Verses 8, 9, and 10 of Chapter 7 so beautifully and forcefully express the idea of divine presence:

Verse 8: “I am the sapidity in water….I , the radiance in the moon and the sun; I am the Om in all the Vedas, sound in Akasha, and manhood in man.”

Verse 9:“I am the sweet fragrance in earth, and the brilliance in fire am I; the life in all beings, and the austerity am I in ascetics.”

Verse 10: “…I am the intellect of the intelligent, and the heroism of the heroic.”

For anyone doubting spiritual existence, Gita’s message is simple — just look around; it’s hard to miss!
Yet, we live our lives largely ignorant and forgetful of this divine presence. Our daily struggles, personal worries, and petty interests keep us occupied. We are busy — so busy that we hardly hear the birds chirping outside our windows early in the morning; so occupied that we forget how beautiful the Charles River can be during a windy day. Our calendars are full — we need to hurry to our next meeting, scuttle to our next exam. And in that hustle, we happily forgo opportunities to serve others and free ourselves of our narrow existence.

Our lives are centered on “I”, but, as Swami Tyagananda Ji reminds us, the locus of this “I” keeps shifting. It is not “I” but “thee” that is important. Our finite self constrains us from appreciating the infinite divine. We are prisoners of our own making. Even when we remember the divine, we have ulterior motives – we seek relief when distressed, hope for knowledge, or want enjoyment (verse 16). Rarely do we remember the divine simply because there is nothing else worth remembering. “The wise” (gyani) (verse 16, 17), who understands this, transcends knowledge into experience.

The vastness of this creation – from the atoms to the galaxies – should have been a check to our ego. Yet, we thrive in “I”, confident in our own abilities. We climbed Everest, reached the moon, created the bomb – we are supreme. This fuel of ignorance keeps burning the fire of maya, leaving us with enough “I” to cling onto forever. It is humility that we lack — a willingness to let go of the “I” and appreciate “thee”.

It will be fitting to end with words of that humble poet, Tagore, who listened carefully to the divine music with all his heart:

“I know not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent amazement.

The light of thy music illumines the world. The life breath of thy music runs from sky to sky. The holy stream of thy music breaks through all stony obstacles and rushes on.

My heart longs to join in thy song, but vainly struggles for a voice. I would speak, but speech breaks not into song, and I cry out baffled. Ah, thou hast made my heart captive in the endless meshes of thy music, my master!”

-Gitanjali

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Now, we all have made choices similar to that kid. On what basis can we judge someone else’s preferences? Maybe the kid really liked the combination of size, color, shape, and taste of that particular cookie. True – but I think Swami Ji was trying to make a deeper point. He was essentially echoing verse 9 of Chapter 6 of the Bhagavad Gita:

“He attains excellence who looks with equal regard upon well-wishers, friends, foes, neutrals, arbiters, the hateful, the relatives, and upon the righteous and the unrighteous alike.”

We all discriminate between our friends and foes, between well wishers and those not wishing us well. But verse 9 is saying that in making all these distinctions, we are acting like that kid who refuses to eat another type of cookie. If the kid understood the true nature of the cookies, then he probably would have changed his preference.

But what is the “true nature” of the cookie? This perennial question has captured the imagination of philosophers from West and East for millennia. Verse 6 provides some clues. If we are to not discriminate amongst friends and foes, relatives and distant, righteous and unrighteous, Gita is urging us to see the common oneness in everyone — our true nature. Many have argued for such oneness through secular means. Underlying the human rights movement is a claim that we should respect the common goodness and humanity in all of us. The claim of Gita, however, is broader. It says that the underlying reality of not only humans, but every entity is the same — Brahman. We are all part of that single reality; in our essence, we are Brahman. A world with prejudice based on race, ethnicity, gender, class, religion etc. is a world filled with kids fixated on one cookie over all else.

Chapter 6 actually provides a way to realize our true nature by introducing us to “the way of meditation.” I know almost nothing about meditation; so I will simply end with a metaphor on meditation that Swami Ji shared. He said that during meditation, your mind acts like that oil being transferred from one container to another – an unbroken stream. While concentration needs  effort, meditation is effortless. Through the unbroken stream of consciousness, you are connected to that one reality – Brahman. So in meditation, we become the kid that is indifferent to the external differences between the cookies.

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Chapter 5, called the “The Way of Renunciation,” opens with a pointed question. Arjuna wonders about the apparent contradiction in Krishna’s message: while Krishna advocates renunciation of action, he also urges Arjuna to act. The remainder of the chapter is Krishna’s response. The verses are philosophically intricate and challenging.

One particular theme stood out for me. Verse 20 reads as follows: “Resting in Brahman, with intellect steady, and without delusion, the knower of Brahman neither rejoiceth on receiving what is pleasant, nor grieveth on receiving what is unpleasant” (Swami Sarupananda’s 1909 translation). “Resting in Brahman” refers to the nature of one’s identity. “The Knower of Brahman” rests in Brahman. In other words, the true knowledge of Brahman, unlike other knowledge, completely transforms one’s identity. By knowing Brahman, you become one with Brahman.

What are the characteristics of an individual whose identity has been transcended into Brahman? An important characteristic is “evenness of mind” (Chapter 2, verse 48) where the individual is neither too happy in good times, nor down in bad. But why would anyone be devoid of emotional cycles of ups and downs that the rest of us experience daily? More importantly, how can someone attain such evenness of mind?

The answer lies in resting in Brahman. If you identify more with the cosmic oneness than with the narrow selfishness, there is little reason to partake in the rollercoaster ride of small joys and sorrows. The evenness of mind comes from the tranquility of pure consciousness. The ethereal reality of Brahman is made only of peace.

I have asked many times the question, how do I know what my duty is? I am starting to realize that the question I have been asking is irrelevant. The important question is: in what does my identity rest upon? If it rests up my narrow self, then regardless of what duty I follow, I am only purchasing the ticket to the show of emotional upheavals we all know intimately well. Similarly, if my identity rests in Brahman, then again it is irrelevant what duty I follow because one resting in Brahman will only follow her true nature. It is the sun’s duty to give light, not because it is the “right” thing to do, or that the sun’s “dharma” dictates it, but because the sun simply can’t do anything else.

Swami Ji mentioned that the Sanskrit word swastha comes from the root swa- meaning self, and stha meaning rest. In Hindi, and in my native language Nepali, swastha in common parlance means healthy. But in original Sanskrit, when someone asks if you are swastha, she is literally asking whether or not you are resting in your real self (Brahman). And maybe that’s the only question that actually matters: Are you swastha?

As for me, the quest for a “healthy” life has been elusive.

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