Bhagavad Gita 10.17

kathaṁ vidyām ahaṁ yogiṁ

tvāṁ sadā paricintayan

keṣu keṣu ca bhāveṣu

cintyo ’si bhagavan mayā

 

How shall I know you, O yogi wise,

Seeing you in what’s before my eyes?

In which forms and how should I find,

You, O Lord, to fill my searching mind?

 

My dear Lord, the world I live in often feels like a desert, where real pleasure is scarce and many objects that promise happiness turn out to be mirages. Yet you never abandon me to suffer without happiness or to struggle alone against the illusion of happiness. You manifest in this world through your vibhutis—those attractive realities that quietly point me back toward you.

O merciful Lord, these vibhutis act like oases, offering me genuine satisfaction and strength. Yet they are not destinations in themselves—they are signposts, guiding me toward you, the inexhaustible ocean of all joy and attractiveness.

O supreme guru, please empower my intelligence to discern when an attraction is a mirage and when an oasis. Physically the difference is simple: a mirage has no water, while an oasis truly does. Spiritually, the difference is subtler: it depends on whether I see your presence in it, and whether it moves me to further seek you—more directly, more concretely, more intimately.

Protect me, my infallible Lord, from attractions that pull me away from you and entangle my heart in forgetfulness. And draw me toward those attractions that remind me of your beauty and renew my longing to seek you. As I thus walk away from mirages and walk to and through oases, draw me through this world toward you—my ultimate shelter and refuge.

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10.17 O Kṛṣṇa, O supreme mystic, how shall I constantly think of You, and how shall I know You? In what various forms are You to be remembered, O Supreme Personality of Godhead?