2026 Lesson 9 – CHAPTER III: Karma Yoga, v. 10-26

 

Bindu

 

1. Old-fashioned Thinking (Prajapati's Way) 

 

I often wait for the 'right circumstances' before acting, as if external factors must align for me to move forward. This comes from a belief that life is shaped from the outside rather than from consciousness. Krishna's upgraded perspective in the Gita shows that real progress happens when I act from inner clarity instead of dependency or fear. 

I was brought up in an old‑fashioned, Prajapati‑style environment. In childhood, what you see and absorb becomes deeply rooted, even without direct teaching. In school and college, we couldn't openly show interest in boys because it was considered improper and damaging to one's 'character,' which was seen as essential for a suitable arranged marriage. Being in love simply wasn't part of the vocabulary during those times. A good marriage depended on staying away from boys and maintaining a certain reputation. We accepted it not because anyone lectured us, but because that was the culture we observed. 

Even during those times, many girls who grew up in India and later came to the UK still ended up marrying someone chosen by their parents back home. It has become a pattern—almost a custom. Perhaps that is part of the reason I also married the way I did. It wasn't that my husband personally insisted on marrying someone from India; it was his parents who felt he must marry a girl from Kerala, believing she would live an obedient, traditional, old‑fashioned life. 

Looking back, I can see how much of this mindset was inherited rather than consciously chosen—exactly what the Gita calls the old worldview. Krishna's teaching invites us to re‑examine these ingrained patterns and move from external control to inner freedom. 

 

2. Superstitious or Unquestioned Beliefs 

 

One belief many people talk about is the idea of the evil eye. It isn't part of any one religion; I've seen people from completely different cultures believe in it. 

• Christians often say 'touch wood' after mentioning something good—culturally, this is meant to prevent bad luck. 
• Muslims say 'masha Allah,' expressing admiration while preventing envy from causing harm. 
• Hindus say 'bless you' or similar phrases, sometimes using gestures like touching the forehead or applying a tilak for protection. 

I also use these phrases mainly to comfort the person I am speaking to. Even after reading this section of the Gita, I suspect I will still say them because I don't want others to feel uncomfortable. Change begins only when you consciously start within yourself—but habits like these are so deep‑rooted that stopping them is not easy. 

When I reflect on it, these expressions are less about religious teaching and more about emotional comfort. They make the speaker feel safe, and they reassure the listener. These habits have been passed down through generations, so deeply rooted that we use them automatically without questioning why. 

Superstitions like these are endless. People hold on to them because they offer psychological relief, a sense of control, or a feeling of protection. In many ways, they help us cope with uncertainty. 

But from a yogic or Gita perspective, these beliefs arise from fear rather than clarity. The Gita encourages us not to depend on external rituals or protective phrases, but to cultivate inner awareness, understanding, and strength. It gently invites us to examine these inherited patterns and ask whether they are truly necessary—or simply comforting habits we cling to without thinking. 

 

3. A Moment of Life Change 

 

Change is a natural part of life. Everything in this universe is moving—particles inside us and the world outside us—and this is something I slowly began to understand through my interest in manifestation. I realised that the seeds we plant in our mind are the seeds that grow. Just like a lawn, if we don't take care of it, weeds appear; over time, those weeds can take over and destroy the lawn completely. In the same way, if I don't pay attention to my inner world, negative thoughts can grow and overpower me. 

A turning point came when I realised that the elevation of thought is not a one‑day practice. It must be continuous. We clean our body every day because it is visible and obvious, but the mind requires even deeper cleaning. If the mind becomes cluttered or dark, light cannot enter; and without light, there is no radiance in our thoughts, actions, or life. 

This realisation led me to the Gita. I understood that spiritual growth is like maintaining a garden—constant attention, awareness, and nourishment are needed. The Gita helped me recognise that true transformation begins inside. When the mind becomes clear, the light naturally spreads through both mind and body, lifting me to a higher way of living. 

 

4. Understanding Detachment 

 

Earlier, I thought detachment meant becoming distant from my duties to family or work. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by my dedication to both, and in those moments I want to run away from everything. During such times, I even book holidays thinking that if I go somewhere else, I can detach from all responsibilities and find peace. 

But through Krishna's teaching, I realised that this is not real detachment. Krishna clarifies that detachment means acting with clarity, without anxiety about results. It means staying engaged, but with a calm and balanced mind. 

True detachment is not withdrawal or escape—it is the ability to remain centred even while fulfilling responsibilities. Detached action leads us toward the Supreme because it is free from fear, pressure, and craving. It is a state where actions come from steadiness, not stress. Instead of running away from life, detachment helps us face life with inner peace. 

 

5. Additional Reflection 

The Gita teaches a powerful shift: from a world controlled by gods → to a world guided by consciousness.
This gives me back my own freedom and responsibility. It helps me live fully without fear or pressure, and makes my actions more peaceful and meaningful. Krishna explains that the highest way to live is through unitive action—acting with intelligence, calmness, and without attachment. This kind of action is not about controlling others. Instead, it brings harmony and makes life better for everyone. The wise person does not force their ideas on others, show superiority, or try to "fix" people. These behaviours come from insecurity, not from true wisdom. Unitive action respects different viewpoints while staying grounded in clarity and kindness. It avoids fanaticism, judgement, and moral arrogance.This does not mean we passively accept harm. Discernment is still important. But the Gita invites us to align with the natural intelligence and generosity already present in life. When we do this, kindness arises naturally, action becomes creative, and responsibility becomes joyful instead of heavy.

In this way, action changes from a burden into a form of freedom.

 

Love Bindu x

 

Scott: That’s right, Bindu, Prajapati is alive and well even in our time, despite 2,000 years of Krishna’s advice to move on to a more scientific orientation. Fortunately, it’s “good enough,” most of the time.

         For most of history, marriages were arranged. The “love marriage” goes back only about 100 years, and it isn’t more successful than the other kind. But keeping the sexes separate during youth is an unfortunate way to compound our ignorance. Love marriages have a better chance of success if the lovers are well educated, and that isn’t always supported by the culture.

         The world seems to be sliding back into mystification of the Other, in all its forms, after a short period of inviting its participation and integration.

         We can’t much affect the tides of humanity, but we can stand above them to some degree, and that’s what Krishna is advocating. A lot of unnecessary suffering comes from intentional ignorance, reinforced by pseudo-religious ideals, energized by—let’s face it—hormonal derangement.

         For the second exercise, I was hoping to get beyond those simple-minded cultural expressions to true distortions of the psyche. Even I use “knock on wood” sometimes, as another way of saying “let’s hope so,” and it doesn’t involve any superstition on my part. There are other cultural habits that distort life significantly, and marriage stipulations are a very good example you raised. When we question why we believe in something, we may find it is grounded in habits that were enforced by purportedly divine decrees long, long ago, and are still in play in the unquestioned parts of our lives. Your last sentence in part 2 perfectly sums up what I was getting at.

         You’re right, Bindu, the Gita is an excellent cleansing agent for our thinking, and spiritual life is a lot like maintaining a garden within. Before he ever became my official Guru, Nitya wrote me, in 1971: “My lot is of a clumsy old gardener who cuts and prunes the bushes and hunts out the vermin and the fungus that come to destroy the delicate buds of his blossoming bushes.”

         Beautiful description of detachment, Bindu. Wanting to run away from everything reminded me of a favorite passage from Nitya, in That Alone, page 145:

 

   When I was a student, I felt very miserable. The whole college situation seemed meaningless, so I wrote a letter to my principal stating I was going away. He sent back a note asking me to come and see him before I left. When I went to his office, he invited me to lunch with his wife and him. He said “It’s a fine thing that you want to leave on finding that this place is not meaningful to you anymore. That’s very good. But tell me, when you go away, are you going to take your mind with you also, or are you going to leave that here?”

   “Surely I take my mind with me wherever I go.”

   “That means you’ll be taking the same sorrow, sadness, suspicion, doubts, misery, everything with you. It will be the same in the place where you go because you are taking all this with you. If you can leave your mind here and run away from it, fine.”

   This is so true. I get letters almost every day from people who say that they want to get away, to run away. Go away where? We think all the misery is because we are with certain people and certain situations. When we move away it will again be a wonderful world. If you can create a wonderful world in another place, you can create it where you are now, too.

   Ultimately, what is? Only the light from within you, which is illuminating your life. What is illuminated becomes colored, darkened by the venom that comes from within your own previous conditionings. You become entangled in your conditioned misconceptions. But if we look back to the source of illumination, we become less affiliated with the murkiness around us.

   It’s up to us to make our world miserable or beautiful.

 

A round of applause for your Additional Reflection, Bindu. Words to remember!

 

Gopica

 

Luckily my households did not have much superstitious beliefs except for the rituals that we follow during festivities and new moon/full moon day.

I had seen those rituals done to maintain the harmony at our home abiding the elders, few started fading away when they had left us physically.

 

The Contract vs Consciousness Clash

In my final feedback session, the leader shared: "Everything cannot be written in contracts."

My American corporate frame (10+ years of crystal-clear roles) met a new reality:

Contract said: Training, counselling, supervision = my role

Collaborators claimed: "That's our domain"

Leader's vision: Fluid alignment beyond paper

 

Karma Yoga Mirror (Verses 10-26)

Old Gopica: "Show me the contract!"

New Gopica: "Serve the greater purpose."

 

The U-turn confusion → Krishna's teaching: "Work for the work's sake, not personal gain"

Unitive Attitude Born

Disappointment transformed into learning. This community-focused workplace demands heart alignment over paperwork.

My role: Serve the greater good, not protect my scope.

 

Verse 25 Resonance:

"As the ignorant act with attachment, the wise should act without attachment, for world welfare."

Takeaway: Contracts define minimums. Consciousness expands possibilities. 

Karma Yoga = selfless service beyond superstition and rigid frames.

 

Thanks & Warm Regards,

Gopica

 

Scott: I love the recounting of your work problem, Gopica, and how it fits with the Gita’s teaching. That’s exactly the point of sharing this wisdom: to make it real in our everyday life.

         You are fortunate to have a wise leader, who invites you to a more expansive outlook. Many managers are constrained to limited actions, and pass that mentality along to their subordinates. In the mistaken idea of being helpful guidance, individual initiative is being drained out of public life by an explosion of rules.. Doctors and others are forced to follow strict guidelines instead of including their own intuition, and much is lost. It’s good you have encouragement to give your best in your job. We’ll love to hear more of how you apply the teachings in future lessons, Gopica.

 

Bailey

 

     Thanks, Scott, for the quotation from Verse 95, That Alone.  My copy of that book did survive the Great Flood that ended our Loghouse years, and I will reread the whole chapter.  And thanks, Bindu, for your very lucid recounting of/reflecting on your story. “Growth does not come from avoiding life, but from engaging with it wholeheartedly, even when the path feels uncertain.”  Words that resonate with me!  Encouraging words! As for Scott’s comment that Eve made the right choice – well, even Milton’s Paradise Lost can regard the Fall as in some essential sense Fortunate.  Satan in that poem is indeed the most interesting character, whose rebelliousness tends to draw our sympathies.  But I would be wary, myself, of embracing the Serpent’s advice as disinterested words of wisdom.  Go for it, Eve!  Go for the power, see as God sees and then do what you want!  “You”?  as opposed to “God”? or to “me” – after all “our” interests aren’t exactly the same are they? “You”, “me” “I” – a cacophony of conflicting, guna-nourished desires, resentments, urges,  fears, longings etc etc.  Isn’t this Ego 101: welcome to duality, folks!  The idea of Satan as a master humorist is attractive, too.  The Trickster of Divinity Land!  The poet Robert Frost once rhymed: “Oh Lord forgive the little tricks that I have played on Thee/and I’ll forgive the great big joke that you have put on me.”   Let us beware, though, of appropriating for oneself a phrase, at a particular moment,  by a poet, a phrase that suited his mood at some particular moment (changeable, those moments), mood for which for which he found a nifty rhyme.  Bravo Robert Frost! Er, what was that joke?  Does it amount to some variant of the “poor me”lament?  I better like another of your brief poems:  “The way a crow/shook down on me/dust of snow/from a hemlock tree/has given my heart a change of mood/and saved some part/of a day I had rued.”

     

     Scott’s prompt: discuss a moment when you took a resolve to change the course of your life in an important way. I am thinking about this in regard to verse 19’s challenge to “engage in actions that are necessary”.  In my last response I recalled how our sojourn in India and contact with Nataraja Guru clarified for me that finishing my thesis was my necessary action, and how, after our return to France that was accomplished (with help from family and friends). What then? I recounted how I found myself in another moment of paralysis: standing on a Paris street corner on a cold November day (1979, as I now remember) unable to decide which way to go.  The necessary action that day turned out to be accepting that my conscious brain was defeated and to allow underlying consciousness (reference here to Scott’s comments on EO Wilson and verse 15) to lead me back to the comfort of the dancing fire in my hearth.  Then what?  A larger course of action to resolve upon?  Ah.  In fact that resolution had already been taken, back in August. In the course of a weekend together in our little Burgundy cottage Christine, back from India where she had become involved with a Gurukula friend (Jean Letschert) and I (who had become involved during that summer’s excavations with an American student, Kitch) decided that our paths had to separate, at least for a time.  We discovered we could do this without anger, without rancor, without foreclosing the future.  We agreed that in some deeper sense whatever our marriage meant it would continue to mean, whatever else we did. So, I would join Kitch for the Christmas holidays in her native North Carolina and then bring her back to Paris with me.  Christine would move out of our apartment –as it happened she moved in with Kathleen, the same friend we will be rejoining in Paris in a few weeks. Looking back from here, how naïve, how reckless it all seems! The other, larger practical questions: how to survive, what future to plan, how to prepare for...  we would deal with all that on an as-best-we-can, one-thing-at-a-time basis.  I could make some money teaching English as I continued to build my career as an archaeologist, to look for grants, for jobs in France or the USA.  Yes, we were living precariously.  But it felt right – or perhaps what I mean to say is that it felt like the necessary way to go.  Where you are going you don’t always know. Nonetheless, you have to put your trust somewhere.  Wasn’t that how we came to decide to go to India?

          

        There are three subsequent moments when I came to a resolution and acted upon it that I shall discuss here.  Of course there was the divorce (1982) and remarriage (1983) decisions, yes, but neither was really my resolution: it was clear what Kitch wanted and I went along. (Christine went along too, though she would not herself have requested divorce; we used the same lawyer, an archaeological chum of mine, and after the judgment walked to a favorite café on the Ile St. Louis to share an ice cream treat.  My first moment of deliberate resolve occurred when Kitch and I were staying with archaeological chums near Aix-en-Provence late summer 1984.  They had rather energetic two-year-old twin boys. Kitch took advantage of a moment we were by ourselves to propose: let’s have a baby!  I knew in that instant that it was necessary for me to choose (I can still see the look in her eyes, a look that was also a promise; the thought of fatherhood had always scared me): I said OK, yes.  I did have a temporary teaching job in a French university at that point; maybe it could be made permanent?  My archaeological credentials were getting stronger. The chances of a teaching job in America were starting to look a little better. Our life were still precarious, but not hand-to-mouth.  All of this, and much more was back there somewhere in consciousness when the conscious brain and my voice said Yes, I agree to having a baby. I knew it was now or never, and that Kitch was sure of her desire and reliable to live up to it: that I could count on her as a mother, take a chance on myself as a father.   

      

         The second moment: late summer 1987, a restaurant in the mountain town of Grenoble, where my oldest French friends, Michel and Geraldine, were then living.

 I had met them in back 1969, before they were married, just before I myself met Christine. They had been witnesses at our 1974 Flavigny wedding; when I told them Christine and I were separating Michel strenuously sought to dissuade me (“sell French fries on the beach and stay together!”); but they embraced Kitch and their house was among the first to welcome baby Emma (born Feb 28, 1986).  That day we had driven back into France from Italy, where we had been visiting artist friends near the Carrara marble quarries, accompanied by my mother.  I was driving, en route to taking her to Paris for her return flight.  Michel fixed my eye. Now, what is your plan? No one knew better than they all the angles of my situation in France, knew our history too, and our personalities.  My teaching gig at Lille had ended not long after Emma’s birth; I had been unemployed the past year; the chances of another job coming up anytime soon were not promising. And I was past 40.  “We think it is time to cut bait here, seek your future in the USA.”  I wasn’t expecting to hear it put so bluntly with my mother there, too. I wasn’t really surprised, though.  For a year I had been wavering, focused on the demands and the wonders of being a full-time father to a new baby, especially in a house where my polio-handicapped wife couldn’t carry her down the stairs to the kitchen. In the summer the excavations demanded, and rewarded, my energies, so it was possible to avoid too much thinking, then, consciously, about what needed to be done longer term. But also impossible not to think about it.   All these years I had managed to hang on in France—could I just leap the Atlantic now, blindly, with my family? Michel and Geraldine’s challenge that evening helped my resolution.  Yes, that was the necessary action to take.  A leap of faith? (Like returning from India in 1973?) Well, we could stay in North Carolina with Kitch’s mother and we had friends, too.  Friend Carole got me a kind of visiting faculty status at UNC, where she was professor; a car was made available by other friends, on unlimited loan. My work, its originality, my archaeological credentials were better known now, in medieval circles; I gave invited lectures. A medievalist I met at the History convention at New Year’s arranged for a one-year visiting job at Chicago-Loyola; there would be money, through a small foundation, to support my returning to France in the summer for the excavations...  I had gambled and was getting my chance, getting by, as the Beatles had sung, with a little help from your friends.

     The third moment takes us to the Spring of 1994.  The Loyola year had been followed by a two-year non-tenure-track appointment at Assumption College in Worcester, Mass.  I had succeeded in getting this extended –a third year, a fourth—as the History Department was happy enough to have me to support my unprecedented promotion (as non tenure-track) to Associate Professor.  I was publishing, giving papers at conferences, working with the Director of the French Institute to create a program in France (the Assumptionists are a French order).  I was on the lookout for tenure-track jobs, of course.  One was announced in 1992 at Eastern Illinois University, then withdrawn.  I loved fathering Emma so much that when Kitch proposed taking advantage of our generous insurance to follow up I said sure, and in March 1991 Zachary Lewis was born. Not a tough decision this time—though we were still precariously situated I had gained confidence in myself as a husband, a father, a scholar, a practicing archaeologist... And perhaps a confidence in the Tao?  Then, in the Fall of 1991 the bottom fell out in family life.  What I can say here is that Kitch and her siblings (two sisters and a brother) began to have “recovered memories” of childhood sexual abuse.  One sister’s marriage was destroyed; the other became alcoholic, was abandoned by her husband; the brother killed himself.  Kitch survived, with help from therapy and from our church. She remained a good strong mother, but our relationship suffered.  I became depressed.  I saw a therapist and began taking an anti-depressant.  I was lucky in my therapist. He helped me see how deeply-rooted my own problems were.  Though oppressed by dread as the winter of 1994 deepened with no certainty that Assumption would rehire me another year I soldiered on as best I could.  Then in February came a phone call from the Chairman of the History Department at Eastern Illinois University.  They had just gotten a green light to reopen the search for a medievalist. Was I interested?  Two weeks later I was on a plane to Charleston.  I was prepared. I was confident in my abilities, in my credentials.  No need to wonder now about necessary actions—act.  Soon after my return to Worcester I was offered, and accepted, a tenure-track job 19 years after obtaining my PhD.  At age 50. In March I attended a scholarly conference where I met, for the first time in years, Bernard W, my thesis co-director at Penn.  This calls for celebration!  The inner voice warns: you’re not supposed to drink alcohol while taking these anti-depressants.  OK – let’s throw away the anti-depressants.  Don’t need them anymore!  So is that the resolution? Not exactly, though I did drink Guiness with Bernard and friends that evening instead taking the pill (and had a very interesting, quasi-psychedelic night, and was later chided for stopping abruptly & cold-turkey instead of tapering off.)  The resolution came in May, when at my request Kitch and I met together with her therapist, my therapist and a third one we didn’t know—a marriage counselor, perhaps.  It was time to prepare for the move to Illinois, to a future that for the first time looked un-precarious and viable.  My resolution, I told them all, was to stop therapy for myself.  I would not look for another therapist in Illinois.  I was duly grateful for the help I had received; now I was resolved to take full responsibility for myself.

     There have been ups and downs since August 1994 –there always are, aren’t there?  The marriage with Kitch failed  (or did it? perhaps it is fair to say it had just come to the end of its line, but we again used the same lawyer for our divorce, agreed on financial arrangements, agreed to cooperate as fully as possible in raising the kids – “putting their interests first”—and I believe we have both kept our word.  We are friends today, Christine and I, with Kitch and her husband Bruce.) The second marriage with Christine, celebrated in Charleston in the Fall of 1998, continues.

 

       Meanwhile Donald Trump continues to sow havoc, suffering and destruction.  Thank you Scott and Deb for taking a stand at the No Kings rally—a number of Meadowood residents attended the one here.  I take heart as I close this response on Easter day that Leo XIV, our new Pope who is a fan of the Chicago White Sox, spoke out so clearly and forcefully today in Rome against war and the habit of seeking to solve problems with violence.

 

Scott: It’s wonderful how the Gita is prompting you to review your life, Bailey. You’re at the right stage for it. Curiously, I just prepped Atmo verse 64 for our in-person class, and that That Alone chapter has a lot about memory. You might find it timely. I always remember a short paragraph in it that includes:

 

Memory recall affects your nervous system. When I was writing The Fable of a Yati, my autobiography, and reaching deep into my memories, it was very painful. When I told Nataraja Guru that I was writing my autobiography, he said, “You are very young. You can wait until you grow old.”

 

A lot of it is about detachment from memories, so maybe don’t bother. You’re on a roll revisiting your history, and it seems now’s the time. Go for it!

         Speaking of which, it’s great to see the Pope standing for sanity and peaceful reconciliation, in a world gone insane once again. It’s one thing that’s different from the Nazi playbook at center stage. And presumably the Pope’s in a job where he can’t be fired by Trump for daring to care.

         I wonder if the perennial madness, with its vivid threats, makes such old stuff as the Gita seem irrelevant? We may be forced to go back to survival mode, while matters of the heart are stamped out. It’s impossible to forget Orwell’s conclusion in 1984:

 

“There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always— do not forget this, Winston— always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless.

   “If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face— forever.”

 

I have found the philosophy to be immaculately restorative. So far. For me at least, 9/11 was our Reichstag fire, and I woke up nauseous every morning. But I had Love and Blessings to edit and upgrade, and it took me two full years. I put in at least two hours every day, and by the end of the session, I was restored to what passes for my normal: balanced, resolute, and guardedly optimistic. The next morning, I would again wake up drenched in dread of the implacability of hate. I knew I had never accurately anticipated the future, so I hoped I was wrong. Like you with your archaeology, I had Nitya and Nataraja’s genius to delve into, dig up and preserve. I’m not unlike an alcoholic, needing a daily dose of wisdom to keep me well. I still medicate myself constantly, and these classes are part of my maintenance program. Glory Hallelujah!

         Here’s a favorite Frost poem for you:

 

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.

 

Gita 2026 Lesson 8 - CHAPTER III: Karma Yoga Unitive Action, v 1-9

 Bindu

Chapter 3 ( 1-9) of the Bhagavad Gita reminded me that life cannot

be paused, avoided, or held at a distance. Action is always

unfolding, even when we convince ourselves that doing nothing is

safer. Arjuna’s confusion felt deeply familiar to me because I, too,

have often hesitated to act when I could not clearly see the

consequences or when a task felt overwhelming. One of the most

significant examples in my life is the opportunity I had twenty

years ago to join the finance team at my company and earn an

accounting degree for free. I wanted to take that step, but I allowed

myself to be discouraged by a colleague who insisted that my

regular holidays in India would make it impossible. My best friend

Alicia, who was already working in finance, encouraged me to

join, but I ignored her advice. This remains the only regret I carry.

Alicia went on to embrace every learning opportunity the company

offered, and after taking redundancy, she joined the BBC finance

team. When I look back now, I sometimes joke that I “listened to

the devil,” much like Eve in the old story, and the humour in that

softens the sting of regret. Yet Krishna’s teaching—that

knowledge and action must be united—speaks directly to this

moment in my life. I now understand that I grow most when I

engage with life directly, even when it feels messy or uncertain,

rather than allowing fear or hesitation to guide me.

My journey has also been shaped by periods of loneliness

and distraction. When I came to the UK in my twenties, I left

behind my friends, my education, and the familiar rhythms of

home. I felt inexperienced in running a household, especially since

back home my only responsibility had been to study. Everything

here felt new, strange, and emotionally distant. Even though I was

surrounded by people, I often felt alone, and the recent addition of

extended family did not ease the solitude I carried inside. As

technology grew, I found comfort in social media—WhatsApp

groups, school groups, college friends, and endless online

conversations. These connections felt exciting, almost intoxicating,

and for a while they filled the emotional gaps in my life. But like

all things shaped by Maya, the excitement was shortlived.

Eventually, I realised that I had become tangled in distractions that

pulled me away from my own existence here. When that awareness

came, I withdrew from everything that once absorbed me and

entered a kind of capsule focused on building my career and

rediscovering myself.

This shift in focus brought its own lessons. I remember

turning down a higher job offer because it did not feel fair to

others, and in that moment I recognised how much I had grown

from the mistakes of my past. My biggest breakthroughs have

always come after failing, reflecting, and choosing differently.

Accepting mistakes as part of my growth has helped me remain

calmer and more confident in both my work and personal life.

Instead of seeing failure as something to hide, I now see it as a

teacher—one that has shaped my resilience, my clarity, and my

sense of purpose.

The chapter’s teaching on sacrifice also resonated deeply

with me. For much of my life, I believed sacrifice meant giving

something up or doing something unpleasant for someone else.

Now I understand it differently. Sacrifice can be a freely chosen

action, something done from a place of integrity rather than

obligation. It can mean dedicating time to help a colleague,

focusing on my health, or learning a new skill—not because I

must, but because I choose to grow and contribute. When I act

from this place of intention, I feel more alive, more grounded, and

more connected to the world around me. This shift in

understanding has transformed the way I approach my

responsibilities and relationships.

Ultimately, Chapter 3, verses 1–9, reminds me that spiritual

growth is not about escaping life but participating fully in it—with

awareness, balance, and intention. Life becomes richer when

thought and action are aligned, when choices are made

consciously, and when I act without clinging to every outcome. My

journey—from regret to reflection, from distraction to clarity, from

obligation to chosen action—mirrors the very teachings Krishna

offers Arjuna. Growth does not come from avoiding life, but from

engaging with it wholeheartedly, even when the path feels

uncertain. Through this understanding, I continue to learn how to

live with purpose, courage, and a deeper sense of inner freedom.

Love Bindu x

Scott: Good story about your regret about the finance team, Bindu.

We aren’t very good at listening to our authentic inner voice, and

have learned in childhood to pay attention to what others are

telling us. There’s no sharp line between them, but in spiritual life

we slowly learn to pay more heed to our inner inclinations. If

nothing more, they need to be taken into account. This chapter

focuses on at least making our choices freer than our polite

obedience to other people might dictate.

Eve didn’t listen to the “Devil,” she listened to the serpent. If

you read Genesis closely, the serpent was the wise one who told

the truth, and Yahweh lied, trying to prevent the humans from

becoming like gods, knowing good and evil, and becoming

immortal. I like to imagine that gods and demons speak through

humans (who are oblivious of it, for the most part), and we should

consider that what we hear might be one or the other (symbolically

speaking, of course), but it’s still up to us to make our own

decisions.

Eve made the right choice! Curmudgeons and woman-haters

have always tried to curse her, but we should not accede to their

prejudice.

Chapter III is headed toward an upgrading of action to free

choice grounded in the Absolute:

17) But for those who happen to be attached to the Self alone,

who find full satisfaction in the Self—for those who are happy

in the Self as such, there is nothing that they should do.

18) Neither is there anything indeed for them resulting from

work done, nor anything from work omitted here, nor is there

either for them any dependence in respect to anything derivable

from any being whatsoever.

19) Therefore always remain detached, engage yourself in

actions that are necessary; indeed, performing actions with

detachment one attains to the Supreme.

There are so many distractions these days, for us to get

entangled in! The detachment advised here is what you chose,

Bindu, when social media no longer felt fulfilling. I definitely

support turning the arrow of interest inward, toward the heart.

There is so much entertainment, that it takes a long time to wean

ourselves away from our youthful attachment to it, but then the

depth and meaningfulness we encounter more than makes up for

what we have given up.

It took me a very long time to realize the Gita’s wisdom

sacrifice, the highest sacrifice of all, amounted to freely chosen

activity. “Sacrifice” literally means “making sacred.” Of course

you would feel “more alive, more grounded, and more connected

to the world around” from that type of action. You will find plenty

of support in the Gita study; we’re just getting started.

Your concluding paragraph is spectacular, BIndu—may it be

realized by all seekers of truth. Everyone benefits when a person

becomes fully engaged with their true nature.

I just ran across an excerpt on the Devil from Nitya’s

commentary on verse 95, in That Alone. Narayana Guru is trying

to get us to be more lighthearted:

What if you said the Devil was in charge of the science of humor?

Really, he is. Mark Twain and others have had that insight. In Man

and Superman, Bernard Shaw describes how Satan found that the

number of people in Hell was increasing at a terrific rate. He took a

roll-call to find out why there was such a burst of population, and he

found that many were migrants from Heaven. He asked them, “What

is wrong with Heaven? Why didn’t you stay there?” Everyone

answered it was very boring in Heaven. All you could do was be

reverential and sit and mumble prayers all the time. But in Satan’s

world everything was very humorous and there was plenty of variety.

Gopica

Dear Scott,

Greetings! and thank you.

An anxious flicker stirred in my core upon reading your note about

you and Deb heading to the No Kings protest.

Rationalizing it as wisdom and action perfectly aligned brought a

settling peace.

My Evolving Definition of Sacrifice

My understanding of sacrifice has transformed over time. As a

child, it meant skipping a meal on Thursdays for God's blessings

through fasting. In college, it involved giving up holidays to clean

an ancient temple as part of NSS service. As a mother, it was

attending to my daughter's needs despite personal discomforts.

Professionally, it felt like switching my thinking to follow a

leader's rules.

With the last few years in being part of Atmo group by Nancy,  I

see sacrifice as aligning with harmony;an anchor amid personal

and professional chaos.

Overcoming Obstacle Through Harmony, Not Conflict

"Life is not a problem to be solved but an adventure to be lived."

Recently, as Project Lead for  Mental Health Wellness initiative, I

faced this truth. The second batch of volunteers was trained in

Transactional Analysis (TA-simple, accessible concepts for

layperson reflection and entry-level counselling). Mentors

expected me to sustain energy among new trainees and existing

volunteers, while the leader tasked me with hospitality

coordination via a dedicated team. I trained them on this too,

shuttling between the hall, participating in sessions, addressing

trainers' needs and stakeholders inside/outside and ensuring

smooth logistics. The leader joined most days, except one.

The next day, she noticed me seated near the door and urged me to

join the group. I explained I'd move once tasks cleared, and did so.

Post-training reflection turned tense. She revisited it, insisting I

focus more on learning from the Trainers, share mentor insights

from her absent day not the "mishap" that was shared in her

personal window, and model vulnerability as a role model for the

new group to see me as an equal. She shared that she had not

experienced and that was her expectations and to be followed

going forward. She noted I must wear "efficient leader, responsible

leader, psychological leader" shoes as needed, 

I gently shared my 1-2 minute body-relaxation exercise: spotting

tightness from the prolonged first-day session, I jumped in to ease

it (informing the mentor why). With 7+ years in TA (now

preparing for CTA) and the sessions feeling like a refreshing

review, watching trainees apply concepts was blissful and I felt

misunderstood. She also suggested me toward the group's

recommended counsellor, despite my established personal one

(used as needed). 

Pressure built; my nodding hid inner turmoil. Tears welled sharing

with my husband, my go-to buddy. He gently prompted me to

examine my thinking with no more words.

Recalling Tai Chi's principle-yield to life, absorb, redirect to

harmonize,I chose unitive action. I yielded to her expectations,

absorbed my discomforts (rationalizing them), and am still in the

process of harmonizing - getting my thoughts in to action . No

fight, no dismantling just high-purpose strength, turning obstacle

into adventure.

Scott: You’re right, Gopica: many people are afraid to be seen

supporting democracy, as they could get in serious trouble,

especially depending on their skin color or native place of birth. So

us old people who are retired have to show up for them, as well as

for ourselves. It seems that the few troublemakers have dropped

out of sight, which is a relief. Our demonstrations are vastly

peaceful, and that has always been the point.

Yes, yoga is wisdom in action, and there is a wide range of

opportunities to exercise it. I’m glad you are finding it and anchor

for you. I often wonder what I would have done without it, and feel

fortunate to not have to find out.

I guess I’m too old to fully understand your problem at work,

but it boils down to coping with some bossing from a leader,

something we’re all familiar with. It sounds like you are handling

it well, though there is nothing easy about it. Often ego domination

is a factor, so it may be intentionally insulting, even when

politeness is maintained.

In a recent Class Notes from our in-person class, I shared

Guru Nitya’s advice he got from Nataraja Guru. It’s very fierce,

and you don’t need to take it too seriously, but the premise is

worthwhile. It was a transformative moment for me, when I heard

this. You probably have read it in Nancy’s Atmo class, from That

Alone verse 59:

        When I first came to my Guru, I had plenty of trouble with

people, with my fellow disciples. Guru called me and said, “I

shall give you a secret: allow the other to be victorious. If

somebody fights you, let you be the vanquished and not the

victor.” I found there is nothing more helpful than this, to be

vanquished and not to become victorious. Just say, “You have

the upper hand. Let all the glory be yours. I shall lie in the

dust.” It is very difficult, but it works. You don’t make any

claim. You don’t indulge in any feelings of martyrdom. You

just give up.

         The basic truth rests on this: there is only One and not a

second. If there is someone to be punished, it is only you. If

there is someone to be corrected, it is also just you. ‘You’

means ‘me’. In my personal life I correct the other by

correcting myself. I punish the other by punishing myself. I

silence the other by going into silence myself. I bring peace to

the other by making myself peaceful. I bring happiness to the

other by making myself happy. It is a very intimate experience,

to work with one’s self. And it is the one place where you can

conveniently work, where your volition, your knowledge and

your feeling are all at hand, at the very source from which the

idea ‘I’ comes.

So good you have a supportive husband, too. Tears are fine: they

are doorways into our deeper feelings. Let them flow, and let

healing come naturally, with time.

Sure, Gopica, be yielding, but also stand up for yourself,

without anger. Chapter IV closes with Krishna instructing Arjuna

to stand up, as a yogi, and that’s where we’re headed, too.

Venkat

Thank you for adding me to the Gita Class - 2026. As you know, I

am behind and trying to catch up.  I am pondering on Arjuna

Vishada Yoga. I read Natraja Guru’s, and Guru Nitya’s

commentaries (introduction + chapter 1 ) to help me start on the

right foot. I realize, as I write, that writing or rather the question of

what to write ? -  helps me ponder in depth. 

Why call Chapter 1 as Arjuna Vishada Yoga but start it from the

name Dhritarashtra ? Why does it begin with righteousness as its

first dialogue ? What is righteousness to Dhritarashtra ? In fact,

what is righteousness? These were the questions that arose in me

initially.  For two days, I was carried away by the verses depicting

the conch blown in the battlefield. I was searching for pictures

depicting Krishna and Arjuna blowing their conches together. And

then it struck me-perspectives. 

From the very beginning of the chapter, Dhritarashtra,

Duryodhana, Arjuna (to an extent), and all in the battlefield, are

blinded by their relative perspectives. Some are blinded to an

extent of losing their lives for the benefit of their Kings. Amidst all

the chaos, the only sound in unison is of Krishna and Arjuna. I felt

it as a foreshadowing. But reading Guru Nitya’s commentary, I

believe, it is in alignment with the meaning of Yoga (to yoke), and

the learning happens at every moment, just as a kid enjoys every

moment of playing with a ball.

In the midst of the battlefields, split among opposite views, the

only person to see everyone as his own is Arjuna. He stands alone

among the huge crowd with deep sadness. Guru Nitya’s

introduction translates Atman as Sat-Chit-ananda and Ananda as

values. From which I understand that Arjuna is at the lower end of

the value spectrum leading to inactivity due to a self conflict. The

conflict that may differ for each of us but fits into the value

spectrum. The conflict that has led us to read the Gita in 2026. 

In current times, I could see that there are parallels to blindness in

perspective, sacrifices for beliefs, and willingness to eradicate

opposite opinions with zero acceptance. On the other end, the

views are relative, talking about the material benefits without

thinking about the long term repercussions on the environment

(physical and mental). 

Contemplating the Gita has helped me travel within, stand apart,

and look at myself in day-to-day life. It has helped me look at the

events from the other person’s perspective. There are instances that

I look back and regret for doing things a certain way. But I accept

them from what they are and acknowledge them openly as much as

I can. 

Scott, Thank you for encouraging me to share my thoughts. I

wouldn’t have found the cohesive relationship in them if not for

your encouragement. I have a question - what are horizontal and

vertical values? I understand they are Wisdom vs Action. But I

have trouble grasping them.

I am grateful for the continuous learning and realization. 

Best,

Venkat

Scott: Venkat, I’m so happy to have your participation! The whole

study hangs together as a unit, so don’t worry about being

behind—just update us wherever you have gotten. You are

welcome.

Pondering the ideas is much more valuable than being given

answers, and I’m delighted to hear that pondering is exactly what

you are doing. Reading both Gurus works is a huge project,

though. If it isn’t too demeaning for you, I recommend you read

my commentary first, and then dig into the others if you have more

time. Nataraja Guru wanted to make things hard for students, and

Guru Nitya took us a long way from there to clarity, yet I feel like

I’ve gone another step, mainly adding to Nitya’s work ideas from

his classes that aren’t in his book. They are quite helpful. I’ve also

added a lot about workplace dynamics, relational issues, child

rearing, and other topics that sannyasins are less well informed

about.

It’s great to read that you are getting so much from your Gita

contemplations, Venkat. It’s one of the great treasures of our

planet.

I wish I had a handy document explaining the horizontal and

vertical ideas. The chapter in my Introduction on The Arch Shape

is useful. The best I can do is excerpt my Introduction to Nataraja

Guru’s Saundarya Lahari. (I clip in the whole thing, in case you

want more background.) The dichotomy of horizontal and vertical

will be covered all through the study, and there is a lot to learn.

Here’s the excerpt:

At the core of Nataraja Guru’s philosophy are the Cartesian

coordinate axes, consisting of a horizontal and a vertical parameter

represented by straight lines that intersect at right angles to form a

cross. The point of intersection is arbitrarily called zero, with

increasingly large numbers representing expanding negativity and

positivity leading away from the zero point. The left side of the

horizontal line is called negative, and the right side positive. On

the vertical parameter, above the zero point is positive and below it

is negative.

Of these two lines, the vertical one is understood as being

made up of unitive values, representing the urge for inclusive

transcendence, while the horizontal axis stands for the multiplicity

of ever-proliferating transactional variety. The horizontal and the

vertical actually intersect each other at any and all points, giving

rise to a stable ground of participation between the outside and the

inside, existence and essence.

Though they have been used in various forms throughout

much of the history of thought, the adoption of Cartesian

coordinates to the philosophy of the structure of the universe was a

stroke of genius of the Guru. Nataraja Guru’s coordinate axes

combine the three perceivable spatial dimensions into the

horizontal, while conceptual ideas and time make up the vertical

axis. The implications of this are profound.

Descartes himself set the initial parameters that Nataraja

Guru developed into his Science of the Absolute, although due to

certain unshakable prejudices he was unable to develop the system

to as advanced a point as the Guru. To him res cogitans, or

thinking substance, was the vertical factor, and res extensa, or the

extended, proliferated substance comprised the horizontal. In

Nataraja Guru’s interpretation of this, the horizontal is the physical

universe (in its broadest sense) and the vertical is the metaphysical.

Where the horizontal is vast, the vertical is an almost infinitely fine

line or backbone, which knits the universe together in the same

way that a fine thread holds together a string of pearls.

The Cartesian coordinates are not a fixed scheme but a tool

for integrating seemingly divergent fields, so an endless series of

dichotomies may be examined through them. If the horizontal

represents the phenomenal, the vertical is the noumenal or the

essential. Another integration is of para and apara, transcendent

and immanent. The One and the many. Being and becoming.

Essence and existence. And so on.

Breaking the axes down further, the horizontal positive may

be treated as objective and the negative as subjective. The vertical

parameter can run from the alpha at the extreme negative to the

omega at the most positive, or from the dimensionless causal

source to the dimensionless transcendental mystery. The journey

from the alpha to the omega begins as a seed or point, grows in

space until it is maximally horizontalized in the prime of life, and

thereafter refocuses to the omega point at the termination of

existence.

The horizontal positive is associated with the waking state,

the horizontal negative with the dream state, the vertical negative

with the deep sleep or seed state, and the vertical positive with

turiya or the transcendental state. Using this scheme it is possible

to graph all states of consciousness on the coordinate axes, as well

as to monitor the progressive development of any aspect of

creation.

Bailey

Scott’s prompts: Living the adventure ---      making mistakes.     

Not acting at all?  Paralysis?  Survival strategy?  You really do

know, don’t you?  Vs 4-5

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. ( Gita III, verse 5) 

     “Don’t be afraid to make your mistakes”.  (Nataraja Guru to

friends & disciples, bright Spring morning, Ooty, May 1972.)

     Turn which way? This way? No! this way! No –maybe this

way?  That way?  Too late today.  Give up?   (BKY to self, damp

November morning, Paris, 1977(?)

“Survival strategy”.  Your dualism-clinging ego (mentalité) , ever

resourceful, so determined, so endlessly tricky, so adept in keeping

you (one) trapped in its action/reaction mechanisms—survival at

all costs!  So what are you (er, that is, “I”) afraid of? Dying as

idiot? (duh! image of slapping forehead).  What is the Question?

What next?  France in four weeks. And then?  (Fragments of

BKY’s inner conversation, Meadowood home ,March 26, 2026).

Impulse-driven commentary:

       Having “hit a wall” with regard to proceeding with (let alone

finishing) my dissertation (Spring 1971), oppressed by a confused

sense of the complexity of the causes determining  this paralysis-

temptation, Christine and I travelled to India Fall 1971 (her

reasons? Ask her), came to Ooty gurukula more or less by chance

(is “chance” really how the Universe works?) in March 1972.  I

hear NG’s words; an inner process begins working; I take heart; by

the time of our return to France Summer 1973 inner conviction that

I can and should resume and finish the dissertation is strong.

Encouraged and abetted by my mother, my professors Ed &

Bernard, by Patrick Perin (and by Christine too) this gets done

(Spring 1975).  Now what?  Job prospects for newly-minted

medievalist academic in the USA looking bad to hopeless (and can

I bear to live there anyway?), stay in France.  How survive?

English teaching? Archaeology?  Thrash about, grab this/that

opportunity.  Stay true, man, stay true.  Having forced myself out

of the apartment into that cold damp November morning

(must  have been ’78?) paralysis wins on the corner where the Rue

de Rennes meets the Blvd St Germain: accept defeat, get back on

the metro, back to the apartment, warmth, dance of the fire (oh

Agni!)...  Fast forward.  So many decisions taken (or not), so many

bold initiatives/resolutions-aided-by-friends, so many strokes of

luck (there is such a thing—or is there?), so many actions

undertaken (others refrained from, dropped), so many changes,

challenges (divorce, second marriage and children, joys of

fatherhood, relationship problems, divorce #2, remarriage to

Christine)  later, here we are. Archaeologist. Professor of

History—make that Distinguished Professor of History, emeritus,

living in Meadowood Retirement Community, Bloomington,

Indiana.  Donald Trump is wrecking havoc with the world as

we’ve known it, and that’s just the symptom, right? Still I wake up

wondering. How are we doing, Christine and I?  Are we on the

“spiritual path”?  She likes it here (in our garden cottage, in this

community-in-proximity-to-Kitch-and-kids) well enough, but

yearning for France, to be in France, as strong as ever.  So we are

off again, in just a month.  What can I do, what ought I to do, to be

helpful to her (to us) in the month of May?  Of course I’ve got my

own stuff, also, that I can or might do.  Then in June separate

ways: I return for my 60 th  Reunion in Williamstown, etc while she

stays with her (also our) old, old friend Kathleen celebrating 50

years as Parisienne.  Then, come July, back together, here, again.  

Lots of adventures, to be sure!  Lots of mistakes too, no

doubt.  Acting/reacting, or...?

Do engage yourself in action that is necessary (v 8)... Even with

such a purpose, do engage in work, O Arjuna, freed of all

attachments (v 9)

Scott: I see you’re working on your impulsiveness, Bailey. And

heading back to France soon? I don’t recall if you’ve read That

Alone yet, but verse 95 is a great favorite, and here’s an excerpt for

you:

This verse is for all people to become light-hearted. We should

see the light side of life rather than becoming so grumpy about

everything. If you make a mistake it’s because Mother Nature

wants you to make it. So don’t have any sense of guilt, make

your mistakes gladly. If you don’t make little mistakes, God

will call out to you: “Fool! I gave you a chance. I sent you to

the world, and you didn’t make any mistake. Stupid! Get out!”

If you are here in this world, make some mistakes. Maya is

sitting there and asking us to do all these things. Nataraja Guru

used to tell us in the Gurukula that we should make interesting

mistakes, not stupid or clumsy ones. Whatever mistakes you

make should be very clever and interesting.

Fritz Peters tells a great story about Gurdjieff. At his school

one time he had to be away for a few days, so he put a

trustworthy woman in charge in his absence. On his return she

showed him a little black book in which she had kept track of

all the offenses the students had committed. It was quite a long

list. To everyone’s surprise, Gurdjieff took out his wallet and

started giving each one money, paying so much per offense.

Fritz had been at the top of the list so he got the most money,

but he was ashamed to spend it, feeling the old woman had

been let down. She had carefully chronicled all the crimes, and

now Gurdjieff was giving everyone presents for their mistakes.

But Gurdjieff said life was like that, and if you didn’t make

mistakes life would never be interesting.

So here you are being given an invitation to make mistakes.

And what kind of mistakes is maya causing you to make? Her

mistakes are not freaks of nature. She has a system. We can see

how comedy and tragedy come in such a way that over time

they balance each other out.

We’re heading out to the No Kings protest, I with my new No

Dons poster, on the back of Old Smoky, from 2001. He’s been to

many gatherings.

Chance is one of Krishna’s divine principles, so take it in

stride, Bailey. We can see how you went with the tide in your

affairs, and in led you to much satisfaction and challenge.

The Path to the Guru leads from your present step, and is

determined by your walking. You make your own path, with the

help of so many forces and factors. We hope you will stay in touch as you roam. God speed.

War

 

Maya

 Wrapped in the senses, subtle and sweet,

Maya invites us to bow at her feet.

Yet the one who awakens from her display

Sees through the dream—and drifts away.

Garden of Dreams

 

When the mind refuses rest

until action answers thought,

that’s when you know—

you are ready.

Piece by piece,

a new look takes shape.

Not finished, not perfect—

but the beginning is powerful.

Morning Repot

​🌿 Morning Repot

When the sun emerges through cool winds, the mind whispers — stand, begin.

Plants call softly — replant, renew — while your hands tangle in the stubborn roots of the mother‑in‑law’s tongue.

You think you have a choice, but the decision has already taken root.

Separation happens quietly, soil loosened, old bonds shaken free.

And then the babies arrive on time, tiny lives clinging to promise, as the family grows in pieces, yet together.

Still, the mind whispers again and again — gather, cluster, nurture — until what was divided finds a new way to belong. 🌱

Gita 2026 Lesson 7 CHAPTER II: Samkhya Yoga v 54-72

 Gita 2026 Lesson 7

CHAPTER II: Samkhya Yoga v 54-72

It seems the impending end of civilization—the latest war of

Kuruksetra—is casting a dark shadow over class participation. I

understand! As poet Carl Sandberg said, “It’s a large morning to be

thoughtful of.” While the Gita is relevant even in hard times, you

may have to make new plans and pay more attention to the news.

Do what you have to do, but know we miss you. I’ll persevere until

I’m the only one left, but I do love working with multiple

perspectives. As I imagine Krishna saying in the Epilogue: “You

really are a miraculously complicated creation of mine, don’t you

know? I always intended humans to do more than scrabble for food

or run swords through each other.”

I’m doing decently after my heart ablation and radioactive

imaging, but I still notice fuzziness of mind and my typing is

ghastly. Those medicines really do linger, and degrade thinking. I

apologize for any blunders, and have tried to spot them with

proofreading.

Bindu

Dear Scott, 

Thank you so much for your thoughtful response and for sharing

your memories of Guru Nitya. Your insights always bring clarity

and reassurance, and I’m truly grateful for the way you illuminate

these teachings. I looked into the writings you mentioned — thank

you for pointing me to them.

Being a woman, the very first thing I explored was the few

recipes from Nitya’s kitchen… and I have to admit, I immediately

wanted to cook the wisdom pie! ��

Your explanation about goals and spiritual practice really

helped me. It softened something inside, and I appreciate how

gently you guide us away from selfpressure and toward simple,

honest living.

Thank you again for your kindness, wisdom, and steady

encouragement. It means a great deal. Thank you for everything.

The world of spirituality is filled with many faces—some

guiding with sincerity, others masking their intentions with the

appearance of holiness. Throughout history, and especially now in

an age shaped by social media and technology, it has become

increasingly easy for false gurus to craft images of purity and

authority. From a young age, I learned that not every person in a

position of guidance truly embodies wisdom or compassion. In my

childhood, teachers were considered gurus, deserving of

unquestioned respect. Yet I also witnessed how some misused that

respect, crossing boundaries and leaving young girls frightened,

silent, and unsure of whom to trust. As children, we carried not

only the burden of fear but also the worry that adults might not

believe us—or worse, blame us. These early experiences carved

sensitivity into my mind and taught me that external appearances

can never be the measure of true guidance.

My spiritual understanding deepened over time, especially

with the teachings of Krishna and the explanations of Nitya

Chaitanya Yati. Krishna’s guidance about desires reshaped my

relationship with emotions: he teaches that a wise person does not

fight desires but sees through them with clarity. Desires lose their

control when the mind discovers inner fulfillment. Then I learned

the concept of  verticalization  , a metaphor that opened an entirely

new dimension of understanding for me. Horizontal living, I

realized, is the path many of us walk unconsciously—moving from

job to money to status to attractions and disappointments, always

reacting to the world outside. It is a life governed by praise, blame,

success, and failure. In contrast, vertical living invites awareness

inward and upward. It asks us to ground ourselves in something

deeper, to develop the roots of consciousness that help us observe

rather than be carried away. This shift touched me deeply; it

became something I wanted to practice, not just admire from a

distance.

Nataraja Guru’s explanation of the obstacles to

contemplation—attachment, anxiety, and anger—resonated

strongly with me. For much of my life, anger was my natural

response when things did not go my way. It was not intentional; it

was simply the pattern I had learned to survive. But through

spiritual study, selfreflection, and guidance, something began to

shift. My reactions softened. Awareness stepped in where

emotional storms once took over. I began to understand that

detachment is not coldness; it is freedom. It is choosing clarity

over turbulence.

This inner shift became visible even in my professional life.

During a recent onetoone conversation with  manager, I found

myself unexpectedly calm, even guiding him to look at difficulties

with a broader perspective. Instead of absorbing stress, I reminded

him that not everything lies within our control and that

unnecessary worry only clouds the mind. That moment showed me

how much I had changed. The anger and heaviness I once carried

had given way to balance, and the teachings I had spent months

absorbing were quietly shaping the way I engage with the world.

My personal life, too, carries the imprint of my past. Growing

up, my parents worked hard, and as the youngest child with much

older siblings, I often lived in silence and solitude. Loneliness

became familiar, but instead of drowning in it, I built an inner

world to survive. I created imaginary drawers in my mind, each

holding emotions I could not express. Sometimes even today, I

open those drawers and see the younger version of myself—the

girl who felt alone, sensitive, and misunderstood. I hug her in my

imagination, offering the comfort she once needed. This practice,

though born from childhood necessity, has become a form of

healing. It reminds me that suffering does not disappear, but

awareness can transform it.

Life now feels like an ocean to me—vast, deep, and

everpresent. Emotions rise and fall like waves. Some arrive

suddenly, some pass quietly, but the ocean itself remains stable. I

have learned to return to that inner stillness more quickly than

before. The world hasn’t changed, but my relationship with it has. I

still feel deeply, still remember the pain of the past, but I no longer

drown in it. I observe, breathe, and return to balance.

In this journey, my mind has slowly become a student, humble and

curious. And the Absolute—the inner truth, the quiet awareness

beneath everything—has become my true guru. I no longer seek

guidance outside with the desperation I once had. Instead, I turn

inward, toward the clear space where wisdom arises naturally.

Spirituality, for me, is no longer an escape but a way of

understanding life more honestly. It is learning to live fully without

allowing desire, anger, or attachment to rule the mind.

This is the path I continue to walk: a journey from horizontal

living to vertical awareness, from emotional conditioning to

clarity, from fear to quiet inner strength.

Scott: Guru Nitya was also a fantastic real chef, whose food was

always delicious. He had the knack! It’s one of the best of all

siddhis.

Nitya also had a fine sense of humor, evident in those silly

recipes.

We should attribute the explanations of simple, honest living

to Narayana Guru, though I’m happy to be a bearer of his good

tidings, as processed by his successors, Nataraja Guru and Guru

Nitya. In my class preparation this morning, for Atmopadesa

Satakam verse 62, I’ve been reading lines like this from Guru

Nitya: “The Guru is here suggesting to us the most gentle pressure

in the search. At the same time it is not lukewarm. It is an urjita, an

out-and-out search, but that search is not directed to just one

isolated area. Life itself is the search. It goes on until we come to

what is called paramapadam, an absolute state.”

Yoga applies to respect for the teacher, too: the respect is

important, but it must be earned and honest. Caution and

skepticism have their places, even with gurus, but especially with

teachers of children. It should be made known that cruel people

insist on being obeyed and are not above invoking God to back

themselves up. It seems like there is a new wave of brutality

arising now, from self-styled keepers of the faith, in many different

faiths—a repeating tragedy of our species.

Instilling fear in children is a serious crime, in my estimation.

I’m happy to hear that you grew out of it into a healthy state of

clarity, Bindu. For many, the fear is not worked through, and it can

lead to offloading it on the next generation.

It’s wonderful to read of your deepening understanding. The

Gita teaches at many levels, but the best of all may be how it

inspires and amplifies a mature person’s awareness. For that

matter, it’s more of an instruction manual for teachers than for

students.

I love the way you are consoling and educating your younger

self. Therapy at its best. Isn’t it fascinating to recall how we took

things wrongly, and were hurt by things that weren’t meant to be

hurtful, when we were young? Only then can we truly let them go.

Gopica

This lesson opened a gateway for me, revealing what detachment

truly means. The five senses feed us distractions that entangle us,

pulling us from our purpose. Repeated readings are helping me

dive deeper.

Recently, I faced this in my family. My 83-year-old mother-in-law

suffered a preventable accident, requiring painful surgeries.

Thankfully, she's recovering faster than expected, not stuck in

trauma but coping well with medicines. I live far away in a city;

my husband rushed to her town. His elder brothers rely on us

financially, viewing us only as providers. They rarely inform or

connect with us except to ask for money. Her pension has been

misused by them, leading to shocking surprises. Now, with extra

costs beyond her insurance (which my husband pays), we're

stretched thin as it is taking a toll on our financial needs.

I urged my husband to share our financial reality and split excess

costs among the brothers. This required a tough conversation. I

noticed my own reactions: anxiety over expenses, anger at their

behavior, leading to instructions rather than dialogue. Hooks from

the situation threatened my grounding.

Lesson 7 arrived like a blessing, urging me to witness without

entering fear or anger. I saw distorted values in the family system

clearly, from a detached perspective. Key insights anchored me:

"It’s not difficult to be mindful; what’s difficult is to remember to

be mindful."

"We can still savor every bite of our food, it’s just that we don’t

gobble it as if we are starving or push it away without tasting it."

"When you are able to see the Absolute in all things, your attention

is drawn to a deeper level than sensory awareness."

"In order to be certain of our knowledge, we absolutely must

analyze the data flooding into the system from a detached

perspective. Only when all significant errors are deleted can our

reason be considered 'well founded.'"

"Be alive to what’s happening, and ponder it later. Learn to move

on from the feelings that catch hold of you in a static way, that

induce repetition compulsions."

"What being here now really means is that we should discard

regrets about the past and anxiety about the future, which can bog

down our consciousness with distracting and unpleasant sidetracks

that we can do nothing about."

These guided me to mindful discussions, inside and out. Like

Arjuna learning sthitaprajna-steady in joy and sorrow, I'm

attempting to practice equanimity amid the uncontrolled.

Thank you!

Scott: Gopica, I have always found that those who engage with the

Gita quickly find opportunities to apply its wisdom to their lives,

and it makes me very happy to hear. Sometimes it seems as if

Krishna himself is providing the problems to illustrate his

philosophy, but I know that’s anthropomorphic thinking, and I do

it just for fun. Almost always.  The point is, the Gita is deeply

relevant to real life issues, and you are already finding it valuable.

The more you practice intelligent detachment—getting “distance”

on a situation—the easier it becomes to apply it the next time. It

sounds like the accident is mending. I’m sure your thoughtful

participation was helpful.

Bailey

         Unitive Reasoning

       (March 4) I am very encouraged to read Bindu’s very positive

reaction to my comments on her “abyss” experience in Morocco,

as well as Scott’s warm praise for my response to #6.  The focus of

#7, is it fair to say, is action –the impulses which drive one, to act

the fears or reluctances that inhibit or qualify acting, and living on

in the wake of the consequences of action.

     My decision to go to India, in the Fall of 1971, was impelled by

my failure to move ahead with researching and writing my doctoral

dissertation.  My choice was to set it aside, not to abandon it; nor

did it abandon me. During the weeks in Ooty that Spring, as I

attended Nataraja Guru’s early morning coffee classes, joined in

the chanting before the morning meal, and plunged into reading

about his life and the framework of Vedanta my mind never

stopped poking and prodding at the questions which had driven my

research in France the previous year, and after Guru’s Samadhi in

March 1973 my mind had become clear –clear enough—that I

could resume that journey, finish that job.  It was my mother who

took the initiative, when I was back in France that August, of

contacting my professors at the University of Pennsylvania to get

me reinstated, bringing me back to the States, and promising me a

monthly stipend of $300 to enable me to devote all my energies to

the research and writing back in Paris.  I was able to turn Cristine’s

parents’ comfortable bourgeois apartment (Boulevard Pereire,

Paris XVIIe) into my office since they were off in Mauritius where

her father had been appointed France’s Ambassador.  

     And I was vastly encouraged and aided by Patrick Périn, who

had originally welcomed me to his native Charleville-Mezieres in

the Ardennes in the Fall of 1970, and gotten me started on the

Merovingians. He was then teaching in a private school while he

did his thesis; now, Fall 1973, his doctorate in hand and thesis in

press, he had moved to Paris, named curator of archaeological

collections (the first such since before WWII) at Musée

Carnavalet, the museum of the history of Paris in the historic

Marais quarter. As it happened he was just then organizing for that

Fall an international colloquium on archaeology and post-

Roman/early medieval Gaul-becoming-Francia (AD 300-600) at

Carnavalet which became my portal for my re-engaging, as well as

becoming a fundamental reference for the re-ignition, in France, of

the field itself.  Patrick had also begun to teach a seminar on

Archaeology and the Merovingians at the Sorbonne (within a

graduate school called l’Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, created

in the 1860’s, which no longer exists).   I signed up, finished my

dissertation on funerary archaeology and the evolution of

Christianity in Gaul, re-engaged with my career as a field

archaeologist by excavating with Patrick alongside an old church

(Eglise St. Pierre) atop Montmartre, springboarding from there to

other excavations in Burgundy and Languedoc which were to keep

me busy into the 1990s. Patrick gave me a desk in the archaeology

department of Musée Carnavalet, encouraged me to begin giving

papers at scholarly meetings (in French), publishing (in

French—English too) and I was a founding member of

the Association francaise et internationale d’archéologie

mérovingienne) which he created and over which he presided until

his retirement of Director of France’s National Archaeology

Museum (located in a former royal chateau at Saint-Germain-en-

Laye, west of Paris) in 2012.  When my academic career in

America at last took off with a one-year appointment at Loyola

University of Chicago 1988-89 I got him invited there to give his

first American lecture in English (I translated it); in 1992 he

headlined a symposium of Merovingian archaeology I organized at

the International Medieval Studies Conference at Kalamazoo,

Michigan) and was keynote speaker in 2006 at the Late Antique

conference at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana.  In

the years I travelled to France almost every summer (1988-2019)

excavating, doing research, staying connected... I would see him,

often stayed with him and his growing family, we would eat well,

drink, talk Merovingian archaeology late into the night–glass in

hand.  In the early 2020’s Patrick began having mobility issues –

by last Spring he walked with difficulty, was no longer able to

drive.  So, late May, Christine and I took the train from Paris out to

the charming little house alongside the Fontainebleau Forest where

he and wife Charlotte have been living, and spent a most pleasant

afternoon (was an Ardennes specialty with sausage, cabbage and

potato served?)

      Patrick Périn died, age 83, on February 6.  How full is my

heart!  As I wrote to Charlotte, he was, and always will remain, for

me, the best of friends.

     Living, as we all of us are living, in a world of relativity – or

should one better use plural: worlds of relativities?—which “we”

are always constructing/deconstructing, what to say here and now

about such a friendship?  Assign it to a category such as

ephemeral? – however agreeable, however nourishing personally,

however useful, however satisfying professionally—arising,

flourishing, ending as Time’s cycles continue, like waves washing

up on the beach, leaving one’s feet pressed into the damp sand as

they recede?  The thought arises: never again to take the train in

the Gare de Lyon, to walk from the station at Bois-le-Roi, to pass

through the gate as the dog barks his welcome... aha! one catches

one’s “mind” (I prefer the French term le mental to “ego”, so

redolent of Freudian theory) conjuring up emotion:  let us feel

sad!  Sad is the proper tribute to real friendship!  Well, I do feel

sad.  I wasn’t/am not ready for Patrick to die!  OK—that’s the

reality, you say?  The American poet Edna St Vincent Millay says

“I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the cold

ground./ So it is, so it has been.../I know. But I do not approve.

And I am not resigned.”  A poem that captured my fancy in youth,

returns at moments like these.  My mind darts back to the

telephone call in March 2004 with the news that our dear friends

Leonard and Tanya had died in an auto accident en route to a

dinner party we had just attended.  To the letter from the parents of

my graduate school roommate Charlie Funnell which was I think

forwarded to me in Ooty: Charlie had successfully defended his

thesis on the Brooklyn Bridge, was engaged to be married, entered

the hospital for routine surgery in connection with his

asthma...died.   On the verge of beginning the life he had worked

for, Charlie with his quirky sense of humor, suddenly gone???– oh

no, no, no!  That can’t be the reality! Here goes an inner voice:

What are you doing, bky?  Entertaining yourself, n’est-ce

pas?Oops!  Am I straying from the proper seriousness of the

Vedantic Path?  

      (March 9)  Thinking, over the past few days, about the long

(but now so quickly fled!) story of Patrick and me, professional

and spiritual paths, life and death another perspective suggests

itself.  The pursuit of Truth.  It seems to me now that I was drawn

to Patrick, from the very first evening we spent together in

Charleville-Mezieres, by his enthusiasm for research as the pursuit

of truth in the context of history, his confidence that it is there to

be found, that it matters, that it deserves to be pursued with a

critical spirit.  Such confidence has not been taken for granted in

intellectual circles in France (or the USA, or the Western world) in

our lifetimes; indeed, challenging the very notion that “objective”

truth might possibly exist in history has been a powerful

intellectual current in our time.  There is no “there” there!  It is all

stories!  Your story, my story, our story, their story –

“deconstructing” the stories became the exciting, fashionable

intellectual game to play from the 1970s.  Instead of seeking to

establish the “facts” like our unsophisticated positivist

predecessors, we construct plausible “scenarios” –prepared to

admit, perhaps with a shrug, that these are bound to reflect our

subjective preferences – personal/ cultural/collective.  A

contemporary re-invention of the relativism the Sophists were

teaching in the Athens of Socrates’ day.  In ours, an ability to

marshal “data” in the light of “theory” became the requirement for

career advancement in various quarters where the interpretation of

history and archaeology were concerned.

      The short phrase that arises spontaneously to characterize my

relationship to Patrick Périn is: my Master in Matters

Merovingian.  Since “master” is a term often used in writing about

the spiritual path, often as a synonym for “guru”, it is important not

to misuse it here.  Gilles Farcet (the “spiritual” author Christine

and I are currently reading together), distinguishes between an

authentic “master/guru” in the Vedanta tradition (such as Ramana

Maharshi, or Swami Prajnapad or his own master Arnaud

Desjardins) who can be said to “know”, and an “instructor”, who

has come far enough along the path to be able to help others not so

far along to progress toward an understanding of the Teaching

which he/she has not yet fully grasped.  Crucially, both the

“instructor” and the “aspirant/seeker” must be honest and

scrupulous, motivated by a sincere desire to understand truth

within the framework of their human limitations.  At the time I

first met him in Charleville-Mezieres, Patrick was an advanced

graduate student who had also himself excavated Merovingian

burials; I had read a little about them.  Their chronology, which

involved a quasi-statistical analysis of how the patterns of “grave-

goods” – the set of objects buried with a subject—evolved over

time was at the heart of his study (since its publication in 1982 it is

accepted as the standard reference).  He suggested I pursue a study

of the “funerary practices” as a whole, and planned an approach for

me: visiting museum artefact collections, attending conferences,

working in the best libraries.  I forged ahead on this path, gaining

recognition (my 1977 article in France’s leading medieval

archaeological journal remains pertinent) even as his career as an

archaeologist, a museum curator, and an adjunct professor at the

Sorbonne complexified and his national and international stature

grew.  But I was never, as he sometimes pointed out, his

student.  After our early collaborations our research trajectories

differed, as I became engaged in more “medieval” projects.  Most

years, though, up to his retirement in 2012, I would visit to resume

our ongoing conversation, updating myself on Matters

Merovingian. Sometimes I did a paper in the field, perhaps at a

conference he organized – the last one, in 2011, was held at

National Archaeology Museum he, at the pinnacle of his career,

directed...  

     (March 12)  So why devote all this attention here to Patrick

Périn and my relationship with him?  Because he was –and

continues to be—not a Master in the sense of the Spiritual Path

(our conversations never touched on “spiritual” matters though he

was well aware of why I went to India and what I did there), but in

the sense of Instructor (as Gilles Farcet defines this term) on the

Truth Path.  Truth as it can be found in the relative realm of

historical affairs.  From our very first contact and throughout I felt

in Patrick, and was inspired by, not only his conviction that

historical research is a worthwhile and rewarding, even joyful,

endeavor, and his generosity in accompanying me along that

path.  Above all he was a man of action.  His passing now is a

shock for which I wasn’t prepared, but he will remain alive for me,

I think, as long as I remain alive.  I am so grateful.

Scott: The Gita is through and through about action, but the focus

of the second half of chapter II is reason’s contribution to

wisdom—a truly subtle matter. Dialectical reasoning will also be

taught all along the way.

How profound to lose a dear friend like Patrick, and how

important to bring your connection fully to mind, as a final, though

not last, grand gesture. Yes, we feel sorrow with our whole mind,

not merely our ego, unless we are petty indeed. (The abstraction of

our ‘heart’ is also within the mind.) So yes, let us feel sad at the

passing of a dear one!

I recall being asked (in a Gita class at the Unitarian church,

long ago) by a young man whose mother had just died, and he

wanted to know if it was okay for him to feel sad about it. I assured

him that nothing in spiritual life precluded authentic feelings, and

if he was not sad it would compound the tragedy.

Why do religions and spiritual paths tell us we won’t feel

pain or sadness, if only we know God? It appeals on an ill-

considered level, I guess.

Thank you for the St Vincent Millay poem, which I do not

know.

Bailey, we are now in “the mortality zone.” It’s only natural

to be getting inklings of what that implies….

Of general appeal in your response, Bailey, is the old-

fashioned attraction to truth as something that can—must—be

uncovered. From my perspective, deconstruction is just another

way to dig through false constructs to unearth the kernel of high

value buried at the site. Humans tend to overexaggerate their

ideologies, like “deconstruction,” but we don’t have to. If one has

nothing left after deconstructing a theory, perhaps their idea of

truth is too limited. Does it exclude the shining void, the Absolute

principle, consciousness itself? Is it fair to consciously rule out

consciousness? I’d say not. It’s not fair.

Is it fair to always require data, as you imply? Up to a point,

sure. But many of the best things in life are not measurable or

perceptible. Let’s not leave them out. Subjectivity doesn’t help

with finding hidden artifacts, but it’s essential to our feelings.

This is a very large topic, Bailey, and I hope you’ll keep

kicking it around. Maybe our fellow travelers (if any) will

contribute thoughts of their own.

I appreciate Farcet’s distinguishing what I’d call layers of the

guru principle: fully-realized guru, instructor, and eager aspirant,

(why not add open-minded stumbling bumbler?), all of whom,

after the first category, as you so well express it, “must be honest

and scrupulous, motivated by a sincere desire to understand truth

within the framework of their human limitations.” Check out

Nitya’s parallel quote I clipped in for Bindu, where life itself is the

search.

I fear your preferred museums do not include dioramas of

Christians riding dinosaurs—why is that? You could probably get

to the Creation Museum in a matter of hours….

For someone who has made the excavation of funerary

practices a central theme of his career, isn’t it strange and awesome

to watch our friends leaving the planet, and meditate on—and yes,

lament—their temporariness? How even in a single lifetime,

human interests have changed so dramatically that we may feel

already forgotten, vestiges of the past.

We have a Fearless Leader who is desperately working to

affix his name to every building, as if what will be remembered of

him because of it has meaning. It’s a pathetic motivation, for sure:

a substitute for love in his life. As Robert Frost wrote, in Birches:

Earth’s the right place for love / I don’t know where it’s likely to

go better. I see lots of names on buildings, but they don’t bring the

person they represent back to life.

People we know live on in our hearts. The ones we only hear

about are something less. My great grandparents mean nothing to

me, beyond a name in a ledger. I surely mean nothing to them. Yet

meaning is what buoys me up in my life.

Beautiful how you conclude with Patrick’s meaning for you,

how profound he was, and remains.

In our class last Tuesday, I was lamenting that Nitya was no

longer with us, and I dearly wanted him around for this terrible

moment in history. (When Trump was “elected” by Elon Musk, I

briefly regressed to infancy and the feeling of “I want my

Mommy.” My relentlessly optimistic, take care of everything

mother.) Andy spoke valiantly that what he loved most was that

Nitya was still with us; he had never gone away. Our classmates

who only know him through his writings and our classes, must

have felt it less, but for those who knew him personally, it is a

major feature of our lives. He is still a powerful presence. Your

concluding words about Patrick, Bailey, echo our convictions, and

I’ll reprint them so you don’t have to check back:

Above all he was a man of action.  His passing now is a shock

for which I wasn’t prepared, but he will remain alive for me, I

think, as long as I remain alive.  I am so grateful.

Annex: Academia relies on ideas that are supposed to be grounded

in previous, widely-accepted or proven facts. This means original

academic thinking takes place in a very narrow range, and that’s

perfectly reasonable. What Nataraja Guru calls speculation is

original thinking with a wider purview.

Digging up an ancient site provides original material, which

is then fleshed out with speculation about its function. You must

have specialized in this, no?

My Heracles exegesis was also well-informed speculation

based on a few shards. It is not academically acceptable, since

there is almost no existing interpretation for me to base it on,

beyond a strictly literal one which has degenerated over the

centuries, going from Heracles being the most heroic and powerful

demigod to a mere thug. My interpretation being not only heroic

but spiritually oriented, it does not make sense in an academic

context. I did find a couple of borderline sources, but most of it

comes directly from my own contemplative penetration into the

symbolism of the action, guided by Dr. Mees’s mythic

9interpretations in his Revelation in the Wilderness.

Likewise, in the Gita, I have a lot of background, but to

assemble my commentary I did original thinking for every verse:

sitting with the accumulated material while wondering just what it

was intended to convey. I think you agree: the result is worthwhile,

but there are few facts. Interestingly though, while working on a

verse, very often supporting ideas would surface in articles that

came my way.

Non-fiction deals with specific facts and truths; fiction

presents generalized truths. The Gita is fiction that moves us, in

myriad ways.

My lengthy introduction to the Labors of Herakles ends with

Herakles as Buffoon, which in turn ends with:

Bestselling author of all time, Agatha Christie, in The Labors of

Hercules (NY: Dell, 1968, p. 9), ridicules the romantic

attraction to the classics that prevailed in the West not too long

ago. At the behest of a priggish academic type enamored of the

age-old romances, ace detective Hercule Poirot—himself

named after Hercules—is perusing the Greek myths and thinks:

Take this Hercules—this hero! Hero indeed? What was he

but a large muscular creature of low intelligence and criminal

tendencies!... This ancient Hercules probably suffered from

grand mal. No, Poirot shook his head, if that was the Greeks’

idea of a hero, then measured by modern standards it

certainly would not do. The whole classical pattern shocked

him. These gods and goddesses—they seemed to have as

many different aliases as a modern criminal. Indeed they

seemed to be definitely criminal types. Drink, debauchery,

incest, rape, loot, homicide and chicanery—enough to keep a

juge d’Instruction constantly busy. No decent family life. No

order, no method. Even in their crimes, no order or method!

“Hercules indeed!” said Hercule Poirot, rising to his feet,

disillusioned.

To a materialist, virtually all the wisdom of the ancients is

nothing more than tedious superstition and unscientific

speculation. But, as I have rediscovered in scrutinizing

Heracles, myths are like the Absolute itself: hiding in plain

sight, waiting patiently to be noticed for the treasures they safeguard. Feel free to take a look.