a blade of grass

… he told me that perfection could be learned from nature. be more humble than a blade of grass; more tolerant than a tree. give respect to others freely, without expectation or motive. in such a state of mind, stripped bare of your false pretenses, call out to your Lord eternally.

i’m still working on it …

2007/05/06

Car and Driver

The driver of the car is always important, either in the car or without the car, but people in general are giving importance to the car only. They have no knowledge of the driver. The car requires petrol and the driver requires nice food. So people in general, when they see that we are not giving petrol to the driver, they are surprised...

(His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, interview with the Associated Press on November 18, 1976)

Responding to an AP Reporter's questions about a Krishna devotee's view of the world, Srila Prabhupada uses a practical analogy: identifying with the body and denying the spirit is like paying attention to the car while ignoring the driver within it. Without the driver, the car -- whether BMW or Maruti -- is so much dead metal. Similarly, the body may do so many wonderful things, but without the soul, it is useless. Its a bold but, I think, necessary reminder to put life in its proper perspective.

In my own teaching work, I often repeat this example. "Real knowledge," I tell my Bhagavad-gita students, "begins when you realize that you are actually not your car!" That usually draws a few chuckles (especially from the male students, many of whom invest great pride and a lot of money into 'pimping their rides').

Still, there is jnana (book knowledge) and vijnana (realized knowledge) -- and the difference between them can be pretty embarrassing. Case in point: two weeks ago, I managed to slam my Corolla into a pick-up truck. I didn't end up with a scratch on me, but my poor car.... let's just say that the trunk came out looking like it had borrowed money from a mobster and it was payback day. I jumped out of the car, ran out to see that crushed metal and mangled plastic, and felt like I got punched in the stomach.

(photo: Caitlin Frazier)

And now, long after the shock has worn off and I've had time to come to terms with my insurance premiums going up (which they will)... I still feel a quiet, gnawing discomfort in my belly. Somewhere deep in there, despite having heard Prabhupada's example, despite having taught the example again and again myself, I haven't gotten it yet. Not even close.

My hope is that this uncomfortable feeling may be a glimmer of some genuine humility.

Krishna is kind, though, and He sends reminders in the most unlikely of places. When I took the car into the shop (appropriately called a "body shop") the young lady at the front desk winced when she saw the car, but then flashed me a sympathetic smile.

"Remember, the most important thing is that you weren't hurt," she said. "A car is just a car."

.v.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm no movie buff (I find films to be always somewhat disappointing), but your story reminds me of the one movie I do like: Fight Club

In it Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt) preaches, "You are not the contents of your wallet. You are not the car you drive. You are not your bowel cancer..." etc.

In this materialist society, we get so obsessed with our "stuff" that we become it, and if anything affects our possessions it affects ourselves. Like how your damaged car actually hurt you physically.
"Things you own, end up owning you" says Tyler Durden.

Vineet said...

Thanks for the comment... I've been told by many friends that they think I'd really like Fight Club. Will have to rent the DVD the next time I'm in one of those movies-that-make-you-think moods.