For yogis and spiritualists, our first impulse is always to cultivate peace and harmony. In times of conflict, we naturally look for ways to end or avoid fighting.
But all I really feel like doing right now is fighting.
If you feel the same way, you might be wondering how to reconcile the urge to fight with the desire to live a spiritual life.
The symptoms of spiritual consciousness are detachment from material affairs, equanimity in all circumstances, and kindness to everyone.
A person endowed with such qualities is known as a mahātmā; a great soul.
Magnanimity has its place. But if a fight comes to us, magnanimity can do more harm than good.
In such situations, cognitive dissonance can set in; we may find ourselves paralyzed by an intersection of contradictions: the need to develop a healthy sense of detachment, the duty to fight for a worthy cause, and the moral imperative of observing non-violence.
This was the case when Krishna spoke the Bhagavad Gita on the battlefield of Kurukshetra. Arjuna was so overwhelmed by cognitive dissonance that he dropped his weapons and collapsed onto the seat of his chariot.
Arjuna didn’t care about winning or losing, but he cared deeply about all the people who would be harmed if the battle took place. Motivated by compassion, he argued that it would be better for him to leave the battlefield or even allow himself to be killed than to be the cause of death for his enemies.
You would think that Krishna would commend his friend for having such a magnanimous attitude.
But he didn’t. In fact, Krishna was very direct about how little he thought of Arjuna’s misplaced magnanimity:
As Krishna develops the argument that will help Arjuna regain his composure, he defines a mahātmā not as one who scrupulously observes non-violence, but as one who understands the ultimate cause of all effects and dedicates themselves to becoming an instrument of divine will:
What Arjuna couldn’t see was that his idea of magnanimity was actually a function of his ego: he thought that he would be the cause of the results of the battle, that his participation would determine the outcome and that he could change the outcome by not participating.
Bewildered by the influence of his ego, Arjuna was thinking, “I am making things happen” when, in truth, many factors, most of which are beyond our control, contribute to the ultimate outcome of any action.
The interactions of the qualities of material nature, the stage and all the actors on it, the instruments and methods of action, the passing of time, and the will of providence all play a part in determining how things will turn out.
Therefore, Arjuna’s duty—his dharma—wasn’t to control the outcome; it was to commit himself to a course of action based on principles of truthfulness, compassion, purity, and the courage it takes to step beyond one’s comfort zone for the sake of a greater good.
Leaning into his duty to fight while leaving the results of the battle up to a higher power is how Arjuna understood the true meaning of detachment, found his equanimity, and became a real mahātmā.
For myself, I feel an extra shot of courage running through my veins when I remember that all I have to do is show up and do my best.
And if we all fight the good fight, hoping for the best, prepared for the worst, and knowing that the only way we really lose is by leaving the battlefield, then, together, we can all breathe fire on our foes.
Wishing you all good fortune,
– Hari-k