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Chapter 18 · Verse 29
🪈 Krishna speaks
Illustration for Chapter 18, Verse 29

बुद्धेर्भेदं धृतेश्चैव गुणतस्त्रिविधं शृणु। प्रोच्यमानमशेषेण पृथक्त्वेन धनञ्जय॥

buddherbhedaṁ dhṛteścaiva guṇatastrividhaṁ śṛṇu | procyamānamaśeṣeṇa pṛthaktvena dhanañjaya ||

Word by Word 12 words
बुद्धेः
budh to wake, to understand

of the buddhi — the understanding, the deciding mind

भेदम्
bhid to split, to divide

the division, the different kinds

धृतेः
dhṛ to hold, to keep firm

of dhṛti — firmness, steadiness, the power to hold on

च
ca and

and

एव
eva indeed, only

indeed, just so

गुणतः
guṇa quality, strand of nature tas according to

according to the guṇas — the three threads of nature

त्रिविधम्
tri three vidha kind, fold

of three kinds, threefold

शृणु
śru to hear, to listen

listen, hear

प्रोच्यमानम्
pra forth vac to speak

being told fully, as it is now being spoken

अशेषेण
a not śiṣ to leave over

without leaving anything out, completely

पृथक्त्वेन
pṛthak separately tva -ness

separately, each kind on its own

धनञ्जय
dhana wealth jaya winner, conqueror

O winner of wealth — a name for Arjuna

keeps going through his great list. He has already shown that knowledge, action, and the doer each come in three colours — (clear and calm), (restless and grasping), and (dull and dark). "Now," he says, "listen to two more: the , your deciding mind that tells right from wrong, and dhṛti, your firmness, the inner grip that holds you steady. These too come in three kinds, O Arjuna. I will set them out for you completely, one by one, leaving nothing out."

कथा

The Lamp That Sorted the Threads

From the mythological

In a quiet ashram at the foot of the mountains, an old sage named Yajnavalkya kept a basket of tangled thread by his seat. Students came from far villages to learn from him, and they often found him not chanting, not meditating, but simply sorting that thread — pulling out the white strands, the red strands, and the dark grey ones, and winding each colour onto its own spool.

One evening a restless boy named Devadatta asked, "Master, you are the wisest man in three valleys. Why do you waste the daylight untangling string?"

Yajnavalkya did not look up. "Bring the lamp closer," he said.

The boy held the little clay lamp near the basket. In its glow the threads that had looked like one grey muddle suddenly showed their true colours — bright white here, deep red there, smoky dark between.

"When the threads are heaped together," said the sage, "you cannot use a single one. You reach in and pull, and the whole knot tightens. But sort them — slowly, completely, leaving none behind — and now each colour is ready to your hand."

He set down a finished white spool. "Your mind is like this basket, Devadatta. Inside it run three kinds of thread. There is the clear thread that helps you see straight, the burning thread that makes you chase and grab, and the dull thread that drags you into sleep and confusion. Most people live with all three knotted into one grey lump and wonder why their thoughts pull crooked."

"How do I sort mine?" the boy asked, sitting down.

"First you must learn to name them," said Yajnavalkya. "You hear the teacher say, 'this is the calm thread, this the restless one, this the dark one.' You listen all the way to the end, leaving nothing out. Only what you can name, you can choose. And only what you can choose, you can change."

He pressed the lamp into the boy's hands. "Hold the light. I will go through them one at a time, every kind, completely. By the end you will look into your own basket and know exactly what you are holding, and which spool to wind your life upon."

चिन्तनम्

When your feelings get tangled, does it help to name them one by one — 'this is worry, this is excitement, this is tiredness'? Why might naming something be the first step to handling it?