Confucius – Analects, Excerpts

The Analects, or Lunyu, contain the words and acts of the central Chinese thinker and
philosopher Confucius and his students. They were written during the Spring and Autumn
Period through the Warring States Period (ca. 475 BC – 221 BC). The Analects are  the main
work of Confucianism; the work continues to have a substantial influence on Chinese and
East Asian thought and values today.

This page contains quotes from the Analects, arranged by the themes found in
Confucian Teaching:
 Jen – Humaneness
 Junzi (chün-tzu)- the Superior Man, or Gentleman, or Scholar
 Li –  Rites
 Yüeh –Music
 Learning and Teaching
 Government
 Rectifying The Names

Jen (Humaneness)1
XII.22: Fan-ch’ih asked about jen.  The Master said, “It is to love all men.” He asked
about knowledge. “It is to know all men.” Fan ch’ih did not immediately understand
these answers. The Master said, “Employ the upright and put aside all the crooked; in
this way, the crooked can be made to be upright.”
VII.29: The Master said, “Is humaneness a thing remote? I wish to be humane, and
behold! humaneness is at hand.”
VI.28: Tzu-kung said, “Suppose I put the case of a man who extensively confers
benefits on the people, and is able to assist everyone, what would you say about
him? Might he be called perfectly humane?” The Master said, “Why speak only of
humaneness in connection with him? Must he not have the qualities of a sage? . . .
Now the man of perfect humaneness, wishing to be established himself, seeks also
to establish others; wishing to be enlarged himself, he seeks also to enlarge others.
To be able to judge of others by what is nearby in ourselves, that is what we might
call the art of humaneness.”
XV.23: Tzu-kung asked, saying, “Is there one world which may serve as a rule of
practice for all one’s life?” The Master said, “Is not reciprocity such a word? What
you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others.”
XIV.36: Someone said, “What do you say concerning the principle that injury should
be recompensed with kindness?” The Master said, “With what then will you
recompense kindness? Recompense injury with justice, and recompense kindness
with kindness.”
VII.15: The Master said, “With coarse rice to eat, with water to drink, and my bended
arm for a pillow; I still have joy in the midst of these things. Riches and honors
acquired by inhumanity are to me as a floating cloud.”
IV.25: The Master said, “Virtue is not left to stand alone. He who practices it will
have neighbors.”
XV.8: The Master said, “The determined scholar and the man of virtue will not seek
to live at the expense of humanity. They will even sacrifice their lives to preserve
their humanity.”
VII.6: The Master said, “Let the will be set on the path of duty. Let every attainment
in what is good be firmly grasped. Let perfect virtue be accorded with. Let relaxation
and enjoyment be found in the polite arts.”

The Superior Man (chün-tzu)2

XX.3: The Master said, “Without recognizing the ordinances of Heaven, it is
impossible to be a superior man (chün tzu).”
XV.17: The Master said, “The superior man in everything considers righteousness to
be essential. He performs it according to the rules of propriety (li  ). He brings it forth
in humility. He completes it with sincerity. This is indeed a superior man.”
XV.31: The Master said, “The object of the superior man is truth, not food. . . . The
superior man is anxious lest he should not get truth; he is not anxious lest poverty
should come upon him.”
IV.16: The Master said, “The mind of the superior man is conversant with virtue; the
mind of the base man is conversant with gain.”
IV.5: The Master said, “Riches and honors are what men desire. If they cannot be
obtained in the proper way, they should not be held. Poverty and baseness are what
men dislike. If they cannot be avoided in the proper way, they should not be
avoided. . . . The superior man does not, even for the space of a single meal, act
contrary to virtue. In moments of haste, he cleaves to it. In seasons of danger, he
cleaves to it.”
XV.20: The Master said, “What the superior man seeks, is in himself. What the mean
man seeks, is in others.”
XII.4: Ssu-ma Niu asked about the superior man. The Master said, “The superior man
has neither anxiety nor fear.” “Being without anxiety or fear!” said Ssu-ma, “does this
constitute what we call the superior man?” The Master said, “When internal
examination discovers nothing wrong, what is there to be anxious about, what is
there to fear?”
XIV.24: The Master said, “The progress of the superior man is upwards; the progress
of the mean man is downwards.”
XVI.8: Confucius said, “There are three things of which the superior man stand in
awe. He stands in awe of the ordinances of Heaven. He stands in awe of great men.
He stands in awe of the words of the sages. The mean man does not know the
ordinances of Heaven, and consequently does not stand in awe of them. He is
disrespectful to great men. He makes sport of the words of the sages.”
XIV.29: The Master said, “The superior man is modest in his speech, but exceeds in
his actions.”
XV.18: The Master said, “The superior man is distressed by his want of ability. He is
not distressed by men not knowing of him.”
XV.21: The Master said, “The superior man is dignified, but does not wrangle. He is
sociable, but not partisan.”
XVII.24: Tzu-kung asked, “Has the superior man his hatreds also?” The Master said,
“He has his hatreds. He hates those who proclaim the evil of others. He hates the
man who, being in a low station, slanders his superiors. He hates those who have
valor merely, and are unobservant of propriety (li ). He hates those who are forward
and determined, and, at the same time, of contracted understanding.”
XVI.10: Confucius said, “The superior man has nine things which are subjects with
him of thoughtful consideration. In regard to the use of his eyes, he is anxious to see
clearly. In regard to the use of his ears, he is anxious to hear distinctly. In regard to
his countenance, he is anxious that it should be benign. In regard to his speech, he is
anxious that it should be sincere. In regard to his doing of business, he is anxious
that it should be reverently careful. In regard to what he doubts about, he is anxious
to question others. When he is angry, he thinks of the difficulties his anger may
involve him in. When he sees gain to be got, he thinks of righteousness.”
XIX.9: Tzu-hsia3 said, “The superior man undergoes three changes. Looked at from a
distance, he appears stern; when approached, he is mild; when he is heard to speak,
his language is firm and decided.”
XV.36: The superior man is correctly firm, and not merely firm.

Li (Rites )4
III.3: The Master said, “If a man be without the virtues proper to humanity,5 what
has he to do with the rites of propriety?6 If a man be without the virtues of
humanity, what has he to do with music?”
VIII.2: The Master said, “Respectfulness, without the rules of propriety,7 becomes
laborious bustle; carefulness, without the rules of propriety, becomes timidity;
boldness, without the rules of propriety, becomes insubordination;
straightforwardness, without the rules of propriety, becomes rudeness.”
III.4: Lin Fang asked what was the first thing to be attended to in ceremonies. The
Master said, “A great question, indeed! In festive ceremonies, it is better to be
sparing than extravagant. In the ceremonies of mourning, it is better that there be
deep sorrow than a minute attention to the observances.”
III.26: The Master said, “High station filled without indulgent generosity; ceremonies
performed without reverence; mourning conducted without sorrowÑwherewith
should I contemplate such ways?”
XI.1: The Master said, “The men of former times, in the matters of ceremonies and
music,8 were rustics, it is said, while the men of these latter times, in ceremonies
and music, are accomplished gentlemen. If I have occasion to use those things, I
follow the men of former times.”
III.17: Tzu Kung wished to do away with the offering of a sheep connected with the
inauguration of the first day of each month. The Master said, “Tzu Kung, you love the
sheep; I love the ceremony.”

Yüeh (Music)
III.23: The Master instructing the Grand music master of Lu said, “How to play music
may be known. At the commencement of the piece, all the parts should sound
together. As it proceeds, they should be in harmony, severally distinct and flowing
without a break, and thus on to the conclusion.”
IX.14: The Master said, “I returned from Wei to Lu, and then the music was reformed,
and the pieces in the Imperial songs and Praise songs found all their proper place.”

Learning and Teaching

IX.4: There were four things from which the Master was entirely free. He had no
foregone conclusions, no arbitrary predeterminations, no obstinacy, and no egotism.
XVII.2: The Master said, “By nature, men are nearly alike; by practice, they get to be
wide apart.”
XVI.9: Confucius said, “Those who are born with the possession of knowledge are the
highest class of men. Those who learn, and so readily get possession of knowledge,
are the next. Those who are dull and stupid, and yet compass the learning are
another class next to these. As to those who are dull and stupid and yet do not learn–
they are the lowest of the people.”
VII.8: The Master said, “I do not open up the truth to one who is not eager to get
knowledge, nor help out any one who is not anxious to explain himself. When I have
presented one corner of a subject to any one, and he cannot from it learn the other
three, I do not repeat my lesson.”
IV.9: The Master said, “A scholar, whose mind is set on truth, and who is ashamed of
bad clothes and bad food, is not fit to be discoursed with.”
VIII.12: The Master said, “It is not easy to find a man who has learned for three years
without coming to be good.”
XII.15: The Master said, “By extensively studying all learning, and keeping himself
under the restraint of the rules of propriety, one may thus likewise not err from what
is right.”
IX.18: The Master said, “The course of learning may be compared to what may
happen in raising a mound. If there want but one basket of earth to complete the
work, and I stop, the stopping is my own work. It may be compared to throwing down
the earth on the level ground. Though but one basketful is thrown at a time, the
advancing with it is my own going forward.”
XIV.47: A youth of the village of Ch’üeh was employed by Kung to carry the messages
between him and his visitors. Someone asked about him, saying, “I suppose he has
made great progress.” The Master said, “I observe that he is fond of occupying the
seat of a full-grown man; I observe that he walks shoulder to shoulder with his
elders. He is not one who is seeking to make progress in learning. He wishes quickly
to become a man.”
XIV.25: The Master said, “In ancient times, men learned with a view to their own
improvement. Nowadays, men learn with a view to the approbation of others.”
XV.29: The Master said, “To have faults and not to reform them–this, indeed, should
be pronounced having faults.”
IX.28: The Master said, “The wise are free from perplexities; the virtuous from
anxiety; and the bold from fear.”

Government
&ÐII.7: Tzu-kung asked about government. The Master said, “The requisites of
government are that there be sufficiency of food, sufficiency of military equipment,
and the confidence of the people in their ruler.” Tzu Kung said, “If it cannot be
helped, and one of these must be dispensed with, which of the three should be
foregone first?” “The military equipment,” said the Master. Tzu Kung again asked, “If
it cannot be helped and one of the remaining two must be dispensed with, which of
them should be foregone?” The Master answered, “Part with the food. From of old,
death has been the lot of humanity; but if the people have no faith in their rulers,
there is no standing for the state.”
XII.14: Tzu-chang asked about government. The Master said, “The art of governing is
to keep its affairs before the mind without weariness, and to practice these affairs
with undeviating consistency.”
XII.19: Chi K’ang-tzu asked Confucius about government, saying, “What do you say to
killing unprincipled people for the sake of principled people?” Confucius replied, “Sir,
in carrying on your government, why should you use killing at all? Let your evinced
desires be for what is good, and the people will be good. The relation between
superiors (chün-tzu) and inferiors is like that between the wind and the grass. The
grass must bend, when the wind blows across it.”
XIII.6: The Master said, “When a prince’s personal conduct is correct, his government
is effective without the issuing of orders. If his personal conduct is not correct, he
may issue orders, but they will not be followed.”
VII.10: The Master said to Yen Yuen, “When called to office, undertake its duties;
when not so called, then lie retired . . . Tzu-lu said, “If you had the conduct of the
armies of a great state, whom would you have to act with you?” The Master said, “I
would not have him to act with me, who will unarmed attack a tiger, or cross a river
without a boat, dying without any regret. My associate must be the man who
proceeds to action full of caution, who is fond of adjusting his plans, and then carries
them into execution.”
XIV.23: Tzu-lu asked how a sovereign should be served. The Master said, “Do not
impose on him, and, moreover, withstand him to his face.”
III.18: The Master said, “The full observance of the rules of propriety 9 in serving
one’s prince is accounted by people to be flattery.”
XI.23: “What is called a great minister, 10 is one who serves his prince according to
what is right, and when he finds he cannot do so, retires.”
XIV.1: Hsien asked what was shameful. The Master said, “When good government
prevails in a state, to be thinking only of one’s salary. When bad government prevails,
to be thinking, in the same way, only of one’s salary. That is what is shameful.”
IX.13: “When a country is well governed, poverty and mean condition are things to be
ashamed of. When a country is poorly governed, riches and honor are things to be
ashamed of.”
XIV.20: The Master was speaking about the unprincipled actions of the duke Ling of
Wei, when K’ang Tzu said, “Since he is of such a character, how is it he does not lose
his throne?” Kung Fu-Tzu said, “Chung-shu Yu has the superintendence of his guests
and strangers; the litanist, T’uo, has the management of his ancestral temple; and
Wang-sun Chia has the direction of the army and forces: with such officers as these,
how should he lose his throne?”

Rectifying the Names

XII.17: Chi Kang-tzu asked Confucius about government. Confucius replied, “To
govern (cheng) means to rectify (cheng).11 If you lead on the people with correctness,
who will dare not to be correct?”
XIII.3: Tzu-lu said, “The prince of Wei has been waiting for you, in order that you
administer (cheng) the government. What will you consider the first thing to be
done?” The Master replied, “What is necessary is to rectify (cheng) names.” “So,
indeed!” said Tzu-lu. “You are wide of the mark. Why must their be such
rectification?” The Master said, “How uncultivated you are, Yu! A superior man, in
regard to what he does not know, shows a cautious reserve. If names be not correct,
language is not in accordance with the truth of things. If language be not in
accordance with the truth of things, affairs cannot be carried on to success. When
affairs cannot be carried on to success, proprieties (li ) and music (yüeh) will not
flourish. When proprieties and music do not flourish, punishments will not be properly
awarded. When punishments are not properly awarded, the people do not know how
to move hand or foot. Therefore a superior man considers it necessary that the
names he uses may be spoken appropriately, and also that what he speaks may be
carried out appropriately. What the superior man requires, is just that in his words
there may be nothing incorrect.”

  ENDNOTES
1 See the introduction above for the meaning of this word. From this point on, I will
use “humaneness” or “humanity” or “virtue” to translate this word rather than
Legge’s “benevolence.”
2 Or the “gentleman.”
3 This is Pu Shang, a disciple of Confucius and the man primarily responsible for the
transmission of the Confucian Classics. He figures prominently in Analects XIX.
4 Li refers to more than just “rites,” but also means something like “decorum,”
“propriety,” or “manners,” that is, all those traditional, stable and ritualized forms of
behavior which govern our day to day conduct. The word does, however, sometimes
refer specifically to religious or political rituals.
5 “The virtues proper to humanity” is another way of translating jen  .
6 “Rites of propriety” is a translation of li  .
7 The “rules of propriety” is another way of translating li  .
8 Li and Yüeh.
9 Li
10 That is, a minister or servant to a prince.
11 Or “correct.” The meaning of this sentence derives, of course, from the
similarities between the word “to govern” and “to correct.”
RYŪNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA  | FROM:JAPANESE

RASHŌMON

Translated by : Takashi Kojima

INTRODUCTION BY YOAV ROSEN

Actually, it is Akutagawa’s short story, “In a Grove,” which is the so-called real Rashomon story: the testimonies of seven
characters on a single case of death, rape, and robbery. Since it was first published in 1915, the Rashomon effect has
become a prominent cultural term, referring to multiple points of view that reveal different interpretations of a single
incident. The following story is more compact in scope: one night, in pouring rain, under the Rashōmon – the gate to the
ancient city of Kyoto, capital of 12th century Japan – an unemployed servant and a poor, old woman encounter one
another. The story’s plot is tight, and progresses rather fast. “Rashōmon” is an insightful, cruel story, which holds a
disturbing, convincing notion: that truth can be revealed as relative and partial, rather than absolute, and might change
from one person to the next. Everything – simply everything – may depend on a point of view.

It was a chilly evening. A servant of a samurai stood under the Rashōmon, waiting for a break in the rain.

No one else was under the wide gate. On the thick column, its crimson lacquer rubbed off here and there, perched a
cricket. Since the Rashōmon stands on Sujaku Avenue, a few other people at least, in sedge hat or nobleman’s headgear,
might have been expected to be waiting there for a break in the rain storm. But no one was near except this man.

For the past few years the city of Kyoto had been visited by a series of calamities, earthquakes, whirlwinds, and fires,
and Kyoto had been greatly devastated. Old chronicles say that broken pieces of Buddhist images and other Buddhist
objects, with their lacquer, gold, or silver leaf worn off, were heaped up on roadsides to be sold as firewood. Such being
the state of affairs in Kyoto, the repair of the Rashōmon was out of the question. Taking advantage of the devastation,
foxes and other wild animals made their dens in the ruins of the gate, and thieves and robbers found a home there too.
Eventually it became customary to bring unclaimed corpses to this gate and abandon them. After dark it was so ghostly
that no one dared approach.

Flocks of crows flew in from somewhere. During the daytime these cawing birds circled round the ridgepole of the gate.
When the sky overhead turned red in the afterlight of the departed sun, they looked like so many grains of sesame flung
across the gate. But on that day not a crow was to be seen, perhaps because of the lateness of the hour. Here and there
the stone steps, beginning to crumble, and with rank grass growing in their crevices, were dotted with the white
droppings of crows. The servant, in a worn blue kimono, sat on the seventh and highest step, vacantly watching the rain.
His attention was drawn to a large pimple irritating his right cheek.

As has been said, the servant was waiting for a break in the rain. But he had no particular idea of what to do after the
rain stopped. Ordinarily, of course, he would have returned to his master’s house, but he had been discharged just
before. The prosperity of the city of Kyoto had been rapidly declining, and he had been dismissed by his master, whom
he had served many years, because of the effects of this decline. Thus, confined by the rain, he was at a loss to know
where to go. And the weather had not a little to do with his depressed mood. The rain seemed unlikely to stop. He was
lost in thoughts of how to make his living tomorrow, helpless incoherent thoughts protesting an inexorable fate.
Aimlessly he had been listening to the pattering of the rain on the Sujaku Avenue.

The rain, enveloping the Rashōmon, gathered strength and came down with a pelting sound that could be heard far
away. Looking up, he saw a fat black cloud impale itself on the tips of the tiles jutting out from the roof of the gate.

He had little choice of means, whether fair or foul, because of his helpless circumstances. If he chose honest means, he
would undoubtedly starve to death beside the wall or in the Sujaku gutter. He would be brought to this gate and thrown
away like a stray dog. If he decided to steal… His mind, after making the same detour time and again, came finally to the
conclusion that he would be a thief.

But doubts returned many times. Though determined that he had no choice, he was still unable to muster enough
courage to justify the conclusion that he must become a thief.

After a loud fit of sneezing he got up slowly. The evening chill of Kyoto made him long for the warmth of a brazier. The
wind in the evening dusk howled through the columns of the gate. The cricket which had been perched on the crimson
lacquered column was already gone.

Ducking his neck, he looked around the gate, and drew up the shoulders of the blue kimono which he wore over his thin
underwear. He decided to spend the night there, if he could find a secluded corner sheltered from wind and rain. He
found a broad lacquered stairway leading to the tower over the gate. No one would be there, except the dead, if there
were any. So, taking care that the sword at his side did not slip out of the scabbard, he set foot on the lowest step of the
stairs.

A few seconds later, halfway up the stairs, he saw a movement above. Holding his breath and huddling cat-like in the
middle of the broad stairs leading to the tower, he watched and waited. A light coming from the upper part of the tower
shone faintly upon his right cheek. It was the cheek with the red, festering pimple visible under his stubbly whiskers. He
had expected only dead people inside the tower, but he had only gone up a few steps before he noticed a fire above,
about which someone was moving. He saw a dull, yellow, flickering light which made the cobwebs hanging from the
ceiling glow in a ghostly way. What sort of person would be making a light in the Rashōmon… and in a storm? The
unknown, the evil terrified him.

As quietly as a lizard, the servant crept up to the top of the steep stairs. Crouching on all fours, and stretching his neck as
far as possible, he timidly peeped into the tower.

As rumor had said, he found several corpses strewn carelessly about the floor. Since the glow of the light was feeble, he
could not count the number. He could only see that some were naked and others clothed. Some of them were women,
and all were lolling on the floor with their mouths open or their arms outstretched showing no more signs of life than so
many clay dolls. One would doubt that they had ever been alive, so eternally silent they were. Their shoulders, breasts,
and torsos stood out in the dim light; other parts vanished in shadow. The offensive smell of these decomposed corpses
brought his hand to his nose.

The next moment his hand dropped and he stared. He caught sight of a ghoulish form bent over a corpse. It seemed to
be an old woman, gaunt, gray-haired, and nunnish in appearance. With a pine torch in her right hand, she was peeping
into the face of a corpse which had long black hair.

Seized more with horror than curiosity, he even forgot to breathe for a time. He felt the hair of his head and body stand
on end. As he watched, terrified, she wedged the torch between two floor boards and, laying hands on the head of the
corpse, began to pull out the long hairs one by one, as a monkey kills the lice of her young.

The hair came out smoothly with the movement of her hands.

As the hair came out, fear faded from his heart, and his hatred toward the old woman mounted. It grew beyond hatred,
becoming a consuming antipathy against all evil. At this instant if anyone had brought up the question of whether he
would starve to death or become a thief – the question which had occurred to him a little while ago – he would not have
hesitated to choose death. His hatred toward evil flared up like the piece of pine wood which the old woman had stuck
in the floor.

He did not know why she pulled out the hair of the dead. Accordingly, he did not know whether her case was to be put
down as good or bad. But in his eyes, pulling out the hair of the dead in the Rashōmon on this stormy night was an
unpardonable crime. Of course it never entered his mind that a little while ago he had thought of becoming a thief.

Then, summoning strength into his legs, he rose from the stairs and strode, hand on sword, right in front of the old
creature. The hag turned, terror in her eyes, and sprang up from the floor, trembling. For a small moment she paused,
poised there, then lunged for the stairs with a shriek.

“Wretch! Where are you going?” he shouted, barring the way of the trembling hag who tried to scurry past him. Still she
attempted to claw her way by. He pushed her back to prevent her… they struggled, fell among the corpses, and grappled
there. The issue was never in doubt. In a moment he had her by the arm, twisted it, and forced her down to the floor.
Her arms were all skin and bones, and there was no more flesh on them than on the shanks of a chicken. No sooner was
she on the floor than he drew his sword and thrust the silver-white blade before her very nose. She was silent. She
trembled as if in a fit, and her eyes were open so wide that they were almost out of their sockets, and her breath come
in hoarse gasps. The life of this wretch was his now. This thought cooled his boiling anger and brought a calm pride and
satisfaction. He looked down at her, and said in a somewhat calmer voice:

“Look here, I’m not an officer of the High Police Commissioner. I’m a stranger who happened to pass by this gate. I won’t
bind you or do anything against you, but you must tell me what you’re doing up here”.

Then the old woman opened her eyes still wider, and gazed at his face intently with the sharp red eyes of a bird of prey.
She moved her lips, which were wrinkled into her nose, as though she were chewing something.

Her pointed Adam’s apple moved in her thin throat. Then a panting sound like the cawing of a crow came from her
throat:

“I pull the hair… I pull out the hair… to make a wig”.

Her answer banished all unknown from their encounter and brought disappointment. Suddenly she was only a trembling
old woman there at his feet. A ghoul no longer: only a hag who makes wigs from the hair of the dead to sell, for scraps of
food. A cold contempt seized him. Fear left his heart, and his former hatred entered. These feelings must have been
sensed by the other. The old creature, still clutching the hair she had pulled off the corpse, mumbled out these words in
her harsh broken voice:
“Indeed, making wigs out of the hair of the dead may seem a great evil to you, but these that are here deserve no
better. This woman, whose beautiful black hair I was pulling, used to sell cut and dried snake flesh at the guard barracks,
saying that it was dried fish. If she hadn’t died of the plague, she’d be selling it now. The guards liked to buy from her,
and used to say her fish was tasty. What she did couldn’t be wrong, because if she hadn’t, she would have starved to
death. There was no other choice. If she knew I had to do this in order to live, she probably wouldn’t care”.

He sheathed his sword, and, with his left hand on its hilt, he listened to her meditatively. His right hand touched the big
pimple on his cheek. As he listened, a certain courage was born in his heart – the courage which he had not had when he
sat under the gate a little while ago. A strange power was driving him in the opposite direction of the courage which he
had had when he seized the old woman. No longer did he wonder whether he should starve to death or become a thief.
Starvation was so far from his mind that it was the last thing that would have entered it.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a mocking tone, when she finished talking. He took his right hand from his pimple, and,
bending forward, seized her by the neck and said sharply:

“Then it’s right if I rob you. I’d starve if I didn’t”.

He tore her clothes from her body and kicked her roughly down on the corpses as she struggled and tried to clutch his
leg. Five steps, and he was at the top of the stairs. The yellow clothes he had wrested off were under his arm, and in a
twinkling he had rushed down the steep stairs into the abyss of night. The thunder of his descending steps pounded in
the hollow tower, and then it was quiet.

Shortly after that the hag raised up her body from the corpses. Grumbling and groaning, she crawled to the top stair by
the still flickering torchlight, and through the gray hair which hung over her face, she peered down to the last stair in the
torch light.

Beyond this was only darkness… unknowing and unknown.

Handout 2: Excerpts from The Bhagavad Gita - The Song of
God
A sacred text of Hinduism.

Introduction

Circa 3000 BCE, cousins went to war over who would inherit a kingdom. Because
the dispute was within a large, ancient family, the opposing armies comprised
relatives, teachers, leaders, and friends. Arjuna was a master archer and
renowned warrior—he was the one who would lead his side to war. His childhood
friend Lord Krishna agreed to be Arjuna's charioteer. As Arjuna charged into
battle, he became greatly dismayed, seeing so many people he loved on both
sides of the valley. In an act of compassion, Lord Krishna froze time. There, in the
chariot on the battlefield, with the armies before and behind them, the instruction
of the Bhagavad Gita takes place, in the form of an open discussion between
Arjuna and the great god Krishna.

Said Arjuna:

I do not wish to kill my relatives, spiritual leaders, and friends, even though they
stand ready to kill me. I desire neither victory, nor pleasure, nor kingdom. For
what is the use of a kingdom, or enjoyment, or even life when all those for whom
we desire kingdom, enjoyment, and pleasure are here in this battle, ready to give
up their lives?

Lord Krishna replied:

The wise grieve neither for the living nor for the dead. There was never a time you
or I did not exist, nor shall we ever cease to exist in the future. The Spirit is
neither born nor does it die; it is not destroyed when the body is destroyed. After
the death of the body, the Spirit is reborn in a new body until Self-Realization is
attained. Death is certain for the one who is born, and birth is certain for the one
who dies. Therefore, you should not lament over the inevitable but pray for Self-
Realization that you may be at peace.

Simply do your duty to the best of your ability without becoming discouraged by
the thought of the outcome, which may be success or failure, loss or victory. You
have control over your actions, but no control or claim over the result. Fear of
failure, from being emotionally attached to the fruit of work, is the greatest
impediment to success because it disturbs the equanimity of the mind. A farmer
is responsible for working his land, yet has no control over the harvest. But if he
does not work his land, he cannot expect a harvest! By doing your duty, you will
not incur Karmic bondage.

Seek this knowledge, this discipline, Arjuna. There are many paths to Me, to
enlightenment and freedom . . .

One is truly enlightened who:

— Does all work as an offering to God, abandoning attachment to the result

— Enjoys sensual pleasure with mind and senses under control

— Sees one and the same Spirit in all beings, looks at a learned person, an
outcast, or an animal, with equal eye, and can feel the pain and pleasure of
others as one's own
— Neither rejoices on obtaining what is pleasant, nor grieves on obtaining the
unpleasant, and is tranquil and equanimous in pleasure and pain, in fulfillment
and disappointment, in honor and disgrace

— Finds happiness in the Supreme Being, rejoices the Supreme Being within, is
illuminated by Self-Knowledge and remains ever steadfast with the Supreme Self

— Acts beyond personal selfish motives

— Has neither attachment nor aversion for anything

— Has discovered the joy of spiritual knowledge, and whose mind is in union with
God.

Such a person is not bound by Karma though engaged in work, maintains

equanimity whatever occurs, and attains eternal bliss.

Therefore, let your mind be ever absorbed in Me, O Arjuna, remain unattached to
the outcome of your actions, and go forth to do your duty, knowing the Spirit is
deathless and eternal.

The Red Cockatoo

Sent as a present from Annam—

A red cockatoo.

Colored like the peach-tree blossom,

Speaking with the speech of men.

And they did to it what is always done

To the learned and eloquent.

They took a cage with stout bars

And shut it up inside.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘵, a collection of 26 prose poems, is Lebanese writer Kahlil Gibran's most well-known work.

(https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.biography.com/.amp/writer/khalil-gibran)

𝗢𝗻 𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗻

And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain.

And he said:

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life your pain would not seem less wondrous than
your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your
fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His
own sacred tears.