The Gulf of America

The Bhagavad Gita as it occurred on Inauguration Day

These are the first words of god:

“Whence is this perilous condition come upon thee, this dejection, un-heroic, heaven-excluding, disgraceful, O Arjuna?”

श्रीभगवानुवाच ।
कुतस्त्वा कश्मलमिदं विषमे समुपस्थितम् ।
अनार्यजुष्टमस्वर्ग्यमकीर्तिकरमर्जुन ॥ २-२॥

śrībhagavānuvāca
kutastvā kaśmalamidaṃ viṣame samupasthitam
anāryajuṣṭamasvargyamakīrtikaramarjuna

Here is the background:

The entirety of the Gita occurs in a suspended, sacred pause in the midst of crisis. In that non-time occurring in the very midst, the hero Arjuna receives comfort and guidance from his family member and charioteer. This person turns out to be god and thus Arjuna has himself a divine revelation, all ecstasy and visions. Through that intervention the hero realizes his responsibility. The end point is not revelation, in short; coming back to the present moment and doing your thing is. God isn’t a being you have to find, he’s right here; revelation is not sweetness but is a little scary; nor do we actually have to stop time, find time, make time, take time; etc, etc.

The layers of meaning here saturate. The moment of crisis is a civil war. From that first and most superficial understanding of the thing a whole history of argument and distraction: Nazis and Hindu nationalists use the book as a justification for violent racial supremacy; literalism, cultural competency, historical relevance, and metaphor are bantered about; statecraft and politics and identities are drawn like swords or lines in the sand. For most, the teaching stays at this superficial level. Folks dismiss it as being an argument for authoritarianism and everybody absolving their will and senses to be good little soldiers, everybody stay in your place. Others praise it as gritty, plain speak guidance to living in a complicated world. Still others vaunt it as a battle cry to resist oppression. Everybody has an opinion about it, from social justice warriors to totalitarian apologists.

But the crisis isn’t the war. The real crisis is what happens inside Arjuna (Arjuna translated: brave heart)¹. .

Arjuna suffers so hard his reality swirls. He no longer knows what to do. Everything he was taught as right now seems a little if not obviously wrong, scattering all sorts of consequences he didn’t previously understand into the world. As happens to us all, his feelings argue skipping out on responsibilities is actually self care. When it all comes down to him, he loses heart. He is in despair. Hopeless. Tormented. Weeping. His pure, noble, brilliantly shining, valiant heart clouds over. He isn’t himself. He no longer knows who in the hell he is.

The story is provocative precisely because it makes a stunning argument for the physiology of mental anguish: the mind and the body collapse together. Arjuna’s skin gets goosebumps and the hair stands up on his neck. He trembles and drops to his knees. His tongue parches and his mouth dries. His skin feels like it’s on fire and yet his hands and his feet are cold. He drops what he is holding and becomes clumsy. His mind races and he babbles confusions. He can’t lift his head or look anybody in the eye. The issues in the tissues were discussed 2000 years before trauma studies began. (I’d argue Homer’s Illiad was about PTSD, but that’s a different essay).

Our heart pinches when we read it. This is supposed to happen. This is how it works. It is not - merely - that we sympathize with such bewilderment. It’s that we understand so viscerally we see ourselves. Narrative, metaphor, or myth are never ‘mere’: through them we understand the crisis isn’t about a historical or mythological war, or war at all, pro or contra: the story is about inner conflict and the question is our own life.

Here is the gist: though it’s no surprise to anybody, Trump took office for his second term on a belch of hatespeak. Leering crowds roared and a scary circus erupted. Los Angeles burned.

The great ache of our times: nothing is merely a metaphor any more.

That’s the backstory. And then let’s say you turn, all confused and bewildered, to spiritual teachings. Let’s just say you’ve crumpled to your knees and the first words out of god’s mouth are not “oh you poor dear”, not “don’t worry pet”, not “it’s okay darling”. Not even “vengeance is mine; don’t you worry about it, I’ll work my mysterious ways.”

No. In the holy moment, God stands over you and says you’re better than this.

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