Gita 2.57

Sadhak: "Guru, this sounds like emotional detachment. But isn't our ability to feel deeply what makes us human? Are we to become like machines?"

Guru: "A profound misunderstanding must be cleared here. The verse describes freedom from excessive reaction (abhinandati—overjoicing, dveshti—hating), not freedom from feeling. The sthitaprajna feels—perhaps more sensitively than others because their sensitivity is not armored by defense mechanisms. What they lack is the overlay: the story, the resistance, the 'this-should-not-be' that we add to raw experience. They feel the weather of life directly; they do not suffer from their complaints about it. Far from being mechanical, they are more fully alive because they are not numbed by accumulated reactions."

Sadhak: "'Without attachment everywhere'—does this include family? Should I not be attached to my children, my spouse?"

Guru: "There is attachment-as-bond and attachment-as-clinging. The first is natural, beautiful, the very fabric of human life. You are connected to your family—this is fact, not problem. But attachment-as-clinging adds something problematic: 'I cannot be happy if anything happens to them. They must be exactly as I want. I own them.' This clinging creates suffering for you and oppression for them. The sthitaprajna loves family perhaps more purely because their love is not contaminated by neediness. They remain without clinging—not without loving. Their family feels loved, not possessed."

Sadhak: "When something wonderful happens—a promotion, a birth, a recognition—it feels natural to rejoice. Is there something wrong with celebrating?"

Guru: "Celebration is natural and good. The word is 'abhinandati'—not 'nandati.' 'Abhinandati' suggests excessive rejoicing, the kind that loses perspective, that sets up dependence on continuation, that creates inflation of ego. Simple joy at good fortune is perfectly compatible with wisdom. What is absent in the sthitaprajna is the excess—the 'I am great because this happened,' the 'finally my life is working,' the setting-up of conditions for future disappointment. They celebrate and let go. The celebration is full; the aftermath is clean."

Sadhak: "The phrase 'prajna pratishthita'—wisdom established—suggests a permanent achievement. How is this different from states of equanimity that come and go?"

Guru: "Excellent distinction. States come and go—a moment of peace in meditation, equanimity during a particular challenge, clarity after a retreat. 'Pratishthita' means rooted, grounded, established. It is not a state that visits; it is the ground from which states arise. The sthitaprajna may still experience variations—moments of greater or lesser activity, times of rest and times of intensity—but the underlying stability remains constant. It is like the ocean: waves rise and fall, but the ocean's depths are unaffected. The wave is the state; the depth is pratishthita prajna."

Sadhak: "How does one move from 'knowing about' these qualities to actually living them?"

Guru: "Three movements: understanding, practice, and grace. Understanding comes from teachings like this—you must know what you're aiming for. Practice comes from moment-to-moment application—when good comes, notice the pull to excessive rejoicing and release it; when bad comes, notice the pull to hatred and release it. This is exhausting at first because the habits are strong. But gradually, the new pattern becomes easier. Grace is the recognition that you are not doing this alone—reality itself supports your awakening because wisdom is the nature of reality, not a foreign import. Trust the process. Your effort opens the door; something larger walks through."

Sadhak: "Is the sthitaprajna always successful in maintaining equanimity, or are there slips even for the wise?"

Guru: "For the fully realized, there are no slips because there is no one to slip—the identification with the reactive self has been dissolved. For those on the path—which includes most seekers—there are certainly slips. The difference is in recovery. The ordinary person gets lost in reaction, adds story upon story, and may take days or years to return to balance. The advanced seeker slips, catches it quickly, and returns. The slip itself becomes a teaching: 'Ah, there is still attachment here; let me look.' Eventually, even slips become rare, then nonexistent. But do not be discouraged by slips—they are part of the journey. What matters is the direction, not the perfection."