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Chapter 13 · Verse 16
🪈 Krishna speaks
Illustration for Chapter 13, Verse 16

बहिरन्तश्च भूतानामचरं चरमेव च। सूक्ष्मत्वात्तदविज्ञेयं दूरस्थं चान्तिके च तत्॥

bahir antaś ca bhūtānām acaraṁ caram eva ca | sūkṣmatvāt tad avijñeyaṁ dūrasthaṁ cāntike ca tat ||

Word by Word 16 words
बहिः
bahis outside

outside

अन्तः
antar inside, within

inside, within

च
ca and

and

भूतानाम्
bhū to be, to become

of all beings

अचरम्
a not car to move

unmoving, still

चरम्
car to move

moving

एव
eva indeed

indeed

च
ca and

and

सूक्ष्मत्वात्
sūkṣma subtle, fine tva -ness

because of its subtleness

तत्
tad that

that

अविज्ञेयम्
a not vi clearly jñā to know

not graspable by ordinary knowing

दूरस्थम्
dūra far sthā to stand

standing far away

च
ca and

and

अन्तिके
antika near

near, close by

च
ca and

and

तत्
tad that

that

This knowable lives outside all beings and inside them too. It is perfectly still, and yet it is the very thing that moves in everything that moves. It is so fine and subtle that your mind cannot quite catch hold of it the way you catch a ball. It seems far, far away — and at the very same moment it is closer to you than anything else.

कथा

Where Does the Wetness Live?

An original story

The tide had gone out, leaving the Puri beach wide and shining. Aarav and Dadu walked along the wet sand, their footprints filling slowly with water behind them.

Aarav had a question he'd been turning over all morning. "Dadu, yesterday you said the Self is far away and near at the same time. That can't both be true."

Dadu crouched and scooped a single drop of seawater onto his fingertip. He held it up so it caught the light. "Tell me, Aarav. Where does the wetness of the sea live? Is it out there—" he pointed to the great green water rolling far on the horizon "—or in this one drop?"

Aarav looked at the drop, then at the distant sea. "Both, I suppose. The wetness is in the whole ocean. But it's also right here in this drop."

"And can you pull the wetness out and show it to me by itself?" Dadu asked. "Hand me just the wet, without the water?"

Aarav laughed. "No. You can't hold wetness on its own. It's too — too thin. Too everywhere."

Dadu let the drop slide off his finger. "That is your answer. The wetness is in the farthest wave and in the nearest drop at the same time. It is too fine to pinch between your fingers, yet nothing in the sea escapes it. The Self is like that. People think it is somewhere far off, high up, hard to reach. But it is also inside you, behind your eyes, nearer than your own breath."

They walked on. A crab scuttled sideways into a hole. A gull stood perfectly still on one leg, then suddenly burst into flight.

"Look," Dadu said, nodding at the gull. "It was still, then it moved. The same Self is the stillness in the standing bird and the movement in the flying one. It does not run about, yet it is what runs in everything that runs."

Aarav watched the gull disappear into the bright sky. He thought about the drop, the wave, the wetness you cannot hold. Far and near. Still and moving. The words no longer felt like a riddle that broke. They felt like a riddle that was simply true — too big and too close to argue with.

"I think I almost understand," he said.

"Almost is a good place to begin," said Dadu, and they turned for home.

चिन्तनम्

Something can be near you and far from you at once — like a friend in another city you feel close to. What feels both far away and very close to you?