The Upanishads are part of the Vedic canon. They are stories which in some fashion illustrate and elucidate the fact that the universe is one thing and one thing only, and as such all of it, including ourselves, is an expression of God. The word, Upanishad, means something like "sitting at the feet of Knowledge, the feet of The Master," the place of truth and pure knowledge.
The KATHA UPANISHAD is a beautiful example of how much wisdom may be packed into a simple story, and even of how interesting the story itself may be. Here is a small part of it:
Vajashravasa was a farmer who desired reward from the Gods, so he made ready to give away all his belongings. His son, Nachiketa, noticed that his father was giving away only those animals that were no longer able to calve or to give milk, that were blind and lame. He became concerned that his father would not find an appropriate place in heaven with such poor offerings.
"Father," he said. "I am yours, too. To whom will you give me?"
He asked this of his father again, then a third time. His father, angered by the cheekiness of his son, replied, "I will give you to Death!" And, as is the case in so many Vedic stories, once having said this, even in anger, Vajashravasa was bound to carry through with the sacrifice of his son. Nachiketa consoled his father, telling him that humans are like corn: they ripen and are harvested only to rise again. Nothing really is lost.
So the boy was sent to Yama, the god of Death. When he arrived, Yama was away, and Nachiketa spent three nights waiting for him, without food or water. Yama, appalled, and at the effect of the Vedic laws of nature, had immediately to make amends. He bowed to Nachiketa and said, "You are my honored guest. Please, in order that I may make this up to you, accept three boons from me, one for each night."
Of course Nachiketa agreed, and for his first boon he asked that his father have his worry for his son removed and that the two of them be returned to the happiness they once had as father and son. This was instantly granted by Yama.
For the second boon, Nachiketa asked that he be shown the fire sacrifice, the performer of which goes to True Heaven at the end of life, and this he was granted.
For his third boon, Nachiketa asks that Yama tell him truly what happens after death. Is there something that continues on? Something that is of the true nature of the universe? Is there a soul? He asks for Self-Knowledge, the kind that only may be imparted by someone who knows from direct experience.
Yama says this is something not even the gods always have known about, it's difficult to understand, too subtle for you. Pick another boon.
Nachiketa continues to ask for this boon. Yama offers all worldly gifts--life for as long as you care to have it, sons and grandsons, elephants, cattle, gold, a vast domain. Then he moves on to gifts from the world of the angels--maidens on chariots with musical instruments, unattainable by most mortals. Still, Nachiketa is unmoved. He steadfastly asks to have the truth of life beyond the body and the senses explained to him.
Finally, seeing that the boy is unwilling to accept anything less, Yama relents, and this is how he begins his teaching to Nachiketa about the truth of life and the oneness and of how we may begin our own approach to this knowledge:
Yama said: The good is one thing; the pleasant, another. Both of these searing different needs, bind a man. It goes well with him who, of the two, takes the good; but he who chooses the pleasant misses the end. It is within the power of every man to chooses either of the two ideals; but the majority cling to worldly pleasures. They are indeed short-sighted and devoid of judgement...[They] are deprived of the knowledge of the Great Hereafter. from Swami Nikhilananda's translation of The Katha Upanishad
We have, each day, a choice between the good and the pleasant; that which is right or that which might be more comfortable. Left to my own devices, I will choose 'the pleasant.' Who among us would not? But I also like to remind myself continually that comfort is over-rated. I've sought comfort for most of my life. None of it ever has been lasting. I think now that I'd rather seek 'the good.' Not just because it's the right thing to do, but also, perhaps, just because I can. And in choosing the right thing to do, there is one thing I am guaranteed that comfort never can promise me, and that is a new experience. If I forego comfort, I have the opportunity for growth, the possibility of change, the promise of something different on the other side of the discomfort. This appeals to my sense of adventure.
Today I will seek the adventure that waits on the other side of an uncomfortable truth.  Thistle, Studio City All material copyright Jeff Kober |
