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.
