Gita 2.71
Sankhya Yoga
विहाय कामान्यः सर्वान्पुमांश्चरति निःस्पृहः । निर्ममो निरहंकारः स शान्तिमधिगच्छति ॥
vihāya kāmān yaḥ sarvān pumāṁś carati niḥspṛhaḥ nirmamo nirahaṅkāraḥ sa śāntim adhigacchati
In essence: Abandoning all desires, moving through life free from longing, without 'mine' and without 'I'—that person alone attains the peace that every heart secretly seeks.
A conversation between a seeker and guide to help you feel this verse deeply
Sadhak-Guru Dialogue
Sadhak: "Guru, 'abandoning all desires' sounds impossible. We have desires for food, for safety, for connection. Must these all go?"
Guru: "The key is understanding what 'kāma' means in this context. It refers not to natural needs but to psychological craving—the desperate grasping driven by a sense of lack. The body needs food; that is natural. But building your identity around food, hoarding food out of fear, using food to fill emotional voids—that is kāma. The sage still eats, still seeks shelter, still has relationships. But these arise from natural functioning and dharmic appropriateness, not from the ego's desperate attempt to fill its perceived emptiness. Abandon the craving, not the function."
Sadhak: "What is the difference between niḥspṛhaḥ (free from longing) and vihāya kāmān (abandoning desires)? Aren't they the same?"
Guru: "Subtle but important distinction. Kāma is the specific desire for a specific object—'I want that.' Spṛhā is the underlying longing, the general sense of 'I need something to be complete.' You can temporarily satisfy kāma by getting what you want, but spṛhā remains, generating new kāmas. A person might fulfill a desire yet still feel the ache of longing. The sage has not only dropped specific desires but has resolved the underlying longing by discovering completeness within. Without spṛhā, new kāmas don't arise; the well of craving has dried up at its source."
Sadhak: "How can I live without any sense of 'mine'? My family, my work, my body—isn't some sense of 'mine' natural and even necessary?"
Guru: "Nirmama doesn't mean neglecting your responsibilities or pretending your body isn't yours to care for. It means not basing your identity and security on possessions, relationships, or even your body. You can care for your family better when you're not clutching them out of fear of loss. You can work more effectively when your self-worth doesn't depend on results. The paradox: when 'mine' drops, true care emerges. What you merely possessed, you now love. What you owned, you now serve. The sage is free from the burden of 'mine' while being fully present to what is."
Sadhak: "Nirahaṅkāra—without ego. But don't I need some sense of self to function, to know my name, to remember my history?"
Guru: "The sage remembers their name and history but doesn't mistake these for who they are. Ahaṅkāra is not the practical functioning of memory and identity—it's the deep-seated belief 'I am this separate self, limited, vulnerable, needing to expand and defend.' This belief is the cause of all conflict and suffering. The sage operates in the world with a functional identity but knows it's like a role in a play—useful, but not ultimate. Without ahaṅkāra, there's no one to defend, no one to aggrandize, no one to fear for. Actions become lighter, freer, more appropriate."
Sadhak: "The verse says this person 'carati'—moves through life. But how can one act without desire? What motivates action?"
Guru: "Life itself motivates. Dharma motivates. Compassion motivates. Appropriateness motivates. When you remove egoic craving, you don't become a stone—you become a clear channel for what needs to happen. Right now, your actions are distorted by 'What will I get? What about me?' Remove that filter and actions become responses to reality rather than manipulations of reality for personal gain. The sage acts more fully, more effectively, because action flows from clear seeing rather than obscured wanting."
Sadhak: "This sounds like a very high state. Is it actually attainable for ordinary people?"
Guru: "It is attainable because it is your nature obscured, not something foreign to be acquired. You don't create this peace; you uncover it by removing what conceals it. Every moment of genuinely selfless action, every moment of letting go, every moment of peace that doesn't depend on circumstances—these are glimpses of your true nature. The path is not climbing an impossible mountain but removing the clouds that hide the sun that is always shining. Difficult, yes. But not adding something; subtracting. Not becoming something else; recognizing what you are."
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🌅 Daily Practice
Choose one area of your life where 'mine' has the strongest grip—perhaps a relationship, a possession, or an achievement. Hold it in awareness and ask: 'If this were not mine, who would I be? Would I still be complete?' Don't try to force letting go; simply question the assumption that this 'mine' defines you. Notice any fear that arises. That fear reveals where ego hides.
Practice 'nirahaṅkāra' in action today. When you do something well, don't claim it. When things go wrong, don't defend. Let actions flow without the editor constantly asking 'What about me? How does this affect my image?' Notice how much energy goes into self-reference. What would it feel like to act without needing to position yourself favorably?
Reflect on moments today when you felt longing—not specific desire, but the deeper ache of incompleteness, the feeling that something is missing. Where does this longing live in your body? What does it whisper? Now recall any moment when you felt genuinely at peace, needing nothing. What was different? Was something added, or was something removed? Peace is revealed by subtraction, not addition.