CHAPTER 2, TEXT 12: Never was there a time when I did not exist, nor you, nor all these kings; nor in the future shall any of us cease to be.
When I was thirteen years old, I experienced a kind of spiritual awakening. I read this particular verse of the Gita and was so moved that I typed it out on my computer, printed it out, and taped it to the fridge.
You know, a reminder that I will never die when I reach for a glass of milk.
Over the years I've faced the reality of my own death in many ways, from a mysterious chronic illness to a near-fatal accident. This meditation on death, while rather grave (no pun intended!), is actually practiced in every major world religion as a way to enlighten the self to one's true nature as an eternal spiritual being.
But recently I've been haunted by the reality that one day my husband and I will be separated by death. I am no longer embracing the fact of my own death, but the death of my husband. One of us will leave this world first. The other will be left behind to deal with the grief of loss.
The loss is what haunts me. What if I'm the one left behind? I'll be the one who can never speak to or see my husband again, we can never hold hands or laugh. The grief of loss seems worse than death itself.
In fact, I know that this separation will happen to my parents soon. They have been married for almost fifty years; their souls seem intertwined at this point. But soon, one will die and leave the other behind. Then both will die and leave me behind.
I say this as if it's shocking. But this has happened millions upon billions of times in the world over - the separation of loved ones by death.
Similarly, Arjuna is so fearful of not only killing his relatives but of being left behind to mourn their loss. Ruling a kingdom without his family seems empty and meaningless without loved ones to share it with. His additional burden will be to accept the fact that he killed his family.
In the verses I read today of the Gita, Krishna is instructing Arjuna on the nature of the spirit soul, especially that it is eternal and seated within the heart of every living entity. These instructions are meant to wake Arjuna up to the nature of his true self and the nature of others' true selves, such as when Prabhupad elaborates on this particular verse that "All the kings assembled [on the battlefield] are individual eternal persons" (73). A key distinction here is that they are eternal individuals.
Prabhupad emphasizes that lamentation over the loss of another means that one is lamenting the loss of a person. He writes, "[The kings'] individuality existed in the past, and their individuality will continue in the future without interruption. Therefore, there is no cause for lamentation for anyone" (73). Interestingly, Prabhupad equates the cause for lamentation to be the belief that his or her loved ones have lost their individuality. The loss of a loved one's individuality is what causes our hearts to grieve, even more than the loss of their physical body.
Fear of death is connected to loss of our physical body, but an even greater underlying fear is the death of self. That with death, one's very being is annihilated.
One perspective for the annihilation of one's being is a commonly accepted notion that at death one merges with God. This conception is called the Mayavada conception: We are all one, we are all energy, and upon death we will shed our material coverings and return to an existence of light and peace as one with each other and God. We lose our individuality.
Prabhupad writes that "The Mayavadi theory... is not supported herein by Lord Krsna, the supreme authority" (73).
Thank God (pun intended - couldn't resist).
Because what I am truly lamenting in my death or the death of my loved ones is the loss of our relationship - a relationship that is exchanged between individuals. And if we are no longer individuals, then there is no possibility to love. Love, by definition, means an exchange between individuals.
Without individuality, there is no love.
The loss of love is the true cause for lamentation. But Krishna is emphasizing that Arjuna is eternally an individual, and so are all these kings, and so they will always be capable of giving and receiving love.
So whether I ever get to interact with my husband again in the future after we shed these material bodies, that is a mystery. I am just grateful and soothed to know that we will continue to exist as individuals forever, capable of giving and receiving love.
Although I do hope we may reunite even beyond this world, hopefully in the service of the Lord.
When I was thirteen years old, I experienced a kind of spiritual awakening. I read this particular verse of the Gita and was so moved that I typed it out on my computer, printed it out, and taped it to the fridge.
You know, a reminder that I will never die when I reach for a glass of milk.
Over the years I've faced the reality of my own death in many ways, from a mysterious chronic illness to a near-fatal accident. This meditation on death, while rather grave (no pun intended!), is actually practiced in every major world religion as a way to enlighten the self to one's true nature as an eternal spiritual being.
But recently I've been haunted by the reality that one day my husband and I will be separated by death. I am no longer embracing the fact of my own death, but the death of my husband. One of us will leave this world first. The other will be left behind to deal with the grief of loss.
The loss is what haunts me. What if I'm the one left behind? I'll be the one who can never speak to or see my husband again, we can never hold hands or laugh. The grief of loss seems worse than death itself.
In fact, I know that this separation will happen to my parents soon. They have been married for almost fifty years; their souls seem intertwined at this point. But soon, one will die and leave the other behind. Then both will die and leave me behind.
I say this as if it's shocking. But this has happened millions upon billions of times in the world over - the separation of loved ones by death.
Similarly, Arjuna is so fearful of not only killing his relatives but of being left behind to mourn their loss. Ruling a kingdom without his family seems empty and meaningless without loved ones to share it with. His additional burden will be to accept the fact that he killed his family.
In the verses I read today of the Gita, Krishna is instructing Arjuna on the nature of the spirit soul, especially that it is eternal and seated within the heart of every living entity. These instructions are meant to wake Arjuna up to the nature of his true self and the nature of others' true selves, such as when Prabhupad elaborates on this particular verse that "All the kings assembled [on the battlefield] are individual eternal persons" (73). A key distinction here is that they are eternal individuals.
Prabhupad emphasizes that lamentation over the loss of another means that one is lamenting the loss of a person. He writes, "[The kings'] individuality existed in the past, and their individuality will continue in the future without interruption. Therefore, there is no cause for lamentation for anyone" (73). Interestingly, Prabhupad equates the cause for lamentation to be the belief that his or her loved ones have lost their individuality. The loss of a loved one's individuality is what causes our hearts to grieve, even more than the loss of their physical body.
Fear of death is connected to loss of our physical body, but an even greater underlying fear is the death of self. That with death, one's very being is annihilated.
One perspective for the annihilation of one's being is a commonly accepted notion that at death one merges with God. This conception is called the Mayavada conception: We are all one, we are all energy, and upon death we will shed our material coverings and return to an existence of light and peace as one with each other and God. We lose our individuality.
Prabhupad writes that "The Mayavadi theory... is not supported herein by Lord Krsna, the supreme authority" (73).
Thank God (pun intended - couldn't resist).
Because what I am truly lamenting in my death or the death of my loved ones is the loss of our relationship - a relationship that is exchanged between individuals. And if we are no longer individuals, then there is no possibility to love. Love, by definition, means an exchange between individuals.
Without individuality, there is no love.
The loss of love is the true cause for lamentation. But Krishna is emphasizing that Arjuna is eternally an individual, and so are all these kings, and so they will always be capable of giving and receiving love.
So whether I ever get to interact with my husband again in the future after we shed these material bodies, that is a mystery. I am just grateful and soothed to know that we will continue to exist as individuals forever, capable of giving and receiving love.
Although I do hope we may reunite even beyond this world, hopefully in the service of the Lord.
Our wedding day, when we made a vow - 'Til death do we part
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