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Chapter 13 · Verse 13
🪈 Krishna speaks
Illustration for Chapter 13, Verse 13

ज्ञेयं यत्तत्प्रवक्ष्यामि यज्ज्ञात्वामृतमश्नुते। अनादिमत्परं ब्रह्म न सत्तन्नासदुच्यते॥

jñeyaṁ yattatpravakṣyāmi yajjñātvāmṛtamaśnute | anādimatparaṁ brahma na sattannāsaducyate ||

Word by Word 15 words
ज्ञेयम्
jñā to know ya that which is to be

the knowable, that which is to be known

यत्तत्
yad which tad that

that which

प्रवक्ष्यामि
pra forth vac to speak

I shall declare, I will tell

यज्ज्ञात्वा
yad which jñā to know

knowing which

अमृतम्
a not mṛ to die

the deathless, immortality

अश्नुते
aś to reach, to attain

one reaches, one tastes

अनादिमत्
an not ādi beginning mat having

beginningless, with no start

परम्
para highest, supreme

supreme, highest

ब्रह्म
bṛh to grow, to expand vast

Brahman, the vast boundless reality

न
na not

not

सत्
as to be sat being, existent

being, existent

तत्
tad that

that

न
na not

not

असत्
a not sat being

non-being, non-existent

उच्यते
vac to speak, to say

it is said, it is called

Now turns to the greatest mystery of all — the "knowable," the truth that, once you truly know it, sets you free from death forever. It is , the supreme reality: beginningless, with no start and no end. And it is so far beyond ordinary things that we cannot even call it simply "a thing that exists" or "a thing that doesn't exist." It is not like anything else. It is the deepest truth, and Krishna is about to try to describe what cannot quite be described.

कथा

Not This, Not That

From the upanishad

The sun was sinking into the sea, painting the water orange and gold, when the young student climbed up onto the rocks beside his teacher.

The old sage Yajnavalkya sat very still, watching the waves come in and roll back, come in and roll back. The boy had been working up his courage all day, and now, with the evening soft around them, he finally asked his great question.

"Teacher," he said, "you keep speaking of — the truth behind everything, the thing that, if I knew it, would make me free of death forever. Tell me plainly. What IS it? Show it to me."

Yajnavalkya smiled and picked up a smooth grey pebble. "Is this stone?"

The boy reached for it eagerly. "Yes! Show me — is that it?"

"No," said the sage, and set the pebble down. "Not this."

He pointed to the vast, glowing sea. "Is it the ocean, then? So big, so deep?"

"It must be!" said the boy.

"No," said Yajnavalkya gently. "Not that either. The ocean has edges. It began once and will one day dry. has no beginning and no end."

The boy frowned. "Then is it the sky? The fire of the setting sun? The wind?"

"No, no, and no," said the sage. "Not the sky, not the fire, not the wind."

The boy threw up his hands. "But Teacher, then it's nothing! If it isn't any of these things, it doesn't exist at all!"

"Ah," said Yajnavalkya, and his eyes shone. "Now we are getting somewhere. It is not any thing you can point to — so we cannot simply say 'it exists' the way the pebble exists. But it is not nothing, either — for it is the very truth that holds up the pebble, the sea, the sky, and you. It is not a 'this.' It is not a 'that.' It is closer than your own breath and vaster than the sky, and it had no beginning at all."

The boy sat quiet for a long time, watching the last light fade. He did not fully understand. But for the first time he felt the edge of something enormous — something that no word could hold, and that no death could ever touch.

चिन्तनम्

Can you think of something real that you can't point to or hold — like love, or the wind, or a song that has stopped playing? How would you describe it to someone who had never felt it?