Gita 02.70 – Be filled with higher purpose to transcend lower desires

Audio Link: https://www.thespiritualscientist.com/gita-02-70-be-filled-with-higher-purpose-to-transcend-lower-desires/

āpūryamāṇam acala-pratiṣṭhaṁ
samudram āpaḥ praviśanti yadvat
tadvat kāmā yaṁ praviśanti sarve
sa śāntim āpnoti na kāma-kāmī (Bg 2.70)

Word-for-word:
āpūryamāṇam — always being filled; acala-pratiṣṭham — steadily situated; samudram — the ocean; āpaḥ — waters; praviśanti — enter; yadvat — as; tadvat — so; kāmāḥ — desires; yam — unto whom; praviśanti — enter; sarve — all; saḥ — that person; śāntim — peace; āpnoti — achieves; na — not; kāma-kāmī — one who desires to fulfill desires.

Translation:
A person who is not disturbed by the incessant flow of desires – that enter like rivers into the ocean, which is ever being filled but is always still – can alone achieve peace, and not the man who strives to satisfy such desires.

Explanation:
This is one of the most well-known verses from the Bhagavad-gītā, and it is also a visually evocative one, drawing a powerful metaphor from nature. In this section itself—from 2.54 to 2.72—Kṛṣṇa while describing the characteristics of the sthita-prajña uses several nature-based metaphors to convey these traits. This verse contains the third such metaphor.

The first was that of a tortoise withdrawing its limbs into its shell (2.58). The second was of a boat being carried away by the wind—vāyur nāvam ivāmbhasi (2.67). And now, in this verse, the metaphor is of rivers entering into the ocean.

Kṛṣṇa, in this concluding section of the chapter—from verses 64 to 72—is answering Arjuna’s question about how a self-realized person engages with the world. Specifically, Arjuna wants to know how such a person can use the senses while living in this world without becoming agitated or entangled. In response, Kṛṣṇa gives the example of how rivers enter into the ocean, yet the ocean remains undisturbed.

āpūryamāṇam acala-pratiṣṭhaṁ: That which is constantly being filled, yet remains steady and does not overstep its boundaries.
samudram āpaḥ praviśanti yadvat: Just as waters pour into the ocean, the ocean remains undisturbed and does not overflow its shores. The ocean does not flood simply because one or many rivers flow into it.
tadvat kāmā yaṁ praviśanti sarve: In the same way, all kinds of desires may enter into such a person.
sa śāntim āpnoti na kāma-kāmī: That person attains peace—not the one who strives to satisfy those desires.
In other words, one in whom desires arise or approach, but who does not allow them to overstep his moral or spiritual boundaries, attains peace—not the one who chases after desires—na kāma-kāmī.

The phrase “na kāma-kāmī” is deeply profound and also a fine example of alliteration—specifically, the repetition of the same word in slightly different forms. Kāma-kāmī literally means “one who is a desirer of desires.” It refers to someone who not only has desires but actively chases after them, driven by the hope of fulfillment through their satisfaction.

An ocean, because of its vastness and fullness, remains unagitated even when additional water flows into it. In contrast, if a small puddle, lake, or even a pond is fed by a river, it will overflow, causing flooding and devastation in the surrounding area. The water cannot stay within its limits due to the lack of capacity.

Similarly, in this metaphor, the ocean represents our consciousness. When our consciousness is vast and full—meaning we are anchored in a higher reality, guided by a meaningful purpose, and nourished by the fulfillment that comes from living according to that higher purpose—then the desires that enter our consciousness upon encountering tempting objects will not disturb us.

We are naturally pleasure-seeking beings. But when we are enriched by a higher purpose, lower desires lose their power to agitate us. Living in this world, we inevitably come across objects that are attractive and tempting. Impressions of these objects enter our consciousness through our senses—we cannot move about with closed eyes. These impressions are like rivers flowing into our consciousness.

However, if our consciousness is like an ocean—expanded, steady, and filled with meaning—then even when such impressions enter, they will not disturb or distract us. If we live for a higher purpose that fills us, as the ocean is filled with water, we will not be agitated by the entry of tempting impressions.

We all have experience of this—when we are filled with a sense of purpose, distractions don’t affect us much. For example, imagine a student who has an important exam the next day. Suddenly, a friend comes over and says, “Hey, I got the latest movie that was just released a couple of days ago. I’ve got it on a pen drive—come, let’s watch!” The student replies, “No, I can’t. I don’t have time right now—I have to study.”

Now take the same student, studying again, but this time the exam is still three or six months away. The same friend comes with the same offer. This time the student says, “Yeah, why not?”

What’s changed? The movie is the same. The friend is the same. The situation is pretty much the same. But the key difference is the sense of urgency and purpose created by the upcoming exam. When that urgency is absent, distractions gain power. When purpose is present, distractions lose their grip.

Just as, when we are filled with a sense of purpose, we are ready to say no to lower things—even if those things seem pleasurable—the same principle applies at the highest level. Our consciousness can be filled with different things. We can make our consciousness oceanic by cultivating a purpose that consumes our being, that pervades every part of our awareness. However, if that purpose is based merely on our personal preferences and not on any objective, ultimate truth, then it won’t enrich us for long.

For example, someone might decide, “I want to become a software engineer in a top multinational company.” That goal may indeed fill their consciousness during their education, keeping them motivated. But once the job is secured, the excitement may fade. Then, in search of renewed purpose, they may aim higher—perhaps a promotion, more recognition, moving up on the corporate ladder. Yet, such material goals often turn out to be like chasing a mirage—they promise fulfillment but never truly deliver it.

We can—and in fact should—have material purposes aligned with the specific stages of our life. A student can and should aspire to do well in exams. A professional can and should strive to perform well at their job. The same applies to all our worldly duties. However, these purposes should not be made the defining purpose of our life. They need to be subordinated to, and integrated within, a deeper spiritual purpose.

When we understand that we are souls, meant to serve Kṛṣṇa, we realize that the various duties and aspirations we hold in life are not ends in themselves. Rather, they are to be harmonized with our core identity as servants of Kṛṣṇa. When our consciousness is filled with the defining purpose of wanting to serve Kṛṣṇa, it becomes strong and truly fulfilled.

Kṛṣṇa has earlier spoken about this in Bhagavad-gītā 2.61, where He advises, “yukta-asita mat-parāḥ”—to fix all our senses on Him, making Him the object of our controlled senses. This was in response to the question “kim asita”—how should a self-realized person sit?

The same principle applies here. When we move about in the world, we do so not because of this or that desire, but because, ultimately, we want to serve Kṛṣṇa. When service to Kṛṣṇa becomes the defining, unifying, and fulfilling purpose of our life, everything we do becomes subordinated and integrated under that purpose. If something cannot be subordinated to that higher goal, we eliminate it from our life.

When we work to serve Kṛṣṇa, we experience a much higher fulfillment. Our consciousness becomes like an ocean, no longer agitated by lower desires. We understand that these desires are not important or relevant; they won’t bring true fulfillment. By serving Kṛṣṇa, we gain far greater satisfaction, so why should we fall for these trivial temptations?

However, when we fail to cultivate or hold on to this devotional purpose, when our consciousness becomes empty, it becomes like a puddle. When desires, like rivers, pour into it, we get agitated and sometimes fall prey to them. Therefore, we must keep our devotional purpose strong in our consciousness, filling it just as the ocean is filled with water. Only then can we truly embody the principle of ‘na kāma-kāmī’—becoming one who is not the desirer of desires.

From the external to the internal, sense objects may come. The word ‘kāma’ refers to desire, which enters from outside to inside. ‘Kami’, on the other hand, refers to the desirer—the one who generates desire from within, projecting it outward. Desires may enter from the outside due to the allure of sense objects, but when I have a higher, more desirable purpose in life and I hold on to that purpose, then the entry of kāma from the outside will not provoke a reciprocal desire from inside to outside. In this way, I will not become a kami, one who is driven by the continual desire for more.

When I don’t become a kāma-kāmī—when I don’t start desiring everything I see but remain fixed in my higher purpose—then that purposefulness fills me with internal satisfaction. A person who is satisfied with a higher purpose, ultimately a devotional purpose to life, attains śānti (peace). This is the essential teaching that Kṛṣṇa is imparting to Arjuna—You can attain peace by managing your desires, by fulfilling yourself internally, just like an ocean that remains unagitated despite the constant influx of rivers.

Thank you.