritual life and live for others comes to us, we can be haunted by our past mistakes, by the amount of time and energy we have wasted in selfish pursuits. But the Lord of Love implies here that we must accept ourselves with all our strengths and weaknesses. Without this kind of great patience with ourselves, the precipitous ascent to the summit of human awareness is fraught with great danger. There are many obstacles on the spiritual path meant to strengthen us, and these cannot be overcome unless we have infinite patience with ourselves. When we are patient with others, we cannot help being patient with ourselves. As this verse indicates, each of us is individual, with our own special samskaras and qualities. We start now, where we are, with our partial love for money, partial love for pleasure, partial love for prestige, and a little love for the Lord.

Just as we all start our sadhana from a different point, as determined by our prakriti, we also set our own pace on the path. We should each be careful to keep within our own stride. Christine and I are usually rather fast walkers, but when we go for a walk with our little nieces, Meera and Geetha, we shorten our stride, rest a little more on each foot, and make use of any excuse to look at a seagull or pick up a pebble. One of the necessities in spiritual counseling is to see that each person goes at the right pace. People who have spent their time in the pursuit of money and pleasure may sprain an ankle with a long stride and fast walk.

There are different types on the spiritual path. There are people capable of tremendous enthusiasm who suddenly turn over a new leaf. Those who slept until noon now start getting up at three in the morning for meditation. The same enthusiasm they had for money or pleasure can be redirected towards the spiritual life. People who are highly enthusiastic are already one-pointed and, because of their concentration, can easily take to the spiritual life. It is the butterfly, flitting from flower to flower, that will find it difficult to attain samadhi. Those who say, “What does it matter? Why go to school? Why take up a job?” will also question, “Why meditate? Why repeat the mantram?” People capable of throwing themselves heart and soul into any great endeavor, even though it may not be the most spiritual, will find themselves taking enthusiastically to the spiritual life when the time comes. It is good to have enthusiasm, not for many things but for one big passion, because this unifies the mind and increases concentration.

We do not have to wait until we have advanced on the path of evolution to turn our face to the Lord. There are many great sinners in the annals of mysticism who have turned to the Lord and become completely pure and perfect through his grace. In the ninth chapter there is a tremendous verse which has consoled millions of human beings who have committed many mistakes through ignorance. The Lord tells us: “People may be very selfish, may have led very reckless lives, causing suffering to others as well as to themselves, but when they turn their backs upon themselves and surrender to me, they become pure rapidly, and I lead them into the perfection which is my nature. All those who take refuge in me, whatever their past, become free and are united with me” (Gita 9:31–2).

All of us, no matter what our past has been, no matter what our present drawbacks are, can take to the spiritual life, and we will progress on the path at our own pace. It is not good to compare one person’s progress with another’s. This, as well as guidance in meditation, is very much a personal matter.

Last Saturday when we took my mother and nieces to Santa Rosa, we went to a big shopping center where we were able to treat the children to ice cream. The children then wanted to ride on the escalator, which they had never seen in India. My mother was very timorous about this, but I assured her that the art could be learned gradually. First Meera wanted to try. I stood by her side and told her to watch me and do as I did. We took the first step together, as I held her hand. When the time came for us to get off, I said, still holding her hand, “Now you do the same thing; take your foot off and put it on the floor, just as I do it.” We came down the escalator in the same way. In this first experience she had been just doing what I was doing because she identifies herself easily with me. Even my mother was reassured. Then we made the same pilgrimage, but without holding hands. Now confident, she went up and came down by herself. This is very much the meditation experience too; for a long time we have to hold on to an experienced person.

Now, seeing Meera, who is older, doing this in three easy lessons, Geetha said, “I want to go up and down the escalator too, just like Meera.” I took Geetha’s hand, but as we stepped onto the escalator, it was as if I were holding her in the air. All her weight was on my arm, but she was under the impression that she was on her own.

Similarly in meditation there are a few people who have to be helped in this way without their ever becoming aware of it. A good teacher is one whose touch is so light that you can hardly feel it, whose muscles are so supple that he shows no effort at all. He just looks at you saying, “Yes, you are doing well; you are doing very well.” Even those who must be helped in this way will begin to learn, but they may not learn in three easy lessons. They may require six hard lessons. We should never ask ourselves why there is this difference between people. It is good to be content with the speed at which we are able to go because it is in accordance with our ­dharma.

SRI KRISHNA: 34. The senses have been conditioned by attraction to the pleasant and aversion to the unpleasant. Do not be ruled by them; they are obstacles in your path.

Two of the important words used in this verse are indriya and indriyartha. Indriya denotes the sense organs, and indriyartha the sense objects of which the external world is composed. In the relationship between these two, there exists ragadvesha, ‘attraction and aversion.’ All of us are governed in a large measure by this tyrannical duality of likes and dislikes. We avoid something because we do not like it; we move away from people because we dislike them. We are tied not only to what we like but also to what we dislike. To give an extreme example, when we love someone, we are always thinking about that person, wanting to serve their welfare. Unfortunately, when we hate someone, we also think about the person all the time, about how to frustrate their welfare. It is the same emotional relationship.

In my mother tongue, there is a folk song about a boy who knows a good bit about girls. He tells his girl, “Love me or hate me, I don’t care; I have got you. But don’t ever become indifferent to me; then I have lost you.” When someone says, “I hate you,” don’t give up – they are as entangled emotionally with you as they can ever be. When your girlfriend says this, do not slam the door and say, “I don’t want to see you again.” That is the time to close the door from inside and say, “I am not going to leave you at all.”

I think it was Sai Baba, one of the spectacular mystics of modern India, who put this concept of likes and dislikes into epigrammatic words when he said that if you do not do what you like, then you can do what you want. As long as we are dominated by likes and dislikes – in our job, in our studies, in our friendships, in our food, in our recreation – we are just being compelled by our nervous system to move towards what we like and away from what we dislike.

A friend of ours who is a physicist made the keen observation that most of meditation is a reconditioning of the nervous system. As long as our nervous system works only one way, enabling us to run towards the pleasant and away from the unpleasant, it is considerably damaged. It is really meant for two-way traffic, the mystics tell us, and it is only because of our long conditioning that it has come to be so constricted, able to move only towards the pleasant. When it has been reconditioned through meditation, we can live in freedom, choosing to do what is in the interests of others even though it may be painful to us, may cause us mental and physical distress.

After the nervous system has been reconditioned, we will find such joy in contributing to the welfare of others that we no longer will fear moving towards the unpleasant and doing what previously we did not like. Then we will find we have been psycho-allergic, to use a modern term, towards certain people, partly because of the distorting medium of our own prejudices and conditioning through which we view the world. This veil which we throw over others can magnify their faults and sometimes even attribute to them faults which are really ours. For example, if we believe, as many people do, that only the desire for money can motivate people deeply, we will be suspicious even of a person who works without any thought of personal profit. But when the nervous system has been reconditioned, we see life without likes and dislikes. The veil which we have thrown over others is removed, and we come to have samadrishti, an equal eye for all. Then we discover that all life is one – that underlying all our infinite variety there exists the indivisible unity, the divine principle of existence.

Sri Krishna is telling you and me, through Arjuna, that we should try every day to calm the mind and not become agitated by likes and dislikes. This is practical advice because very often in life we must do many things we dislike. Every day we should do a few things we do not like and try to do them with enthusiasm. Everyone begins this with a certain amount of reluctance, but by welcoming jobs we dislike, and doing them with concentration, we can learn to enjoy them. It is often just the fear of having to face an unpleasant task that makes us complain, saps our will, and finally makes us give up. The will is strengthened greatly when we welcome jobs we dislike, when we do first what we like least.

One of the most graceful ways of learning to juggle with our likes and dislikes is to do things we dislike for those we love. For example, at home, where kitchen chores are concerned, there are many things which no one likes to do. But my mother, even at the age of almost eighty, is able to take delight in preparing meals for us. Two days ago, to celebrate the harvest festival of Kerala, she spent hours preparing a delicious meal of the traditional dishes, without any feeling of being tired or under pressure, because of her desire to make a contribution to the health and happiness of all at Ramagiri.

Another way of overcoming dislikes in the matter of work is to give more attention when we are becoming bored with a particular job. I have known many students both in India and in America, and when they say something is “boring,” what they usually mean is they are not interested in it. The simple cure for boredom is to give a little more attention, a little more concentration, and we will find the more concentration we give, the more interesting the subject becomes. But we are so perverse that when something bores us, we immediately begin thinking about something else. If we can only straighten ourselves up and give more concentration, we will find how good this discipline is for our intellectual development. Ultimately, we should be able to give our concentration to anything.

Today I was reading a brilliant paper by a friend of ours on biophysics. He appreciates our work and has visited us many times, so I thought it a token of my appreciation to give my complete concentration to this highly scientific essay. To my amazement, halfway I was beginning to understand it, and by the time I finished, I agreed with it. Even subjects with which we are not familiar can be understood and appreciated by giving them enough concentration.

It is only after we have freed our nervous system from the tyranny of likes and dislikes that we live in complete freedom and security. Every morning we will get up eager to continue our life of service, and every evening we will go to bed at peace in spite of the terrible problems with which the world is confronted, knowing that we have made a contribution, however small, to the solution of these problems.

SRI KRISHNA: 35. It is better to strive in one’s own dharma than to succeed in the dharma of another: nothing is ever lost in following one’s own dharma, but competition in another’s dharma breeds fear and insecurity.

The word used here is dharma, a word common to Hinduism and Buddhism. It comes from the root dhri, ‘to support’; dharma is what supports us, keeps us together, prevents us from flying to pieces in the face of stress. Dharma is the central law of our being, which is to extinguish our separateness and attain Self-realization, to lose ourselves and be united with the Lord. In Buddhism this transformation is called nirvana, the extinction of self-will in union with the infinite. Ansari of Herat, a great Sufi mystic, tells us, “Know that when you learn to lose yourself, you will reach the Beloved.” And in the Gita (12:8), Sri Krishna says, “Still your mind in me, still yourself in me, and without doubt you shall be united with me, Lord of Love, dwelling in your heart.” This universal law is inscribed on every cell of our being, and the proof of it is that the more we live for others, the healthier our body becomes, the calmer our mind becomes, the clearer our intellect becomes, the deeper our love and wisdom become.

When sva is added to dharma, the word becomes svadharma, our own personal dharma. This is our present context, our present assets and liabilities. On the spiritual path, we start from where we stand by fulfilling our present responsibilities, on the campus, at the office, or in the home. This svadharma may change as our spiritual awareness deepens. Later on, as our capacities grow, our responsibilities and opportunities for service will become greater. What is the right occupation now may not be right later on, but as long as it is not at the expense of others, our job or profession can be made a part of our sadhana. We should be careful, however, to choose a career that is not at the expense of any living creature.

By using the word svadharma Sri Krishna is saying not to try to follow a profession because someone else is following it. It is much better for you to learn to know yourself, to know your assets and liabilities, to remember your training and follow the career which blends with your sadhana, than for you to compare yourself with others and do what they are doing. Try to exercise your own judgment instead of doing things because some movie star or baseball player does them. Why should I look like the Beatles? I look better when I am myself. Why should I drink something because some baseball player drinks it? I would drink it if the nutritionist Jean Mayer told me to.

It is a very enjoyable thing to be oneself, to stop acting. Only after considerable progress in meditation do we discover what consummate actors we are. Early morning we get up and start acting; we go to the office or to the campus and keep acting. It is because we are always on the stage, worrying if the audience is going to applaud or if anyone is going to throw rotten tomatoes, that tension builds up. But Sri Krishna says, “Be yourself completely; accept yourself completely.”

The ability to know oneself and be oneself comes through a long period of discipline. One of the mistakes young people often make is thinking, “I am going to be spontaneous. Tomorrow morning when I get up I am just going to be myself.” It is only after we have unlearned many of our old habits and freed ourselves from the tyranny of likes and dislikes that we are truly spontaneous. Then we will find that when we are at home with ourselves we are at home with everyone else.

ARJUNA: 36. What is the force that binds us to selfish deeds, Varshneya? What power moves us, despite our desire to act for the good of all?

Arjuna, like all of us, has a great desire to lead a selfless life, but has great difficulties in implementing his desire. In this question, which is so human, so personal, that it is easy to appreciate how much Arjuna represents every one of us, Arjuna addresses Sri Krishna as Varshneya. Sri Krishna was born in the Vrishni community as an avatara, an incarnation; and just as Sri Krishna calls Arjuna Kaunteya, ‘son of Kunti,’ Arjuna here returns the compliment. This is the give-and-take of good friends. Arjuna is asking this question of Sri Krishna partly as his spiritual teacher and partly as his good friend, who will not be offended, who will not misunderstand, and who will not hold anything against him.

Arjuna is saying, “I want to lead the right life; I want to enter into a state of abiding joy, and I do not want to be a plaything of circumstances. I want to do what is good for every creature in the world, but what force prevents me from carrying out these high ideals? What makes me fall over and over again? What makes me go after my personal profit and personal pleasure?”

Sri Krishna will answer Arjuna in the concluding words of the third chapter. Try to imagine Sri Krishna now as I do, as looking at Arjuna and almost saying, “So you think you are the only one who has this problem?” It is in this bantering, loving, divine tone that Sri Krishna reveals what causes the great ordeal for all of us on the spiritual path.

SRI KRISHNA: 37. It is selfish desire and anger, arising from the guna of rajas; these are the appetites and deeds which threaten a person in this life.

The Lord says that our greatest enemies, waiting to bring about our downfall, are kama and krodha. Kama is selfish desire, or self-will. It drives us to impose our will on all around us, to satisfy our selfish desires even at the expense of others, to feel that it is our family, our friends, our country alone that deserve consideration. Kama shows itself in many ways: in physical cravings, greed for money, and lust for power and prestige. This drive for personal satisfaction is inevitably connected with krodha, or anger, because when we are driven in this way there is always the possibility of being frustrated by obstacles, of being challenged by others. The same urges which we have for personal satisfaction, others have too; therefore friction arises.

In my mother tongue, when someone is very angry, he will say, “Hum!” In the village you will often hear this exclamation. You can see mothers shaking their finger and saying hum! Sometimes even a little boy can imitate his mother and reply hum! in exactly the same tone. It was my grandmother who taught me that this hum! is very often an expression of violated self-will, and because of her teaching, when I hear hum! it reminds me of the Sanskrit word aham, which means ‘I.’ When I say hum! to you it really means, “Do you know who I am? I am I.” There can still be peace if you do not challenge me, but you too are likely to reply, “Hum! I too am I.” Just as this problem of ahamkara, or self-will, exists between individuals, it exists among nations as well. The same language of anger that is used by one nation is used by the other when national self-will is frustrated.

Even though we have good intentions, once our ego is opposed, our self-will is challenged. Once our personal desires are flouted, our mind becomes agitated, and the moment our mind is agitated, our judgment becomes clouded. With the very best intentions, we may impose our self-will on our partner. With the desire of cementing the relationship, we say, “Why don’t you do what I want you to do?” Our partner, also with the very same intentions of cementing the relationship, says, “Why don’t you do what I want you to?” Once this clash comes about, both minds become agitated, and both, with the desire of strengthening the partnership, do everything possible to disrupt it. At that time, even though propelled by anger, we should try not to give in to it, but to maintain our attitude of love and respect for the person who has opposed us.

This morning it was so hot that we weren’t able to have our long walk in Oakland, so we went to the San Francisco beach. Looking down from Cliff House at the great array of surfers – whom I enjoy watching because they remind me so much of what takes place in meditation – we noticed many of the surfers were beginners, dharana people. There were also a few more experienced ones, the dhyana people. There were no samadhi people. It was very interesting to watch these two categories. The beginners would wade into the water, wait for a big wave, and when it came, they would try to stand up. Then not only would they be thrown down, but the surfboard would fly up like a toy in the air. But not even the most timid would immediately put their surfboards on their heads and go home. They just came back and got into the water again.

This is the real secret of the spiritual life. When the passions, which can tower over the tidal waves of the Pacific, come and ask us, like the waves, “Would you like to play a game with us?” we must be ready to control them and ride them just as we ride a wave. To me this surfing is a game between the waves and the surfboard. It isn’t a hostile encounter; it’s a very friendly game where the waves are telling the surfboard, “You bring your rider along. I’ll throw you both up in the air. Why don’t you try me? You can learn to ride on me, but first I am going to make both of you fly in the air like toys.”

The other surfers we saw were more skillful, more resolute, more secure. They were not content with the white waters, but would go into what Ramakrishna calls the black waters, far away from the shore, where the waves were getting very high. Today we saw two or three people getting the right timing and “shooting the tube” so fast that we were amazed a person could learn such a skill. In governing our passions, it is the same story. It is a game in which the passions dare us, “Would you like to come? We are three: fear, anger, and greed. You are only one.” To this the really adventurous person will say, “You are three, I am one, so this is the right game for me. I am going to fall. I am going to drink a lot of sea water. But one day I will ride on you.” When we bring this determination to our sadhana, the great day will soon come when, through the grace of the Lord, we will be able to harness the power of anger, fear, and greed and use it in contributing to the welfare of others. When we are angry we are allowing power to rise against us and enslave us, but when we learn to control these tremendous sources of power, we can use them to meet the most formidable challenges of the day and to make our greatest contribution to those around us.

In daily living, even though we advance fairly well in meditation and are able to use the mantram most of the time, we will all have to face circumstances in which the senses will be strongly tempted. The Bible tells us that even Jesus was not free from these great temptations, and the Buddhist scriptures record for us the Buddha’s struggle with Mara, the tempter. When sense cravings and self-will propel us, when we find ourselves almost helpless, the example of Jesus and the Buddha inspires us to turn against these powerful drives and learn to control them. The duel with the senses can be so satisfying, so thrilling, that no victory in worldly life can compare with it. And gradually, as we free ourselves from the tyranny of these selfish desires in our actions, they will subside from the mind also.

SRI KRISHNA: 38. Just as a fire is covered by smoke and a mirror is obscured by dust, just as the embryo rests deep within the womb, knowledge is hidden by selfish desire.

Just as a great pall of smoke obscures the fire blazing underneath, just so the pall of desire – selfish, self-willed, separate – hides the blazing fire of power, the blazing light of divinity, that shines forever in the depths of our consciousness.

Just as a mirror is covered by dust, so is knowledge of the Atman hidden by kama. Sri Krishna is telling Arjuna that if you try to use a mirror clouded by dust, you will not be able to see yourself at all. Just so, if you indulge your senses all of the time, exercising no discrimination in what you eat, what you read, what you say, and what you think about, you will not be able to see your real Self at all. You will see only the body, not the dweller within, only the house, not the resident. In order to see yourself as you are – as beautiful, wise, loving, universal – you must rise above physical consciousness. You can put this into practice every day by asking yourself, “In what ways can I guard myself against being trapped in body consciousness?” Once you ask this question, you see that everywhere there is a choice. Let the bakery put all kinds of cakes in the window; you will say, “I don’t want to get trapped in them.” Let the stores advertise the latest fashions; you will say, “I don’t want to get trapped here.” It is these right choices which will gradually enable you to rise above physical consciousness.

Sri Krishna goes on to use the simile of the embryo, well protected and hidden in the mother’s womb. With these three similes, the Lord reminds us that the Atman is always within us. The Lord is always present, call him Krishna, Christ, the Buddha, or Allah, but it is we who bring all kinds of covers to hide his glory. Wherever we go we bring home some cover to conceal the Lord, and it will take a lot of recycling to get rid of all these envelopes. Sri Krishna is telling Arjuna, “We don’t want all of this. Instead of bringing more covers home, start removing them; instead of adding to your burden of envelopes, begin to remove them one by one.” The moment we begin to restrain our senses diligently and practice other spiritual disciplines, we shall see that envelope after envelope – or as the Sufis say, veil after veil – falls away until we at last see the Beloved, who is the Lord, in the depths of our own consciousness.

SRI KRISHNA: 39. Knowledge is hidden, Kaunteya, by this unquenchable fire for self-satisfaction, the inveterate enemy of the wise.

Arjuna has asked Sri Krishna a very personal question, which could be asked by any one of us when we make mistakes in spite of the fact that we know they are mistakes. “What makes me do these things? I know this is not the way to joy and security, but there seems to be some compulsion in me to make these mistakes.” And Sri Krishna, who has infinite love for you and me, answers Arjuna by saying that this compulsion is kama, the worst enemy we have on the face of the earth. If we try to look at life through this perspective, we shall see how conflicts cannot help arising when a nation, group, or individual keeps its eyes only on its own development, ignoring the needs and rights of others. The Buddha calls this compulsion by a very homely name: tanha, the fierce thirst that demands to be quenched at any cost, if necessary by robbing other people of their water.

Take, for example, the question of money. The mystics do not say that money is bad; money is just metal or paper, which is amoral. It is the love of money that is bad. The Gita says that to be able to use anything wisely we must not be attached to it. Gandhiji, whose material possessions were worth only two dollars at the time of his death, handled millions and millions of rupees. Because he had no personal attachment, no selfish craving to accumulate money, he was able to use it very wisely to benefit millions of helpless people in India.

Not only in the accumulation of money, but in the accumulation of every material thing, we are likely to get caught unless we have the capacity for detachment. We know people, for example, who give much of their love to their wardrobe. I have seen one of those wardrobes – countless pairs of shoes to match the colors of the season, and numberless dresses and hats. I could not see how that lady would have any time for meditation, and when I was told she didn’t meditate, I said, “No wonder.” I have seen very well-dressed women, both here and in India, having a small, select wardrobe that freed them from spending hours weighing the pros and cons of particular colors and hemlines. They have a small closet where they can walk in and come out well dressed without becoming prey to the whims and fancies of some fashion expert in Europe. Even to wear clothes well, we must be detached. To keep our hair in the best condition, we have to be detached; otherwise we are likely to be caught in fads and fancies.

Arjuna must now be completely overwhelmed. I can imagine his agreeing, “Without detachment, you can’t do anything in life.” And here, as elsewhere, when Sri Krishna throws a flood of light on something in his life, I imagine Arjuna saying “That’s right!” just as you and I would say it.

In this verse Sri Krishna uses the very strong word kama which, in general, means keeping our eyes only on what will serve our personal ends, what will satisfy our needs to the exclusion of the rights and needs of others. Unfortunately, there is no human being who, once he develops this sense of ‘I and mine’ by dwelling upon himself, can remain sensitive to the needs of others. Once we get caught in money, everywhere we go there is a dollar sign painted on our pupils. Everywhere we see money. We see a beautiful landscape and instead of wanting to write a poem about it, or paint a picture of it, or just enjoy it, we say, “If it could only be subdivided, developed, and rented out, it would bring in millions of dollars for us.” This is just what is now happening in some of the most beautiful areas of our state of California.

Sri Krishna’s teaching can be translated into practice every day by remembering that everything belongs to the Lord. The basis of all ecology is the awareness that the whole world belongs to the Lord. We are just transients or, if you prefer, guests who refuse to move out. The Lord doesn’t expect any rent; he doesn’t expect any cleaning deposit. All that he asks is that we please don’t tear up the curtains, don’t cut up the carpets, don’t pull away the pillars, and keep the house reasonably tidy, which is the least any landlord will ask of us.

Even this body doesn’t belong to us, but has been given to us to serve others; therefore, we cannot afford to do whatever we like with it, to give it cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, or too much food. The body is really like a rented car. As we come into the cosmos, we line up and say, “I would like to have a body.” We specify the color and the horsepower, and the Lord, whose models are infinite, says, “You’ve got it.” He trusts us; we look so honest and conscientious that he doesn’t take any deposit; he doesn’t even ask for references. But when we return it at the end of the journey, there is no battery, there are only two wheels, there is only one windshield wiper, and the hood is missing. To understand this, one doesn’t have to be very philosophical; one can be very practical. Ordinary courtesy requires that when someone has very graciously lent us a body, we should use it for a good purpose and return it in good condition.

When we talk about the use of tobacco, alcohol, and drugs, it is not just a personal matter; the owner also has a say in it. The Lord has given this body to us on trust, and we shouldn’t betray his trust under any circumstances. In the early days, when our selfish desires and sense cravings may not be very strong, we may say, “We will take it out for a small detour on a rough road. After all, it is only a couple of miles. We will come back and not go there again.” Once we have taken our car on a detour of a couple of miles, the next time we want to take it three miles, four miles, and finally, taking it further and further from the main road, we don’t know how to get back.

In yielding to most compulsions, like drugs, this is unfortunately what happens. No one wants to be a victim; no one wants to lose his liberty. But we know from many, many incidents every day in the Bay Area alone that there comes a time when in order to maintain, for example, a heroin habit, people rob and even kill.

This is the application of the simple word kama. The Lord warns Arjuna never to lose his vigilance against the blandishments of the desire for selfish satisfaction, whether it is the craving of the senses or the urge to enforce self-will on those around. Little by little, Sri Krishna says, this will become his fiercest enemy; any time he yields to a selfish desire, he is actually strengthening his enemy.

SRI KRISHNA: 40. Selfish desire is said to be found in the senses, mind, and intellect, misleading them and burying the understanding in delusion.

Sri Krishna now tells us where Kama lives. Just as a wealthy person may have a house in London, a manor in Yorkshire, and a villa in the south of France, similarly Kama has three houses – indriya, manas, and buddhi. His favorite house is indriya, the five senses, where he is usually to be found. He spends most of the year in the eye, in the ear, and of course on the palate. If we want to see Kama, we do not have to look very far at mealtime to see which is his favorite room.

Kama’s second home is manas, the mind, where he lives during the turbulent periods. Though the word kama is usually applied on the sensory level, and especially to sexual desire, it can also refer to the lust for power, which is one of the most terrible urges in the human being. By the side of the lust for power, the cravings of the palate are insignificant. The control of the palate is not a serious problem. Yielding to the senses does not usually harm others. It is the lust for power that in our modern age is responsible for so much misery all over the world. In order to guard ourselves against competition and turmoil, whether in international politics or in the home, we must remember the needs of those around us and forget our personal needs for power and prestige.

Buddhi, the intellect, is Kama’s third home. Even though we usually do not associate the intellect with selfish desire, we cannot help agreeing with Sri Krishna if we examine many of the books published today. Good books are rare, and to have a really good library, a few shelves are all we need. When I was still on my campus in India, I was convinced, like many professors, that if the Lord was to be found anywhere, it was in the lower stacks of the library. But now – just as when I go into a big department store, I can say, “How many things I don’t need! How many expensive suits I don’t want!” – when I enter a big library I say, “What tomes I don’t have to read again! What folios I will never open!” This feeling of freedom will come to all of us when we realize, in the depths of our meditation, that all wisdom lies within.

Even to use the intellect wisely, we must be detached from it. The communication gap between the older and younger generations is caused mostly by our identifying ourselves with our opinions. We all can render a great service by listening to opposing opinions without agitation, discourtesy, or violence, and by offering our opinions not as nonnegotiable demands but as calm, courteous statements. Gandhi could listen to opposing views with concentration, calmness, and respect, which would enable his opponent to ask for his views also. Gandhi showed the world that we can state our case well in simple, gentle, and respectful language. It is the person with a weak argument who tries to rely on violent or obscene language.

When most of us say “True! Absolutely right!” the translation is “Just what I think!” At my university in India, I would emphasize to my classes not to make marginal comments in library books. On one occasion I found, in delicate feminine handwriting, “How true!” As I recognized the handwriting, I went to the girl, sat by her and said, “My dear, what do you mean by ‘How true!’ ” Immediately she said, “This is exactly what I think.”

Even though we may use courteous phrases like “apparently” or “to the best of my knowledge,” underneath we are saying our statements are completely, irrevocably true. If we really mean “to the best of my knowledge” – or as I like to say, “to the best of my ignorance” – there would be no agitation. Today I read a penetrating anecdote from the meditation notebook of a student in our university extension class. She and her husband were having a heated discussion. When the situation was almost out of control, she said, “My course instructor says we are not arguing about opinions or philosophies; we are just trying to impose our self-will on each other.” Even in a moment of heat, when patience is wearing thin, it is good to remind ourselves that it is not a philosophical dispute, it is not a question of principles; it is just your self-will against mine. If we can remember this, we will be more courteous, more lenient, and not condemn views different from ours or use violence to express our disapproval.

When the senses have come under our control and Kama has been evicted from his first home, he moves with all his luggage to the mind, his second line of defense. Evict him there too, and you will find him in the intellect, where he is so strongly barricaded he can be thrown out only with great difficulty.

SRI KRISHNA: 41. Fight with all your strength, O Bharata; controlling your senses, attack your enemy directly, who is the destroyer of knowledge and realization.

We begin our conquest of Kama by controlling the senses, especially the palate, which is very much like training a puppy. Today, as we were walking around Lake Merritt, we saw an Alsatian being trained by a lady who was tugging at his leash, giving him angry looks, and using strong language. Knowing something about the dog’s point of view, I told my wife that I had easily trained my own dogs just by loving them, being patient with them, and giving them my appreciation when they obeyed. When we went to the circus some time ago, we saw a group of dogs who were really in love with their trainer, a girl. After every performance they would leap into her arms, and she hugged them and talked baby language to them. Even the really big dogs would act like little pups, playing up to her. In this way, little by little, we can train the senses if we have a deep desire to bring them under control and a sense of artistry that prevents us from being too austere or over-indulgent.

Sri Krishna tells us through Arjuna to put to death this greed for personal pleasure, profit, prestige, and power. It is our worst enemy, which prevents us from living in joy and security and attaining spiritual wisdom.

In the Ramayana, this enemy is personified as Ravana, the ten-headed one. Rama, the desire for selfless service, and Ravana, the desire for selfish satisfaction, both exist within us. When Rama faces Ravana on the battlefield, he must sever all ten heads of his enemy at once, which is how we must slay the selfish ‘I,’ the only barrier between us and the Lord. In our own daily life we begin the conquest of Ravana by keeping the happiness of those around us first and ours last.

SRI KRISHNA: 42. The senses are said to be higher than the body, the mind higher than the senses; above the mind is the intellect, and above the intellect is the Atman.

Here we have a simple hierarchy of the various members composing the human individual. We not only have a family at home; each of us in ourselves is a family, whose members are the body, senses, mind, and intellect, who seldom pay any respect to the advice of the head, the Atman. Sometimes in meditation the Atman says, “Let’s all get together and think one thought on the Lord.” Immediately the body goes to sleep; that is its way of meditation. It says, “This is good for me. In this I find security,” and the Atman really doesn’t know what to do. Then the palate says, “I am going out for a quick one.” The mind begins to re-enact a quarrel which everyone else has forgotten, saying, “I don’t want to live in the present; I want to re-enact a drama that took place five years ago in which my girlfriend gave me my hat.” The intellect, supposedly the most cultured member of the group, says, “Nobody listens to my opinions.” Finally the Atman says, “I guess we’d better wait for another incarnation to get these boys together,” and we just throw up our hands.

We can become united within only by training these rebels to act in harmony with the Atman through a total discipline based on the practice of meditation. We train the body by giving it the right exercise and food. The senses are trained through discriminating restraint. The Gita will tell us that we can poison ourselves not only through our mouth, but through our eyes and ears. In this respect, we can do our children a great service by guiding them in the movies they go to, the television programs they watch, and the books they read. We should remember that children do not know what to read and what not to read. It is the duty of the parents to educate their tastes gradually by giving them the right books and then, when they are older, leaving them to make their own choice.

Just as the body and senses can be trained and made to act in harmony with the Atman, the mind and intellect can also be trained. We train the mind by learning to transform negative emotions into positive ones, ill will into goodwill, hatred into love. To train the intellect, we must learn to be detached from our opinions. Even to have sound intellectual knowledge, we have to be, in a certain measure, detached from the intellect. In using the word “objective,” a favorite term in academic circles, we should remember that we cannot be objective as long as we identify ourselves with our opinions.

It is good to respect the opinions of the opposite camp and of the older generation. One day our children are going to look upon our opinions as rather old-fogyish. When we are looking upon ourselves as the avant garde, the spearhead of radicalism and revolution, we should remember that our grandchildren one day are going to point us out with “Here comes the rear guard, bringing up reaction.” Often those who are fanatically attached to their opinions come with the passage of time to be just as fanatically attached to the opposite views. One could write a comedy, if it were not so macabre, about how radicals become reactionaries in their old age. But if we can have respect for opposing opinions now, later on also, whatever time or circumstance may bring, we will have the same tolerance. Even in the evening of our life, we will be able to listen to the views of our grandchildren and say, “There is something in what you say.”

No problem is insoluble if we are prepared to sit down and listen affectionately and respectfully to what the other person has to say. This is true not only in the home and on the campus but in areas of international friction as well. As Winston Churchill put it, “It is better to jaw, jaw, jaw than war, war, war.” In communicating with the enemy, Gandhi was really at his best. There was a very important political figure in India who opposed every move Gandhi made. It was said that he had a problem for every solution that Gandhiji brought forth, but even with him, Gandhi was loving, respectful, yet completely clear in elucidating his own point of view.

SRI KRISHNA: 43. Thus, knowing that which is supreme, let the Atman rule the ego; use your mighty arms to slay the fierce enemy that is selfish desire.

If all our faculties do not listen completely to the Atman, there is division, conflict, and despair; there can never be joy. Meditation is a practical discipline for bringing under control these rebels who try to destroy the unity of the individual. Drawing upon the power released in meditation, we can train the body, senses, mind, and intellect to work in perfect harmony, until we finally go beyond these to realize the Atman within.

This transformation requires enormous perseverance and, as Gandhiji would point out, the infinite patience of a person trying to empty the sea with a cup. But even here people differ, especially at the outset. There are a few rare people in every country, every age, who require only a minimum of work to make themselves selfless. These people are like our meditation hall, called Shanti, which is solid and well built. When we first moved to the ashram, it required only reroofing to make it suitable for our use. For the vast majority of us, however, the appropriate simile is the men’s dormitory. There we had to rebuild the foundations completely. It required an enormous amount of work, a good deal of equipment, and a lot of thinking on the part of the authorities before they could give their approval. Most of us have to change completely the foundations of our lives, which are at present based upon the belief that by following personal profit, pleasure, and prestige we can build a personality that is beautiful and loving.

In the deeper stages of meditation, we make the salutary discovery that the ego is a crashing bore. We all know how unpleasant it can be to associate with people who dwell upon themselves. Nobody wants our selfishness, including us. Do not try to show your ego to anybody; no one wants to look at it. Do not talk about it; nobody wants to hear about it. Whatever our past may have been, if we can dissolve the ego, we shall find this is all we need to do to become radiantly beautiful, perennially wise, and tireless in our service of those around us.

The Lord concludes the third chapter with this resounding verse, in which he tells Arjuna: “Slay all that is selfish in you. Extinguish your ego completely.” This is exactly what the word nirvana means: nir, ‘out’; vana, ‘to blow.’ Blow out all that is selfish in you, extinguish all that is separate in you, and you will realize the Atman, the indivisible unity of all life.