Arjuna just said ‘Yes!’ to it all

by Vic Shayne
author
13 Pillars of Enlightenment

The Bhagavad Gita tells of a meeting 5137 years ago in Kurushastra, India. The great warrior Arjuna stands looking out over an immense battlefield on the eve of war to end the dispute over the throne of Hastinapur (present Delhi. Beside Arjuna is his faithful charioteer. Arjuna contemplates what is to come, which was something horrific and unavoidable — an armed conflict certain to cause untold death and suffering. His consciousness weighs heavy on him, because, to make matters worse, he knows that the enemy on the horizon, poised to meet his army, will include members of his own family. Gazing across the field in front of him at the opposing army, Arjuna sees his grandfather, teachers, and cousins filled with the great grief.

Add one more complication: Arjuna’s entire army has turned up expecting to fight and die for their cause, trusting in him as their leader. How can he turn his back on them? Regardless, this all leaves him in a quandary. His senses and intelligence are frozen and he cannot discern between right and wrong, good or bad, so he is not sure if he can fight. He finds himself mired in an existential crisis that only a god can address. And this is when Arjuna’s charioteer takes the form of Lord Krishna, god of the gods.

God to the rescue.

The moral dilemma and existential crisis converge
Arjuna stares at Lord Krishna for a moment before speaking. And then he asks, “How can I engage in this battle in full knowledge that my relatives are in that army and that our swords and arrows are certain to cause death and suffering?”

A moral dilemma to be certain.

Lord Krishna tells Arjuna that he must do what a warrior must do, for it is his destiny as a warrior. Beyond this veil of a warrior is something deeper, something that cannot make a choice; and this gets into the issue of whether the sense of self is the doer or whether consciousness is the actual doer.

The dilemma is this: Arjuna must either struggle with his personal issues or allow his actions to be “decided” by the will of Brahman (the totality of consciousness). For Krishna, the solution is obvious and clear, but the question is whether Arjuna can also come to see it this way.

Moving beyond the superficial sense of ‘me’
The superficial lesson of the Arjuna story is that it’s okay to kill your friends and relatives in battle because this is your duty. But this is superficial thinking and seems to be an absurd way to rationalize a very serious act involving suffering and death. With Lord Krishna’s help, Arjuna comes to realize that consciousness is the real doer and decider, and the little self — the “I,” “me,” egoic mind, etc. — is merely an expression of consciousness and therefore not the doer at all. It is consciousness that created this scenario, it is consciousness that brought all of the participants onto the brink of war, and it is consciousness that shall bring all events, thoughts, and actions to bear.

Without leaving you in suspense or having to research this epic story, although I would encourage you to do so if you so desire, Arjuna said “Yes!” to it all and led his army into battle.

Just say “Yes!” to it all
Consciousness presents myriad situations to the individual, and the individual is actually consciousness itself, devoid of the belief system that we know as the egoic self. The individual is an expression of the one and only consciousness — not apart from it, not a part of it, not connected to it, but an actual expression of it. As consciousness, there is no self, but only the movement; and the movement creates the situations so that they need to unfold. But if you are regarding this from the point of view of the egoic self then you may do what the self is wont to do, which is to rationalize actions, ponder the meaning of life and morality, act out of fear or anger, become indifferent, or create suffering out of ignorance. If, on the other hand, if you see yourself as consciousness, then, as Joseph Campbell and novelist EM Forster have said, you just say “Yes!” to it all.

This act of just saying “Yes!” is not to be overlooked.

In his novel A Room With A View, author EM Forster wrote, “By the side of the everlasting Why there is a Yes — a transitory Yes if you like, but a Yes.”

The legendary Joseph Campbell recounted this story to journalist Bill Moyers, in The Power of Myth:

When I was in India, there was a man whose name was Sri Krishnamenon and his mystical name was Atmananda and he was in Trivandrum, and I went to Trivandrum, and I had the wonderful privilege of sitting face to face with him as I’m sitting here with you. And the first question, first thing he said to me is, “Do you have a question?” Because the teacher there always answers questions, he doesn’t tell you what anything, he answers. And I said, “Yes, I have a question.” I said, “Since in Hindu thinking all the universe is divine, is a manifestation of divinity itself, how can we say ‘no’ to anything in the world, how can we say ‘no’ to brutality, to stupidity, to vulgarity, to thoughtlessness?” And he said, “For you and me, we must say yes.”

Well, I had learned from my friends who were students of his, that that happened to have been the first question he asked his guru, and we had a wonderful talk for about an hour there on this theme, of the affirmation of the world. And it confirmed me in a feeling that I have had, that who are we to judge?