A Kinder Sky

​

One minute rain, another minute hail,

then sunlight breaks, then wild winds sail.

The seasons dance like clowns in the sky,

changing their masks as the hours pass by.

Buds on the ground tremble in fear,

confused by the moods that keep drawing near.

Roots grow weak, exhausted by the game—

tired of the chaos, tired of the same.

I looked at nature and softly said:

“I wished for rain to wash my patio clean,

to carry away the dust unseen.

I wished for gentle drops to make my plants smile

through the tireless heat that burns all the while.

But today you are harsh in every way—

hailstones falling, cold winds that stay.

My bushes are fading, struggling to survive;

they only need rain and sunlight to thrive.

When my plants flourish, my heart does too.

So promise me this, sky so blue:

let the buds grow without fear or pain.

Seasons may change, but not all at once again.

Let tomorrow arrive with a kinder sign—

only soft rain and warm sunshine.

The Warrior

​In the battlefield of wounds and fire,

a warrior walks through pain and desire.

Every inch bleeding, every breath torn,

yet he moves forward through the storm.

The ground may shake beneath his feet,

defeat may whisper, cold and deep.

Still he does not turn away,

still he chooses another day.

He knows the darkness he must face,

knows fear is waiting in every place.

Yet courage is not the absence of scars —

it is walking wounded beneath broken stars.

The sword grows heavy within his hand,

hope fades slowly across the land.

But something stronger burns inside —

a silent flame he cannot hide.

Not every warrior fights to win;

some fight so they do not surrender within.

And that is the power no storm can bury:

the heart and soul of a wounded warrior.

Lesson 11 CHAPTER IV: Jnana Yoga, Unitive Wisdom, 1-11

 A few of you uncovered my birthday—thanks for the good

wishes. I’m 75 as of today, May 9, and holding the class is a major

joy of my senescence. I hope you quiet ones are getting something

out of the course, too. I did hear from Puja she is reading along, a

nice surprise. Good wishes to everyone!

Bindu

When I reflect on my life, I realise that many of my early choices

were not truly my own. I never consciously chose to come to

London. Instead, I followed the path shaped by tradition, family

expectations, and social norms.

I grew up in a culture where arranged marriage was the norm.

When my parents accepted a proposal from a family in London, I

went along with it without question. However, when the groom

came to see me, he rejected me, saying I was “a bit chubby” and

wanted someone better suited. In a small village where everyone

knows one another, this news spread quickly. The same people

who knew my marriage was fixed also knew it was rejected. It was

deeply humiliating.

I had lived according to what I believed was a “right”

way—respectful, God-fearing, and obedient to social

expectations—yet I still faced rejection. This experience created a

shift within me. Although better proposals came afterward, I

rejected them. Looking back, I can see that I was reacting from

hurt and anger—perhaps toward my parents for rushing into the

situation, and perhaps toward the circumstances that interrupted

my education.

At that time, my parents strongly believed in astrology and felt I

should marry between the ages of 18 and 20, so they were eager to

proceed with proposals. But internally, something had changed in

me. I withdrew and resisted.

Then, within three months, my husband’s proposal came. In

hindsight, I feel I may have accepted it partly as a way of escaping

the shame I experienced. When he accepted me, I remember

thinking, in my 20-year-old mind, that he was more handsome than

the one who had rejected me. It felt like a turning point, and within

ten days, we were married.

This may seem unusual to some, but in 1990s Varkala, this was

normal. Marriages were arranged, and love often followed

marriage rather than preceded it.

Looking back now, I understand that I did not choose London out

of desire or ambition. I chose it as a way to restore my self-respect.

I was young, not yet wise, even though I was completing a

mathematics degree. I was not thinking deeply about my future—I

was reacting to pain.

When I arrived in London, I entered an unfamiliar world. Apart

from my husband’s family, I had no support system. I struggled

with language, pronunciation, and cultural differences. At 21, I

became a mother while still adjusting to a new country. Life

moved quickly, and I adapted as best as I could.

Reflecting on the statement from the Gita, “When ignorance

attains power, truth becomes its greatest threat,” I see elements of

that in my past. I was not aware enough to question the path laid

out for me. I followed what was considered right without fully

understanding whether it was right for me. The social structure I

lived in did not encourage individual questioning, and in that

sense, truth—personal truth—remained hidden.

At the same time, I do not view my husband as part of that

ignorance. For me, he came at the right moment, almost like a

form of grace, helping me move beyond a painful phase in my life.

What began as an escape gradually became a pathway for growth.

Over time, London, which I once felt I had not chosen, became

part of my identity. I often think of it as a stepmother—sometimes

harsh, sometimes nurturing, but still shaping who I am. I continue

to balance different values from family, culture, and work, learning

as I go.

The Gita’s idea that “what is coming at you is coming from

you” has made me reflect on responsibility. I no longer see myself

as a victim of circumstances, but I also try not to blame myself

harshly for decisions made without awareness. Instead, I recognise

that I was acting from the level of understanding I had at that time.

Now, I see my life as a gradual movement from:

 following without questioning,

 to reacting from emotion,

 to beginning to reflect and choose consciously.

Joining this class is part of that journey. For the first time, I feel I

am not just accepting ideas or reacting to situations, but truly

trying to understand myself. In that sense, I relate deeply to the

idea of “wisdom sacrifice” from Chapter IV—the effort to seek

understanding and strip away what is unnecessary.

I may not have chosen my path consciously in the beginning, but

now I am beginning to choose awareness. And perhaps that is

where true freedom starts.

Love Bindu x

Scott: Yes, Bindu, we humans stumble through life, suffering

many slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, yet somehow most

of us eventually knit together into a substantial being, with a

capacity to heal or harm those around us as we make our way

forward. I find it helpful to realize others are as in the dark as I am,

so I don’t put them on a pedestal or grant them powers over me

they don’t actually have.

Apparently, love marriages began with the movies, and have

been around only about 100 years. Their success rate is no better

than arranged marriages, from what I’ve read. The whole

partnering business is a fantasy tempest inching fitfully toward

reality. No matter what road we take, life is a struggle to come into

our own. It sounds like you have been both fortunate and skillful,

Bindu.

The best is that if you do wake up to your life, you are

satisfied how it turned out, and can laugh at what a fool you’ve

been. (I’m speaking of myself, primarily. We all make plenty of

mistakes, and they bounce off each other.) The Gita is a

masterwork that will help many of your intimations fall into a

sensible order. As you identify with the wisdom sacrifice, you’re

already well along in assimilating its message.

Well said, how you see your life: none of us choose our path

early on, and it’s very lucky we don’t get the chance. When we’re

ready, we can take over some of the guidance, and take other hands

off our steering wheel.

Guru Nitya often told us that our “inner guru” arranged the

world to promote expression of our latent abilities. I find that an

uplifting metaphor, with a lot of truth in it. We don’t, then, have to

paddle our own canoe, all we have to do is help it along with a few

strokes, and watch where it’s taking us. Bindu, you have every

reason to give your inner guru a lot of credit—it’s done very well

by you.

Gopica

My reflections on verses 1 to 11 of Chapter 4. These verses speak

about how true wisdom is not just information, but knowing how

to act with clarity, humility, and faith. I can see this in a recent

experience at work.

Verse 1–2 Wisdom comes from clear guidance

In these verses, Krishna says that wisdom is passed from one who

knows to one who listens with care. In my work, the leader guides

us, but sometimes the message is short and not fully clear. Instead

of reacting, I now try to ask a gentle question, to understand her

intention before acting. This helps me work with clarity, not

confusion.

Verses 3–4 Duty without ego

Arjuna asks who can truly understand this teaching. These verses

remind me that duty is about doing what is needed, not trying to

prove myself. The admin felt blamed for data that depended on

volunteers. Instead of taking it as “my fault” or “her fault,” I tried

to see it as a shared duty: help gather the data honestly, within

what is possible.

Verses 5–7 Acting in the present moment

Krishna says he appears whenever dharma declines. For me, this

means: respond in the present, not in fear. When only 3 out of 17

volunteers replied, I did not stay stuck in frustration. With the

admin, we called the others and gathered what was possible. We

did not wait for “perfect” data; we did what was right now.

Verses 8–11 Steadiness in action and relationship

Krishna says he acts to protect the good, remove what is harmful,

and re-establish balance. These verses help me stay steady when

things feel unfair. Earlier, I used to feel heavy or confused with the

leader’s feedback. Now I try to listen, reflect, and act with clarity. I

also respond with empathy, not anger.

There was a situation where the leader asked me to work with the

admin, then later her message was a little unclear. I did what I

understood, admitted that it was based on my understanding, and

shared it openly. She replied “thank you” and asked to integrate the

data. This shows that honest action, even in confusion, can still

support harmony.

My admin, often says, “inspite of her giving 100% effort, she at

times accused” and feels hurt. I gently asked her, “Can anyone

really meet 100% of another person’s expectations, especially what

is not in our control?” I invited her to focus on what is in our

control: doing our best, learning from what comes, and staying

kind to ourselves and others. She felt more relaxed after that.

Scott: It sounds like you are more of the guru to your admin,

Gopica, than she is to you. You’ve handled a tough situation well,

and I really like the way you have applied the ancient wording to

present-day issues.

Clarity gained through questioning is so central to life, it’s

too bad many people are over-sensitive to being questioned.

Because of your example, I searched through Guru Nitya’s

Selected Quotes (available on his website

http://aranya.me/read.html . So many amazing treasures of

wisdom! The main point is the disciple must ask good questions, in

a respectful manner. Just what you’ve demonstrated.

The relation between a question and its answer is analogous to

the relation between a disciple and Guru. A silly question can

evoke only a commonplace answer, while a serious question, in

its turn, can open up rare secrets. Each disciple gets, as it were,

a Guru according to their own merit. (Gita, 13)

After humbling yourself, you should look for an opportunity

where the guru is pleased to narrate. But beyond that the

reverence stops. Thereafter, you put searching questions to the

guru. You are not to just sit there like a dunce; you must ask

searching questions. And when he or she speaks, you are not to

lie down and accept it at face value, but you must critically

examine every word. Scrutinize all that is said. Then afterwards

you do what you like according to your best understanding, not

what the guru likes. (Therapy and Realization in the Bhagavad

Gita)

Many questions stem from their answers. So if we wait for

some time, the questions will transmute into their answers.

(Love and Blessings, 426)

The seeker and the seer are on the same path. All the same they

are not the same kind of beneficiaries of wisdom. The seer has

solved age-old riddles in his or her heart. The seeker again and

again gets lost on the slippery pathway to certitude. The quality

of life is decided by how happy you are, how consistently you

are happy, and how you are established in that happiness.

Those who lack this excellence are always haunted by the

questions: “What next? Where should I turn? Who can I

approach? How can it be accomplished? How can I know that

what I seek is truly what I need or what I want?” From the

examples of those who have gone before us, we discover that in

most cases those who have succeeded had someone to guide

them, someone to hold their hand with compassion. The

successful have been led to the sanctuary of satisfaction where

there is no longer any remorse or sense of inadequacy. The

masters who lead the seekers are called preceptors of wisdom.

(Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, Vol. III, 433)

Bailey

OMG  Scott!  “When ignorance attains to power, truth is its

biggest threat…. Because of this, truth seekers are marginalized

virtually everywhere.” How true is this of the culture you inhabit,

if any?”  er, did this prompt just come to you out of the

blue?  Those who worship ignorance, the Isa Upanishad assures us,

enter a realm of blind darkness—but “truth” seems hardly to daunt

them.  Or rather, for Demonic Donald, “truth” seems to mean

whatever he says it means at a particular moment.  It does seem

emphatically the case that “truth seekers”, in regard to the

Absolute as well as managing our vulnerable and menaced

everyday world, are marginalized, at any rate that seems to be

Power’s plan.  In the culture I inhabited, by choice aided by luck,

most of my life, truth was the lodestar for many of us, and that

remains true of my colleagues in the universities, those I know

somewhat.  But we are under assault by the power-worshippers

driven by ambition and greed, themselves nourished by resentment

and ignorance.  How to understand this? Watching a Neflix

documentary on WWII offers a kind of knowledge that does not

encourage the faith in Reason and Progress bequeathed us by the

Enlightenment.  Grinning young German soldiers, healthy well-fed

and confident, advancing into Russia in the summer of 1941,

filmed as they obey orders to shoot down Jews and other

subhumans, to set fire to their homes and farms.  They don’t look

so happy and confident at Stalingrad in the winter of ’42-43, but

still they mostly obey orders (the filmmakers show us an

exception, a soldier ordered to shoot a prisoner, who instead walks

him out of sight and lets him escape into the woods).  I have been

reading a lot, in the last couple of years, about world of the 1930’s

and 40s in Europe, the world of the growing-up, youth and early

maturity of my parents, the “cultures” –historical events,

economics, social realities, ideologies—of those years.  I could

teach a class, a whole semester of classes on that era, but would I

at the end of it understand more why those young soldier did the

things they did, why the ones still surviving in 1945 continued to

fight desperately in obedience to a deranged madman whose final

plan was to destroy as much as could be destroyed?  Into blind

darkness enter they...  indeed.  Sure, there were exceptions,

happily.  The Paris to which I shall return tomorrow has preserved

so much of its charm and historic beauty, its character, because the

German commander in August 1944 evaded and finally disobeyed

Hitler’s direct, oft-repeated orders, to burn the place down.  The

crack SS divisions who got those same orders, at the same time, in

regard to Warsaw carried them out with thorough, savage brutality

– while Stalin kept the Russian army in check 50 miles

away.  Meanwhile France was being liberated by the combined

efforts of the French themselves and the Allied armies (rather

astonishingly France quickly transitioned from a defeated,

occupied country to a partner ally which would take a judicial seat,

with the Americans, English and Soviets, to judge the Nazis at

Nuremberg).   

     Did Krishna incarnate, per verses 7 & 8, in some sense in those

times restoring righteousness, protecting the good, destroying evil

doers?  I’ve also been watching a new movie about Nuremberg,

where “crimes against humanity” began to have legal

existence.  We Americans have mostly in our lifetimes admired

Lincoln for defending the Union and ending slavery –and he

remains a symbol of what much of the world admires/has admired

about America in our lifetimes—is this “truth” too now under

threat?  

 

(chez KD (Kathleen) 28 Blvd St Denis, Paris April

30)   “Conscious living”/ “Deliberate living”.  ED emphasizes this

as key to Swamiji’s living/teaching. The stability of the self-

imposed pattern of his days once he became settled in the Ranchi

ashram in 1930 was rigorous, reliable, though subject to

adjustment with changing seasons (monsoon) or such

circumstances as the two visits to France arranged by his French

disciples.  Stabilitas is the key vow taken by monks of the Order of

Saint Benedict, like Thomas Merton, ever since the 6 th  century. A

useful prompt for me?  How can it be?  I am no monk!  Is not

impulsive living-in-the-moment-listening-for-guidance-by-that-

inner-voice (the key concept of the Quakers) more in accord with

my nature? Or is this thought among Ego’s master ploys?   

(May 4)  My nature. My destiny. My svadharma.  My

intention/intentions.  My choices (my question to Nataraja Guru at

New Year 1973: how to make choices?) What am I supposed to do

in/with my life? “Deliberate living”---oh, plunged am I, plunged I

have been since I got on the overnight plane a week ago and

opened a second-hand copy of Philip Roth’s novel The Human

Stain (2000) which I had impulsively bought for a dollar in the

Bloomington public library’s old-books-sell-off shop just before I

left.  Oh, I knew this to be as heavy-duty-as-delightfully-written-a-

novel, for I had read it before, on the 2001 trip to France when I

brought my 15-year-old daughter and 10-year-old son along to

discover my Europe with me.  And when they had returned to the

States with Christine and I settled into directing the Walhain

excavation I opened that then new-and-fresh novel (the story set in

1998) to relax evenings to read with growing delight.  Roth’s gift

as a writer: so serious and at the same time so funny.  This is the

time to reread it, Impulse said, so I grabbed it and here I sit shaking

my head in wonder at 2 AM in Paris, France.

     Coleman Silk, the protagonist, in his Freshman year at Howard

University when his father (by whose firm intention he was

enrolled in that university) abruptly dies, drops out of school and

acts decisively.  WWII is started: he joins the Navy, as a white

man.  Today we might shrug – mixed-race, big deal, but in those

days black and white was...black and white.  No joking, no

nuances. Some of Coleman’s forebears had been slaves in Georgia

not so many years ago but the paternal line moved north to New

Jersey and intermarried with Negro families which went back to

the 17 th  century, light-toned from generations of racial

mixing.  Coleman, energetic, disciplined, strong-willed as a teen-

ager takes up boxing-for-fun (well, it might be said, for character-

building); his Jewish teacher/trainer nudges him to fight-as-white

in a particular match which could have led to an athletic

scholarship in a major university, allowing him to “slip the punch”

of accepting a life in the officially inferior stratum of segregated

America.  Something his father, a man of unyielding principle,

would never allow.  So in Howard, the foremost historically black

college, Coleman is on the rails to life as a Negro, an identity

imposed on him by birth, as he sees it, against which his spirit

rebels: NOT CHOSEN BY ME.  Father suddenly not there, he

chooses the Navy and passing-for-white henceforth, and the

consequences of this choice over the rest of his life are the novel’s

major theme.  In the summer of 1998, after a distinguished career

as a Classical scholar professor, and Dean of elite old Athena

College in the Berkshire mountains of Western Massachusetts (my

own Williams College is clearly Roth’s model) he is estranged

from the college and the community where he had wielded such

power, been such a great teacher, as a result of an offhand phrase

used in class misinterpreted (to some extent understandably-if-

stupidly, to some extent opportunistically and maliciously) as

racist.  Roth is a prophet, here, of the turmoil in 21 st  century

America over “woke culture”, a term not yet invented and

cynically manipulated by the Right and Donald Trump.  But what

speaks to me here in our study is what to learn from Coleman

Silk’s drama about “deliberate living”, the nature of Truth, and the

consequences of the choices one makes.  

      For young Coleman, to accept an identity as “colored”, or

Negro, amounts to a Lie in regard to a preferred Truth that insists

he construct his own identity as an individual.  The ideal expressed

by the Victorian English poet Henley: “I am the master of my

fate/I am the captain of my soul” (Invictis).  His deliberate

rejection of that identity leads to cutting himself off from his own

family, and in order to invent the self and construct the future he

has decided upon, to invent himself as Jewish, to marry a Jewish

woman and pass along his invented story, this chosen identity, to

his own four children.  In pursuit of his own private Truth, to

entangle himself such a web of deceits that an accusation of

“racism” becomes his nemesis.  Just today in an article in the

French weekly L’Express, bought on impulse for the metro, the

French philosopher Julia de Funes explains: the error comes from

the insistence in our contemporary culture of putting identity in

place of principled, nuanced distinction.  It is one thing to affirm,

Coleman, that “race” ought not to matter (both laws and social

realities have changed so much since the 1940s that many more

people agree on that), another to hide the truth of your own racial

background.  The tragic issue of the path your choice(s) entailed is

made clear in this novel, as is its resonances with the tragic Greek

dramas you taught with great care, honesty and skill in your

career.  The heroic aspects of that deliberately chosen life are also

explored, with sensitivity, nuance and humor, by Philip Roth in a

novel which I consider worthy of a Nobel prize. Is it by chance that

a French philosopher waves to me as I pursue my path, savoring its

ironic wealth?  Perhaps, Nataraja Guru, I have not entirely

disregarded your advice?

     What does Krishna say?  “As each chooses to approach Me,

even accordingly do I have regard for him. My very path it is, O

Arjuna, that all men do tread from every (possible) approach.” (v

11)

      What has Gilles Farcet to say to us (Christine and me) a propos

our “inner ecology” in our morning spiritual reading? (9 AM

now)  Good resolutions, he asks us?  Problem is, the one who

resolves to take a healthy morning run is not the same as the one

who decides ten minutes later better to drink a coffee than to lace

up the running shoes.  We are not one, we are several, many.  Until

we are unified...  Until “the heart becomes like a stone”

(Yeats, Easter 1916), until young Silky the boxer becomes Dean

Silk... the many don’t agree.  Best, advises GF, to keep the

resolutions simple, as realist as possible. I hear Kathleen returning

from her early morning yoga.  Let us go down to Le Sully and sip

our café crème.

Scott: To be honest, Bailey, the quest for power and dominance is

a most typical urge of ignorance, and human history is littered with

its tragedies. Yet, that is a good quote, to shrink it down to a few

words. We are left to wonder if computer power isn’t the last

weapon needed to make ignorance a permanent condition. It’s

certainly a big help, and you have to credit the right wing for first

realizing its value for propaganda.

We didn’t expect to witness the apocalypse, did we? It

seemed like scare tactics, more than a warning of what to look out

for.

I don’t know that I have any consolation to offer, but I find

profound consolation in the Gita’s clear-headed philosophy. At

least it can help us stay sane while all those about us are losing

their heads. (I’m sure you know your Kipling, here paraphrased.)

You are finding the readings a stimulus for retrospection over

your life, it seems, and that’s a wonderful thing at a late stage like

ours. We hit a very sweet spot in history, and ardently hoped it

would last. Why would anyone prefer hatred and misery-making to

peace and love? And yet the appeal is irresistible. Darn! The movie

of our lives holds plenty of comedy and tragedy, suspense and

ennui, cleverness and stupidity. No boots stamped our faces,

endlessly. My drop in the bucket is to pass on a little of what a

very enlightened and kindhearted trio of gurus gifted all sentient

beings, and is already fading away. It’s too early to imagine what

comes next.

People our age watched a lot of documentaries on TV about

WWII in our childhoods, and it made us peace-lovers. I can still

picture some of the scenes, all in black and white. Soldiers frozen

stiff in Russia, as they walked, still upright, forging forward.

Impossible! Scenes out of hell, right here on earth.

We’d welcome Jesus or Krishna coming back into the world

and kicking ass, but I’m afraid it isn’t going to be that easy. I’m

happy to be proved wrong. There is an inherent balance in the

world, and it may be that humans have overstepped their bounds of

devastating our dear Mother, so our time is up. What “rough beast”

will replace us?

Th Roth book sounds fascinating; thanks for the synopsis.

As yogis, we know we can’t “fix” anything. we can only live

well and stand for reason and justice. Try to live up to XII,15: Be

one who does not disturb (the peace of) the world and (whose

peace) is not disturbed by the world, and who is free from

exaggerations of joy, hate and fear. Nothing to it.

Gita 2026 Lesson 10 CHAPTER III: Karma Yoga, verses 27 – 43.

 I’ve included a lovely passage of Guru Nitya’s writing in my

response to Bailey, about a classic moment between Narayana

Guru and his disciple, Nataraja Guru.

Good work, everyone. For those who aren’t writing, please

don’t be intimidated by the wise rishis in your class. Feel free to

share your questions and confusions, and it’s okay if it’s brief.

Bindu

When Rabindranath Tagore visited Narayana Guru and praised

him for his achievements and the “great work” he was doing, the

Guru replied with deep humility: “Neither have we done anything

in the past nor is it possible to do anything in the future.

Powerlessness fills us with sorrow.” These words capture the true

heart of Karma Yoga. The Guru understood that he was not the

real doer; he was only an instrument. Life moves on its own, and

we are merely small parts of that movement.

In today’s world, many modern gurus seek recognition through

visible achievements. Media is often used to gain attention, build

influence, and sometimes monetise their image. Their power seems

to come from followers and visibility, much like a magician who

gathers a crowd through illusion. As popularity grows, ego often

grows with it, and the focus subtly shifts from truth to

selfpromotion.

This connects closely with the idea of getting over the need to

prove ourselves. Social media has become a space where people

display only the best moments of their lives, creating an illusion of

continuous happiness and success. But can anyone truly be happy

all the time? Happiness is just one emotion among many, and like

all emotions, it does not stay. What truly matters is a steady

mind—one that remains balanced through constantly changing

states.

When I look into my own life, I see this tendency in myself as

well. At social events, I sometimes feel a pull to present myself in

a certain way—through clothing or appearance—to gain attention

or validation. Even when it is unnecessary, something within urges

me to prove my worth.

At work, I notice a similar pattern. I sometimes feel the need to

strongly defend my opinions. I remember a conversation after a

meeting where I spoke about men not contributing enough to

household responsibilities. A colleague supported me, but my

manager felt uncomfortable and defended himself. Later, I realised

I had placed him in a difficult position. I was trying to validate my

viewpoint, but it caused discomfort for someone else. Afterwards, I

asked myself: Why did I need to prove my point so strongly? Was

it really necessary?

Karma Yoga reminds me that life is unfolding naturally and that I

am only a small part of it. The urge to prove myself only creates

stress. When I let go of that need, I feel calmer and more confident.

I can simply do my best without seeking approval.

The phrase “Do fight with fever gone” holds great power for me. It

teaches the importance of acting without emotional disturbance.

When I first came to England, I struggled to accept the country.

My family and friends were in India, and in my twenties,

loneliness became a constant companion. Frustration and anger

often shaped my reactions.

Once, after an argument with my husband, I cut all the cards from

his wallet—including my own. He simply smiled at my childish

reaction. For a moment, I felt relief. But reality quickly returned:

we couldn’t shop, and we had to contact the banks to replace

everything. That incident taught me how emotional reactions

create unnecessary consequences.

I’ve observed that when I react emotionally—especially from

frustration or urgency—my decisions are driven by those

emotions. But when I pause and regain balance, I respond with

greater clarity. This recovery is still a work in progress. Sometimes

balance returns quickly; other times it takes longer. Desire and

anger cloud the mind, but when I observe them clearly, they begin

to lose their power. Inner calm is not weakness—it is strength.

Another insight is how often we live through imitation. From

childhood, we are conditioned through comparison: “Learn from

her,” “Look how well he is doing.” This pattern continues into

adulthood. Even in social situations, I sometimes behave according

to expectations rather than my true nature. There are moments of

discomfort, as though I am not fully myself. Slowly, I am

becoming more aware of what feels genuine for me. Being

comfortable in my own skin is still a journey, but I am learning to

accept myself without comparison.

Ultimately, true growth comes from selfunderstanding, inner

balance, and action that is free from ego and uncontrolled desire.

Bringing this reflection into the present, I recently created a

fiveminute mindfulness audio for my workplace. When meditation

sessions were announced, I signed up without realising I would

need to record an audio or video. When I was informed, I

hesitated. Then I thought—if I signed up, I should at least try.

I wrote a short script and recorded the audio. It was my first time,

and I wasn’t comfortable appearing on video. I felt nervous and

shared the audio with colleagues and friends, asking for feedback.

My accent is still Indian, but I did my best. Once it was completed,

I let it go. It will be published on the company website, but it

doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t define me. I practiced letting go of

the outcome—do, and move on.

It was a pleasure reading your biography, Bailey. Your writing, life

experiences, and depth of understanding feel far beyond my own

perspective, which until now has been quite limited.

Your story also brought to mind the words of William

Shakespeare: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women

merely players; they have their exits and their entrances …”

It also reminded me of Swami Vivekananda’s reflection: “Drama

is the most difficult of all arts. In it, two things are to be

satisfied—first, the ears, and second, the eyes. To paint a single

scene is easy enough; but to paint many different things and yet

keep the central interest intact is very difficult. Another challenge

is stage management—bringing all elements together in a way that

preserves that central truth.”

Together, these reflections resonate deeply with the idea that while

we each play our roles, it is awareness, balance, and inner

steadiness that allow us to perform them with grace—without

losing ourselves to ego, comparison, or the need to prove anything.

 

Love Bindu x

Scott: Narayana Guru’s response to Tagore is deeply moving, but

I’d like to suggest a slight addition to the excellent points you

make about it, Bindu. There are many places in his writings that

Narayana Guru laments the situation. He cared very much, but

wasn’t deterred by disappointment, because his ego wasn’t

dependent on the outcome, and he didn’t need to take any credit.

He knew he was involved—he was very much present, and knew

that much suffering came from the ignorance he was doing his best

to dissipate. He didn’t have a specified program, and he was not

merely a “social reformer,” as is so often said of him, but he gave

heart and soul to everything and everybody.

All I’m cautioning is we should not pigeonhole him. He was

a truly exceptional example of the elusiveness of yogic expertise in

action. The more one knows about him, the more inspiring it

becomes. He was both an instrument and a master performer.

These are not two things.

The Guru’s performance with Tagore is something we can

practice: Someone praises you. Your ego throbs with pleasure. So

you turn off that impulse and say, “It ain’t me, babe,” or “It’s

nothing,” or, at the top of the options list, the astounding refutation

the Guru offered. It is said that Tagore understood the Guru’s

reply, and accepted it. Because he was also wise. Anyone who tries

to help humanity is aware of the immense resistance with which it

retains its ignorance. Anyway, a yogi counters the positive with its

complementary negative, preserving the neutrality. Narayana

Guru, beloved by millions, held fast to his neutrality, or he would

have been swept away.

Bindu, your assessment of what happens when the ego is

ridden into popularity is well put, ending with “the focus subtly

shifts from truth to selfpromotion.” Then all is lost.

Your response tempts me to write high praise to you, but then

I’ll be putting you on the same spot of having to negate it, so let’s

skip that. Great essay, Bindu. Now, what can I criticize…. You

overdid it a bit after a meeting and then thought “Why did I need to

prove my point so strongly? Was it really necessary?” So you

were restraining yourself more than necessary. Perhaps you also

balanced this with the thought that it’s true that men very often

don’t hold up their side of homemaking, so you were making a

valid case for improved equality. With both thoughts together, you

are kept in balance, without regret or pride muddying the water,

and you also struck a blow for freedom.

Staying in balance is a lifetime effort, but it definitely gets

easier with practice. I’ve found that life keeps us on our toes with

all sorts of tricks, to keep us in practice. It’s the Kurukshetra, the

field of battle, never far off. The world stage. Play away.

Gopica

---continuing here with my work life experiences----

My leader gave me feedback filled with many words, which felt

hard at first. I tried not to get stuck in the words, but to move ahead

with my actions, holding the intention as pure as I could. I am not

sure if I showed my best humility, or if I was simply doing my

work without attachment.

For the first time my leader said, “You have to be my eyes and

ears.” That sentence felt confusing to me. I did not clearly

understand what she meant at that time.

Some time later, I had to contact the IT team to help a volunteer

with a technical issue. The IT person who always replied quickly

to my questions did not respond this time. I waited a day and

called, but he did not pick up. I sent a message to his boss, asking

if he was well or on leave. His boss responded that he would

check.

Later, the boss called me and asked if I could talk for a few

minutes. He told me that my leader had asked him about a report I

had sent. She had told him that no future request from me or from

anyone else should be processed without her approval.

I was shocked. I felt that if something was not okay, she could

have spoken to me directly. I shared this with him. He asked me to

keep our conversation confidential. I told him that all my requests

to the IT department were sent as screenshots, and I did not know

what had troubled her. I also said that she is the leader and we

must follow her directions.

In that moment, I felt pain, but also a kind of clarity. 

I thought this may be the answer that the leader wanted me to see.

Perhaps she expects me to observe, to listen, and then to consult or

get her approval before acting. This helped me understand her

statement on eyes and ears.

After that, the earlier conversations with her felt lighter in my

body. The heaviness I had been carrying eased. I felt that these

verses from Chapter 3 came at the right time as a blessing in

disguise to help me respond rather than act from impulse.

Meaning making:

These verses are showing me that even when decisions go through

others, I am still doing my duty without owning the outcome. The

leader’s role is to guide and oversee; my role is to work with

clarity, honesty, and humility. When I remove the “I did this” and

“I was wronged” from the story, I can see the situation as a flow of

actions and relationships, not as a personal attack.

The “eyes and ears” teaching is helping me shift from reacting on

impulse to pausing, seeing more clearly, and then choosing my

next step in alignment with the larger picture. In this, I feel a gentle

release in the body and a subtle sense of freedom in the mind. The

verses are like a quiet companion, reminding me that every

difficult interaction can be a chance to grow in self-awareness and

inner balance.

Verse sync:

v27 - Actions happen through instruments, not 'I'

v30 - Dedicate all to Me, free from ego

v36 - Impulse arises, wisdom responds

Thanks & Regards,

Gopica

Scott: Very interesting, Gopica, and it sounds like you have

resolved much. My impression, however, is that you are still

relying on your own speculations about the leader—in a workable

way—yet you haven’t asked her for her own understanding of your

relationship. She addresses you directly, so you could simply let

her know you aren’t sure about something and ask her for

guidance. This is harder than it sounds when there is an expected

deference in the employee, but I don’t see that, with the

information I have. It should be only a little hard.

It’s totally fair for you to know exactly what you are

surrendering to, and few leaders are perfect. You are willing to do

what’s required, and that’s the important part. “Eyes and ears”

conveys a wide range of meanings, and I would ask exactly what

she meant. A good leader is eager to clarify misunderstandings,

and that’s a reasonable assumption on your part.

Contractual; work, like a job, is not exactly the same as

spiritual development, where you surrender to the flow, to what

you can trust. Trust is earned, not given away without a solid basis,

and the Gita will make much of this in the middle chapters.

Reducing the ego, as you have, is good, yet there is room for you

to care about your outcomes, including guaranteeing that no one

misrepresents you or takes credit for your work. You are in fact the

instrument itself—it doesn’t play without your direct participation.

Your dedication is a beautiful thing; being free of ego does not

mean having no ego, but not letting egoistic needs confuse the

situation. That’s where your spiritual development benefits

whatever work you perform.

Please keep us up to date on your job, and also keep in mind

that jobs carry constraints that we can hang in the closet during our

“free time.” It takes time for them to play in harmony.

Venkat

Venkat is still catching up, but since everything is related in the

Gita, It’s worthy of being included right away, and it will add a

little more excitement to the study. – Scott

I have been reading Chapter II from the Gita. I was able to read

until verse 49. I decided to write my thoughts to you and then

continue with the remaining section as they seem to flow like a

stream of water; I could only merely get a handful (not

overwhelming, but a revelation). 

An uncle from my mother's side of the family is an

important teacher in my life. Everybody calls him uncle ( including

my mom and dad ), so I don't know his exact maternal relationship

to us. He followed the Sri Vidya School and used to do sadhanas

everyday. I still remember the day I felt his warm hands around my

shoulders and his soft voice asking me to call if I ever needed help.

From then on, I called him at any point I felt overwhelmed at a

crossroads. Most of the time, I could never grasp his answers,  but

they have always been a revelation of my true self. His words

would eventually make sense to me in the mundane tasks of

everyday life. I miss him deeply now, yet his words remain in my

memory, surfacing exactly when they are needed. I have always

appreciated his guidance, and not a day goes by without my

remembering him. I no longer think of him as an Uncle but as one

of my Gurus. 

I am fortunate to have you guide me to read the Gita. As you

mentioned in your previous email, I have begun to read your

commentary of the Gita and ponder the exercises. As your

commentary says in II.8, I was able to get past my personal

interests and your insights have helped me understand some of the

questions that I have been struggling with. Thank you, as always. 

I have had a few experiences related to the content of Chapter II

over the past couple of weeks. As you know, I was very

disappointed at work; however, in a recent conversation with my

manager, he mentioned that job titles are just vanity and urged me

to consider if I am enjoying the work alongside its affordability.

The reward of an action has always been a hindrance to me. The

cycle of thinking about future rewards—and the disappointment

when they aren't met—has always been startling. Having this

conversation just before starting Chapter II felt clairvoyant; it

provided the balance needed to help me ponder my current state.

Another such experience happened yesterday, after bird watching

at a nearby park. My 3 year old son, wife and I visited a

nearby park to look for warblers' spring migration. Though

unlucky with the warblers, we were able to completely be present

in the moment, looking and listening with full attention. We saw a

Painted Bunting, a Carolina Wren and an Eastern Whip (rare for

our region).  We were all happy (though tired) and completely

immersed in nature. My wife shared the pictures with our

friends and family but we could never describe the happiness we

shared in those moments. It felt so close to your commentary on

Absolute vs relative - how explaining the absolute will always be

partial, as it can only be experienced in its entirety. 

"

A certain person sees This as a wonder, likewise another

speaks about This as a wonder. Another hears of It even as a

wonder, but even hearing no one understands This at all.

" 

I have been in awe with these verses and how unexplainable our

experiences are. 

 I couldn't grasp verse 39 and the different layers mentioned in the

commentary. I will ponder a bit more and reach out to you in my

next letter. Please advise if you feel there are any resources or

steps that can help me. 

Looking back, I see my letter is all over the place with a common

theme of awe and gratitude, I say to myself that all these

experiences are just side effects and to not be distracted by them.

Thanks, 

Venkat

Scott: You’re doing great, Venkat; don’t expect to get full

value from the Gita on the first exposure. Each verse is a

banquet in itself, and it’s just fine if you are able to taste a

small amount of it. These ideas will develop on their own,

below your radar, and begin to appear on the screen more

over time. With your preparation, they are working in fertile

ground.

Let the revelations come on their own—they’re waiting

in the wings, but can’t be elicited until you’re ready. For now,

let them be.

The Gita will help you make better sense of your uncle’s

teachings, putting them in context (if they aren’t already), and

your growth will undoubtedly catch up with them, too. Guru

wisdom is better conveyed as a mystery. When we think, “Oh

yeah, that makes sense,” we don’t bother to look farther.

Bafflement leads us to probe deeper, so long as you trust the

source.

It’s good Krishna’s teachings are already helping you

with work issues, and that can be a main focus for you right

now. Part of the job factor is that you have every right to

stand up for your contractual expectations at work. Not

having expectations is meant here in a spiritual sense, that you

won’t become a super-hero by practicing yoga, as an example.

In your job you should be fairly valued and given credit, and

rewarded accordingly. Gopica is also working with job issues,

so peek at her response if you have time. Bindu and Bailey are

also excellent companions for this journey.

You touch on an important point, Venkat—we’ll be

contemplating the Absolute all through, yet it is indefinable,

so we need to keep in mind that we aren’t trying to pin it

down or define it, other than in a very general sense. Only

open ourselves to it. You, and your family, and your

adventures, and your knowledge drawn from helpful uncles

and unhelpful encounters, and of course your employment,

are all the Absolute, and that knowledge will help you bring

your best game to the match.

The verse you quote, II.29, is one of my all-time

favorites. Let’s celebrate the wonder, and admit we know only

the least amount. When your side effects are awe and

gratitude, it means your attractions are well-directed. Thank

you for your participation.

Bailey

verse 36: How do we bring ideals and actions together

harmoniously? And why are our impulses so powerful, so much

stronger than our best intentions? A question to keep

pondering!                                            

 

(April 16). Thank you, Scott, for sharing with us something about

how your long-term study of the Gita in the larger context of your

engagement with the Narayana Gurukula strand of Vedanta has

nourished, and continues to nourish you, as our world continues to

be shaken by violence (that, alas, is nothing new) and confronts

unprecedented threats to civilizational values our fore-parents

sought to define and defend, indeed to the very survival of

our sapiens species on the Mother Earth as so many past

generations have experienced it.  How are we to keep our heart,

our courage, our confidence in ourselves and one another in the

face of today’s threats? Of events and of attitudes that can suggest

that our world is careening toward catastrophe?  You cited Pope

Leo “standing for sanity” – and now in the aftermath of his Easter

message he has maintained his message in the face of Trump’s

bullying and bluster.  Just today I read, in a fundraising appeal

from the Democrats, that pollster Nate Silver puts Trump’s

approval among Americans at 44% (!).  Perhaps if Nate aggregated

his polls this week the figure would be diminished but I fear the

figure would still be much too high.  But our teaching tells us to be

ruled not by fear but by the honest search for understanding, for

Truth.  Lucid truth. Acceptance of What Is Here-and. Now. What

you have been doing over the years, and continue to do is to

encourage us who join you in the Gita journey persevere, and I

thank you it.

 

(April 17) Better to act in conformity with one’s own nature than

to imitate behavior “foreign to one’s nature even well done”

(verses  34-35).  This has been a recurring thought these past

days.  Daily life oscillates between routines, not fully chosen, more

or less imposed from the outside, and impulses, which one tends to

think come from somewhere within (where?), until some

acquaintance with psychology or Vedanta or whatever makes one

more aware of the origins of one’s impulses in the shaping

influences of Experiences, one’s own and beyond. Ah, but I have

left out the critical, self-defining other factor, haven’t I? one’s

projects, plans, or –to take a word given emphasis in this

morning’s “spiritual reading”: Intention.

     The “spiritual reading?”  This has become, since Christine and

I, began living in our little garden cottage in Meadowood our one

mutually & fully-chosen. day-beginning routine, accompanied by

freshly-ground coffee (thus reminiscent of the routine in Ooty in

the Spring of 1972).  Recently we have been reading Vivre. La

Guerison Spirituelle selon Swami Prajnanpad by Emmanuel

Desjardins (ED), who opens the book with a photo of his two-year-

old self in 1966 reaching for Swamiji’s hand.  Both his parents,

Arnaud and Denise Desjardins, were among the nine French

disciples of this Bengali Vedantin and have published books about

their experience of his teaching; Arnaud founded –with Swamiji’s

blessing—spiritual centers in France which continue to flourish.

Swami Prajnanpad (1891-1974) was born Yogeshvar Chatterjee

into a poor Brahmin family, orphaned at age eleven and raised by

his older brother Sejda, who made sure the boy, whose acute

intelligence and spiritual gifts were notable early on, had the

opportunity to pursue his education through university.  Yogeshvar

studied both science and literature (Indian and Western) and

became himself a university teacher in Benares in the 1920s. He

also immersed himself in the Upanishads and the Gita and,

impelled by idealism, thought of founding a school for young

children. One day in 1922 he consulted the Vedantin Niralamba

Swami, who perceived that the young man’s burning desire was

for the Absolute rather than any project of social betterment, and

became his guru. Many years later, looking back for the sake of his

French disciples on the decisive moments –what one might call the

signposts—which set him on his own spiritual path, he began with

a chance encounter in the streets of Dacca with a deranged man

(fou).  One moment he would be reciting chants, at another burst

into tears crying “Woe is me! Here I’m mouthing holy words, then

demons are driving me!” Passerby, used to this, smiled, mocked or

paid no heed but young Yogeshvar was gobsmacked: this

“madman” has seen lucidly,  as in a flash of lightning, the trap in

which he is caught – and beyond his own case, that’s the human

condition.  Caught in a trap! Impossible to escape? It was in the

aftermath of this upsetting realization that Yogeshvar meets

Niralamba Swami, who teaches him that Wisdom lies elsewhere,

beyond the realm of traps and escaping traps, and that Wisdom

begins with learning to distinguish between Self and non-Self,

what endures and what is always subject to change. 

 

Nataraja Guru, commenting on Shankaracharya’s Crest Jewel of

Wisdom at Fernhill in Spring 1972 

 

     Swami Prajnanpad, for the benefit of his French disciples,

singled out two other decisive signposts in regard to his own

journey.  The first has to do with chastity and sexuality, and

requires context.  Perhaps, two fundamental facts.  One: Yogeshvar

married in 1919, when he was twenty-eight, a twelve-year old girl,

Anasuya, from a poor family.  It would be more exact to say he

agreed to marry, or accepted to marry, on the insistence of his

family, in particular the brother, Sejda, the head of the family since

the parents died, who had loved, nurtured, protected him all his

life.  Sejda and the family considered that marriage was the normal

and correct thing for a university teacher embarking on his career

to do now that he was entering the second of life’s four stages

(householder) according to Hindu tradition.  Yogeshvar insisted

the girl be from a poor family (no doubt moved by his personal

idealism at this stage) and that consummation would wait for her to

mature more. This points to fundamental fact #2: he had very little

sexual drive –even, it would seem— as repugnance.  As he later

himself told the story: when he was in his mid-twenties he once

saw a male goat mount a female: it was degrading, repellent! The

male licking the female’s urine even before he sticks in his

penis—ugly! Not for me!  So once married he was in no hurry to

consummate.  Problem was, by the time she was fifteen or so

Anasuya was under serious pressure from family to produce a

baby, so the young man did his part and a baby girl, Chinmayee,

was born.  Then what does the young man do? In March of 1925

he takes vows of sanyasa and heads for the Himalaya!  It is during

this sojurn (it was never meant to be more than that, he assured

Anasuya that he would be coming back) that he passed the fourth

signpost, met –as he later told the French disciples—his fourth

teacher.  An ant. There he was meditating in his room, he notices a

grain of rice moving.  An ant is trying to get it to go into a little

hole.  It won’t go. The ant backs down, changes angles, tries

again.  Nope. Try again.  It will take 13 tries, but the ant won’t

give up, she perseveres. To paraphrase ED’s version of Swamiji’s

own words: “What patience! The ant is moved by a single

intention: get it into there! Decide what you want to do and keep at

it. That’s the secret of action, of acting.  Ant, you’re my

guru.  Persevere! The lesson if good for action in all domains.”

     Yogeshvar did return to his home, did resume teaching to

support his family, to assume the responsibilities of the

householder stage of life, but made it very clear to everyone that he

now regarded himself as a sanyasin to the extent possible for

him.  Though living in the world, he had renounced it. (Or, as he

later put it when asked, rather, the world had renounced him.) Any

sexual life was now out of the question. He was more and more

absorbed in spiritual practices. When his guru Niralamba Swami

died, in 1930, the former professor now known as Swami

Prajnanpad moved into the ashram bequeathed him, to remain for

the rest of his life.  Anasuya and their daughter lived for a while in

a lodging he was able to provide for them in Calcutta; it seems he

was prepared to free her through divorce, but she was unwilling.

Later she moved to the ashram; there, years later, the French

disciples would also get to know her and listen to her complaints of

how she had suffered during her husband’s early, idealistic

phase.  Swamiji was always an attentive and engaged father, ED

tells us; Chinmayee married, became in her turn a mother.  The

world continued to turn, but from that 1930 day when Swami

Prajnapad  established his regular daily rhythm in that Bengal

ashram lost in the midst of rice-paddies far from any road the

world turned detached from his engagement.  He did not cut

himself off from people. When they came, and his advice was

sought he offered it on a strictly one-on-one basis.  He never gave

a lecture or wrote anything for publication (he did respond to

letters). There were always a few Indian disciples who came and

went. In 1959 he was “discovered” by his first French disciple,

Daniel Roumanouf; eight others followed, making stays of a month

or more, over the next 14 years.  He accepted their invitation to

come, twice, to France for entirely private visits, continuing his

daily routine in a Paris suburban villa. One September 1974 day

Swamiji asked his son-in-law, at his bedside, the time, remarked

“it is time to go” and left the body.

        (April 20). A brisk, sunny & cool Spring day.  I have just

come from a short walk in the woods adjacent to our house; the

trees, still mostly etched branches against the sky a week ago, are

wearing their early, bright green foliage. The passage we read this

morning in Emmanuel Desjardin’s book tells the story of his father

Arnaud’s first meeting with Swami Prajnandad.  What do you

want?  AD says: Atma darshana. Swamiji smiles.  “That’s

nice”.  He goes on: how do you know there is such a thing

as Atman?  Arnaud cites the Upanishads, Shankaracharya...  That’s

nice, but how do you know this is true?  How do you know what is

true? That anyone knows? I have myself met living saints, insists

Arnaud (he has been making his film Ashrams, and another about

the Tibetans).  Ma Ananda Mayi is a living saint! She embodies

truth!  Returns Swamiji: You have never met Ma Ananda

Mayi!  you have met your Ma Ananda Mahyi...

      (April 22)  I’m back from dropping Christine at the airport,

now must focus on my own packing. I follow her in three days.  

What have I been trying to communicate in this response, my

fellows in this study, I am asking myself?  Perhaps a validation, for

myself, of verse 33, where Krishna tells Arjuna that “even a man

of wisdom acts in conformity with his own nature.”  We are not all

called to a life of austerity, as was young Yogeshvar --certainly not

me!  I was attracted to the India of the Upanishads, and when I

encountered Nataraja Guru and the Fernhill Gurukula of that day,

attracted enough to stay, even to turn around, when we had started

to return westwards, and choose to stay.  The lesson of the ant:

persevere.  From this study, from other readings and stories and

interactions with people I keep at it as best I can.  Thank you,

Scott, for your comments and your encouragements, and best

wishes to you, fellow students.  I shall get on with my travel

preparations, and look forward to continuing our journey.

Scott: Computers are the game-changers that make permanent

oppression possible, I’m afraid. We don’t have to imagine

Orwell’s boot stamping human faces forever, AI will do it for us,

while our stampers luxuriate in the Grand Hotel Gaza Beach.

I shuddered with dread in the mid-nineties, when it was

proclaimed that the new Internet was going to usher in the Golden

Age, but I admit I didn’t imagine it would look as bad as this….

I love the ant story!

I’ve surveyed the little I have on Narayana Guru’s marriage,

quite similar to Yogeshvar’s. He and the chosen girl were never

“engaged.” There is an account in Nancy Y’s biography, mostly

drawn from Word of the Guru. You must have these books?

Nitya, who was swarmed by enthusiastic women in America,

some who would jump in his lap and kiss him, which he quietly

despised. He told us once that the Gurukula has slowly warmed to

women: that Narayana Guru was terrified of females, and if one

tried to touch his feet, he would leap up onto the back of his chair.

Nataraja Guru contemplated marriage until around age 50 (I can’t

locate this story), then made the decision to take sannyasa and

become a dedicated bachelor. He had cautious intellectual

associations with women, mostly imaginary. His collected quotes

is filled with lines like “If you understand a woman, if you really

understand a woman, you understand God.” Clearly, he idealized

women, but knew very little about them. They were still very much

on the periphery in those days. I could go on…. But won’t.

Nitya had to keep running from the adoring women around

him, in the West at least. In L&B, Nitya was in Bombay, and was

good friends with several women. He writes:

Guru was a great admirer of traditional Marathi homes, and

he somehow connected the culture of the women with

Kalidasa’s classics. I had never noticed that cooking, serving,

and eating could be such an aesthetically and spiritually perfect

art. The day closed with a satsang, during which Guru gave a

touching interpretation of traditional Hindu family life.

Next day the second teacher came to pay homage to Guru.

From her behavior Guru presumed that she was head over heels

in love with me, and he decided to nip that sentiment in the bud

for the good of both of us. He spoke very affectionately, gave

her a paternal embrace, and said, “If you give your heart to this

young man, you will regret it later. He is an irresponsible

sannyasi who is wandering in all the three worlds. He cannot be

restrained by anyone. If you give him your heart, he may

inadvertently leave it somewhere and forget it.”

His warning had the desired effect. After Guru had gone, she

wanted to know all about sannyasa. I wrote an explanatory

letter in the form of a dissertation, which clearly showed what a

woman can expect from a sannyasi and how he may conduct

himself without breaking any of his vows of celibacy and

chastity. Upon reading it she became extremely upset. She

invited me to have tea with her at a restaurant where poets and

writers often met, but she was so upset she couldn’t say

anything. So we decided to part. When we came out of the

restaurant, I got into a bus and left her standing dazed by the

roadside.

I never saw her again. What happened to her from that day on

is an absolute blank in my mind. If Guru had not come along at

that very moment and set me back on my path, my life might

have been very different.

This wasn’t the first time Guru had come into my life like a

destroying Shiva to separate his disciple from the snare of

karmic entanglements. Wherever I proved to be successful or

was becoming admired, he had a knack for sabotaging the

situation. Once I asked him why he was doing this, and he told

me his name was Natarajan and he was only doing his duty,

adding “If Shiva doesn’t demolish, Brahma won’t get a chance

to create again.” I have to admit that whenever he intervened to

get me to terminate a program it always led to another program

of greater spiritual value.

Deb also met Ma Ananda Mayi, while traveling with Nitya in

1971. Her version was quite impressive.

I thought of you when stumbling upon this story:

When they were together in Colombo, Narayana Guru suddenly

picked up an ochre-colored robe and gave it to Nataraja Guru.

Nataraja Guru had one moment of hesitation before taking it,

because it meant a great deal. He was young. He had not

decided whether he should live the life of a householder or that

of a renunciate, or whether he should get his doctorate and take

a good job or not. He had not decided anything. So he had one

moment of hesitation. Then Narayana Guru said: “The color is

only on the surface of the cotton fabric. The cotton itself has

not changed.”

Do you get it? This meant everything for Nataraja Guru.

Narayana Guru had called his attention to a very subtle

difference. The color was what appeared important, but the

material was actually made of cotton. All the implications of

the color are only in the phenomenality of life. At no time does

your real Self change, now or hereafter, whatever kind of life

you live. You can be a sinner or you can be a saint; wearing

holy robes will not alter who you are.

The day you go one step further to realize your becoming a

great saint or a great sinner is not going to change your Self in

any way, a great calmness will grow inside you. At least you

will have gotten over the agony of your guilt. (That Alone, 456)

Okay, Bailey, off you go!

The Silence of Wind

​As in the storm,

a cloud split from its cluster,

wandering afar, losing its grip.

Frightened and trembling,

it shivered beneath the sun,

searching for the warmth it once knew.

“Where is the grip?”

it gasped into the restless air,

but the wind carried only silence.

Alone between sky and earth,

it drifted without direction —

a soul untethered in the vastness above.

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.