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Chapter 13 · Verse 3
🪈 Krishna speaks
Illustration for Chapter 13, Verse 3

क्षेत्रज्ञं चापि मां विद्धि सर्वक्षेत्रेषु भारत। क्षेत्रक्षेत्रज्ञयोर्ज्ञानं यत्तज्ज्ञानं मतं मम॥

kṣetrajñaṁ cāpi māṁ viddhi sarvakṣetreṣu bhārata | kṣetrakṣetrajñayorjñānaṁ yattajjñānaṁ mataṁ mama ||

Word by Word 13 words
क्षेत्रज्ञम्
kṣetra the field jñā to know

the knower of the field

ca and

and

अपि
api also

also

माम्
mām me

Me

विद्धि
vid to know

know!

सर्वक्षेत्रेषु
sarva all kṣetra field

in all fields

भारत
bhārata descendant of Bharata

O descendant of Bharata, Arjuna

क्षेत्रक्षेत्रज्ञयोः
kṣetra field kṣetrajña knower of the field

of the field and the knower of the field

ज्ञानम्
jñā to know

knowledge

यत्
yad which

which

तत्
tad that

that

मतम्
man to think, to hold

is held to be, is considered

मम
mama my

my, in my view

says something amazing: "Know that I Myself am the knower seated in every single field, — the same one awareness looking out of every creature." And he adds: to truly understand the difference between the field and the knower of the field — that, in my view, is real knowledge.

कथा

One Moon, Many Pots

From the upanishad

Long ago, in a forest hermitage beside a slow river, a sage named Yajnavalkya sat teaching his students under a banyan tree. The evening had come, and a full moon was rising white and round over the water.

A young student, troubled, spoke up. "Master, you tell us that the same Self, the same awareness, lives in every creature. But how can that be? I look out of *my* eyes. The deer looks out of *its* eyes. The bird, the fish, the man across the river — each one feels like a separate little 'me'. How can there be only *one* knower in all of them?"

Yajnavalkya did not answer with words. Instead he asked the boys to fetch pots — clay pots, brass pots, a cracked pot, a tiny cup — and fill each one with water from the river. They lined them up along the bank in the moonlight.

"Now look," said the sage. "Look into each pot. What do you see?"

The student bent over the first. "The moon!" Then the second. "The moon again!" He went down the whole line, laughing now. "The moon is in every pot, Master — a big moon in the big pot, a small moon in the little cup, a wobbly moon in the cracked one. So many moons!"

"So many?" said Yajnavalkya. "Look up."

The boy looked up. There was only one moon in the whole sky.

"One moon," said the sage softly, "reflected in a hundred pots. If a pot breaks, does the moon break? If you pour out the water, does the moon spill? No. The moon was never *in* the pots at all. It only seemed to be, once in each, because each pot held a little water that could catch its light."

He let that settle.

"Every creature is a pot, my child. Every body and mind is a vessel of water, and the one Self shines reflected in each. It looks out of the deer's eyes and the bird's eyes and yours, and seems like a different little knower in every one. But there is only One. When a body dies, a pot breaks — and the Self is not harmed at all, any more than the moon is harmed when a pot is emptied."

The student gazed a long time at the still moon above and the trembling moons below.

This is what told : *Know Me as the knower in all fields.* Not many knowers in many bodies — one Knower, shining in all. To see this clearly, Krishna says, is true knowledge.

चिन्तनम्

If the same awareness looks out of every creature's eyes, how might that change the way you treat the people and animals around you?