A Life Rooted in Its SourceRead

The Foundation Behind Life’s Growth

As I look at the spreading tree in this picture, my attention rises beyond its greenery and rests on its roots. Many forms of life appear among the branches, yet their foundation is not to be found in the branches themselves. The inverted ashvattha tree that Shri Krishna explains to Arjuna places the same question before us: we see the growth of our lives, but do we recognise the source on which that growth rests? When this question quietly arises amid our daily work, it can change the way we see.

In Part 15 of the Shrimad Bhagavad Gita, the world is described as having its root above and its branches below. Here, above points towards the supreme cause, the supreme truth, the Divine. The branches spreading below represent the unfolding of desires, relationships, actions and experiences. It is not enough to regard this merely as the shape of an unusual tree. It is an image through which to read our own lives. Something we begin to treat as everything may itself be only one branch of this growth; the foundation of life runs deeper.

We keep adding things to our identity. A job, a position, an achievement and the identity that comes through a relationship become important to us. They have their place, but when the mind uses them to determine its entire worth, it begins to waver whenever they change. Praise makes us think ourselves greater; criticism makes us think ourselves smaller. To treat the movement of a branch as the final judgment on our existence is to forget the foundation within.

This does not mean that life’s branches are worthless. In my book, action, relationships and responsibilities are explained as necessary expressions of life. There is no call here to abandon family, care in our work or our conduct towards others. The question is how to understand their place. We can give ourselves fully to what needs to be fulfilled without demanding from it a permanence that a changing thing cannot provide. Remembering the source does not make our responsibilities less important; it makes our understanding of them clearer.

When I look at this growth with the Divine as its source, life becomes more than a separate accounting of gains and losses. The restlessness that tries to seize every experience and prove its completeness through it can loosen. Gratitude for what has been received and attentiveness to what needs to be done can move together. The image of the tree does not ask me to turn my eyes away from the world; it offers a direction for seeing the world together with its foundation. This understanding opens the way to what follows.

Fresh Shoots and the Direction of the Mind

Shri Krishna describes fresh shoots of sense objects on this tree of worldly life. The image is easy to recognise. An object, an experience or an achievement seems essential to us. After attaining it, we feel satisfied for a while, and then the mind moves towards another attraction. The novelty appears outside, but the desire pursuing it rises within. If that desire is not recognised, we can reach one new stopping place after another while carrying our old restlessness with us.

Observing this movement of the mind does not mean opposing the enjoyment of life. Appreciating beauty, feeling pleased at an achievement and sharing happiness with those close to us have their natural place. Difficulty arises when we demand that an experience never change, or make our happiness depend entirely on its continuing. This explanation in Part 15 helps us understand the difference between an experience and the grip we develop upon it. Enjoyment can remain, with discernment alongside it.

The branches of this tree do not reach only towards outward pleasures. Pride in knowledge, a sense of superiority and the honour attached to good deeds can also become subtle forms of attachment. A person may learn a great deal yet want every conversation to prove that they know more than everyone else. Learning then becomes a way to enlarge their self-image. Recognising this possibility, I can also ask myself whether what I have understood is opening my vision or merely strengthening my insistence on being right.

The qualities of nature nourish this growth. The book explains sattva in connection with knowledge and peace, rajas with action and craving, and tamas with delusion and heedlessness. I find it more useful to read these words as ways of recognising my own tendencies than as labels to place upon others. Is my present effort arising from clarity, restless comparison, or avoidance of necessary work? When the direction within becomes visible, every attraction need no longer become a command.

Here a quiet space opens for choosing the direction of life. Not every opportunity before us has equal importance for us. Some experiences deepen understanding, some bring brief pleasure, and some leave us merely waiting for the next attraction. Recognising the difference need not make us harsh; it can make us responsible for our attention. I am not speaking of breaking off every fresh shoot, but of avoiding the loss of ourselves in the pursuit of each one. The tree’s growth may be endless, while our direction can remain clear.

Fulfilling Responsibility, Loosening the Grip

In this image, roots spreading below are also explained in connection with the bonds formed through action. If something is repeatedly done only to win praise, the desire for praise can gradually become a habit. The work’s own purpose then recedes, while others’ approval moves to the front. What began as a desire starts directing our decisions. It is therefore not enough to look only at the visible activity; we also need to see the expectation to which the mind is attached behind it.

For this deep grip, Shri Krishna teaches firm non-attachment. If non-attachment is understood as withdrawing from life, the meaning remains incomplete. My book explains it as reducing the inward grip while remaining with family, working and fulfilling responsibilities. Neglecting someone close to us would not be non-attachment. Nor does it mean carelessness in our work. The sincerity with which we fulfil our responsibilities should remain, while our entire inner life need not depend on the recognition we receive in return. This is the distinction to understand.

We can consider a simple example from everyday life. Suppose we complete a task carefully but do not receive the praise we expected. Has all the value of that work now disappeared? Will we no longer want to do it properly next time? These questions reveal how much our foundation rested on the usefulness of the work and how much on receiving recognition. Similarly, when someone points out a shortcoming, we can try to understand and correct it; treating every correction as an attack upon our identity makes the grip tighter.

It also matters that non-attachment is described as firm. Inward habits do not change merely because we have read a good thought. An expectation recognised today may return tomorrow in a new form. This is an occasion for repeated attentiveness, rather than anger towards ourselves. At times we need to return from comparison, at times to recognise a demand for honour, and at times to bring our attention back to necessary work amid concern about its outcome. The mind’s freedom finds direction through small, sincere efforts.

The spirit of offering one’s actions to the Divine supports this practice. There is then no need to reduce the care and effort that are ours to give; what lessens is the desire to make every good outcome a proof of ourselves alone. The same distinction applies to service. If I use service only to enlarge my own importance, its branch can bind me again. If, through it, I learn to let the ego occupy a little less space, the same work can become an opportunity for greater inward simplicity.

Let the Roots of Learning Grow Deep

When I place this understanding beside the lives of young people today, I see the question of direction amid many possibilities. The wish to learn something new is valuable; it broadens life. Yet changing our course with every new attraction can leave little opportunity to understand any one subject deeply. The image of the tree reminds us that growth and depth can move together. There can be a quiet, lasting sense of purpose in giving our attention to the studies or work we have chosen.

Suppose a student sits down to understand a difficult subject. The answer does not become clear immediately. At that moment, a fresh attraction may seem easier and more pleasant. If the student stays with the question a little longer, then asks, reads and returns with understanding, that time has not merely passed; it has contributed to learning. I offer this example as a present-day reflection on the book’s ideas of discernment and priorities. The purpose is not to bind every moment rigidly, but to keep giving our chosen effort a fair opportunity.

The same reflection applies to a young person learning to work. An early attempt at a skill need not look impressive. The pull of comparison may suggest that someone else’s achievement is greater. Yet attention to the responsibility before us, humility in learning and a willingness to improve are what help us in practice. Effort made only to impress others soon begins to demand recognition. Effort directed towards understanding can find a reason to keep learning even when it discovers its own shortcomings.

Giving time to education and work can be more than preparation for obtaining something later; it can also give the present a clear direction. Each person can observe which activities are building their capabilities and which merely carry them towards another attraction. Necessary rest and simple enjoyment do not oppose this reflection. With the same attentiveness with which we choose our work, we can give rest a place that allows the mind to return to worthwhile effort.

The book speaks of using knowledge to return towards the source. I find in this a valuable indication of humility in learning. Something we have read enters life when it makes a decision clearer, our conduct more attentive, or our willingness to recognise our limits stronger. A young mind has a long road before it. On that road, greater value may sometimes lie in remaining with a worthwhile question, understanding one’s work and completing it before moving on, than in pursuing every attraction.

Keeping the Source in View

If we wait for all the branches of worldly life to become still before looking within, that waiting may never end. One task will be completed and another will arise; one desire will become clear and another will reveal itself. The importance of this discussion in Part 15 lies in its invitation to change our vision in the midst of life. We can attend to circumstances while remembering our foundation. Turning inward does not mean leaving necessary outward work unfinished.

When the mind spreads too far into comparison, recognition or worry, remembering the source can offer it another direction. To me, this remembrance is not a declaration that I stand above the world; it is a way of placing my ego in its proper position. The life, opportunities and capacity to act that have been received can be seen within the Divine order, rather than grasped as possessions that are mine alone. This opens a place for gratitude and makes it possible to do our share of work with greater simplicity.

We need not look for a grand display as evidence of this practice. Sometimes it may be as simple as continuing to work carefully even without praise. Sometimes it may mean learning from someone without insisting on displaying our own knowledge. At another time, a new desire may arise without immediately being treated as a necessity. In such moments, the branches remain in their place, but their grip lessens. I find it more appropriate to regard these moments as opportunities for a more attentive next step than as claims of perfection.

Shri Krishna’s gesture in the picture brings my attention back to that source. The beautiful branches attract the eye, but the foundation that sustains life lies above them. May our own world continue to be filled with relationships, education, work, achievements and experiences, while the vision through which we see them remembers the source. Action can take the form of service, knowledge can deepen humility, and happiness need not harden into possessiveness. The beauty of the world can remain while the compulsion to lose ourselves within it begins to lessen.

Looking at this tree, I want to carry this reflection with me: alongside asking how much my life has expanded, I can ask how clear its foundation has become. Acquiring more and understanding more are not always the same. When honesty in necessary work, patience in learning and gratitude towards the Divine remain with us, each day need not pass only in adding another branch. It can also become an opportunity to stay connected with our source. For me, the beauty of Shri Krishna’s image lies in this living relationship.