Atmopadesa Satakam ആത്മോപദേശശതകം - ശ്രീനാരായണഗുരു-Verse 1-My Reflection

 

Lesson 15 Chapter V: Karma Sannyasa Yoga, Unitive Action and Renunciation v 1-10

 My response to Bailey reprises some key points about our

study. Check it out if you have the time.

Once again, Bindu has shared her uncommon understanding,

and Venkat has almost caught up, now in the middle of chapter IV.

Enjoy!

Bindu

This chapter helped me see that renunciation is not about escaping

life or avoiding responsibility. Instead, it is about letting go of

attachment to outcomes and not allowing likes and dislikes to

control my actions. Krishna teaches that yoga and renunciation are

not separate paths—they both lead to inner freedom when

practiced with the right understanding.

There have been moments in my life when, even though I know

the situations I am going through should not affect me so deeply, I

still lose control. During those moments, I feel angry with the

Absolute. I have even shouted at Him, telling Him that if I could

see Him, I would want to hit Him. Yet when my anger melts away,

I laugh and say, "You are the only one with whom I can show

every emotion—even the darker ones—because You never react,

no matter how hard I try to provoke You."

In those difficult moments, I often write reflections in my diary.

One of them is this poem:

The Roots Remain

Pushed into the deepest waters,

Where an alligator waits below,

Its patience sharpened by certainty—

Every fall ends the same.

A hanging stem appears,

Thin as hope, fragile as chance.

Upward goes the climb,

Toward light, toward air,

Toward the promise of escape.

Yet each time the surface nears,

The stem is cut.

Down again into the depths,

Where survival demands another leap.

From one stem to another,

From one chance to the next,

Never knowing which will hold.

Sometimes the next lifeline

Turns out to be a snake's tail—

Grasped in desperation,

Only to awaken anger,

Its fangs ready to strike.

Still, the journey continues.

Around and around the circle goes—

Climbing, falling, reaching, enduring.

Fresh air brushes the face for a moment,

Only for unseen hands

To push the struggle back into darkness.

When stems fail,

Roots become refuge.

When roots loosen,

Another hold is found.

When danger strikes,

Another path appears.

Such is life.

Not a straight road to safety,

But a wilderness of uncertain footholds,

Where fate tests every grip,

Every step,

Every hope.

The miracle is not reaching the top.

The miracle is continuing to climb

After every fall,

Holding on through every storm,

Refusing to surrender to the depths—

While the alligator waits,

The snake hisses,

The stems break,

And still—

the roots remain.

This poem reflects how I have learned to let go of anger instead of

holding on to resentment. Whatever hardship I am going through, I

write about it as a reflection and then release it for my own peace.

Once I accept the situation and move forward, I feel lighter and

more focused.

Verse 10 particularly spoke to me: "He who acts, placing all

actions in the Absolute, having given up attachment, is not affected

by sin, like a lotus leaf by water."

I find this image very powerful. It reminds me that we can live

fully in the world, perform our duties sincerely, and still remain

inwardly free if we are not constantly seeking praise, success, or

recognition. In meditation, I sometimes place all my worries on the

shoulders of the Absolute. By doing so, I find freedom. The

problems become like drops of water resting on a lotus leaf, while

I remain the leaf itself—untouched at my core.

The discussion about opposing views also made me reflect on my

own thinking. It is easy to judge people whose opinions differ from

mine, especially on social or political issues. This chapter

encourages me to pause before reacting and recognize that being

attached to being "right" creates unnecessary conflict. Sometimes I

choose silence because I believe silence is wiser than argument.

Remaining open-minded does not mean giving up my values; it

means not allowing disagreement to disturb my inner balance.

My main takeaway from this chapter is that true renunciation is not

withdrawing from life but changing the way we participate in it.

By performing our duties with sincerity, without attachment to

results, and by maintaining balance amid success and failure, we

become freer, more peaceful, and more compassionate toward

ourselves and others.

Question for Reflection

How can I remind myself in daily life to act wholeheartedly while

letting go of the need to control the outcome?

I believe not everything comes in the time or way I expect.

Sometimes I simply have to wait for the right moment. Patience

and resilience are both important. Rather than living in

disappointment, I can continue doing my best, trusting that some

things unfold in their own time. Like the climber in my poem, the

goal is not to avoid every fall, but to keep climbing with faith,

courage, and acceptance.

Scott: I appreciate your summation of the chapter, Bindu. It’s easy

to get lost (maybe it’s important to get lost) in the Gita’s

complexities, yet it’s also essential to have a sensible framework to

relate it to. Plus, losing control does go hand in hand with opening

to new and unexpected insights. Our egos are dedicated to control,

so our inner being has to force them aside at times, and it happens

especially at critical moments. Just ask Arjuna.

It’s totally safe to curse the Absolute, and good therapy.so

long as it isn’t prolonged. It’s another way to let go. The next

lesson will include the assurance you may have already read, in

verse 15: “The all-pervading One takes cognizance neither of the

sinful nor the meritorious actions of anyone.” No lightning bolts

are doled out by a grim overseer. It’s okay to get upset, but use it

to heighten your understanding.

Your poem vividly captures the struggle to reach a goal,

something we can all relate to. You address what it takes to accept

those threats and float trustingly in the depths. Our reading of the

scripture is partly to realize there are fewer vicious demons around

us than we imagine. We can delete the made-up monsters so as to

better focus on the real ones.

It seems you’ve been busily attending to that for a long time

already, Bindu, and your paragraph of explanation after the poem

shows the way.

A yogi finds psychological instruction in many places. I too

am fond of the lotus leaf symbol of detachment. I find I have to

actively shake the mud off—I still react to accusations, but am

much quicker to get over it. I know better than to become

defensive before the water has cleared, and then I can see much

more clearly what the real issues are. Again, you write beautifully

about how to handle this.

Venkat

Chapter IV (12-22)

Around 2011, I bought a DSLR camera in the hope of becoming a

photographer. I have tried multiple times to pick it up and failed to

take pictures. None of them satisfied me. I bought books to

understand the exposure triangle but no luck. I was dejected and

something I wished to learn turned into a nightmare.

 

In retrospect, I feel the thought of taking a picture with the right

setting and the expectations of awe inspiring pictures were the

hurdles. I think I never thought of it as capturing a memory or a

moment. It was all about taking the best picture and that weight of

expectation held me back. 

A couple of years ago, a close friend of mine taught me the basics

before my trip to Yellowstone. My goal was to take a picture of a

wolf from the trip. The pictures weren't great but the memory of

howling wolves next to a bison carcass is still fresh. A month after

our trip, I saw a robin on our fence and I rushed to get a picture.

This time my goal was simple - to follow the instructions of a

recent video and understand exposure. Voila! I was amazed at the

pictures and mind blown. It was like finally getting hold of my

bicycle. More than the pictures, it was being in that moment of

inaction in action. 

In these few months of reading Gita, my understanding of learning

has changed a lot. If I don't understand a concept or a term I let it

sit and move away from it as much as possible for things to make

sense on its own. I reach out for help if it doesn't make sense or

begins to be a hindrance to my reading. Of course, there are work

related questions that are time sensitive for which I reach out for

help immediately.

I believe actions arise from conscious and subconscious sensory

influences. While conscious influences are from memory and

logical reasoning, creative ideas arise from the subconscious

influence. They seem to have this never ending interaction in the

outer and inner world. 

I could only think of thoughts rising during meditation as an

example of action in inaction. I believe action and inaction are

simultaneously present. I may be wrong but sleep is the only time I

imagine them to be mutually exclusive. 

IV 22 talks about possessions and the exercise is to think of the

influence of possessions on wellbeing. I couldn't remember when

this transition happened but I used to think possessions gave

wellbeing based on their purpose or value. In recent times, it has

transitioned to memory. The memory a possession holds or the

time it takes me back to has more value than purpose. 

Scott, I am very grateful for these exercises and lessons. It has

helped me look into myself and understand what has held me back

in learning. 

Scott: Venkat, your response resonates with the lesson 15 exercise:

Consider aspects of your life that are founded on ideas of

cumulative improvement, and whether it is possible to be

satisfied at every step or whether fulfillment is displaced until

the final stage. “Nearly everyone learns to be dissatisfied with

who they are. We are not okay, and are only tolerable if we are

moving toward a widely accepted version of what okay

means.” What are the pluses and minuses of this central social

tenet?

In so many aspects of life we are improving our skills, “getting

better,” and being praised for it. We can easily tell a good

photograph from a poor one. The conscious takeaway, however, is

that we’re eternally “works in progress,” and not to be taken

seriously yet. It’s too bad, because every moment of our brief

existence is valuable enough to celebrate and share.

Your little boy, Dhruv, is a perfect example—so full of life

and excitement. Before long, though, if he’s like other kids, he’ll

be more excited to “grow up” and get older as fast as possible.

He’ll be eager to stop “being childish,” while from an adult

perspective he’s already spectacular. Sure, we don’t want him to

stay stuck at age 3, but we don’t want him to miss it, either.

The idea is to retain the joy of life as the centerpiece of all

the growing and changing that naturally takes place in every

person’s life. It doesn’t have to inhibit the rapid development we

undergo, at least until we’re old enough to get stuck in the tarpits

of self-definition.

As you’ve shown, your photography work stands out when

you’re fully focused on it, more into it, and that’s the true seedbed

of skill improvement. Why not retain the excitement of getting

better while also reveling in the instrument that enables it, all along

the way?

What you’ve said about learning from your own inner being,

Venkat, is the missing piece Krishna is inviting us to bring into

play. Trusting the Absolute is closely related to trusting our

intuition, if it isn’t spoiled by selfish prejudices. So yes, in yoga we

combine conscious and unconscious aspects to become holistically

centered in whatever we do.

Also, being aware that we bring meaning to our possessions

and activities, and not the other way round, is crucial to self-

awareness. Chapter IV really gives us a lot to work with.

Gopica

Greetings! and thank you. Beautiful metaphors and was

experiencing a fragrance which i am not able to name though, a

feeling of relief with the thought of unitive action superior to the

renunciation of action.

While reading verses 1-10 of Chapter 5, I became aware of

an inflexible element in my personality around money and service.

I find it challenging to discuss payment for my work-sometimes

people postpone paying or expect my services free of cost in the

name of “service.” At the same time, I am careful about spending

for those truly in need, yet I hesitate to spend for outsiders just for

courtesy. My instincts have led me to create boundaries, and I

sometimes worry that this makes me seem cold or aloof, even

when I feel fully present and responsible. These verses are helping

me explore how to act sincerely, respect my own worth, and still

cultivate inner detachment from money and others’ expectations.

Scott: That’s the spirit, Gopica! The verses are meant to stimulate

contemplation, and apply them to ourself. This is a terrific example

of what that looks like. Doors swing open, and we can learn a lot

from peeking through, even if we don’t step inside all the way.

Bailey

Scott’s prompt: Consider aspects of your life that are founded

on ideas of cumulative improvement...  Here’s a true story, just

happened:

June 28 (Sunday):   We had a lay preacher in church today,  Haley

Powell, and she opened her sermon with a reference to George

Bailey, the character played by Jimmy Stewart in the 1946 film It’s

a Wonderful Life, in his moment of despair, tempted by suicide.

Standing in the river into which he had leapt, GB looks  upwards,

says something like “Lord, what do you want of me? Show me the

way.”  I suppose that serves in the plot to bring that absurd,

improbable, masterfully-comic angel Clarence into the story.  With

Clarence’s good-humored help Bailey will proceed to solve the

problems which had seemed insurmountable, marry the pretty girl,

with the movie ending on the they-lived-happily-ever-after note of

beloved fairy-tales.  Our preacher brought her sermon around to

inviting us to look upon one another as potential angels, capable

–if we turn toward one another-- of offering love,  help when we

need it.  The sermon is followed, in our liturgy, with the Exchange

of Peace: we turn to each other with warm handshakes, sometimes

hugs. The Offering follows next (the Old Testament lesson read

today had been the story of Abraham preparing to offer up his son

Isaac as a sacrifice, then the Lord sending an angel to stop him,

providing in the boy’s place a ram caught in a nearby thicket). I

reached into my pocket for a bill to put in the offering plate. Oops,

no wallet. Must have forgot it on the bureau when leaving the

house.. Oops! Oh No!  That can’t be! I used it buying gas on my

way to church!  Did I drop it? lay it on the roof of the car and

forget to put it back in my pocket?  I left church at once, got to the

car, drove back to the gas station (at Walnut and 46).  Nothing

there by the pump.  Try inside. No, no wallet turned in.  We’ll call

you if... The worst has happened. What is the first thing to

do?  Report to police? No, most urgent is to call the credit card

companies.  Back at the house I’m standing at the card table in the

garage entrance, I’ve got Visa Capital One on the line, the guy is

just telling me: OK, don’t worry, I’ll restrict use of this card right

away, we’ll send you a new one...

 when

     here’s a pickup truck pulling into the driveway;  here’s a guy

coming out, my wallet in his hand. A total stranger.  I let Capital

One know all is suddenly well, thank the guy, hang up.  “I spotted

it turning off route 46 onto College Ave”, this guy is telling

me—"should be all there, doesn’t look like anybody ran over it”.  I

didn’t move to hug him; I did shake hands warmly, asked his

name. Jared.  An Old Testament name, I remark, adding that I was

just on my way to church when I lost the wallet; realized the loss

when it was time for the offering... “You know”, says Jared, “same

thing happened to a friend of mine a couple of weeks ago, he had

driven up from Louisville (Kentucky) for a medical appointment,

put it on the roof of his car and didn’t miss it until he was back

home, had to drive back here to retrieve it... but what a pain, I

know, those credit cards, replacing the driver’s license...” Jared,

you’re my Good Samaritan today.  Do you know the movie It’s a

Wonderful Life? Jared’s eyes widen. Says: “my favorite movie of

all time!  I watch it maybe five, six times a year!”  Of course Jared

well knows the scene where defeated George Bailey finally turns

to God for guidance.  “That’s me!” he says.  “I was 20 years old,

raising two boys all by myself, without Him I would never have

made it through.  Before the boys, I was a bad fellow, selfish,

wild.   He never fails, He’s always there.” (Touches his heart). “I

talk to Him all the time. All the time I ask for guidance.”  I (bky)

tell him that I learned from today’s sermon that George Bailey’s

famous line, “Lord show me the way” had not been scripted –it

was added spontaneously by Jimmy Stewart on inspiration;

Director Frank Capra loved it, left it in the final cut.  Jared, today

you’re my angel, you’re my Clarence.  “You know”, he says, “I’ve

always known, in my heart, what’s right to do, even as a child,

even not doing it.  I want to tell people, but they...  My older

brother (we were raised Catholic) hated God for years, wanted

what he didn’t have...I couldn’t get him to see he was looking at it

all wrong... then he met a wonderful woman, and he changed, now

his attitude is changed...he has a wonderful life now.”  Jared, can I

offer you something?  Nah, thanks, gotta go, but you know, maybe

it was meant to work out like this today.  Jared, I say, you’re a man

of faith.  Hey, he says, I’ve made a new friend.  Off he drives.

Comment: am I dissatisfied with who I am?  When I realized that I

had done that STUPID thing, leaving my wallet atop the car and

driving off –and it was not the first time I had done something like

that, once I left my wallet in a bookstore on Upper Broadway in

New York (but realized pretty quickly, and the sales clerk, shaking

his head, handed it back)—and the possible-to-likely

CONSEQUENCES were running through my head as I drove back

to the gas station, and then drove home, would DISSATISFIED

would be the right way to put it?  Well, certainly “satisfied” would

be the wrong way.  But, in my head: stay with the reality, don’t

distract yourself with self-blame, deal with the situation as best

you can, be more attentive, more conscious, more careful going

forward...  The point isn’t I’m OK/I’m not OK, the point is Reality

is what it is, my reality, entangled with all these other realities.

One’s habits, one’s tendencies, they don’t improve with age. But,

as the Rolling Stones of their and my youth sang: “Don’t you

panic, don’t you panic, give it one more try”.  All of a sudden,

here’s this stranger. Jared.  He’s driving along. He sees the wallet.

He stops. He sees my information inside. He comes right to my

house (it isn’t far, and with GPS, easy to find).  A man of action,

Jared. A man of (good) faith.  He trusts in the Lord.  He trusts his

heart.  Perhaps, he says, in taking leave, it was all meant to happen

this way.  If I had hours to talk with him, even half an hour (we

talked for maybe ten minutes) I might show him Elaine Pagels’

book Miracles and Wonders: The Historical Mystery of Jesus.  Not

to try to teach him anything (I am guessing he now follows an

Evangelical version of Christianity): to share with him Pagel’s own

sense of wonder, after a lifetime studying and teaching the history

of Christianity at the highest intellectual level, at how the story of

Jesus has remained alive, vibrant for two thousand years, and not

only for people who profess Christianity or call themselves

Christians.  She ends her book quoting this New Testament

passage: “God can make a way out of no way”, transforming what

we suffer into joy.  I love this about the gospel stories. Is that what

keeps the stories of Jesus alive among the twists and turns of

history.  As I see it, they give us what we often need most: an

outburst of hope.”  A sentiment at odds with Vedanta?

June 30  One Paris day in May Christine and I went to the movies;

what I am remembering now is not the film we saw that day–what

was it?—but one previewed: DeGaulle: Resistance. This opened

the day after I left France so I have not yet seen it; Christine has,

has emailed me that it has opened her eyes to an extraordinary

moment in the story of her own country—until now, she had

mostly understood it through things I told her.  The world-

historical significance of this moment has gripped my imagination

for years, as my reading, in fiction as well as works of history,

memoirs, biography.  The moment? June 18, 1940: the

German Blitzkrieg has in a few weeks since May 10 devastated the

French and British forces opposing it.  A new French government,

under the 80-year-old Marshal Pétain is crying “Uncle”,

negotiating a surrender; most of the British forces have managed to

escape back to their island through the “miracle” of the improvised

Dunkirk evacuation, but the smart money is betting that the Brits

will now accept the New Reality and make terms with Hitler

themselves.  Indeed, that is the course being suggested by the

Foreign Secretary, Lord Halifex, in secret Cabinet meetings.  We

don’t like the Nazis but the reality is they have won; better deal

with them.  Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s heroic refusal to

accept this logic is well known (that story is well told in recent

films like Darkest Hour and Roy Jenkins’ excellent biography of

Churchill): the defiant eloquence of his speeches –We shall never

surrender!—has achieved mythic status in historical

memory.  This new movie will help English speakers, I hope,

better grasp the true heroic dimension of the junior French general

who on June 18 broadcast on BBC his equally intransigent

Appeal: France has lost a battle. Let all of us who share “a certain

idea of France” resolve to continue the war until we

win! DeGaulle invited patriots to join him in London –I have

evoked in earlier responses the story of one nineteen-year-old,

Daniel Cordier, who did.  Few in France actually heard the

broadcast, though word of it slowly spread.  Very few acted on the

invitation; indeed most of the French soldiers then in England, who

had been part of the failed Anglo-French effort to stop the German

capture of Norway back in April, chose to lay down arms and

return to France. Marshal Pétain’s Vichy regime condemned

DeGaulle to death in abstentia and set about on a course of

collaboration with the occupying Germans that would come to

include sending Jews to the death camps. The still well-armed

French military, in France itself and in its Asian and African

empire, accepted Vichy’s authority. The odds against De Gaulle’s

“Free French”, and further resistance to a German-dominated

Europe, were beyond overwhelming. 

       My thought goes now to the Kurukshetra battle as yet

unengaged, to Arjuna throwing down his bow, to verse 8 of Book

IV.  To contrast his moment of doubt with DeGaulle’s brandishing

the sword on June 18 is irresistibly tempting as literature, and I am

not resisting the impulse.  As history, knowing as we do how the

war was to work out, the story is inspiring.  But what, as students

of philosophy, can we learn?  The verse reads: “To protect those

who are good and to destroy evildoers, for establishing

righteousness, I assume being, age by age.”  Krishna incarnating as

Charles de Gaulle? As Winston Churchill?  As the RAF pilots who

fought the Luftwaffe to a standstill over the following year,

effectively forestalling the German invasion plans?  As the English

civilian populations who withstood the bombing, the fires and

devastation of the Battle of Britain night after night, the civilian

French men and women (many teenage girls and boys too) who

faced (and often suffered) torture, imprisonment, death to defy the

German occupation, whether they were aligned with General

DeGaulle or not? The righteous actors resisting evil-doers can be

understood as incarnating, in some sense, Krishna? well: why not?

 Scott’s interpretation of the verse would seem to steer us firmly

away from an incitement to action along these lines. “Once again,

this verse resonates with the barbaric tendencies of human beings,

because we really get off on destroying evildoers. We’re ready to

go out and bash them at a moment’s notice. Unfortunately,

unleashing war on evildoers just produces more evil. By contrast,

the reestablishment of the goodness of the Absolute does not pit

one side against the other. It is a unifying kindness that is a tide

that raises all boats.”  Aptly put, and incontrovertibly –to my

mind—true to the teaching we have received.  Winston Churchill,

Charles DeGaulle and those uncounted, unnamed English and

French (and Poles and Belgians and Russians and Canadians...)

who stood up to resist the Nazis were flawed, relativistic human

beings.  We know a lot about the flaws of the first two men.  They

were not unattached to the fruits of their actions—far from

it!  Both wrote books about themselves in the war—and

afterwards-- justifying actions they took which many or most of us

now regard as problematic if not clearly wrong.  Fellow students of

African or Asian heritage may want to point to selfish actions of

the British in India, the French in North Africa or Indochina that

caused much suffering to many innocent people. Both men were

repudiated as leaders of their countries by voters at the end of the

war.  BUT. In 1940 they did stand up for righteousness against

dark forces of evil which were on the verge of winning.  Hitler,

Himmler and company were not just German leaders with different

ideas and original political projects.  They were evil actors, willful

“slayers of the self” in the sense of the Isa Upanishad.  In the

judgment of this historian such creatures were quite impervious to

approaches based on “unifying kindness”.  As at Kurukshetra, the

dark forces had to be fought.

     July 3. This is not June 1940.  All the actors of that day are

returned to ashes, including both my parents, whose relationship

was abruptly precipitated into marriage in December 1941, with

me as one consequence. The issues, the choices to act/refrain from

action that I confront have been outlined with particular clarity

these past days.  That the American Republic, proclaimed with

such echoing principles on July 4, 1776, and subsequently came to

be identified with the universalist notion “democracy” is under

systemic assault by forces led and epitomized by the President it

elected in November 2024 seems to this historian beyond

question.  What to do? Vote in the upcoming elections? Of course.

Help Democratic candidates wrest majorities in the U.S. Congress

from the Republicans? Win more power in state governments?

Yes. So in the past month I have sent small sums of money to this

one candidate and that PAC (political pressure group).  A direct

consequence, given the technology driven by Lord Algorithm, is

steadily intensifying internet/texting pressure to give more.  And

more. Since returning from France I have by conscious decision

given more. Can I be somehow unattached to the fruits of these

actions?  A challenge, that!  Can I/should I do something else?

March in a No Kings rally, if possible?  We’ll see.

Then there’s my son’s alcohol addiction. While I was away at my

reunion he had another pancreatitis attack; the pain, I am told, is

intense.  After two days in the hospital, he emerges, returns to

work.  Last Sunday his mother calls me: she has just taken him to

the Emergency Room. Another attack. He has admitted that he

took another drink. This time I’m the one to take him home from

the hospital.  Last year I had talked at great length with JV, my

daughter Emma’s partner, an out-of-control alcoholic in his youth

who made the decision to emerge, has remade himself as a

successful academic—and an exceptional, compassionate human

being.  Joe knows the Alcoholics Anonymous scene in

Bloomington as well as he knows Labor History.  At the time he

resisted my suggestion that he reach out to Zack, get him to

engage.  It won’t work, he said in effect, unless the initiative

comes from him.  Yesterday I said to him: Joe, I can’t buy that

logic today.  It confounds me that, having suffered great pain,

putting his job at risk, he would nonetheless take another drink,

back into the pain etc.  Take the initiative. Reach out and tell him

more of your own story as you told it to me.  How one day you

realized if you took another drink YOU WOULD DIE.  Take him,

yourself, to an AA meeting.  Joe has agreed to do this.

Scott: I too am a big fan of It’s a Wonderful Life, Bailey. A couple

of years back our symphony performed the music live while the

film played on the big screen. It’s a new trick to keep symphonies

relevant, and it is startling how visceral it is. I catch one or two of

those every year.

It’s fun to have the additional background you’ve supplied.

I don’t see the movie as advocating cumulative improvement,

it’s more like what we’re after: adopting a new perspective where

you realize your true value in the world you inhabit, instead of

merely being a hapless victim of hostile forces. It portrays the

difference between being a big kid and an adult. For literary

purposes, there has to be an outside factor, like an angel, to clarify

(no pun intended?) the conversion, and with the Gita we have a

dialogue between a teacher and student to convey the same clarity.

Did you know that psychologists have tested wallet returns

around the world, and found that it was a very common practice?

Also, the more money in the wallet, the likelier the return. We’re

talking about a lot of experiments, because such kindness defies

expectations. And it makes for a good story, yours being right up

there. 

Have I shared Nitya’s take on the book I’m Okay, You’re

Okay? His version was I’m Not Okay, You’re Not Okay, But That’s

Okay.

Elaine Pagels is my dream girl. Talk about wallet returns.

How about ancient scripture returns! There had to be a god or at

least an angel involved with her being blessed with the Nag

Hammadi library.

I suppose you could say that hope isn’t a Vedantic premise,

since it’s another word for expectation, but to me, downplaying

expectations is a spiritual teaching, and not about Christmas

presents or job interviews. We’re free to hope for lots of things to

come about in the future, so long as it isn’t a distraction from self-

examination. Hope could well be part of self-examination; like,

how is it affecting me? But egotistical seekers tend to have a fixed

idea of what they are turning into, thanks to their practice or

religion, and that’s a serious impediment. How would that be

preferable to keeping an open mind about where you’re going? I

suppose if you are flailing, certain assurances would be justified, to

get to a level playing field, or kshetra, where real learning is

possible. The Gita is psychotherapy for the sane, and falls short

regarding mental instability, in my estimation. I don’t think of that

as a fault—the lion’s share of therapy is for disturbed people. We

need a dose for other cohorts, too.

I guess we cling to hope because we worry that without it we

will have no hope. In yoga, polar opposites are to be combined and

canceled out through balancing. Yogis aren’t partisan to hope or no

hope. We are witness to the unfolding of existence. Superficially

we may play around with hope, because it’s a fun game, until our

hopes are dashed. A yogi has enough detachment to not be

unhorsed by the evaporation of their imagined hopes.

Okay, you keep coming back to this point, that Krishna’s

teaching is not applicable to wartime. It’s true, my commentary is

more bubbly, and I should have referred to the war footing more. I

intended to make it as practical as I could. My cheerfulness could

easily be seen as a fault, I agree. Most commentaries brush over

practical problems, so I wanted to include them specifically. As I

worked through my ten-year stint, whenever people brought up

issues to me, I included them in context—marital conflicts, jobs,

interpersonal tension, prejudice—and some others. Addiction is in

there somewhere, though I’m personally aware of how impossible

it is to help with.

As to war, the whole context is war. What Krishna is doing is

healing Arjuna so he can make good decisions, about everything.

Despite popular belief, he is not being instructed to wage war, only

to know himself. In the last chapter, Krishna commissions Arjuna

to make up his own mind: “critically scrutinizing all, omitting

nothing, do as you like.” The war decision comes after the Gita,

when the Mahabharata picks back up. Yes, Arjuna, a true warrior,

decides to fight, and almost everybody dies. But that isn’t the

point. The Gita addresses life before death. It was his decision, not

God’s or anyone else’s.

The value of this study is to be more alive while alive. In that

way, it isn’t about applying this wisdom to history. It’s about

applying it to the present. Now. What to do is very complicated, so

we bring our best game and hope for the best. We don’t know that

the outcome will be the best, but we’ll deal with it as it comes.

And we should learn this ahead of the crises. When Nazis

high on amphetamines come sprinting and shooting at you, there’s

no time to become wise. You do (or not) what fate lays on you.

Judging the past is much easier than the present. For this education

I recommend bringing the war back home. It’s about battling our

mental weaknesses, to allow ourselves to grow. Under fire is not

the time for it.

Let me quote Bindu’s opening line, above: “This chapter

helped me see that renunciation is not about escaping life or

avoiding responsibility.” That’s maybe something you didn’t see,

Bailey. I don’t know why. Here are a couple of verses from the

return to practicality at the end:

18.7) Verily, the renunciation of necessary inevitable action

does not arise; the renunciation of such through delusion is said

to be tamasic.

18.9) When necessary action is done, Arjuna, recognizing its

imperative character, relinquishing attachment and benefit,

such relinquishment is considered sattvic.

All through the emphasis is on freely chosen activity. Necessity is

not malleable, it’s imperative. We suffer its slings and arrows as

best we can. There is no refraining from action taught here.

Chapter III starts of about action this way:

4) By refraining from initiating activities a person does not

come to have the attainment of transcending action, nor can one

by renunciation alone come to perfection.

5) Not even for a single instant can one ever remain engaged in

no action at all. By virtue of modalities born from nature, all

are made to engage in action helplessly.

All those poor souls you catalogue who stood up and were

gunned down were by no means unleashing evil, they were forced

to deal with it. So much slaughter, and then after, we are sure no

one would ever be that stupid again, until the next bloodletting.

I would say that the very intent of the Gita was to teach

humans to choose peace and kindness, despite our proclivity for

mayhem. It does not suggest we should ignore killers and make

nice about it. Those good people defending their countries were

flawed, just like the wise and the rest of us. We aren’t trying to live

without flaws, here—that’s another religious posture, and it’s a

major impediment to equanimity. What do flaws matter when you

are under attack? I don’t see how this lesson diverges from

sympathy for the slaughtered. The question we might be asking is

what can we do now, about the next wave, that promises to be the

bloodiest yet?

Before Krishna’s confirmation comes around again, you are

already free to make your own decisions, Bailey.

Good to hear your perseverance is still supporting your son’s

addiction tragedy. That is necessary action for you of a most

compelling nature.

rhythm of life

​Some need rest.

Some need strength.
Some need guidance.
Some need silence.
Some need joy.
Some need care.

In this wide world,
everyone seeks something—

Something to hold,
Something to release,
Something to trust,
Something to follow.

Every step we take
carries its own price.

Wherever you are,
stay well.
Stay peaceful.
Stay steady.

For this is the rhythm of life.

🌿 Endurance

​Open blisters on healed wounds

Rise again with hints of blood.

Tired legs refuse to move,

A parched throat longs for water.

When strength begins to fade,

Even the veins grow weak.

Helping hands stand within reach,

While silence suffers among feuding souls.

Whatever happened should end here.

Blaming another teaches nothing.

Accept, endure, and move ahead,

Even through the deepest pain.

That is the lesson learned in the army:

Hold the pain, hold back the tears,

And carry the burdens of life

Until the journey is complete.

Lesson 13 – Chapter IV. Jnana Yoga, verses 22-33

 Lesson 13 – Chapter IV. Jnana Yoga, verses 22-33

Some of you may not have time to read all of Bailey’s, but he

has addressed the whole class in his last paragraph, so please treat

yourself to it. I’m sure he’d love to hear from more of us, too. It’s

definitely more fun to include a variety of perspectives.

Venkat’s, with my response, can serve as a review of the

very important third chapter.

Bindu

Lesson 13 – Reflections on Bhagavad Gita Chapter IV, Verses

22–33

This section of the Gita has made me think deeply about sacrifice.

Before reading these verses, I often associated sacrifice with giving

something up or performing religious rituals. Krishna presents a

much broader understanding. Sacrifice becomes any freely chosen

action that helps us move beyond attachment and toward wisdom.

One example from my own life is my work. Many decisions I have

made were not based solely on comfort, pleasure, or personal gain.

I have often spent extra time investigating complex cases, dealing

with queries outside my formal responsibilities, helping

colleagues, mentoring others, and solving problems because I felt

it was the right thing to do. These actions required effort and

sometimes brought frustration, but they were driven by a sense of

purpose rather than immediate reward.

At times, I have also challenged established ways of working when

I believed there was a better solution. For example, when recurring

system failures required repeated IT incidents to be raised

manually, I pushed for automated notifications instead. My

intention was not simply to make things easier for myself, but to

reduce wasted effort and create a more efficient process for

everyone involved. Looking back, these choices feel more

proactive than reactive.

I am still reflecting on whether another example from my life was

proactive or reactive. In our Guru Mission Group UK , someone

shared a video about living a healthy lifestyle to extend lifespan.

After watching it, I found myself questioning an assumption that

many people seem to accept without reflection—that living longer

is always better.

One day, I was sitting with a friend and her daughter. We were

discussing rising house prices and how difficult it has become for

young people to afford a home. Someone remarked, “Eventually

they will inherit from us anyway.” The daughter laughed and

replied, “By the time you die, I’ll probably be in my late 60s.” We

all laughed, but there was a truth hidden within the joke.

I also heard about a grandmother who is 103 years old. She is

physically healthy and shows no sign of death, yet she is blind and

deaf. Her daughter, who is no longer young herself, continues to

care for her every day. It made me wonder whether longevity

should always be viewed as an unquestioned blessing. Some might

see the daughter's care as love and duty; others might see it as a

sacrifice of her own freedom and later years.

These are not complaints, only observations carrying a quiet,

bittersweet feeling. The stories made me reflect on ageing, duty,

attachment, and the passage of time.

The Brahma Kumaris teach that once our major responsibilities are

fulfilled, we should gradually put our affairs in order and reduce

our attachments. Many Hindu philosophies remind us that what we

experience is Maya—not unreal, but temporary, constantly

changing, and ever-moving. Even these reflections arise within that

same Maya.

For me, life does not feel as though it ends. It feels more like a

journey from one place to another. When we travel on holiday, we

leave one place behind and become absorbed in another. After

some time, the previous place fades from our awareness. Perhaps

death is something similar—a transition to another destination

where we gradually release what we have left behind.

I do not present these thoughts as conclusions or truths. They are

simply reflections that arise through careful observation. In that

sense, I believe my response to the video was more proactive than

reactive, because it emerged from questioning and contemplation

rather than agreement or disagreement.

The lesson also made me reflect on how society creates

compulsions. We are encouraged to seek promotion, recognition,

wealth, and status. Yet some of the most meaningful moments in

life come when we act freely, without calculating what we will

receive in return. Krishna’s teaching about being satisfied with

chance gains challenges the modern belief that everything must be

controlled and engineered.

The discussion about proving our existence through possessions

and achievements was especially thought-provoking. I can see how

people, including myself at times, use work accomplishments,

collections, photographs, or personal history as evidence of

identity and worth. Yet these things are temporary. If they

disappeared, the question remains: who am I without them? True

confidence seems to come from recognising intrinsic value rather

than relying on external proof.

Among the sacrifices Krishna describes, I feel most aligned with

self-study and wisdom sacrifice. I enjoy reflecting on life,

questioning assumptions, studying spiritual texts, and learning

from experience. Object sacrifice and service are also meaningful,

but wisdom sacrifice resonates most strongly because it seeks

understanding rather than mere action. Verse 33, which states that

wisdom sacrifice is superior to sacrifices involving objects, feels

like the culmination of the entire section.

The question of what provides a lasting “high” is particularly

interesting. Temporary pleasures, achievements, or recognition can

be enjoyable, but they fade. What endures longer is a sense of

understanding, meaningful relationships, helping others, and

moments when life feels connected to a larger purpose. The joy

that comes from insight seems more stable than the joy that comes

from acquisition.

The middle-ground principle is perhaps one of the most

challenging teachings. My natural tendency is sometimes to

become absorbed in work and responsibilities, while at other times

I feel the need to step back and seek rest or reflection. Krishna’s

guidance suggests that neither extreme is ideal. Instead, balance

must be continuously adjusted, like steering a boat that is

constantly affected by changing currents.

The holographic universe essay also resonated with the teaching of

verse 24. Whether taken literally or metaphorically, the idea that

each part contains the whole reflects the Gita’s vision that the

offerer, the offering, the act, and the goal are all expressions of the

same underlying reality. This perspective encourages humility, as

it reduces the sense of separation between self and others.

My main takeaway from this lesson is that all actions ultimately

culminate in wisdom. The purpose of life is not merely to act,

accumulate possessions, or seek pleasure, but to learn, understand,

and grow in awareness. When actions are guided by wisdom rather

than attachment, they become a path to freedom.

Looking back, I realise that much of my life has been a form of

self-study. Whether dealing with challenges at work, caring for

Luna during her recovery, observing family relationships, or

participating in Gita discussions, I am often less interested in

finding definite answers than in understanding what these

experiences reveal about life and human nature. Perhaps this is

why wisdom sacrifice resonates most strongly with me.

I was also watching a video by a Buddhist monk who spoke about

a holographic view of reality. He described two monks looking at

the same moon from different locations. Both were seeing the

same moon, yet each described it differently based on their

perspective. It reminded me that people can experience the same

reality yet understand and express it in different ways.

This came back to mind when I read the essay on the holographic

universe. I was particularly intrigued by David Bohm’s suggestion

that subatomic particles may remain connected across vast

distances not because they are sending signals to one another, but

because their apparent separateness is an illusion. At a deeper

level, they may not be separate entities at all, but expressions of the

same underlying reality.

Whether this is scientifically accurate or simply a useful metaphor,

it resonates with Krishna’s teaching in verse 24, where the offerer,

the offering, the act of offering, and the goal are all expressions of

the Absolute. The story of the two monks and the moon also

suggests that many philosophical and spiritual differences arise not

because people perceive different truths, but because they view the

same truth from different perspectives.

Perhaps wisdom is not about proving who is right, but about

recognising the underlying unity that exists beneath our different

ways of seeing.

Scott: Bindu, I appreciate your resolve at the outset to redefine

sacrifice toward the Gita’s version of freely chosen activity. Most

of my students slip back quickly into the old meaning of giving up

something you like. There’s nothing wrong with this, and it can

even be a token gesture of “making sacred,” but I see it as a

philosophical dead end, at the very least. So I endorse your new

attitude.

I have to laugh, Bindu. I’m at an age when everything hurts

and lots of my body doesn’t work very well. All the enthusiasts for

long lifetimes are young and enjoying the peak of health. If you

could keep that going forever, it might be worth considering.

Life, even manifestation itself, has been built on cycles from

day one. Somehow bursting out of cyclic existence to initiate a

linear one strikes me as the height of naivety—the tunnel vision of

bloated egos.

What the Gita will advise and support is optimizing the cycle

of our life in the present tense. Immortality means bringing the

infinite we are made of into our awareness. Not extending our

ignorance ad infinitum.

Have you ever run in a relay race? Your examples reminded

me of them, among the most exciting events in running and

swimming. Each person gives their small part of the race their best

performance, running as fast as they can, trying to sustain it until

they hand off the baton to the next runner, and then they move

aside to not impede anyone else in the race. Our lives bear a close

relationship to this. During the passing of the baton, the old and

new runner run together for a while to make sure they don’t drop

the baton. Once the new runner has it well in hand, away she goes,

and the deliverer collapses at the side of the track. All attention of

the spectators switches to the new contestant.

Our kids run with us for a while, to pass the baton. Then,

away they go.

How about living a healthy lifestyle to make the present more

enjoyable, and let the lifespan take care of itself? We could die any

minute—plenty of people have already—so let’s bring our

attention to how engaged we are with today. Most of us are lost in

fantasies about the future and memories of the past, and give the

present short shrift.

As Arjuna has found, there’s nothing like a battle right in

your face, to get your attention. But why wait? We could lend our

attention now.

This class will not make any claim about life hereafter. We

won’t rely on imaginary expectations to motivate us to wake up.

It’s too speculative for our purposes.

You are so right that we humans are obsessed with control,

Bindu, and Krishna begs us to get over it. I just listened to a long,

hair-splitting interview between two luminaries about Buddhism

and Advaita Vedanta, and first, it was pretty boring and I had to

force myself to listen to the whole business, but I also sensed they

both had an unconscious expectation that if they finally came up

with the right definition of reality, that would bring about

enlightenment. It’s so typical! And academic. The Grand Mystery

is incapable of definition—several billion years of struggling to

make sense of it hasn’t succeeded yet. What if we accepted that

we’ll never know, but vibrant life is right here, waiting to be lived?

Neutrality does not mean we don’t oscillate between the

poles, only that we strive to keep them in harmonious relation. It’s

a mistake to try to hold too hard to the center. It’s more like an

axle, a hub on which everything can turn.

It’s fun, Bindu, that you are getting such a lot out of the

readings. Svadhyaya, self-study, is a natural practice. We don’t

have to believe it’s one of the eight limbs of Patanjalai’s Yoga that

we should diligently practice. It’s recreation. We’re interested, and

we learn. Good enough.

Your concluding sentence is very nice, and no “perhaps”

about it: “Perhaps wisdom is not about proving who is right, but

about recognising the underlying unity that exists beneath our

different ways of seeing.”

Venkat

Dear Scott, 

Thank you! It took longer than expected. I finished reading chapter

III and it took a while to gather my thoughts as the chapter had a

variety of thoughts. Part of it is also because I wanted to negate

associative thoughts intentionally and wanted to contemplate

whatever arises from within after reading the chapter. 

I don't remember the verse but I had the following thought while

reading the chapter,

"There is a natural law that works in the changing world. But that

doesn't mean the law takes away the freedom to act on one's will.

A unified will that analyses the long term effects and acts selfless

brings more merit."

I couldn't agree with the word merit once I wrote it down and I

think happiness could be the right word. 

I was struggling to summarize the third chapter and had to read

Guru Nitya, and Narayana Guru's commentaries. After reading

them and the exercises, I would summarize my understanding as, 

There are multiple forms of actions that happen inward and

outward. There are actions that have a sacrificial purpose, and

actions that are necessary. Every act of transcending the self is

sacrificial. However, the reciprocal nature of the world requires us

to act on the necessary to hold us all in unison. It is the modalities

of nature and the sensory interaction that cause-effects the never

ending subject and object interaction. The one who acts

conforming to his true nature and doesn't sway by the sensory

stimuli ever attached to the Self experiences bliss. 

There are gaps in my understanding and questions such as, what

was the initial cause that effected this never ending illusion? Is it

the imbalance in the modalities of nature? What caused them? Are

they balancing or interacting? Along with such outward thoughts

there are inward thoughts that remind me to avoid trying to prove

myself but rather enjoy the moment. However, I feel everyday life

requires me to prove myself. More often I could find myself

traveling inwards and identifying a few emotions before acting on

them. Anger, distraction, and procrastination of work are some that

I need to work on. I am still getting carried away with everyday

life and hope to try intentionally to be balanced.

Reading this chapter reminded me of a personal loss. The only way

I could come out of it was a story that I made up of a scientist

that has visualized a star's death. Stuck in his lab for days, viewing

the star's death repeatedly, he goes into a depression and struggles

within himself. He treats himself as a witness of loss and feels

guilty of inactivity. One day, a city wide power cut and he finds

himself in the dark. He realises the oneness. It helps him realize

that nothing is ever lost. 

I met a Tamil writer recently and mentioned to him about his short

story that questions reality and the illusions of perceiving it

through sensory limits. He mentioned that reality and actuality

have to be seen together. I noticed actuality is mentioned in your

commentary of chapter 3 a lot too. What are your thoughts

on actuality? Could you direct me to some reading to understand

more? 

The email feels scattered. I tried to keep my thoughts genuine

without tailoring them for the purpose of the email. Eagerly

looking forward to your reply. 

Best, 

Venkat

Scott: It is perfectly all right to feel scattered at this point, Venkat.

In fact, it’s better. If you were sure about what you were learning,

there would be no reason to bother. Being unsure is what opens

doors to new pathways.

Unlike a school class, we’re not after expert writing about a

topic. We’re entering unknown territory, and it only will remain

unknown if we realize we don’t know. A seeker’s job is to ask

questions, not provide answers—yet.

You’re right that we aren’t seeking merit. It would be

contrary to Krishna’s instruction. Chapter V has a good example:

15) The all-pervading One takes cognizance neither of the

sinful nor the meritorious actions of anyone; wisdom is veiled

by unwisdom; beings are deluded thereby.

The use of ‘merit’ in chapter III is to show the old style of

gratifying the gods to attain, and is replaced by Krishna’s new

stand, where acting with detachment means not having intentional

goals, merit being a prime example. Let it be. Let things happen.

Stay alert and deal with them on their own terms.

Arjuna is asking after sreyah, merit, but the result of yoga is

ananda, bliss or meaning, often described as happiness. Chapter II

was perfectly clear;

50) Affiliated to reason one leaves behind here both

meritorious and unmeritorious deeds. Therefore affiliate

yourself to the unitive way; yoga is reason in action.

“Unmeritorious” deeds are sin, which is also being left behind as

unworthy of consideration.

The summary from your reading of the gurus is fine for now,

Venkat; it will make more sense as you go along.

The modalities never stand alone—that’s just for studying

them. They are always present, in various degrees and

permutations. We’ll have a whole chapter on them, XIV, later on.

Remember, from chapter II:

45) The Vedas treat of matters related to the three gunas; you

should be free from these three modalities, Arjuna, free from

(relative) pairs of opposites, established ever in pure being,

without alternately acquiring and enjoying, (unitively) Self-

possessed.

You’re right: everyday life begs for you to prove yourself,

and you should. Trying to keep a good job and raise a family

require different skills that harmonizing with one’s inner guru,

what we’re calling here merging with the Absolute. Krishna is not

interested in the ways you prove yourself, only your sincere

dedication.

Proving yourself in the workaday world is an ongoing

challenge, and good luck staying with it. Once upon a time, a good

job included continuity, but oligarchic capitalism is wiping that

out, meaning a worker will never feel secure. I see it as a great

tragedy. If you are all the time trying to prove yourself, there is

little or no time for self-examination or states of realization. Others

make more money when workers are treated like disposable beasts

of burden. There are a few places where this hasn’t penetrated yet,

but they are so demanding that they are also inimical to self-

knowledge. So, do your best, Venkat, to stay centered in the mad,

mad world.

You can work with your own mythology, as long as it helps

you make sense of things. We all do something like that, since it

can help vivify our situation.

Guru Nitya (and I remember when we first thought of this, as

a group) distinguished reality and actuality. Reality is much greater

than actuality, including the whole context, while actuality covers

the horizontal demands. Most people call the action around them

“reality,’ yet there is much unreal in what they think and

anticipate. A wise, reasoned perception moves toward reality, and

makes actual factors more understandable.

I know this isn’t a perfect explanation. I don’t recall where it

first comes up, but in Nitya’s writing you will find it all over the

place. Actuality is stuff; reality includes meaning, dynamics, and

doesn’t have to prove itself by visible means.

In regular Vedanta, the actual is considered unreal. In true

Advaita, while they are not distinguishable, both being real/unreal,

in the Gurukula we continue to consider them worthy of different

terminology. When we speak of reality, it isn’t only ratifying

actual objects.

Here’s a quote from Nataraja Guru that might help:

There is a paradox at the core of the Absolute.

If you try to resolve the paradox, if you try and pin it down,

you get a chair or a table; it does not dance.

Gopica

Dear Scott,

Greetings! and thank you.

Since you asked, and as it is not a secret, I am happy to share a

little more.

The reason given to me was that my leadership and management

style was different from that of my leader. Naturally, I wanted to

understand this better, so I asked her to explain the gap she was

referring to. She shared an example; however, even after

discussing it, neither of us seemed to arrive at a common

understanding of how that example reflected the difference in

leadership style.

Looking back, I feel there had been some ambiguity about the role

I was expected to play from the time I joined the project. The

conversation about differing leadership styles appeared to be one

expression of that broader situation.

Regarding your question other's response about my poise, my

impression was that many people were more affected by my exit

than I was.  The house keeping staff, admin, volunteers, and

stakeholders expressed surprise, disappointment, or concern. Some

found it difficult to understand why I appeared calm and accepting

of the situation. A few even seemed more upset on my behalf than

I was myself.

I think part of the reason was that I had already spent time

reflecting on the situation and had come to accept that some

outcomes are beyond our control. Once the decision had been

made, I felt it was more constructive to focus on completing my

responsibilities and supporting the people who depended on me,

rather than dwelling on the decision itself.

What stayed with me most was not the exit itself, but the goodwill

shown by many people. The concern expressed by colleagues,

volunteers, and stakeholders reminded me that the relationships

built over time had genuine value.

Today, I do not carry any bitterness about the experience. In fact, I

feel it has contributed positively to my personal growth. It has

helped me become more confident, reflect more deeply on my

strengths, and gain clarity about the kind of work I am best suited

for.

One of the insights I gained is that, at this stage of my life, I may

be more suited to contributing as an external consultant, trainer,

mentor, or coach rather than as a full-time employee within an

organizational hierarchy.

 

Lesson 13 reflections:

Reflection on Bhagavad Gita Chapter 4, Verses 22–33

Verses 22–33 of Chapter 4 came alive for me through a real-life

experience of exit, transition, and inner steadiness. What unfolded

externally felt like an invitation to a drama, yet inwardly it became

an opportunity to remain grounded, observe, and respond with

awareness. The process brought several layers of learning around

action, communication, detachment, and the difference between

vision and execution.

The exit process began with my leader asking me to inform the

person through whom the hiring had originally been initiated, as

though I were being invited to help communicate my own exit. I

responded calmly and informed the hiring personnel. From there,

the exit process moved forward with a list of action items, and

even though the last date was made immediate, I had shared my

concern that some upcoming discussions and event-related

responsibilities were still in progress. The team was actively

working with me, and the event itself was still to be completed.

What stood out for me was the gap between the leader’s response

and the actual flow of the process. I was told that I could continue

as a volunteer, yet that possibility was not shared with the

personnel. At the same time, the event was successfully completed

while the exit process was also unfolding in parallel. I was then

asked to exit the WhatsApp groups on my own, and I raised a

concern that doing so without corresponding communication to

stakeholders could create confusion about my role and status. I

expressed this respectfully, noting that if my formal release had

already been decided, I was willing to collect the relieving order;

otherwise, if stakeholder communication was expected first, I

could wait until that was completed.

As the process continued, the leader hurriedly sent a thank-you and

exit note to stakeholders and called for a meeting to update the

team. Meanwhile, I was called by the personnel to collect the

relieving letter. Before handing it over, I was again asked to exit

from the groups and to confirm repeatedly with the respective

admins whether I had done so. In that moment, I felt both empathy

and discomfort — empathy for the leader and personnel, and

discomfort in witnessing the intensity, fear, and strain within the

system.

This experience made me reflect deeply on the verses. I could see

how action, intention, and responsibility do not always move in

harmony. A leader may hold a meaningful vision, yet the reality of

execution, communication, and association with people can differ

greatly. I also saw how fear can engulf a system when clarity and

trust are missing. At the same time, I felt myself being asked to

remain steady, keep my ground, and respond without being pulled

into the drama around me.

Through this experience, I could sense the teaching of the Gita as

something lived rather than merely understood. The verses seemed

to invite me to witness action without being consumed by it, to

observe the difference between role and self, and to remain rooted

in awareness even when the outer process felt unsettling. What

appeared as an exit from a role became, in truth, an inner lesson in

patience, discernment, and non-reactivity.

Thanks & Regards,

Gopica

Scott: What an interesting drama at work, Gopica! It still makes

me wonder, along with your fellow workers, just what was going

on.

I had a perhaps similar experience when I was 22 and had

been training for 6 months of the probationary 12 to achieve tenure

in the Portland Fire Department. I was well suited to the job, and

first in my hire group in practical and written testing. It looked like

my career was assured. Out of nowhere I was called into the

lieutenant’s office. He seemed very nervous, shuffling papers and

visibly shaking, and he started making up trivial faults that made

no sense. (My one real fault was my eagerness to challenge

authority, which was not mentioned.) I was baffled about the point,

until he got to the line, “We’re going to have to let you go.”

Being kicked out hit me hard, and I’m pretty sure I hadn’t

heard Nataraja Guru’s advice yet, that if you get fired, you should

consider it a promotion. I was devastated. To make a long story

short, against all odds I wound up in a much safer, fun and relaxed

Department, and survived the hazards to retire with a pension.

Later I found out the reason for my firing: the Training

Chief’s son was 36 th on the hiring list, and the City had already

hired 35, and a new test was coming up. He was sure to wind up

far down on the new list, and the hiring spurt was ending, so he

likely would never be hired, if it didn’t happen immediately. He

took my place, so everything was hunky-dory.

It took two years, but eventually my part was hunky-dory

too.

I’m telling you about this because that session with my

lieutenant seems similar to your discussions with your Leader: all

smoke and mirrors. Author Robin Cody, in Ricochet River,

hilariously describes what he calls trying-to-say: his family beating

around the bush, never actually saying what they mean, yet making

it very clear what they mean. In other words, trying to say what

you want to say without saying it.

Something in us makes it hard to be straightforward and

honest about touchy subjects. It seems you are not like that,

Gopica, and the Gita supports your attitude, and has helped you.

By staying calm and not leaping to conclusions, a yogi often

gets a sense of the inner workings of people and events—a very

useful ability. My only suggestion is to not force yourself to be

non-reactive, but simply allow your curiosity to lead. Don’t be

defensive, because that blocks the input. It sounds like you already

have this well in hand.

Good luck becoming a consultant and working for yourself,

Gopica!

Bailey

Sacrifice is the theme.   – Holographic universe

Decisions based on idealism rather than the pain-pleasure

dichotomy; proactive vs reactive; compiulsion vs choice

“proving” one’s existence through behaviors/”stuff”; self-

doubt/self confidence

Steady on!  Middle ground principle

OurHaven, Meadowood, June 4

     I have just taken an action, deciding that our little cottage

alongside the woods, in the Meadowood Retirement Community,

shall be designated OurHaven (as our previous Charleston home,

wrenched away from us by floods of water, was

Loghouse).  “What’s in a name?” asks Shakespeare in a famous

line, going on “that which we call a rose, by any other name,

would smell as sweet.”  Irony, that mode of thought to which I

have been drawn as long as I can remember?  Or rather, an

honestly open question?  In childhood one learned the name “rose”

almost certainly in the same moment recognizing, with pleasure, a

smell; at various times along life’s journey one has bent to sniff a

flower in the expectation, or anyway hope, of again experiencing

the pleasure.  In my case, as recently as last Sunday, May 31, along

with Christine on last-May-excursion-this-year-in-France, to the

Jardin des Plantes, founded in Paris by royal decree about 1620;

memory whisks me back to the predawn cool of the boy-Guru

Maharaji’s rose garden in Hardwar in December 1971 when

Christine and I, in an early moment of our India excursion, helped

the disciple-team “gather the rosebuds”* not for any idealistic

reason or personal pleasure but for the profit of the organization’s

scent industry. As I remember, they did smell sweet –and were we

somehow reassured that we had chosen the right path? Can one

imagine a holographic alternative?  No doubt one could, but

why?  History happens, doesn’t it?  It goes on happening all the

time, whether we like it or not. In this case we enjoyed this

particular moment in the life of that particular ashram (the first

ever experienced by us) but soon decided to move on to other

experiences with our friends the Rainbow Gypsies (the house boat

in Benares, dancing in the moonlight on Goa beach) until the day

we sacrificed the wandering-exploring lifestyle choice to stay in

the gurukula in the Nilgiri mountains.

*Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

Old time is still a-flying

The self-same flower that smiles today

Tomorrow will be dying.

--Robert Herrick, Cavalier poet ca 1630, read (with pleasure) in

English 101, Williams College, Fall 1962

     Am I satisfied with the name I have suddenly plucked from the

universe of potential names to the cosy cottage to which I have just

returned after nearly six weeks?  Yes, it still sounds right (though

might not CosyCottage be better?).  The trip itself had aspects of

sacrifice.  For the first time no part of it was devoted to/justified by

working on the book project with Isabelle, caught between

unyielding career obligations and some health problems. So it was

all for pleasure, then?  True, I enjoy the eating and drinking,

visiting museums and exhibitions, recontacting old friends

(Charlotte, whom I must now think of as Patrick’s widow), making

new ones (Christine’s cousin Blandine), riding the TGV

(VeryFastTrain) and BateauBus (Boat Bus) up and down the Seine

was fun, and especially the deepening of my relationship with

friend-of-50-years Kathleen – but would I have chosen to make

this trip, the hassles or packing, getting on and off planes, had it

not been that for Christine being in Paris was non-negotiable and

she wanted me there with her?  I was free, of course, to decide to

do things on my own.  I could decide, for example, to rent a car

and drive to see places, to see people not easily accessible by train,

as I suggested I might.  But she has become increasingly skittish

about going about in automobiles, especially just the two of us, and

I made the decision, very early in the sojurn, that any such project

had to be sacrificed.  I am not here this time, I decided, to do things

for myself, but to accompany her, to encourage her to come out of

her comfort zone in Kathleen’s apartment and do things with

me.  In 1998 Christine made the bold decision to abandon the

career in which she was advancing, sell her Paris apartment, move

to Illinois and remarry me.  She has always been ambivalent –not, I

am persuaded, about the remarriage, but about living in the United

States.  To be more precise: not to be living surrounded by people

speaking French all the time.  Christine’s English is beyond good,

maybe even beyond excellent, and she reads in it with more

discernment than many Anglophones, even of our generation.  She

has a talent for languages, and English was her chosen path from

schooldays. French, though, is the basis of everything. She must

dwell for long periods amongst spoken French. She and Kathleen

(born a black girl in St Louis) go back and forth in the two

languages, as bilingual people tend to do, often not noticing, but I

have observed that French is usually the default mode.  Well,

Kathleen chose Paris, and chose French, 50 years ago, was married

to Jean-Claude who I never heard willingly speak English (he quite

understood it) and when they divorced and she set up in her own

apartment on the other side of the Louis XIV arch she continued to

look after him, as his health declined, with the generous love that is

fundamental in her character. I was there last year, this time in

June, to climb the six stairs with her and a bottle of champagne to

toast his birthday.  J-C died in September, just as she was leaving

to visit her family, and us, in the States.  I have made it a regular

practice to read to Christine every day in French –from a spiritual

book first thing in the morning (this past month Gilles Farcet short

essays on developing one’s inner ecology) and a literary work later

(we have begun Voltaire’s Candide).  But speaking to her in

French has never been the default mode for me – even during our

first marriage in the 70’s, when we were living in Paris.  I get

along well enough in French –though less well than I used to—and

am not motivated to improve it, unlike the days when I taught,

wrote, and published in it. Christine will correct my pronunciation

or grammatical faults, and mostly that is not a problem for

me.  When we are in French-speaking company it might mean that

I talk less, and that’s OK with me.  What I mean to convey here is

that for me there was an aspect of accepted, of chosen sacrifice in

these past weeks spent together with my wife in France.  By

myself, I would not have chosen to go – or I would have chosen to

do it all differently, rented a car to explore some corner I don’t

know (Alsace), gone to Italy or Spain, even taken the train to

Auxerre in Burgundy to celebrate with my old friend Christian

Sapin the 50 th  anniversary of launching together just the two of us

the archaeological excavation at Autun that launched his highly

successful research career. Even that, an overnight train excursion,

I sacrificed because I knew she wouldn’t want to go, and I didn’t

want to leave her even that briefly.  The one excursion I was

determined to make, to see the special exhibit in Troyes of a key

excavation “right up my alley” resulted from a newspaper article

she had brought to my attention when the exhibit opened in

February.  When I said to her: this weekend Kathleen hasn’t

scheduled anything for us to do together (Kathleen was going away

on her own): I’m going to go to Troyes, she at once said “I’ll go

with you” and right away I found a hotel for the next two nights

and we hopped on the train the next morning.  All was not

perfect.  The hotel was rather more of a walk from the center of

town than we liked (one discovery of this trip is that I cannot walk

as readily, and as far and as fast, as I used to) but we made it work,

and discovered beside the temporary exhibit a rather new museum

of modern art deriving from a donated private collection.  We

made it work for us, together.  This is the note I want to sound in

wrapping this up: I did not go to France this time for any of my

own reasons, or make most decisions based on my own

preferences, but to be as helpful as I could, given the

circumstances, to my wife who had to be in France for her own

existential reasons, and who wanted me with her.  My own reasons

were more pragmatic than anything else: we are a couple with a

long history, facing the changes and challenges that are part of

advancing age—it is better to face them together, while trying to

help each other continue to grow.  That all does sound more than a

bit idealistic, doesn’t it? But there is an element of sacrifice

involved (on her part too, certainly).  “With this renounced, thou

mayest enjoy”, so says the Isa Upanishad.  So perhaps it is not

wrong to say we are feeling for the Middle Ground.

June 5: A few more thoughts on rereading the verses and

commentary.  The fire of sacrifice.  Fire’s warmth, fire’s dance,

endlessly new –how endlessly reassuring to me. I have recounted

the moment in cold November Paris when, baffled by what actions,

what steps forward to take to make my day a success, I returned to

the apartment rue de la Voute, Paris XII, there was the fireplace,

there was the wood! I sacrificed the rest of the day to the fire and

was consoled.  Is not the moment of passage from the animal state

of our distant primate ancestors like Lucy over the threshold into

the human state the mastering of fire? A good movie on this

there: Quest for Fire. What I loved most about the Loghouse: the

great stone fireplace, the endless supply of free wood from our

own trees. The television, portal to the virtual world that has grown

so voracious in our times, sat small and modest beside it. The

evenings I would wrap potatoes in tin foil, place them in the

embers under the glowing logs, pull them out, the butter, the

salt...what luxury, what a high!  The  Isa Upanishad, after evoking

our bodies ending in ashes, urging us purpose and deed to

remember ends thus: “Oh Agni, by a goodly path to prosperity

lead us, thou god who knowest all the ways. Keep far from us

crooked-going sin. Most ample expression of adoration to thee

would we render.”  No fireplace in Cottage OurRefuge,

alas.  There is a big one in the main building, regularly lit in

winter.

     Sacrifice understood as a kind of getting high.  Thank you for

that, Scott, I like it!  Sex and the pleasures of flesh and mind best

enjoyed with sacrifice of restraint.  Indeed. Maybe you too

remember Richard Alpert, glutted by years of so many trips:

problem of getting high you always come down. Sacrifice

understood as yoga takes you beyond the ups and downs of

chemically-induced drug trips.  Be here now! Be here now! Be

here now!  Let it happen!  It happened for him in India.  Baba Ram

Dass, the sports cars, the golf games, the succession of cool,

sophisticated girlfriends now grieflessly sacrificed: look! he's

waving our way his friendly American wave.

      Scott, and fellow students, I want to say again how much

benefit I am deriving from travelling this bit of trail in your

company.  I appreciate your sincerity, your sometimes-moving

lucidity.  We are all living in an historical moment full of

confusion and stress, assailed by violence, shared bitter delusions

and outright, unashamed lies.  Let us remember Krishna’s clarity,

neutral benevolence, and steadfastness of purpose.  “The purpose

remember! The deed, remember!”  Again Isa Upanishad.  Scott,

thanks again for reminding: Narayana Guru and Tagore, Narayana

Guru and Gandhi.  (And now I am turning again to Thoreau,

Gandhi’s great inspiration).  “We are helpless, filled with

sorrow.”  So too said Swami Prajnapad.  And then blessed Arnaud

Desjardin’s work building the centers of “spiritual friendship” that

continue to flourish in France (and Quebec) fifteen years after

AD’s passing.  As Guru Nitya blessed your initiatives, Scott, and

those of his other West Coast disciples.  And let us remember, with

gratitude, Guru Prasad carrying on all these years the heritage of

the wisdom traditions that blesses us all.

Scott: Nitya loved the Shakespeare rose quote, Bailey—it’s very

Vedantic, distinguishing appellations from what they designate. Of

course, smell is another layer of sensory interpretation of the

unknown, but that’s not the point. In ordinary human concourse,

the essence has been all but abandoned. It’s a “blessing” of

civilization, if you’re looking for irony. Addressing objects directly

is much less important than it once was, back when the

tyrannosaurus you were riding might decide to turn around and eat

you.

Smell is more evocative of memory than the other senses;

possibly having evolved earlier. It’s fun how even the idea of smell

has carried you into the past, Bailey. You and Christine must have

been early participants with the boy-Guru, who drew several of

Nitya’s disciples away to him with his magnetic message, a year or

two later when he played the US market. You haven’t mentioned

him before. What did you take from him? From the Rainbow

Gypsies?

From my limited perspective, Bailey, you made history

sacred in your career, and continued doing so after, so it is a fine

example of yogic sacrifice, of bringing a subject to life. Bringing

life to the subject. Enjoying what you’re doing is central to making

it sacred, but you’re right: enjoyment not the same as indulgence.

Keeping one eye open on that is wise. Regardless, we don’t have to

sit there judging our behavior as yogic or not; that spoils the soup.

Just let it flow. It’s time for you to kick back, drenched in

satisfaction.

When you’re really cooking, doesn’t it come as a surprise

how your teaching pours out? Nitya, also a great teacher, used to

say that. He prepared well and knew his stuff, but then in a class he

became just another student attending on what came out of his

mouth. It sounds like expertise in action to me.

So, your recent attendance on Christine instead of yourself

could be thought of as a sacrifice, but framing it as what you really

wanted to do makes it more “pure,” in a sense. Do you really need

the “I’m doing this for her” motivation? It has to be pretty minor.

Hey, it’s fun, and challenging at times.

Close friends can usually sense that sort of dualism. The part

we can subtract most easily is the thought that we should be doing

certain better things that are being sidetracked by our good

behavior. The bliss of the holographic universe is present at all

times—there is no need to portion it out.

Worrying about it and then Christine eagerly agreeing to go

with you to Troyes, strikes me as an echo of other times you have

talked about, in your first trip through the Gita. It must be part of

the fun to be uncertain, and then suddenly certain. 

Your wrap up hits the right note, Bailey. The excursion

wasn’t about “you” yet it was important and worthwhile. Perfect

tens are rare at our age, but the mid to high single digits are

sufficient, don’t you think?

June 5. Ah yes, The Quest for Fire. I watched it of an

evening at the fire station—just the right venue. Our three-rig crew

subscribed to The Movie Channel for afterhours entertainment.

Most I used my time for “paid study hall,” including editing

Nitya’s books and playing my electric piano with headphones, but

I remember enjoying that movie.

Fire is a great friend and a terrifying enemy. I’ve been nearly

cooked a few times. With the global climate debacle, it could roar

over the hill any day now, and turn our existence to powder. Life

may end by combustion, after all.

I love this poem, newly relevant:

Fire and Ice

by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Sure, Ram Dass was a great inspiration, and I still have my well-

thumbed second edition of Be Here Now. His talks were broadcast

on WBAI in New York, that several friends would gather to listen

to. Wisdom for beginning infants. The Times were a-changing.

Where would we be without him? He grew up too, eventually. He

proved that endlessly taking LSD would not work, so I didn’t have

to find out for myself. A truly great soul, with faults like the rest of

us. His sophisticated girlfriends turned out to be fronts, but fronts

were essential even that recently, and we’re now being led by those

who want to bring them back.

Thank you for your note of appreciation, Bailey. We are

surrounded by the riches of our species, even as we are beset by

another raging herd of balrogs, full of passionate intensity. It seems

a shame for all our accomplishments to be dissolved, but as

Nataraja Guru once said, “If Shiva doesn’t demolish, Brahma

won’t get a chance to create again.” It’s been grand.