"Let me finish the picture of the quiet one," Krishna said, and Arjuna leaned closer, for he did not want to miss it.

"When the sage sits steady — senses gathered, mind gathered, thinking gathered, her whole heart turned toward freedom like a sunflower toward the sun — three restless visitors come knocking. They always do. Their names are Wanting, Fear, and Anger."

The morning was bright now. The two armies waited, but on the chariot there was only the soft sound of Krishna's voice.

"First comes Wanting. It whispers, 'If only you had this. If only you had that. You cannot be happy until you do.' Most people leap up at once and run after whatever Wanting names. But the sage simply notices it, the way you notice a knock at the door, and does not rise. And after a while, finding no one to chase it, Wanting grows tired and drifts away."

"Then comes Fear. It whispers, 'What if you lose everything? What if it all goes wrong?' Fear is loud and cold. But the sage has set her heart on freedom, not on safety, and so she does not let Fear pull her this way and that. She breathes. She stays. And Fear, finding no one trembling, also grows quiet and leaves."

"Last comes Anger, hottest of the three, blazing up red. It shouts, 'You have been wronged! Strike back!' Anger wants you to forget yourself entirely. But the sage's mind is held steady as a deep lake, and the fire of Anger cannot find dry wood to catch on. So it too burns down, and goes out, and is gone."

Arjuna realized he had been holding his breath, and let it out.

"When Wanting, Fear, and Anger no longer rule you," Krishna said, "no one needs to come and set you free. You are free already. Not just sometimes — always. That is the quiet sage, Arjuna: forever unbound, even while sitting perfectly still beneath a tree."