Gita 3.25
Karma Yoga
सक्ताः कर्मण्यविद्वांसो यथा कुर्वन्ति भारत । कुर्याद्विद्वांस्तथासक्तश्चिकीर्षुर्लोकसंग्रहम् ॥
saktāḥ karmaṇy avidvāṃso yathā kurvanti bhārata | kuryād vidvāṃs tathāsaktaś cikīrṣur loka-saṃgraham ||
In essence: The wise and ignorant perform the same actions outwardly, but the wise act without attachment for the world's welfare, while the ignorant act bound by desire.
A conversation between a seeker and guide to help you feel this verse deeply
Sadhak-Guru Dialogue
Sadhak: "If the wise person does exactly what the ignorant person does, what's the point of wisdom? From outside, no one can tell the difference."
Guru: "Precisely. And that's what makes this teaching so revolutionary and so practical. Wisdom isn't about becoming visibly different, wearing special clothes, or performing special acts. It's an internal transformation that may leave external behavior unchanged. The question is: are you suffering while working, or are you free? Are you a slave to your activities, or their master?"
Sadhak: "But if I act without caring about results, won't my work quality suffer? Attachment to outcomes seems like what drives excellence."
Guru: "Test this assumption. When you're anxious about an exam result while taking the exam, does the anxiety help you perform better or worse? When a surgeon is worried about their reputation while operating, does that worry steady their hands or shake them? Attachment to outcomes often degrades performance because part of your attention is devoted to worrying rather than working. Non-attachment can mean fuller presence, which usually means better action."
Sadhak: "You said the wise act for 'loka-sangraham'—the world's welfare. But who am I to presume I know what's good for the world? That seems arrogant."
Guru: "An excellent question. 'Loka-sangraham' doesn't mean you have a master plan for humanity. It means your actions arise from connection rather than isolation, from 'we' rather than just 'me.' When you teach a child, you're not claiming to know what's best for all children everywhere—you're responding to one child in front of you with care. Multiply such responsive care across all your actions, and that's loka-sangraham. It's an orientation, not a blueprint."
Sadhak: "What if my honest assessment is that I'm still attached? Should I stop acting until I achieve non-attachment?"
Guru: "Absolutely not. The verse says the wise should act 'tathā'—similarly, meaning with full engagement. Action is the vehicle for developing non-attachment, not something to postpone until non-attachment is achieved. You learn to swim in water, not by waiting on shore until you know how to swim. Act with whatever attachment you have, but observe it. Awareness of attachment is the beginning of freedom from it."
Sadhak: "I feel guilty. I work hard, but I admit it's mostly for my family, my security, my satisfaction. Is that wrong?"
Guru: "It's not wrong—it's where you are. Honest acknowledgment is precious. Most people deceive themselves about their motivations, claiming altruism while acting from selfishness. You're more honest. Now, notice: your family's welfare is connected to your community's welfare, which is connected to society's welfare. As your sense of 'mine' naturally expands, so does your motivation. You don't have to manufacture universal concern—it emerges as self-contracted consciousness relaxes."
Sadhak: "How do I know when I've genuinely become non-attached versus when I'm just suppressing my desires and pretending?"
Guru: "Suppression is stressful; genuine non-attachment is effortless. When you suppress desire, there's an internal battle—part of you wants, another part forbids. You feel tension, maybe even resentment. When attachment has naturally fallen away, there's no battle because there's no desire in the first place. You can tell the difference by whether equanimity requires effort. If you're working hard to seem peaceful, you're suppressing. If peace is just there, you've arrived."
Sadhak: "This seems impossibly high. Can ordinary people like me really reach such a state?"
Guru: "You've already tasted it. Remember moments of complete absorption—playing with a child, lost in creative work, helping someone in crisis without thinking of yourself. In those moments, you acted without self-concern, fully present, effortlessly. Those weren't superhuman states—they were glimpses of your natural condition when the mind's usual self-referential chatter pauses. The path is simply expanding such moments until they become the default rather than the exception."
Did this resonate with you? Share it with someone who needs to hear this.
🌅 Daily Practice
Before beginning your day's activities, set an intention: 'Today I will perform my duties with full engagement but without clinging to results. My actions are offerings for collective welfare, not just personal gain.' Write down your main tasks and beside each, note what attachment or fear typically accompanies it (fear of failure, hope for recognition, etc.). Simply naming these attachments begins loosening their grip. Throughout the day, when you notice these feelings arising, mentally note 'attachment arising' without trying to suppress it.
Choose one routine task—perhaps a meeting, a household chore, or a professional duty. Before performing it, pause and ask: 'How would a wise person, completely free of self-concern but deeply caring for all involved, approach this?' Then perform the action from that imaginative stance. Notice if the action feels different—perhaps lighter, more present, less burdened. The imagination of wisdom can preview the experience of wisdom, creating grooves that become natural over time.
Review your day through the lens of this verse. Identify moments when you acted from attachment (anxious about outcomes, seeking recognition, fearing judgment) and moments when action flowed more freely (absorbed in the task, not thinking about yourself). Don't judge either category—just observe. For the attached moments, ask: 'What was I really seeking? What was I afraid of?' Often the same core fears repeat—fear of inadequacy, of being unloved, of insignificance. Recognizing patterns is the first step toward freedom from them.