Sankhya Yoga

Sanjaya said: To him, overcome with pity, his eyes filled with tears and showing distress, his heart sinking in grief, Krishna spoke these words.

Krishna said: In this hour of peril, where has this weakness come from? It is not the way of noble people. It leads nowhere good, and it brings disgrace.

Do not give in to weakness, Arjuna. It does not suit you. Cast off this petty faint-heartedness and rise, scorcher of foes.

Arjuna said: How can I fight with arrows in battle against Bhishma and Drona? They are worthy of reverence.

It would be better to live on alms in this world than to kill these noble elders. If I kill them, even here the wealth and pleasures I gain would be drenched in their blood.

And we do not know which is better for us: that we conquer them, or that they conquer us. The very sons of Dhritarashtra, whom we have no wish to kill, stand before us.

My nature is overcome by weak pity, my mind confused about my duty. I ask you: tell me clearly what is better. I am your disciple. I take refuge in you; instruct me.

I see nothing that could drive away this grief drying up my senses, not even an unrivaled and prosperous kingdom on earth, nor lordship over the gods.

Sanjaya said: Having spoken this way to Krishna, Arjuna, the scorcher of foes, said, "I will not fight," and fell silent.

Krishna, as if smiling, spoke these words to him as he sank in grief between the two armies.

Krishna said: You grieve for those who deserve no grief, yet you speak words of wisdom. The wise grieve neither for the dead nor for the living.

There was never a time when I did not exist, nor you, nor any of these kings. And there will never be a time when we cease to be.

Just as the embodied self passes through childhood, youth, and old age in this body, so it passes into another body. The wise are not deluded by this.

The contact of the senses with their objects gives rise to cold and heat, pleasure and pain. These come and go. They do not last. Endure them.

The person whom these do not disturb, to whom pain and pleasure are the same, that steady one is fit for immortality.

The unreal has no being. The real never ceases to be. The truth of both has been seen by those who see reality.

Know that to be indestructible by which all this is pervaded. No one can destroy the imperishable.

These bodies come to an end. The embodied self that wears them is eternal, indestructible, and beyond measure. So fight.

One who thinks the Self slays, and one who thinks the Self is slain, neither of them knows. The Self does not slay, nor is it slain.

The Self is never born and never dies. Having once existed, it never ceases to be. Unborn, eternal, everlasting, and ancient, it is not killed when the body is killed.

One who knows the Self as indestructible, eternal, unborn, and unchanging, how can that person kill, or cause anyone to be killed?

Just as a person sheds worn-out clothes and puts on new ones, the embodied self lets go of worn-out bodies and takes on new ones.

Weapons cannot cut the Self. Fire cannot burn it. Water cannot wet it. Wind cannot dry it.

The Self cannot be cut, burned, wetted, or dried. It is eternal, all-pervading, stable, unmoving, and ancient.

The Self is said to be unmanifest, inconceivable, and unchanging. So, knowing it to be this way, you should not grieve.

And even if you think the Self is constantly born and constantly dies, even then you should not grieve.

For whatever is born is certain to die, and whatever dies is certain to be born again. So you should not grieve over what cannot be avoided.

All beings are unmanifest in the beginning, manifest in the middle, and unmanifest again at the end. What is there to grieve over?

One person sees the Self as a wonder. Another speaks of it as a wonder. Another hears of it as a wonder. And even after hearing of it, no one understands it.

The embodied self in everyone's body can never be killed. So you should not grieve for any being.

And considering your own duty, you should not waver. For a warrior, there is nothing better than a righteous battle.

Happy are the warriors who meet such a battle, which comes unsought and opens the gate to heaven.

But if you will not fight this righteous battle, then you will abandon your own duty and your fame, and you will incur sin.

People will speak of your lasting disgrace. And for one who has been honored, disgrace is worse than death.

The great warriors will think you left the battle out of fear. Those who once held you in high esteem will think little of you.

And your enemies will speak many cruel words, mocking your strength. What could be more painful than that?

If you are killed, you will gain heaven. If you win, you will enjoy the earth. So rise up, Arjuna, resolved to fight.

Treat pleasure and pain alike, gain and loss alike, victory and defeat alike. Then enter the battle. This way you will incur no sin.

This is the wisdom of Sankhya, the knowledge of the Self, as I have explained it to you. Now hear the wisdom of yoga. Joined to this discernment, you will cast off the bondage of action.

On this path no effort is wasted, and there is no harm. Even a little of this practice protects you from great fear.

On this path, discernment is single and one-pointed. The discernment of the irresolute branches out endlessly.

The undiscerning speak flowery words. They delight in the letter of the Vedas and claim there is nothing more, Arjuna.

Full of desire, with heaven as their goal, they teach elaborate rites that yield birth as the fruit of action and aim at pleasure and power.

In those who cling to pleasure and power, whose minds are carried away by such words, the one-pointed discernment needed for deep absorption does not take hold.

The Vedas deal with the three qualities of nature. Rise above the three qualities, Arjuna. Be free of the pairs of opposites, ever poised in purity, free of all concern for gain and safekeeping, established in the Self.

When water floods on every side, a well is of little use. As much use as that is all the Vedas to the knower who has realized the Self.

You have a right to your action alone, never to its fruits. Do not make the fruits of action your motive. And do not be attached to inaction.

Established in yoga, perform your actions, Arjuna, letting go of attachment, the same in success and failure. This evenness of mind is called yoga.

Action is far inferior to the yoga of discernment, Arjuna. Take refuge in discernment. Those who act for the fruits are to be pitied.

One who acts with discernment leaves behind both good and bad deeds in this very life. So devote yourself to yoga. Yoga is skill in action.

The wise, acting with discernment, give up the fruits born of action. Freed from the bondage of birth, they reach a state beyond all suffering.

When your discernment crosses beyond the thicket of delusion, you will become indifferent to all that has been heard and all that is yet to be heard.

When your discernment, bewildered by what it has heard, stands unshaken and steady in deep contemplation, then you will attain yoga.

Arjuna said: What is the mark of one whose wisdom is steady, who is settled in deep absorption, Krishna? How does such a person speak, sit, and move?

Krishna said: When a person lets go of all the desires that arise in the mind, Arjuna, and is content in the Self by the Self alone, then they are called one of steady wisdom.

One whose mind is undisturbed in sorrow, who does not crave pleasures, and who is free of attachment, fear, and anger, is called a sage of steady wisdom.

One who is unattached on every side, who neither delights in good fortune nor recoils from bad when it comes, has wisdom that is firmly set.

When a person draws the senses back from their objects on every side, as a tortoise draws in its limbs, then their wisdom is firmly set.

The objects of the senses fall away from the embodied self who abstains from them, though the taste for them remains. Even that taste falls away when the Supreme is seen.

Even for a person of discernment who strives, Arjuna, the turbulent senses can violently carry the mind away.

Restraining all the senses, one should sit absorbed, intent on me as the supreme. The wisdom of one whose senses are under control is firmly set.

When a person dwells on the objects of the senses, attachment to them arises. From attachment comes desire. From desire comes anger.

From anger comes delusion. From delusion, memory fails. When memory fails, discernment is destroyed. And when discernment is destroyed, the person is lost.

But one who moves among the objects of the senses with the senses under control, free of attraction and aversion, self-disciplined, attains serenity.

In that serenity, all sorrows come to an end. For the discernment of one whose mind is serene soon becomes firmly established.

For one who is unsteady there is no discernment, and no contemplation. Without contemplation there is no peace. And for one without peace, how can there be happiness?

When the mind follows the wandering senses, it carries away the person's wisdom, as the wind carries away a boat on the water.

Therefore, the wisdom of one whose senses are fully withdrawn from their objects is firmly set.

What is night for all beings is where the self-controlled stays awake. And what all beings are awake to is night for the sage who sees.

As waters flow into the ocean, which stays full and unmoved though they keep entering it, so the one whom all desires enter attains peace. Not so the one who chases desires.

The person who gives up all desires and moves about free of longing, without the sense of 'me' and 'mine', and without pride, attains peace.

This is the state of Brahman, Arjuna. Whoever attains it is no longer deluded. Established in it, even at the hour of death, one attains oneness with Brahman.