॥श्रीगुरुभ्यो नमः॥
We're going to talk on one of the most profound, most influential texts ever, the Bhagavadgita.
Exactly.
We want to pull out that core wisdom.
And critically, show you how these ancient ideas aren't just history.
They speak directly to the challenges you face now, navigating information overload,
understanding your own emotion.
Finding your purpose, all of that.
It's incredibly relevant.
Definitely.
So we'll explore what the Gita says about desire, about reality itself, big stuff, and
the different paths to, well, fulfillment.
And also what makes someone truly wise.
What does that look like?
Think of this as maybe a shortcut?
A way to grasp these deep philosophical concepts that have shaped thinking for thousands
of years.
You did clearly and crucially with practical relevance for your life today.
All right.
Let's jump in.
Hey, let's start with something, everyone.
Literally everyone feels that constant sense of wanting.
No, absolutely.
Whether it's wanting better health or more money or deeper relationships, maybe even just wanted the world to be, I don't know, a better place.
Our happiness feels so tied up with things outside ourselves.
Yeah, the Gita gets that right away.
It basically says, look, this is the human condition.
We're connected beings.
We feel this kind of inherent incompleteness, always reaching.
It's almost validating to hear it acknowledged so directly, isn't it?
Because sometimes it feels like a personal failing.
Exactly.
And the Gita's approach is quite radical because it accepts this.
It doesn't just say tough it up.
I mean, how often have you heard someone say or maybe even thought, oh, just stop being sad or get over your anger all the time?
Yeah.
And it never works.
Because those feelings, especially the tough ones like grief or frustration, they often just
arise from interacting with the world.
It doesn't feel like you choose to feel that way.
But then we beat ourselves up for feeling them.
We struggle with self-approval because we have these very human, very normal reactions.
It's a paradox.
It really is.
And the Gita uses this inherent struggle, this feeling of not enough as its starting point.
It suggests that this very feeling, this ache, is actually what points us towards something
deeper.
It's what it was.
Towards a deeper connection, specifically a connection with what the text calls Īśvara.
Īśvara.
Can you unpack that a bit?
Sure.
Think of Īśvara as the underlying intelligence of the universe, the universal consciousness
maybe, the source and sustainer of everything.
The Gita suggests our innate longing is ultimately a longing to reconnect with that, with
fundamental reality.
Okay.
So our everyday wanting points beyond itself?
Interesting.
You mentioned the Gita talks with the two faces of desire, rāga and dveṣa.
Yes, absolutely fundamental concepts.
Rāga is that pull towards something.
Attraction, desire for it.
You want that promotion, you want that relationship, you want that piece of cake.
Got it.
And dveṣa?
That's the flip side.
Aversion, the desire to push something away to get rid of it.
You don't want the criticism, you don't want the illness, you don't want the noise.
Rāga and dveṣa. Attraction and aversion.
And here's the key insight.
The Gita doesn't say these are inherently bad.
They're not flaws you need to surgically remove.
They're presented as just part of being human, inescapable, really.
So it's not about becoming desireless, like a robot?
Not at all.
Think about it this way.
A cow doesn't pine for a fancy camera or worried of missing the new exhibition at the gallery, right?
It's desires are mostly biological, pretty fixed.
True.
Cows seem pretty content with grass.
Exactly.
But humans, we have this incredible, almost boundless capacity to desire.
The Gita calls it the privilege of desiring.
We can imagine things and vent things, yearn for things, way beyond basic survival.
That's a really positive way to frame it, a privilege.
It is, but, and this is a huge, but there's a catch.
Oh, okay.
Here it comes.
While desiring is this unique human thing, if rāga and dveṣa are just left to run wild,
if they're unmanaged, they become incredibly powerful forces.
How so?
What happens?
They pull you into what the Gita calls saṁsāra.
Saṁsāra, I've heard that term.
The cycle of...
Exactly.
The cycle of birth, death, rebirth, but also on a daily basis, this continuous, exhausting
cycle of fleeting happiness, sukhī, and then inevitable, unhappiness, duḥkhī.
So, like an emotional roller coaster?
Pretty much.
You get what you want, rāga for filled, temporary, sukhī, yeah.
Then something happens you don't want, dveṣa arises.
Or you lose what you had plunged into duḥkhi.
You're constantly being yanked around by external events and your reactions to them.
That sounds familiar and exhausting.
It's just like this, and the Gita points out something crucial.
The number of unfulfilled desires and aversions we have usually vastly outnumber the fulfilled ones.
Really?
Why is that?
We'll think about it.
The more you learn about the world, the more possibilities you see, the more stuff there
is to want or to dislike.
That new phone, that amazing vacation someone posted, that political outcome you dread, we accumulate more and more rāga-dveṣa just by living and knowing more.
So our knowledge... all of it fuels the cycle.
In a way, yes, if it's not paired with wisdom.
This whole life viewed through that lens with its constant craving and pushing away is fundamentally rāga-dveṣa in action.
It's a constant chase.
Okay, so if we can't eliminate desire and it's driving this cycle, what's the alternative?
The alternative is management, mastery.
The Gita puts a choice squarely in front of you.
Are you going to manage your desires or are they going to manage you?
Manage your desires or they manage you?
What hits home?
You think about scrolling online, impulse buys, getting worked up about news.
Exactly.
Who's in the driving seat in those moments?
Is it conscious choice or is it just rāga?
I want that shiny thing.
Or dveṣa, I hate seeing this opinion, pulling the strings, leading you back onto that roller
coaster.
So how do you manage them?
What's the key?
The key, the Gita argues, lies in understanding the nature of karma action and its result karmaphala.
And this brings us right into the concept of Īśvara.
Okay, Īśvara.
It's another huge concept in the Gita, right?
Building on this idea of managing desires and breaking free from that Sukhi-duḥkhi cycle.
Absolutely foundational.
And the way the Gita presents Īśvara is really interesting.
It's not just a rigid list of rules dictated from on high.
So not like the ten commandments, exactly.
Not quite like that.
It's more like the inherent order of things, the fundamental principles that uphold society
yes, but also uphold you as an individual, your well-being, your purpose within the whole
system.
The inherent order.
Like laws of nature almost.
Sort of, but with a moral and ethical dimension, it's the underlying structure that allows
things to function harmoniously.
In fact, the epic, the Gita is part of the Mahābhārata, itself called Jaya.
Jaya, meaning.
Victory.
Specifically, the victory of dharma over Adharma, its opposite.
Unrighteousness, chaos, disorder.
Oh, okay.
The whole story is about that struggle.
Precisely.
You see it personified in the characters.
The Pāṇḍava, led by Yudhiṣṭhira, who is actually called dharmaputra, son of dharma, they aren't fighting just for land or power.
Their fight is explicitly to reestablish Īśvara after it's been trampled on by Duryodhana.
And then you have figures like Bhishma.
Right.
A respected elder, someone who knows what dharma is, but he chooses loyalty to the throne, his personal duty as he sees it, over upholding the universal dharma.
It shows how complex these choices can be.
It's not always black and white.
That makes it very real.
We face those kinds of conflicts.
Loyalty versus the right thing all the time.
So how does this universal principle translate into everyday life for us?
The Gita boils it down to something remarkably simple, echoed in many traditions.
What you don't want others to do to you don't do into them.
The golden rule.
Essentially, yes.
But it's rooted very deeply in the principle of ahiṁsā .
ahiṁsā non-violence, non-arming.
Exactly.
It comes from recognizing that deep down, no living, being, human, animal, whatever actually wants to be hurt or made to suffer.
It's an innate desire for well-being that we all share.
So ahiṁsā is the bedrock?
It is.
If causing harm is against ahiṁsā , then actions like stealing, harming property, lying,
harming trust, cheating, taking advantage, they all violate that core principle.
They're against dharma.
It gives you a very practical compass for your interactions.
Recognize the shared desire not to be harmed.
Okay.
And this understanding of Īśvara then links directly to how our actions play out.
Yes.
It connects directly to karma and karma-falla actions and their results.
Right.
So we perform actions, karma.
But the results, the karmaphala, they aren't always what we expect or even directly related
to our effort sometimes.
Precisely.
And this is where the Gita introduces another game-changing perspective.
Īśvara as the karmaphaladātā.
karmaphaladātā.
The dispenser of the fruits of action.
Basically, yes, the architect of results.
The idea is, while you perform the action, the specific outcome isn't solely determined
by your effort.
It's delivered by Īśvara, the intelligence behind a universal laws governing karma.
So it's not like if any machine put in good action automatically get good results.
Not quite so mechanical.
There's a larger cosmic order, intelligent design, managing the consequences according
to these universal laws.
It accounts for timing, other intersecting karma is the whole complex web.
Wow, okay, that's the greatest thing.
If Īśvara is delivering the results, how should we react to them?
Especially the ones we don't like.
That's the transformative part.
Understanding this allows you to cultivate what the Gita calls "prasadabuddhi."
prasādabuddhi.
Think of prasāda as a sacred offering, something blessed.
Buddhi is your intellect, your attitude.
So prasādabuddhi is an attitude of graceful, reverential acceptance towards whatever
comes your way.
People acceptance even of difficulties.
Even of difficulties.
The idea is, since it comes from Īśvara, from that divine order, it's accepted with reverence.
There's a classic analogy.
When you go to a temple, you accept whatever prasada is offered, maybe some ash, a flower,
a sweet with gratitude, and you see it as a blessing.
Yeah, you want to argue about it.
Exactly.
The Gita says, extend that same attitude to everything life brings you.
Even if it seems like, say, getting a sugary sweet ladu prasada when you're diabetic,
you accept it gracefully, recognizing the source, understanding it's part of a bigger picture,
even if you can't see the whole picture right now.
That's incredibly liberating, potentially.
It's not passive resignation, like giving up.
No, not at all.
It's active, intelligent acceptance.
It's recognizing you control your actions, but the results unfold according to a larger
wisdom.
And this deep acceptance, truly seeing Īśvara as the karmaphaladātā giver of results,
is what leads to samadvam.
Samadvam, equanimity.
Yeah.
Balance.
Yes.
Profound inner balance.
It allows you to stay centered whether things go your way or not because you understand all
outcomes are part of this intelligent flow.
Think about a big project at work.
You do your absolute best, but the final success depends on market conditions, colleagues,
luck, all sorts of things.
Right.
So much is out of your control.
Prasada buddhi is accepting that final outcome, whatever it is, with that same grace.
This protects your inner peace.
It frees you from that rollercoaster of attachment to results.
It's like an emotional superpower.
Okay.
I can see how powerful that would be.
The guita then goes deeper into karma itself, right?
Yeah.
Action in action.
Yes.
It gets quite nuanced.
It distinguishes karma action, a karma often translated as inaction, but it's more like
action that doesn't bind you and v. karma wrong or forbid an action.
And it stresses that understanding these properly requires real inquiry.
You can't just take them superficially.
An action that doesn't bind you.
That sounds intriguing.
It leads towards the ultimate goal, mokṣa liberation.
And mokṣa is actually defined in one place as naiṣkarmyasiddhi, naiṣkarmyasiddhi, the
accomplishment of actionlessness.
Now hold on.
This is subtle.
Okay.
I'm listening.
Actionlessness doesn't sound very productive.
Right.
It doesn't mean literally sitting like a stone and doing nothing.
It means discovering the profound truth that your real self, your ātmā is actually neither
the doer of actions, kartā, nor the enjoyer or sufferer of the results.
Machta.
Whoa.
Neither the doer nor the experiencer.
So who is doing and experiencing?
It's the body-mind complex, the empirical self, operating within the world according to
its nature and past conditioning.
But your true nature, pure awareness is like the screen on which the movie plays.
The screen isn't affected by the drama, is it?
No, the screen just is.
It allows the movie to happen.
Exactly.
Now, naiṣkarmyasiddhi is realizing you are the screen and not the character caught up
in the plot.
It's the ultimate freedom from, I did this.
This happened to me.
That's a huge shift in perspective.
This is also called sarvakamasaṃnyāsa, renunciation of all actions.
Yes, but again, it's crucial to understand this isn't primarily about external rituals,
like becoming a monk in the traditional sense, though it can involve that.
It's fundamentally an internal realization.
It's giving up the idea that I am the doer for all actions, whether they're prescribed
duties, vihita, or forbidden actions avihita (error: niṣiddha).
So someone who realizes this might still live a seemingly normal life?
They might.
They still perform actions necessary for bodily survival, eating, sleeping, basic functions
with the Gita calls Sharīrayātra, but the attachment, the sense of personal agency and ownership
of results is gone.
Other duties, like family responsibilities or religious rituals, are given up in the
mind as actions performed by the self.
And the consequence of that realization for karma?
It's profound.
If you truly understand the ātmā is not the doer, then past accumulated karma, saṁcita can't stick to you and future karma, āgami, isn't generated in the same binding way.
Even the karma already playing out, prārabdha, like an arrow already shot, belongs to that as though doer, the empirical self, and it just runs its course without touching the
liberated self.
Wow.
It essentially dissolves the karmic burden by shifting your identification.
Right.
This leads us into some really deep waters about the nature of reality itself.
The Gita describes the world, the jagat as mithyā.
Can you impact that?
Sounds like saying the world isn't real.
Yeah.
That's a common first impression, but it's more subtle than just false or unreal.
mithyā means something like, as though real, it definitely exists.
We interact with it.
It has empirical reality.
But its existence is an independent or absolute.
It depends on something else for its reality.
It depends on something else.
Like how a shadow depends on an object and light.
That's one way to think about it.
The classic analogy used in Vedanta is the pot in the clay.
Ah, the pot in clay.
I heard this one, but maybe you can break it down.
Sure.
A clay pot, it's real, right?
You can touch it, see it, use it to hold water.
It functions.
It's ... real.
But try to find the pot-ness separate from the clay.
Does the pot have any existence, any substance apart from the clay it's made of?
No, I guess not.
It's just clay shaped like a pot.
The weight of the pot is the weight of the clay.
Exactly.
The pot is non-separate, ananya from the clay.
If you have one pot or a hundred pots, you still just have clay appearing in different forms, nāma-rūpa, name, and form.
This is the essence of Advaita non-duality.
The pot is mithyā in the sense that it's neither absolutely existent, independent of
clay nor absolutely non-existent.
It clearly functions.
It has a dependent reality.
Okay, that makes sense.
The pot is real as clay, but not independently real.
So how does this mithyā concept apply beyond pots?
It applies to the whole jagat, the entire phenomenal world, including our own sense of being the doer, the kartā.
That sense of "I am doing this action" is also mithyā.
The doer is mithyā, like the pot.
Yes.
If you truly deeply understand that your real self, the ātmā, is like the clay unchanging,
the fundamental reality and the role of the doer is like the pot.
A temporary form, dependent on the clay, then karma can't truly bind the ātmā.
Because the karma belongs to the pot, not the clay.
Precisely.
Accumulated Saṁcita karma, future āgāmi karma.
They pertain to the mithyā doer, the pot self.
Even the prārabdha karma playing out now belongs to that as a doer, and will exhaust itself naturally.
It doesn't stain the clay, the true self.
That is a radical perspective on responsibility and consequence.
It doesn't mean you act recklessly, but you understand who is truly acting.
Exactly.
This as the concept, mithyā, is incredibly sophisticated.
It allows us to fully acknowledge and engage with our empirical reality, the world of science, action, and experience, without ever contradicting the ultimate truth of non-duality.
It bridges the gap.
So if the world, jagat and the doer, kartā, are mithyā, dependent realities, what is the
independent reality they depend on, the clay in the analogy?
That reality is Brahman.
Brahman, the ultimate reality.
Yes.
The Gita describes Brahman as the one, non-dual, ekamevādvitiyam, cause of everything.
It existed before the universe, it sustains the universe now, and it will remain even if the
universe dissolves.
It is satyam.
Satyam.
That which exists unchangingly across all three periods of time, past, present, and future.
Unlike the pot, which comes and goes, the clay Brahman always is.
Okay.
And how does Brahman relate to creation?
Has the world come from Brahman?
This is another mind-bending part.
Creation isn't like Brahman takes some external stuff and builds the world, nor is it pulling things out of a void, out of nothing.
So how then?
Īśvara, which you can think of as Brahman with the power of creation.
Brahman related to the manifest world creates out of himself.
And how?
Through knowledge.
Creating through knowledge, like thinking it into existence.
In a way, yes.
The world is seen as a manifestation of Īśvara infinite knowledge.
Just like nāma-rūpa, name, and form emerging from pure consciousness.
Think about a brilliant designer.
They have the entire design, every detail in their mind, in their knowledge, before anything
physical is built.
Okay.
I can see that.
The blueprint exists first in knowledge.
Right.
And look at the sheer sophistication of creation, the human body, the laws of physics, ecosystems, the intricate design points to an infinitely knowledgeable, conscious creator.
And here's the leap that conscious being Īśvara isn't separate sitting up there watching.
Where is Īśvara then?
Īśvara is manifest in the creation.
When a neuroscientist studies the brain, they are from this perspective studying the manifest knowledge of Īśvara.
The creation is the creator.
Your creation is the creator.
Wow.
This whole process, this power through which the un-manifest knowledge becomes the manifest world is called Māyā or Prakr̥ti.
Māyā isn't some physical substance or just an illusion meaning fake.
It's that un-manifest potential, that inherent power of knowledge within Īśvara.
Īśvara is the one who wields Māyā to project the cosmos.
Like a magician wielding their skill.
A good analogy.
The magic is real in its effects, but it originates from the magician's power and knowledge.
This leads then to that ultimate vision you mentioned earlier.
Vāsudevaḥ sarvam iti.
Exactly.
All this is Vāsudeva.
Meaning all this is Īśvara, all this is Brahman.
And all this profoundly includes you.
Your body, your mind, your senses, they are also manifestations of Īśvara.
So my own ego, my thoughts, my feelings, they're Īśvara too.
When you see them that way, yes.
An Īśvaraized ego, mind, emotions.
When you see them not just as mine but as part of this divine manifestation, then the statement
"Aham Īśvara, I am Īśvara" becomes possible.
Not as an arrogant claim, but as a humble recognition of non-separation.
It sounds incredibly profound, but also paradoxical.
Vedanta seems full of contradiction sometimes.
Like all beings are in me, but I am not in them.
How do you make sense of that?
That's the beauty and challenge.
Those aren't seen as logical flaws.
They're called Aiśvara wonders.
Demonstrations of Īśvara's inconceivable power that transcends our limited human logic.
The truth is held within the paradox.
So you don't try to resolve the paradox intellectually?
Not in a simple ....way.
This is where a skilled teacher, a guru, is invaluable.
They help you see through the apparent contradiction to move beyond rigid boxes of Īśvara
Īśvara.
They guide you towards appreciating anirvacanīya.
anirvacanīya
Indefinable.
Neither real nor unreal.
Something like that.
It's not absolutely real independent, not absolutely unreal.
It functions.
It defies simple categorization.
The dream analogy works too.
Real while dreaming, unreal upon waking yet the experience was there.
It's in that neither walk space.
Okay, so the world and even these profound truths are anirvacanīya
In a sense yes and when you grasp this, even the smallest thing, a leaf, a shell, a grain
of sand, if you trace it back, reveals the glory of Īśvara, seeing the miracle and the
mundane, seeing the creator and the creation all the way down, that's the vision of a jñānī, a true knower.
It makes life extraordinary.
All right, so we have this incredible picture of reality of mithyā Brahman Īśvara.
If that's the truth, how do we actually get there?
How do we realize this for ourselves and attain mokṣa?
Liberation.
The Gita lays out two primary pathways, two main commitments for reaching that goal.
Karma Yoga and Jñāna Yoga.
Karma Yoga and Jñāna Yoga. We hear these terms a lot.
What's the essence of Karma Yoga?
Karma Yoga isn't just about doing good deeds.
It's a whole way of life centered around action.
Its main purpose is twofold.
First, to neutralize those powerful pulls of rāgadveṣa attraction and a version
that keep us on the roller coaster.
Okay, getting handle on desires.
Exactly.
And second, to purify the mind by dealing with durita, past karmic baggage, subconscious tendencies,
imperfections, it's like clearing the inner clutter.
So, Karma Yoga prepares you?
Perfectly put.
Someone who lives a life dedicated to Karma Yoga acting selflessly with Prasādabuddhi,
offering actions to Īśvara, becomes qualified or ready for the next stage, the dedicated
pursuit of knowledge.
They prepared the ground.
Okay, so Karma Yoga is the preparation.
What's jñāna Yoga?
jñāna Yoga is that dedicated pursuit itself.
It's the path focused exclusively on gaining knowledge on jñāna.
Sometimes the word sāṁkhya is used here, meaning knowledge or discrimination, almost synonymously with Saṁnyāsa in this context, a life committed solely to knowing the truth rather than worldly achievements.
So, one prepares the others the direct pursuit of knowledge.
Do they lead to different places?
No, and this is important.
The Gita is clear, both paths ultimately lead to the very same goal, mokṣa, they converge.
And is one better than the other?
Not inherently, they suit different temperaments or stages of development, but crucially, the
Gita stresses that bhakti devotion, love for Īśvara, is essential for both.
bhakti for both.
How does that work?
Well, the Gita says there's no secular Karma Yoga.
Performing actions as an offering requires devotion, and Saṁnyāsa, the path of knowledge is considered fruitless without bhakti because the knowledge itself is about realizing your unity with Īśvara, which is the ultimate devotion.
So devotion underpins both action and knowledge.
What's the key difference in how they achieve liberation then?
Think of it like this.
Karma Yoga makes you ready.
It polishes the mirror, quits the mind, makes you receptive.
But it's knowledge, the direct realization gained through jñāna Yoga that actually delivers the liberation.
Knowledge is the final step.
And the loan isn't enough.
Correct.
No amount of action or ritual, however good, can produce liberation because the Gita's fundamental teaching is that you are already free, you just don't realize it.
Knowledge removes the ignorance that obscures that freedom.
Oh, okay.
Knowledge removes ignorance.
So let's talk about that knowledge.
The Gita uses two terms, jñāna and vijñāna.
What's the difference?
Good question.
jñāna is often used for that initial knowledge.
You study the texts, you listen to teachings, you grasp the concepts intellectually, it's
information acquired, like learning facts.
Somewhat, yes.
But vijñāna, that's deeper.
It's clear assimilated knowledge.
It's when the initial jñāna has been questioned, reflected upon, tested against your experience,
until it becomes profoundly clear, firm and unshakable.
It's digested knowledge.
So jñāna is knowing the theory.
Vijñāna is the lived understanding.
That's a good way to put it.
Another related distinction is between parokṣa jñāna in direct knowledge and aparokṣa
jñāna, direct knowledge.
parokṣa, you see smoke on a distant hill.
You infer there must be fire there.
Know about the fire, indirectly, aparokṣa.
You walk up the hill and stand right before the fire, feeling its heat.
That's direct self-evident knowledge.
Got it.
Direct experience versus inference.
Right.
And the key point is the ātmā, your true self, is always aparokṣa.
It's always directly self-evident.
You don't know about your consciousness and directly.
You are consciousness.
It's the ultimate subject.
Never just an object of knowledge.
The ātmā is always directly known.
Wow.
How do we bridge the gap between intellectually knowing this?
Yes.
jñāna and directly realizing it.
Vijñāna or aparokṣa Jana.
The traditional path involves three stages.
śravanam, Mananam and nididhyāsana.
Okay, break those down.
śravanam is systematic, dedicated listening and inquiry into the scriptures, usually guided
by a qualified teacher.
It's about absorbing the teaching accurately.
Mananam is reflection, contemplation.
It's where you use your reason to clarify doubts.
Maybe doubts arising from science, other philosophies your own logic, you wrestle with the ideas until they make intellectual sense.
And nididhyāsana.
nididhyāsana is deep, sustained, contemplation or meditation on the truth.
This addresses the lingering doubts that come not just from logic, but from ingrained habits of thinking, emotional resistance, contrary experiences, the feeling of, "I know this intellectually but I don't feel it."
It's about internalizing the knowledge until it becomes your lived reality.
Listening, reflecting, contemplating, it's a process.
A systematic process, yes.
And through this, you develop buddhi.
Buddhi, the intellect.
More than just intellect.
It's the faculty of discrimination, discernment, the ability to weigh things properly, make
wise choices.
Sharpening this buddhi is key.
It's what allows you to resolve inner conflicts and ultimately become kr̥takr̥tya.
kr̥takr̥tya?
Well, one who has done what needed to be done, fulfilled, accomplished in the ultimate
sense.
There's nothing more they need to achieve for liberation.
Okay.
So what does this person, this critacretia person, this wise individual, the jñāni or mahātmā actually look like?
How do they live?
The Gita paints a beautiful picture.
A mahātmā, literally great soul, is described as someone whose mind is as big as Bhagavan, as big as Īśvara.
Why?
Because they see Īśvara everywhere.
Exactly.
They see all that is here everything, everyone as Īśvara.
It's not just an idea, it's their living perception.
And the Gita adds, "such a person is ... extremely rare, very difficult to find."
If they see Īśvara everywhere, how do they deal with, well, action, doing things in the
world?
The tattvavit, the knower of truth, still acts.
They eat, work, interact.
But internally, their understanding is, "ahaṁ na kincit karma karomi, I the true self, perform no action."
They recognize the actions belong to the body-mind operating in mithyā, while the self
remains the uninvolved witness.
That detachment, that objectivity.
How is it maintained amid life's chaos?
Especially with relationships.
The crucial practice, especially for a meditator seriously pursuing mokṣa, is learning
to keep the external world outside, psychologically speaking.
This includes people, family, friends, even difficult people.
It's not about becoming cold or uncaring, but about viewing them with objectivity, seeing their roles in the cosmic play without getting personally entangled in every emotional
drama.
Unloading the emotional baggage.
Precisely.
It's essential for inner quietude, for ātmashuddhi purification of the mind, it frees up
so much energy.
And what qualities emerge from this inner freedom and purification?
Some truly beautiful ones.
The defining marks of a jñāni are profound compassion, karuṇā, and genuine friendliness maitri, towards all beings, not just humans.
Compassion and friendliness to all.
And this translates into a "abhayam fearlessness."
It works both ways.
You are not afraid of anyone or anything, and no one is afraid of you.
Your very presence radiates peace and non-harming, a sense of safety that even animals might respond to.
Wow.
Fearlessness is born from compassion.
How does that state cultivate?
You mentioned reducing the ego.
Yes.
And the qualities like nirahaṁkāra, the absence of I-ness and Mineness, it's letting go of
that tight grip of personal identification.
The Gita suggests simple practices like praising Bhagavan, attributing successes and skills to the divine source rather than just my accomplishment helps deflate the ego.
So it leads to an ego that's still there, but different?
Yes, like buddhi-ahaṁkāra, an ego that's like a roasted seed.
It exists as a functional eye, but it can't sprout into binding actions fueled by pride,
attachment or insecurity.
And the interstate of such a person.
nityatr̥pra, always satisfied.
Continually content.
Always, how is that possible?
Life throws curve balls.
Because their source of satisfaction is an external circumstances or if a filled desire
is anymore.
It's the Ātmā itself, their own essential nature, which is always present, always available.
You are satisfaction.
You are completeness.
It's realizing that inherent fullness that doesn't depend on anything changing outside.
Okay, after soaring to those heights of wisdom and realization, the Gita also brings us
firmly back to Earth, doesn't it?
It reminds us about the realities of being in a body.
It certainly does.
It doesn't shy away from the inherent limitations and difficulties of embodied life, birth,
growth, inevitable change, decline, disease, and finally, death.
These are inescapable realities for the physical form.
And because of these, plus all the other challenges, relationships, work, money worries us.
The Gita acknowledges that sorrow is often a frequent visitor.
Yes, it acknowledges the duḥkha, the suffering inherent in this cycle.
But, and this is key, it doesn't present this as a reason for despair or wallowing in melancholy.
No.
What's the purpose of highlighting it then?
It serves as a powerful motivator, a wake-up call.
Recognizing the impermanence and inherent challenges of this life underscores the preciousness of human birth.
narajanma durlabham, human birth is rare and valuable.
So understanding the limitations makes you value the opportunity more.
Exactly.
It urges you.
Don't waste this precious time chasing fleeting things.
Use it well, define clear priorities aligned with deeper truths.
It reframes the suffering not as a dead end, but as fuel for seeking something more lasting.
That's a much more empowering perspective.
The Gita also talks about how we often avoid facing ourselves, right, through diversions.
Yes.
It points out our tendency to run away from inner discomfort or unease.
We seek distractions constantly.
Now some diversions can be perfectly healthy or even beneficial study, art, hobbies.
Things that enrich life.
Absolutely, but the real test, the Gita suggests, is what happens when the diversions stop.
Can you sit quietly with yourself or does that inner restlessness immediately surface?
Oof. Yeah, that silence can be uncomfortable.
So the text encourages practices specifically designed to help you be comfortable in that silence, to be at home with yourself.
Practices like Japa, the repetition of a mantra or sacred sound and dhyāna meditation.
These help quiet the mental chatter and find peace within rather than constantly seeking
it outside.
Training the mind to find its own center. Okay. Now shifting slightly, the Gita also talks quite a bit about devotion, bhakti and divine grace.
It even describes different types of devotees.
It does. It beautifully outlines a spectrum of devotion, recognizing that people connect with Īśvara for different reasons. There are four main types of bhaktas mentioned.
Four types.
What are they?
First, the ārta, the one in distress, suffering who calls out to Īśvara for help, for relief.
So when praying in a crisis?
Exactly.
Then there's the arthārthi, the seeker of artha, meaning security, wealth, success, worldly
goals.
They pray for prosperity for achieving their ambitions.
Becoming for a promotion or for their family's well-being.
Precisely.
And the Gita doesn't look down on these.
It acknowledges them as bhaktas too.
They maintain the traditions, support temples, keep that connection alive, even if their
focus is initially worldly.
That's quite inclusive.
What are the other two?
Next is the jijñāsu, the seeker of knowledge.
This person understands or intuits that ultimate freedom, mokṣa, comes through understanding, and so they desire that knowledge above all else.
They want to know the truth of Īśvara, the self, and reality.
The philosophical seeker.
Right.
And finally, the highest is the jñāni, the knower.
The one who has already realized the truth, who sees themselves as non-separate from Īśvara.
Their devotion is simply the natural state of being in that unity.
Distress, desire, inquiry, knowledge.
A progression, almost.
And tied to this is a famous promise from Bhagavan, isn't there?
About carrying our burden.
Yes.
A very powerful verse.
yogakṣema vahāmyaham
Which means?
I carry the burden of their yoga and kṣema.
Yoga and kṣema
What do those mean here?
Yoga means acquiring what you need but don't yet have achieving your goals, getting what's
necessary.
kṣema means preserving what you already have, protecting your health, security, well-being.
So it's a promise of total care, both acquisition and preservation.
Wow.
That sounds amazing.
Does it apply to everyone?
There's a condition.
It's not automatic for just anyone who asks.
The promise is specifically for ananyacintayanta, those who dwell upon Īśvara exclusively without seeing Īśvara as separate from themselves.
Ananya means no other.
Their focus is non-dual.
So it requires that understanding, or at least the faith, of non-separation.
Exactly.
It requires śraddhā faith, trust, a deep conviction that I, the individual Jiva, am not fundamentally separate from Īśvara.
If it's not fully intellectually realized yet, that deep trust, that orientation towards
non-duality is the foundation, that very faith fuels the Jijnāsa, the desire to know that
truth fully.
Faith enables the promise and fuels the seeking.
Beautiful.
This leads us to one of the most dramatic parts of the Gita, the Viśvarūpa, the cosmic vision.
Absolutely stunning and terrifying.
Arjuna, wanting to grasp the full extent of Krishna's divine glory, asks to see this universal
form.
And Krishna grants it.
Yes, but he has to grant Arjuna a special vision, a divine eye, because the ordinary senses
couldn't possibly perceive it.
What is Arjuna's see?
Everything.
The entire cosmos, past, present, future, all beings, gods, demons, the ongoing battle,
all contained within the single, blazing, infinite form of Bhagavan.
It's overwhelming, awe-inspiring.
Sounds incredible.
He's terrifying.
Yes.
Because in that initial, overwhelming sight, Arjuna sees everything else within the
form, but he perceives himself as separate, outside, looking in.
And he sees this terrifying aspect of Kāla, time devouring everything, including the warriors on the battlefield.
He sees the destructive aspect of the divine.
Yes.
The inescapable power of time and change, and the experience while majestic fills him with fear, intense fear.
Why fear if it's a vision of God?
The Gita explains it comes from the dvaitabhāva, the feeling of duality, that perception.
I am here, small, finite, mortal, and that is there, vast, infinite, overwhelming, and
includes destruction.
The feeling of separation is the root of the fear.
dvitiyād vai bhayam bhavati, fear arises from the second, from duality.
Precisely.
Because he feels separate, he feels vulnerable, insignificant in the face of that immensity,
and the relentless march of time.
If he had seen himself as part of that totality, the fear wouldn't arise.
So the experience itself pushes him to realize the danger of perceived separation.
What happens then?
He's completely overwhelmed.
He begs Krishna to withdraw the terrifying cosmic form and return to his familiar, gentle, forearmed, Vishnu-form, or even better, his comforting human form.
He needs that relatable connection again to quell the existential terror.
It's a very human reaction.
So having seen the ultimate reality and the fear the duality can cause, how do we bring
this back to cultivating a life of purpose without that terror?
How do we integrate these insights?
The Gita offers a very practical framework for understanding ourselves and navigating
life through the concept of the three guṇas.
The guṇas, Sattva, Rajas and Tamas.
We hear these mentioned often.
Can you break them down simply?
Sure.
Think of them as three fundamental qualities or energies that make up everything in nature,
including our own minds and personalities.
They're always present, but usually one is predominant.
Okay, what's sattva?
Sattva is the quality of light, purity, harmony, balance.
When it's predominant, you experience clarity, compassion, love, peacefulness, a desire
for knowledge, discriminative thinking.
Sounds like the ideal state.
What about rajas?
Rajas is energy, passion, activity, ambition, drive.
When it's dominant, your energetic, maybe restless, driven to achieve, focused on action,
it's essential for getting things done.
The go getter energy in tamas.
Thomas is inertia, darkness, heaviness, resistance.
When it's strong, it manifests as laziness, procrastination, dullness, confusion, inertia.
But interestingly, a bit of tamas is needed for sleep and rest.
Right.
Cafe pure energy all the time.
These guṇas describe our mood, our personality type almost.
Exactly.
The influence everything, our actions, thoughts, choices, even the kind of happiness we experience, but here's the practical part.
They aren't fixed.
We can change our dominant, guṇa.
Absolutely.
We can't offer choices, lifestyle, diet, the company we keep, the information we consume, we can influence the balance.
You can intentionally move from a predominantly to magic state, lethargy towards rajas action, and then cultivate more sattva, clarity, peace.
It's a dynamic process.
That's very helpful.
We're not just stuck with our default settings.
How do the guṇas relate to happiness?
The Gita categorizes happiness itself by the guṇas.
Sāttvika happiness often requires effort and discipline.
Initially, think of starting a meditation practice or sticking to a healthy habit.
It might feel like work at first.
Yeah, getting up early to meditate isn't always easy.
Right.
But it leads to a deep, lasting, inner peace and clarity ātmabuddhiprasādajam born
from the serenity of the intellect understanding the self.
It's stable and fulfilling.
Okay.
And rājasika happiness.
That's the pleasure born from sensory contact, achieving goals, excitement.
It feels great initially, like eating delicious food or getting that promotion.
But it's temporary, often leads to exhaustion and keeps you chasing the next high.
It's inherently fleeting.
Tāmasika happiness is even more fleeting, often associated with delusion, sleep or neglecting duties, a kind of dull pleasure that ultimately leads to more suffering.
So the aim is to cultivate sattva for that lasting, peaceful happiness.
How do we actively do that?
One key practice the Gita emphasizes is performing your svakarma.
One's own duty.
Yes, the actions that align with your inherent nature, skills and place in society.
But the crucial part is the attitude.
You perform your svakarma not as a burden, not just for personal gain, but as a service,
and offering to society, to the larger whole, to Īśvara.
So it's the intention behind the action that transforms it?
Absolutely.
That attitude shift elevates the action.
It becomes a means of self-purification, a way to burn off negative karma and naturally
cultivate Īśvara.
The Gita promises siddhiṁ vindati mānavaḥ by performing svakarma with this attitude, a person attains fulfillment.
Fulfillment through dedicated action is service.
It's not about what job you have, but how you approach it.
Precisely.
Whether you're a doctor, a teacher, a coder, a parent, an artist, approaching your role
as a dedicated offering transforms it into a spiritual practice, leading to inner growth
and accomplishment.
And this whole process contributes to antaḥkaraṇaśuddhi.
Yes, the purification of the inner instrument, the mind, intellect, ego complex, performing actions selflessly with devotion and acceptance helps cleanse those inner distortions.
What kind of distortions?
Things like anger, jealousy, greed, insecurity, excessive pride, these start to lose their
grip.
They get Īśvaraized.
You see them not as personal failings, but as universal human tendencies, part of the
play of the guṇas within Īśvara creation.
This perspective allows you to manage them better.
And that frees up mental energy.
Tremendously.
When you're not constantly battling these inner demons or defending the ego, your cognitive skills sharpen, your compassion deepens, your mind becomes clearer and more peaceful.
It's like clearing static off the line.
So the path involves understanding the guṇas, acting selflessly, purifying the mind.
And what's the ultimate realization this leads to regarding our own significance?
The Gita assures us that our real significance isn't based on our job title, bank balance,
or social status.
Our inherent true significance lies in recognizing ourselves as Brahman, as the kṣetrajna.
kṣetrajna.
The nowhere of the field.
Yes.
The field, kṣetra, is the body-mind complex, the whole realm of experience.
You are the nowhere of that field, the conscious awareness in which all experience happens.
That feeling of "I am small, limited, and significant" is just an illusion.
A perspective tied to identifying solely with the body and mind, the field.
But the truth is.
The truth, the liberating realization is "Ahambrahmasmi.
I am Brahman.
I am the whole.
I am that limitless awareness from which all existence draws its reality.
You aren't just in the universe.
The universe is in a sense within your awareness, realizing that inherent vastness is the ultimate significance."
That's a truly mind-extending and deeply fulfilling place to arrive after this exploration.
Wow.
We're going through the Bhagavadgita.
We touch on so much from understanding why we constantly want things to the nature of Īśvara and how our actions play out.
Diving into the very nature of reality, Brahman, as though nature of the world, mithyā.
Right.
And exploring the different paths, Karmayoga, jñānayoga, the crucial role of devotion, bhakti.
And finally, what it means to be truly wise, a jñāni, and how to cultivate those qualities
through understanding the guṇas and performing our actions as service.
It really is an incredible roadmap, isn't it?
A guide for living a life with meaning, with purpose, regardless of what you do or where you are in life.
Absolutely.
It shows how our perspective, our attitude, our understanding, these are the keys to transforming our experience, finding equanimity, and ultimately recognizing our own inherent freedom and connection to everything.
It's profoundly practical wisdom.
So, for you, our listener, as you take these ideas away, here's something to think about
a final thought to carry with you.
If, as the Gita suggests, true, lasting happiness isn't really found in getting everything you want externally.
And if ultimate freedom comes from realizing you're not the limited doer or experiencer, but the vast unchanging awareness behind it all?
Then ask yourself this, what everyday burden, what worry they keep circling, what outcome you feel desperately attached to, what aspect of life feels heavy, can you consciously choose right now to mentally surrender to that larger unfolding order of Īśvara? What can you release, trusting in that deeper reality, knowing that in your true self, you are already whole, already free?
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