On spines and meditation

Is there anything more meditative than organising a bookshelf? My child loves to arrange her books by colour. The red spined ones first, then the orange, all the way upto violet to make a rainbow of book spines. Sometimes she makes mountains, alternating the tiny valleys of baby board books with the peaks of the thicker nighttime books, some plateaus thrown in here and there for good measure. 

I myself like to mix it up. Some days I would obsessively organise books by genre. Those are the days when I would take a dim view of a Wodehouse nestling against Wolfhall (Alphabetic justice, but ludicrous). On other days, when no one is looking, I turn whimsical about my bookshelf. My prized Calvin and Hobbes can snuggle up with The Clash of Civilisations. The Principal Upanishads are standing shoulder to shoulder with Principles of Corporate Finance. Zia Mody’s little tome of key judgements is quietly leaning in to What the Ladybird heard. Feeling particularly impish, I even let Piketty’s Capital rub shoulders with Liar’s Poker. 

Then I carefully reorganise it before anyone can see me - a bookshelf that’s not severely and painstakingly organised by subject is shockingly out of character, bound to startle those who (think they) know me. It’s a secret, guilty meditative pleasure that I share only with my books. Don’t tell anyone 😉 📕

How do you meditate? 

Cocoon's caress

A very hungry caterpillar, that’s what I was

My little world, I roamed without pause.
Such a world of plenty, a world of joys
Thriving, fattening, so what if it cloys?

And then one day, the powers-that-be
Came to light and said to me:
It’s now time to stop your play
Keep to yourself, hide away
Spin yourself a littler world
Want not a jot, stay withheld
All for your good, all for the best
Consider this time to renew, to rest.

So here I lie:  so still, so quiet
Breathe the calm. No fuss, no fret.
My physical self, cocoon-bound
But the mind, it soars with aplomb.
Times of feasting, the old way
Seem so distant, fade away.
I thrive anew, in cocoon’s caress
Nourish my soul, I learn afresh.

I know one day, when time is ripe
I’ll wake to the new world outside
As a beautiful butterfly.

Meditations

The world of changing lights and shades
Of colours and shapes that blind and haze
Where nothing has ever stayed the same
Heaves and pants in a mindless daze.

Seems it at times to embrace and glow
And its things and beings amaze and thrall.
Its fleeting truth is known but by a few
And the herds drift on, seeing nothing at all.

As the cup of joy shall the mind gladden
The train of woe's never far behind.
Pleasure, pain do come unbidden
Falter not, or be caught in their bind.

The world without shall ever elude
As the Unreal can never be.
But know that the Real shall ever pervade
Oh inner eye! Grant that I may see.

Working in the 'Zone'

The other day, I was reading a column by an otherwise well-meaning writer, berating the lack of accountability in the corporate world in  general and amongst research analysts (of the equity markets variety), in particular. He said that such analysts did not bother if their  models failed and predictions were proved wrong; in what was purported to be a humorously oblique reference,  he wondered if such  analysts lived by the mantra of "doing what they had to, without caring about the results" as espoused in the Gita.

I was left ruing the inadvertent consequences of popular columnists invoking their "heard" knowledge of ancient texts, and wishing that  someone would come up with a accessible interpretation: one that would be closer to the truth.

And I decided to give it a go myself.

This is a fairly well-known verse:

Karmanyeva adhikaraste maa phaleshu kadachana  l

Ma karmaphala heturbhu: ma te sangostvakarmani ll *

My handy pocket BG's translation goes like this:

To work alone is your privilege, never to the 'fruits' thereof. May you not be a mere producer of the 'fruits' of action- nor be you tied to  inaction.

In the currency of modern spiritual parlance, one can call this practising 'mindfulness' in every action. Mindfulness needn't mean forcing  yourself of 10 minutes of meditation every morning. Every action, from savouring a meal to making an Excel model can be turned into an  exercise in mindfulness by 'living in the present'.

This doesn't mean that one should not create goals to work towards. Once the planning phase is complete, when it's work that one must  delve into, one should set anxieties over results aside, and approach work in a poised, efficient manner.

If we think of ourselves as merely producers of results, so lost are we in anticipation of the results, that we end up being unable to enjoy  the process of creating or working on something. The rush to get to the last page strips the joy of reading the book. So nervous as to  whether the boss would approve of your presentation that your nerves hamper you from giving it your all right now. So anxious to top  the exams that the burden of anxiety takes it toll on your preparation.

And it's not just for those prone to getting the jitters.  In daydreaming about your gold medal, you make a slip-up that's going to cost you dearly.  And finally, in a fit of anger over frustration of your efforts, or aiming to avoid disappointment,  should you just stay put, frozen?  Emphatically, No!

This, in short, is a call for inspired zeal in work: work that means giving yourself completely to the present and 'getting in the zone'. Truly,  there's no gift like the Present; make the most of it, without hankering for the results or letting worry sap you of your energy. And don't  throw in the towel, either… because you simply cannot wish your troubles away or run away from giving the Present your best shot. The  'fruits' or Future will follow in due course. 

Chapter 2: Transcendental Knowledge Verse 47

The Song Divine

I was in middle school when I first read the verses of the Bhagavad Gita. At that time, I was taught this holy scripture the way a preschooler is taught the alphabet - by rote, in the form of a rhythmic incantation. Right from the start, I found myself trying to make sense of it from the English translation in my pocket-size copy of the Gita. Translations typically show a predilection for using archaic /heavy words ("transcendental knowledge" is definitely not the kind of concept that would captivate a seventh-grader). I have been trying explain the gist of the Gita to myself; none of my attempts sounded convincing enough. I have also read a variety of attempts by others to do the same, and amazingly, each one is so different. This is the true beauty of the Gita - it encapsulates timeless wisdom in a form that resonates, in different ways, with people of different inclinations.

For some time now, I have wanted to revisit the text, and to ponder over its message. Some may find the ideas to be misplaced for our times, and sadly enough, many are wont to look upon the Gita as too ponderous (I don't find it in too many 20-somethings' reading lists). From what I've read of the Gita, I find it holds deep meaning to us in a variety of ways.

I like to look at the Gita for what it actually is - a logical conversation between a soul in doubt and his counseller. Here he is, the star warrior in your ranks, Arjuna, benumbed by anxiety, overcome with doubt, grief-stricken at the enormity of the action that he has to undertake. Fortunately, you also have in your ranks, an expert counseller Krishna(who better than God incarnate, who has answers to every question, and who can quell every doubt!). The counseller goes to work, starts off by chiding our warrior for his act, which could be construed as cowardice, thereby appealing to Arjuna's sense of pride in his valour - a great starting point to make him see things in perspective. He then goes on to talk about weightier things like the ephemeral nature of the world and that he, Arjuna , being merely an instrument in the larger scheme of things, should not shy away from his action citing his selfish reasons.

Which brings us to the first major theme:

Perform your duty selflessly, do not be attached to or claim ownership over the results.

Of course, once this was said, Arjuna immediately wanted to know how one could stay detached, which brought the discussion round to the "the one of unwavering intellect" - the one who is unaffected by extremes of emotion, a proponent of the yoga by means of knowledge.

(The word yoga has been interpreted in various different ways, the most agreed upon one being the definition of yoga as "excellence or skill in action")

Arjuna, grasping on this to support his argument, questions Krishna, why he, Arjuna cannot be given respite from the war to pursue yoga through knowledge, rather than through action.

Our skilful counseller however, has the answer to that ready too - that seeking to abandon one's duty is not an acceptable solution. Each of us is impelled to a definite course of action by the very nature of one's circumstances, and it is beholden upon us to discharge the duty that arises, and not give it up to follow a different path, even if that alternative were to be one of great sacrifice and devotion.

Further dialogue ensues about the distinction between, and the relative merits of, yoga through action and yoga through knowledge. The theme of detachment is key, as is unlocks the doors to a whole set of fantastic discussions around concentration, meditation, mental predisposition that are very, very valuable to us in everyday life.

One of my favourite verses is from this part of the Gita:

"One's self is one's biggest friend as well as one's biggest enemy. To one who has uplifted oneself by one's own efforts, the self is the biggest friend; else it remains one's sworn enemy."*

How true! Think of the last time you promised yourself that you would quit some really disgusting habit, or that you would learn a new skill; and you just couldn't do it because you couldn't garner the willpower or bring yourself to do it. And think again, of another time when you really managed to pull off something that you resolved to, and the great sense of inner peace that you felt.

Your better self is constantly at war with your lower self (a kind of Jekyll-and-Hyde situation). One wants to set a mission statement for your life, and the other wants to sleep longer instead; one tries to tell you to sign up for the gym and the other tries to tell you that it's OK to gorge on that other guy's chocolate too - it is entirely possible to uplift yourself; it just requires, as Henry Thoreau** says, conscious endeavour. And the way to do it is to control your mind through practice, concentration and focus.

Having explained two of the three yogas, Krishna completes the discussion on ways to attain the Supreme, by touching upon Bhakti Yoga, or the path of devotion to God.

The last few chapters of the Gita are still somewhat of a mystery to me. They speak of the nature of man, and how to subdue aspects of your nature that stop you from greater goals, of the concept of one’s world as an inverted tree, a metaphor well-established in other schools of philosophy too.

I plan to understand the Gita better, and revisit this piece with more ideas to share. I know I can do it; it's all a matter of letting my better self prevail !!!

(P.S.: This is just my small attempt to understand the text, and to share my impressions on ideas I found particularly captivating. I’m no expert on the text, comments/corrections are most welcome)

*Chapter 6: The Science of Self-Realization (verses 4 & 5)

**Henry Thoreau: I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate himself by conscious endeavor.