When we gaze into the vastness of the cosmos, we begin to see not permanence, but motion. Not solidity, but shimmer. What we call “reality” is but a fleeting abstraction, a mirage of names and forms woven from impermanence. The sages who utter, “nothing is real,” are not speaking in riddles, they are pointing to the veil. For the names we assign tree, chair, sky, body, are merely labels stitched onto what is fundamentally empty of selfhood.
Think about a chair.
We call it that because it gives us comfort, a place to sit. But deep down, it’s just a piece of wood shaped in a certain way. If you break it apart, it’s just part of a tree. And if you go deeper, even the tree is made up of tiny particles, the same ones that make up everything else in the universe.
Everything in your room from the books on the shelf to the cup in your hand, is built of the sameprimordial dust, shaped by time and utility. Their “realness” is borrowed, their meaning constructed. What persists is not the thing itself, but the mind’s agreement to name it.
This is the truth of the world around us. What we think of as “real” is just a collection of names, forms, and functions. We live in a world of labels - chair, sky, stone, body, but behind those names, everything is made of the same stuff. Nothing is fixed. Nothing is truly separate.
Step outside.
Let your eyes roam across a serene landscape, the mountains, the rustling trees, the sky spilling its light onto still waters, the birds in flight. It all seems still, timeless, yet when you zoom out, everything is moving. Rocks erode, rivers flow, clouds drift, and even mountains inch their way across millennia. The illusion of permanence dissolves. Transience reigns.
And here, in the heart of this flux is KRISHNA
Krishna is not just the name of a deity, he is the rhythm of this transience, the sacred movement of existence. He is not the object, but the dance; not the form, but the flow; not the statue, but the pulse of life itself. Krishna is the ACTION of the universe. Krishna is the dance of impermanence.
Nowhere is this more vividly expressed than in the mystic Raas Leela. At first glance, it seems like a tale of hedonistic recreation and mindless indulgence, Krishna dancing with a hundred Gopis, each lost in ecstasy, each believing he dances with her alone. But beneath this lyrical surface lies a cosmic metaphor, the Self and its many desires, the still mind and its swirling attractions.
The Gopis represent desires — the things we chase, the feelings we long for. Desires become traps only when we build our homes inside them. When we clutch, we bleed. But when we move, when we live in alignment with dharma, when we act without clinging, we transcend. Liberation is not in the escape from desire, but in dancing through it without bondage.
Krishna, in this vision, is not the chaser, but the one who is chased, the still, untouched consciousness (Chaitanya) that no desire can truly claim.
They try to catch him, to hold him, to claim him. But Krishna always slips away, not to tease them, but to keep the dance going. Because the dance itself is the path. Desire is not the problem, getting stuck in it is.
“This is the wisdom of detachment”
In this eternal Raas, we find the deepest truth : movement is liberation. To dance is to live, to cling is to suffer. When we become stagnant , like water held too long , we decay. But when we move, when we flow, we return to the rhythm of the cosmos. Action, then, is not worldly, it is sacred. It is what frees us. Liberation is not in the escape from desire, but in dancing through it without bondage.
“The average life is a clenched fist. We wake with yesterday’s fears already on our chest, drag through the day with anxieties about money, roles, identity, clinging to memories and expectations. Even our attempts to relax, a meditation here, a moment of silence there, are momentary. The grip never fully loosens. This is samsara , not the outer world, but the inner attachment”
And then, there is the Yogi.
The Yogi doesn’t flee to caves or cloisters. They walk among us, cloaked in simplicity. They are not detached from life — they are free within it. Thoughts come and go like wind. Emotions pass through like rain. They act, but don’t grasp. They love, but don’t bind. They breathe, and every breath is a release. They work without ego, speak without defense, live without weight. This is surrender in motion. This is Krishna consciousness.
If you find yourself dwelling less in thought… if emotions arise, but don’t stay… if your identity no longer clings to success or failure… if your actions emerge from stillness rather than striving… then you are not merely practicing spirituality — you are being awareness. You are living like a yogi.
And remember: Krishna never ran from the battlefield. He stood in its heart — smiling. The true yogi doesn’t avoid life’s chaos — they remain untouched within it. Deadlines, relationships, responsibilities — they still exist. But the weight is gone. Because you’ve stopped carrying it in your mind.
That is yoga — not asana, not effort, not escape — but liberation through awareness, through motion, through surrender.
