Katha 149

Upanishads · translated by Swami Paramananda

In the third chapter Yama defines what part of our being dies and what part is deathless, what is mortal and what is immortal. But the Atman, the Higher Self, is so entirely beyond human conception that it is impossible to give a direct definition of It. Only through similies can some idea of It be conveyed. That is the reason why all the great Teachers of the world have so often taught in the form of parables. So here the Ruler of Death represents the Self as the lord of this chariot of the body. The intellect or discriminative faculty is the driver, who controls these wild horses of the senses by holding firmly the reins of the mind. The roads over which these horses travel are made up of all the external objects which attract or repel the senses:--the sense of smelling follows the path of sweet odours, the sense of seeing the way of beautiful sights. Thus each sense, unless restrained by the discriminative faculty, seeks to go out towards its special objects. When the Self is joined with body, mind and senses, It is called the intelligent enjoyer; because It is the one who wills, feels, perceives and does everything.

Katha 149 · Upanishads · Katha-Upanishad

Themes in this passage

Death The Soul Charity The Divine Leadership Self-Control Desire

Death in other traditions

The same theme, as Christianity, Islam, Taoism and Hellenism address it.

And the children of Israel spake unto Moses, saying, Behold, we die, we perish, we all perish.

Numbers 17:12 · Bible · Numbers

Lo! thou wilt die, and lo! they will die;

Quran 39:30 · Quran · The Companies

The people do not fear death; to what purpose is it to (try to) frighten them with death? If the people were always in awe of death, and I could always seize those who do wrong, and put them to death, who would dare to do wrong?

Tao Te Ching 74.1 · Tao Te Ching

These words, attended with a shower of tears, The youth address’d to unrelenting ears: “Talk not of life, or ransom (he replies): Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies: In vain a single Trojan sues for grace; But least, the sons of Priam’s hateful race. Die then, my friend! what boots it to deplore? The great, the good Patroclus is no more! He, far thy better, was foredoom’d to die, And thou, dost thou bewail mortality? Seest thou not me, whom nature’s gifts adorn, Sprung from a hero, from a goddess born? The day shall come (which nothing can avert) When by the spear, the arrow, or the dart, By night, or day, by force, or by design, Impending death and certain fate are mine! Die then,”—He said; and as the word he spoke, The fainting stripling sank before the stroke: His hand forgot its grasp, and left the spear, While all his trembling frame confess’d his fear: Sudden, Achilles his broad sword display’d, And buried in his neck the reeking blade. Prone fell the youth; and panting on the land, The gushing purple dyed the thirsty sand. The victor to the stream the carcase gave, And thus insults him, floating on the wave:

Iliad 21.7 · Iliad · 21

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