The
Bhagavad Gita has just two protagonists, a flawed human named Arjuna and a wise
elder named Krishna. Their conversation is an ideal way to describe problems
and offer solutions. They hold their discussion in the midst of a great war,
symbolic of the pressures of life we all encounter.
In
the buildup to the war, powerful interests have stripped Arjuna and his four
brothers of their princely birthright, taken their lands, and banished them to
a wilderness, while promising to permit their return in the distant future.
When the time came to reclaim their rightful station, they were treated as
outcasts. They had to slip back into the royal city in disguise. When they made
their claim, it was denied, and war was declared, with threats to take from them
the last shreds of their dignity.
This
is a magnificent image of the human condition. From birth we begin to
compromise with our environment. Other people and institutions are to be
placated, so we suppress our own desires in hopes of achieving peace and amity.
We assume a social mask to obscure our naked face. Before long we have given up
all our personal predilections and entered a wilderness of dissociation from
our true nature. Religious tracts assure us of restoration only after death,
and we try to believe them. These ruses may work for a while, allowing us to
fit in to a pitiless society, but there is a vital urge in us that never stops
trying to be actualized. It is in conflict with what is expected of us. We are
taught that our vital urge is an evil to be done away with, but it feels like
our authentic self. It seeks a means of expression. Expressing it is the reason
we were born. The more it is suppressed, the more the pressure builds, until it
explodes or is medicated away.
Arjuna
and his brothers, the Pandavas, symbolize our authentic nature. In the face of
greed and selfishness, symbolized by the Kauravas, they continually gave
ground. Like well-behaved children they went along with every requirement, even
allowing themselves to be cheated. And now they find themselves with nothing,
standing on a postage stamp-sized plot of land that is about to be taken from
them.
We,
too, have surrendered our legitimacy to external forces, for the most part
unwittingly. The Gita addresses the crucial moment when we must wake up to our
abandoned inner truth or spiritually die. Ordinary responses are to throw
ourselves back into the futility of battle or run away and hide. Neither of
these options allows for the expression of our finest abilities. Krishna is
standing by to teach Arjuna how to extricate himself from this universal
predicament, thereby demonstrating how each of us can reclaim our authenticity.
It will be a long and fascinating process.
We
intuitively sense that we are divine, princesses and princes who have been
deposed from our thrones and banished to the wilderness. Regaining our rightful
place is a mystical, rather than a political, accomplishment. Escape won’t do
it, nor will fighting against the apparent usurpers. They suffer from the same
malady that we do, so they couldn’t restore us to our true nature if they
wanted to. Petitioning or combating them is a waste of time. The Bhagavad Gita
is a broad template of what really needs to happen to reacquaint us with our
inner genius.