SIKH
Governing the mind
For the gurus, the mind was a space where mastery could take place, when we come to better understand and control those internal forces that can easily overpower us. This is reflected in paurī 28 of Jap Ji Sahib, that everything in life is conquered by conquering the mind.
ਮਨੁ ਅਸਾਧੁ ਸਾਧੈ ਜਨੁ ਕੋਇ ॥
The mind is ‘asādh’, galloping out of control;
Rare is the ‘sādhu’, who brings it into serene balance.
– Guru Amardas Ji, Sri Guru Granth Sahib, ang 159
Learn more about governing the mind
Harnessing the senses
In the realm of the mind, the ‘man’ (pronounced so as to rhyme with the English ‘sun’) processes and responds to all we experience, mainly through the five senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. In Punjabi, giān indrīyā (‘faculties of knowledge’) is the name given to the corresponding sense organs of the eyes, ears, nose, tongue and skin, which help us to perceive our environment, to function in the world, to be alert to risks and dangers and stay safe. Our senses also enable us to feel alive, connected to creation and to our own bodies, both of which are seen to stem from the ‘panj tat’ – nature’s ‘five elements’ of earth, water, fire, air and ether or space. Since we link them to memories and emotions, our senses also have a powerful effect on our feelings and inclinations.
In gurbani, spiritual awakening is often depicted through sensory experience, suggesting that the mind, body, and soul are finely intertwined and can be brought into greater harmony. The word ‘ras’ means flavour, nectar or essence and the soul’s bliss is ‘ātam ras’, which lies beyond the limited and short-lived ‘ras’ of material or sensual pleasures.
Anand Sahib is the ‘Song of Bliss’ composed by the third Guru, Guru Amardas Ji. Its verses inspire the human senses to awaken to the soul’s presence, so our mind and body may blossom and allow us to live with greater vision and purpose. The tongue that thirsts for and chants the Divine Name is addressed as ‘rasnā’, for it seeks the ‘ras’ of life’s sublime essence. God-consciousness is vividly portrayed as a taste, fragrance, melody, or colour of deeper knowing. It is as though we have an inner eye, ear, nose, or tongue to perceive the Divine, if the mind can let our senses become spiritually fine-tuned.
Conditioning the mind
In everyday life, as the mind receives all sensory information, it gets conditioned to react in different ways. If haumai, the selfish ego, is its dominant player, it inflates our tendencies to seek pleasure, to be self-preserving or self-absorbed, since its own gratification takes centre stage beyond regard for others. When filtered through haumai, whatever captivates the senses can also hold us captive. Healthy desire for things becomes obsessive lust (kām), acceptable anger becomes wrath and vengeance (krodh), meeting valid needs turns into incessant greed (lobh), nurturing a loving bond turns into possessive attachment (moh) and having a balanced sense of self turns into self-importance and arrogant pride (ahankar). Without being harnessed, these instincts become the main drivers of our thinking and our mindset.
Because the mind is prone to being ‘a-sādh’ (out of control), the true ‘sādhū’ is one who holds the reins to tame it. The mind then becomes a space where spiritual qualities – known as ‘gunn’ (where ‘u’ is pronounced like the ‘oo’ in ‘good’) – can spread their wings and grow, such as dayā (compassion), sat (truth and benevolence), santokh (contentment), nimratā (humility), prem (love), nishkāmtā (unconditional selflessness) and khimā (forgiveness). For the gurus, these virtues were more than evolutionary strategies for survival, or values that were culturally relative; they emanate in all humans from a place we may call the soul. The first virtue, then, is to see God as a reality dwelling within the self, and not as a far-away theoretical being. When virtues are genuine expressions of this soul-self, they can bring inward fulfilment and outward abundance.
ਮਨੁ ਅਸਾਧੁ ਸਾਧੈ ਜਨੁ ਕੋਇ ॥
The mind is ‘asādh’, galloping out of control;
Rare is the ‘sādhu’, who brings it into serene balance.
– Guru Amardas Ji, Sri Guru Granth Sahib, ang 159
Devotion & Discernment : Becoming a Gurmukh
Often, we view our mind as quite separate from our body and the world around us. We locate it in the head, where our brain and main sense organs are located, yet we are also aware of intelligence running through our body – when we talk about a ‘gut feeling’ or ‘a change of heart’, for example. Whatever we visualise or verbalise in the mind, and how we automatically perceive or conceive things, is also influenced by our accumulated life experience. Depending on who or what we associate with over time, the external world provides a pool of shared words, images, feelings, and understandings which we draw on, so our thoughts are never completely our own. It may seem that our mind lives in the world, yet the world – as we experience it – also lives in our mind.
The person whose ‘mukh’, or face, is ever directed towards the Guru is known as the ‘Gurmukh’, the Guru-oriented disciple. ‘Manmukh’ then describes the one who, despite any external appearances, faces only the wavering mind or ‘man’, which succumbs so easily to the power of the selfish ego. During the time of the Gurus, as still today, there were indeed battles to be fought against tyranny, complacency, and injustice. Through their teachings, the Gurus taught that to build peace and prosperity requires knowing one’s invisible adversaries in the battlefield of the self, the toughest being haumai and its companions.
Gurbani's metaphor for our mindsets
In gurbani, ‘sarvar’ (like ‘sarovar’), means a lake, pool or large reservoir of water and ‘Guru’ signifies the ultimate source of enlightenment, be it the formless guru or the guru embodied in sacred words or in an enlightened person. Sometimes, the guru is likened to an ocean which glistens with peals and is suffused with the nectar of the Divine Name. The guru-oriented person is the ‘hans’ – the mythical, swan-like bird, which represents the higher self or soul. With its power to sift out pearls and nectar from the waves of life, it represents devotion and discernment as well.
Because, as humans, we draw on different pools of experience to shape our mind, gurbani teaches that we can easily spend our days like the ‘baga’, or heron. Trying to look like the swan, it wades in a murky pond – a mindset clouded by selfishness and set within narrow horizons. In contrast, those who genuinely align themselves to the guru glide in the great pool of sacred wisdom, until this sublime pool comes to dwell in them. The beauty of their inward state cannot be described, for they live beholding God within them – the Breath of Life and root of their very own being.
Unlocking the treasury of virtues
Ordinarily, we sometimes sense that our values, tendencies, and aspirations are not always quite our own, but echo values formed over time in society, in the different circles we are part of through life’s changing experiences. Aside from the reasoning power of the intellect and ego-driven influence of haumai, gurbani teaches that our mind has the companionship of the ātmā (‘soul’ or ‘eternal self’), which holds a treasury, or khajānā, of spiritual values that are timeless. Known as ‘gunn’ (where ‘u’ rhymes with the vowel sound in ‘good’), they begin with the crowning qualities of dayā (compassion), sat (truth and benevolence), santokh (contentment), nimratā (humility) and prem (love). Often, we feel these as sentiments, that seem to speak to the mind through the heart.
Since the ātmā is part of Param-ātmā (God as the ‘Supreme Soul’), spiritual virtues are not quite our own either but rooted in the Being described in the Mool Mantar, embodying Oneness and Truth and transcending fear and hate. Because these virtues involve us relating to others, and change how we interact together within the world, the Gurus highlighted these spiritual qualities as transformative social values as well.
Whenever people connect and form groups, different values come into play – explicit or implicit principles which are ‘valued’ as worthy or important. Since people can create cultures of greed, hate or pretence, a dominant value does not have to be ‘good’; it can reflect a mindset we slip into rather than a standard we cherish and reach towards. Next to ‘value’, the word ‘virtue’ originated in Roman ideals of manly valour, noble character, and civic virtue (from Latin ‘vīr’ meaning ‘man’) and was later used for ideals of feminine conduct as well as religious observance. Whilst its connotations vary, ‘virtue’, like the Punjabi ‘gunn’, implies a quality considered good, right, or excellent. Engaging with people across all divides, the Sikh Gurus illuminated the virtues they saw as part of the shared spiritual identity of human beings. Just as the mind may have flashes of arrogance, greed, lust, possessiveness, or rage, it can likewise light up with virtues. The Gurus taught a path to cultivate these virtues into steady dispositions, to brings us into a state of graceful equipoise known as ‘sehaj’.
For the ancient Greeks, virtue was ‘arete’ – a quality to excel in to achieve a specific purpose, be it to find happiness or live up to one’s potential. For the Sikh Gurus, life’s purpose was to connect with the Creator, to live as a jīvan-mukat (liberated whilst still alive in the world) and enrich the inner self for its journey beyond this life. Often, they portrayed the inner self of every man and woman as a female being. By discovering the jewels of spiritual virtue within, she gains true beauty, dignity, and strength. Awakening the power of these jewels, she comes to resonate and merge with the Source of all virtues, God.
ਹਉਮੈ ਦੀਰਘ ਰੋਗੁ ਹੈ ਦਾਰੂ ਭੀ ਇਸੁ ਮਾਹਿ ॥
ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰੇ ਜੇ ਆਪਣੀ ਤਾ ਗੁਰ ਕਾ ਸਬਦੁ ਕਮਾਹਿ ॥
The ailment of haumai is deeply ingrained, but a cure also lies within it.
If we are blessed to apply the Guru’s teachings, we can transcend it and flourish.
– Guru Angad Dev Ji, Sri Guru Granth Sahib, ang 466
The Five Theives
In Punjabi, the term haumai comes from the words ‘hau’ and ‘mai’ meaning ‘I’ and ‘me’. Often it is translated as ‘ego’, which simply meant ‘I’ in Latin. Today, we use words like egotistic or ego-centric to convey an ingrained preoccupation with this ‘I’, whilst ‘egomaniac’ makes a caricature out of it.
In gurbani, haumai is described as having five friends. Because of the way they can dupe us, they are known as the ‘five thieves’ or panj chor. By handing to us feelings of self-satisfaction, they steal away our ability to flourish more fully.
Kām (Obsessive lust)
The first of the panj chor is ‘kām’, desire that becomes a lust for things. As an ancient concept in India, ‘kām’ referred to aesthetic and sensual pleasure, to be balanced in life with fulfilling one’s spiritual, material, and social responsibilities. Often in Sikh verse, kām implies unchecked sexual desire. As a deep driving force behind creation, it reflects life’s longing to perpetuate itself and has a potent influence on the mind. With its power to generate new life and form intimate bonds, it also commands reverence,
hence the Gurus portray the soul’s yearning to merge with God as the bride’s longing to unite with her Divine Groom. As humans we are social and spiritual beings, as well as creatures of nature, so the channelling of kām calls for great care and respect. When controlled by haumai, it ignores all considerations, such as the dignity of others, to be gratified. As a lust for things in a wider sense, kām is a vulnerability which gets exploited to manufacture cultures of desire – like consumerism – that likewise ignore all considerations to be fed and perpetuated.
Krodh (Wrath & vengeance)
The second of the five thieves is krodh or unbridled rage. Ordinarily, anger signals to us that something does not seem fair or right, and it helps us work out some next steps. Krodh occurs when we ‘fly into a rage’ or ‘let our blood boil’, becoming hateful, reckless, vengeful, or vindictive. We cannot listen to reason or other points of view. Krodh can also exist as a silent rage. When left unaddressed, can damage our own health as well as hurt others.
Lobh (Incessant greed)
Next is lobh or greed, an unending craving to acquire things. When we lack contentment, we chase many things to find it. Greed is the urge to take beyond what you need, ignoring our interconnectedness with others; its effect is ultimately desolation, since nothing is given back or replenished.
Moh (Possessive attachment)
The fourth ‘thief’ is moh, or possessive attachment. Attachments, of course, can ground and nurture us. Before birth, inside the womb, a chord attaches us to our mother; as we grow up, secure attachments can help us feel comfortable, supported or that we belong. With too much attachment, though, it becomes hard to let go; when things inevitably change, we can get stuck in our pain. Become too possessive, we can also stifle others, or cling addictively to haumai’s many traits, including malice (īrkhā), slander (nindā) or burning jealousy and spite (sārh). Yet, just as the lotus flower blossoms above the muddy water, we can learn to live with some detachment from the world and from haumai’s pull. As we do so, we feel less ownership and frustration, consequently learning to live with greater acceptance and gratitude.
Ahankar (Arrogant Pride)
Haumai is often coupled with the word ahankār (shortened also to hankār). ‘Aham’ means ‘I’ in Sanskrit and ‘kār’ means a form, boundary, or line. Ahankār is one’s self-identity. At its extreme, it is the closed-off territory of ‘I’, ruled by self-importance, where the mind struts about in arrogant pride.
Whilst Ik Oang-Kār marks out an infinite realm to sense a oneness with all, ahan-kār can fix us inside a boundary, separating us from others and from our spiritual essence. In gurbani, ahankār is one of haumai’s five main friends.
The Five Virtues
Demonstrating virtues in tough times of conflict as well as peace, the ten Gurus forged a distinctively Sikh ethos through characteristic qualities like himmat (courage), nishkāmtā (altruism), samdrishtī (seeing ultimately all as equal and none as a stranger or enemy) and chardī kalā (hopefulness and ascending optimism). Through compositions like the heroic spiritual ballad known popularly as Āsā di Vār, they taught that life’s success lies in the victory of virtue and rests in the strength of a loving heart.
Daya (Compassion)
Dayā, or compassion, is the underlying quality which makes humans caring and ‘humane’. It involves having enough perception and tenderness to feel the suffering or needs of another and an ability to wisely respond. Without dayā, the mind remains narrow and clouded by self-centredness, giving way to insensitivity, cruelty, apathy, or neglect. Linked to the word ‘dāt’, meaning gift, dayā can include, but goes beyond, feelings of sympathy and acts of charity. It carries emotion, balanced by discernment (bibek) and a detachment from self-interest, and it combines an intuitive sense of connection to others with a poignant sense of detachment from the world. In Sikh teaching this stems from seeing God as Ik Oang-Kār – the all-pervading Oneness which interconnects creation. With dayā, the heart is gracefully open and strong with a measure of softness, rather than stone-like and closed.
In Jap Ji Sahib (pauri 16), Guru Nanak describes dharam as dayā’s child – where dharam is the Divine principle that holds the world together, often pictured as a mythic bull. Dayā, then, is the subtle and irreplaceable underlying quality behind all the natural and physical laws of the universe which we ordinarily picture and recognise. It emanates from the Unseen loving intelligence – who is ‘Dātār’, God the Giver. Since dharam can also mean religion, Sikhs likewise understand that the practice of any faith, with its laws and principles, must be underpinned by dayā as an indispensable quality. When dayā is felt, no one is an alien, and the inner self is also compassionately cared for. Just as dayā lies at the core of existence, it naturally resonates from within us when we are aligned to our spiritual core.
Sat (Truth)
Sat is often translated as ‘truth’. As well as denoting God as the Unchanging Reality or Ultimate Truth, ‘sat’ in gurbani refers to a ‘bhāvanā’ or inner quality that human beings can embody and cultivate. This ‘way of being’ is linked to living with integrity, with a purity of mind and with a benevolent and charitable heart. Instead of clinging to deception, those who embody the quality of ‘sat’ have a genuine goodness. This flows through their thoughts, words, and actions, without the need to be superficial, selfishly manipulative, or hypocritical. Just as dayā is related to Ik Oang-Kār, the quality of sat is linked to the very next phrase of the Mool Mantar – Sat Nām. This calls on us to identify with the benevolent power of the Creator’s presence, to live as an authentic expression of our ‘true’ spiritual self.
Gurbani also repeatedly sings of truth using a similar root word ‘sach’. The first question in Jap Ji Sahib is ‘Kiv sachiārā hoīai?’ – ‘how can one personify Truth?’. From this comes Guru Nanak’s famous saying, ‘Sachahu orai sabh ko, upar sach āchār’ – ‘Truth is higher than all, but higher still is truthful living’ (Sri Guru Granth Sahib, ang 62). Observing the times he lived in, Guru Nanak also underlined how a scarcity of truth in the human condition goes on to characterise our social and environmental condition: ‘Sach kāl kūrh vartiā’ – ‘There is a famine of truth and all that is distributed is fake and false’ (ang 468). The quality of truth, then, does not simply equate with honesty, which can also be used in unkind or small-minded ways. Rather, it reflects a pure state of mind, where egoic thinking loses its sticking power. What we think, say, and do can then carry greater value, like a coin that is genuine rather than counterfeit, and build greater wellbeing and peace.
Santokh (Contentment)
Santokh is steady contentment – the ability to maintain a state of serenity, fulfilment, gratitude, and acceptance in fluctuating circumstances. It reflects a part of us that remains untouched by the mind’s tendency to either dwell on what we lack, or to feed and chase our cravings. The word for craving is trishna; literally meaning ‘thirst’, it is used for obsessive wants. Often, these wants can make us like a puppet on a string to the mind’s searches for satisfaction, which can be short-lived or overdependent on external factors. Santokh is the feeling that whatever one is blessed with, in the present moment, is ‘enough’, even while we still have practical needs or aspirations to fulfil. Contentment then provides a base of inward stability over life’s ups and downs.
For Sikhs, santokh is linked to many exceptional virtues, such as bharosā (trust in the Divine will), dhīraj (perseverance), khimā (forgiveness) and the spirit of chardī kalā (ascending optimism against the odds). As a mindset for moving forward in life, contentment does not mean passively accepting our lot or thwarting our hopes and desires. If discontentment arises, we read this as a signal that some change is needed, without making it a weight that pulls us down or a trait that shapes our character. Through Sikh eyes, to grow in contentment is one of the fruits of meditating on the Mool Mantar. This draws us to see existence as full and not empty of God’s presence, which remains constant amidst change, in a state beyond fear or hate and hence beyond agitation or resentment. In gurbani, then, sat and santokh sometimes appear together as two companion qualities, where cultivating truth and benevolence helps contentment to blossom.
Nimratā (Humility)
Nimratā is humility. It is a freedom from haumai and ahankār, or selfish pride and arrogance, and a place where selflessness can be felt and expressed. In life, we all draw a mental line around what is important to us. Since ‘kār’ means a line or boundary, where there is ahankār, we draw a circle around ourselves as exclusively important. The lines of the Ik Oang-Kār symbol, however, tell us a different story – that we are each a precious but miniscule part of an infinite whole. Nimratā is then linked also to vismād (wonder at the power behind creation) alongside the twin sentiments of bhau (‘fear’ in the sense of awe and reverence) and bhāou (all-embracing love) for the Creator. As we visualise Ik Oang-Kār, the focus of importance shifts from just ourselves to a larger circle, with us included. This explains why the values of parupkār (far-reaching benevolence), nishkāmta (altruism or serving unconditionally) and sarbat dā bhallā (concern for the wellbeing of all) are so cherished in Sikh tradition.
In the daily Sikh prayer of supplication or ardās – which itself is an expression of humility, said standing with palms pressed together before the Creator – Sikhs ask for the blessing of ‘man nīvā(n), mat uchī’ – being humble (and hence lowly) in one’s heart, yet wise (and hence elevated) in one’s thinking. Scriptural imagery likens humility to water, which always flows downwards and around things, cleansing and replenishing whilst remaining free. This downward movement is reflected too in Sikh practice, through gestures of bowing to press one’s head to the floor when paying respects to Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji, or a slight bow of the head when pressing palms together before the heart to greet others. At the same time, the regal and martial aspects of Sikh identity point to dignity, self-respect and sovereignty as values that are complementary (and not opposite) to humility, for just as humility is a mark of professionalism, it is considered the hallmark of true spiritual accomplishment and wisdom. Guru Nanak describes humility as the ‘tat’ or ‘essence’ of all goodness and virtue (‘gunn changīaīā tat’ – Sri Guru Granth Sahib, ang 470), since it is the essential ingredient for the practice of any virtue.
Prem (Love)
Prem is one of many words in gurbani for love. More than just a pleasant emotion, love is a vital foundation for life. When a baby evokes inexplicable feelings of love, it sparks the impulse to lovingly nurture and protect, alternatively, when such love is denied, we sense something wrong. Over the course of life, we tend to see love in terms of our emotional or physical bonds with people or things and, undoubtedly, it is essential to our evolutionary survival. Yet, gurbani discerns a form of ‘true love’, or ‘sachī preet’, when our love flows from treasuring God as life’s True Reality, and from treasuring the jyot or Divine light within us and all beings. It loves the gifts of life, without forgetting their Giver. It is also a liberated state of spiritual blossoming, since this true love lies beyond self-gratification, the perpetuation of our genes, or possessive clinging to things that are impermanent. It is described by Bhai Gurdas as a subtle and perceptive quality which, through nām simran or remembrance of the Divine, grows in its komaltā or gentleness, and sītaltā, or coolness.
In Gurbani, prem is joined by words like pyār and preet, sneh and nehu as well as bhāou, ishq and āsakī. These evoke the simplicity, sweetness, and tenderness of love, as well as its wholeness, strength and passion. A consciousness of this love directs the spiritually awakened self towards God – or the lover towards the Beloved. This awakening unearths the pain of separation, or birhā and from here begins a yearning for connection, alongside a search for the keys to find and enter a blissful state of union. Through the recurring imagery of a bride, gurbani depicts a vivid possibility for each of us to become spiritually radiant, allowing virtues to beautify and bring us into oneness with the Divine. Gurbani also sings of drinking ‘prem ras’, the nectar of love, and of being suffused, like a fabric, in the deep red or crimson dye of Divine love. Since love cannot be awakened by reasoning alone, the melodic expression of gurbani through kīrtan and practical gestures of sevā work to open and soften the heart as well as empower it to make courageous sacrifices for others. For some Sikhs, the word ‘prem’ can then be read as ‘par-e’ (putting aside) ‘mai’ (me) in acts of going beyond oneself for others. This makes the Sikh path one of premā bhagtī, or loving devotion, reflecting Guru Gobind Singh’s teaching that only those who exercise love can find the Beloved. For this reason, like the ‘mother bead’ which marks the start and end of meditation on a mālā or rosary, love is where all virtues begin and end.
Spiritually Enlightened Citizenship
Over a period of 239 years, Guru Nanak and his successors founded a distinctive tradition that spoke to humanity at large, not only through its teachings but also through its identity and form. For Sikhs who preserve, like the earth’s greenery, their kes or uncut hair – and treasure the locks that adorn the dome of the head, the seat of wisdom in the frame of the body – this outward form speaks of a oneness with nature as well as a loyalty to the faith. At the same time, the kangha or wooden comb tells us of our ability to exercise care and order, whilst the drawstring kachhera points out that, as natural beings, we must bring our impulses under dignified control.
Overall, the identity of the Khalsa expresses, not so much a religious order, but a form of spiritually enlightened citizenship, based on governing the mind well and striving to live courageously as an active agent for good. Communicating these values are the kara, worn on the hand, as the body’s primary tool for creative action, alongside the kirpan and dastar which echo the more global symbolism of an honourable sword, plus a crown or turban, for wise and noble leadership within oneself and in the world.
Honouring Nature
A deep honouring of nature was inspired by the earliest teachings of Guru Nanak, often through the exuberant word ‘kudrat’, which can mean the natural world, the wonders of creation or the splendour of God’s creative power. Whilst we, as echoes of the Divine, have a will and a creative power to shape the world, nature is God’s direct creative expression. From the composition often known as Āsā dī Vār, the spiritual ballad of hope, we learn that, first, from the self-generated Divine Consciousness was created nām, the all-pervading energy and power of God’s existence (‘Āpine āp sājio….’). Secondly, the Creator created creation (‘Dūī kudrat sājīai…’), beholding it with loving delight. Through poetic repetitions, Guru Nanak also marvels at how the creative power of kudrat inspires ‘vismād’ or wonderment, and how all of nature itself exists in a state of ‘bhai’ or loving awe of its Creator. As we saw at the end of Jap Ji Sahib, the final Salok expresses a deep reverence to nature’s primary, life-enabling elements of air, water and earth, by relating to them as Guru, Father and Mother. Elsewhere, to express the diversity of the earth’s species, gurbani evokes the ancient idea of ‘chaurāsī lakh jūn’ or 8.4 million life forms, which comes close to contemporary estimates of global biodiversity. Because all transmigrating souls were seen to pass through this continuum of species, this naturally inspired a sense of kinship with the non-human world.
On questions of the origin of creation, the Gurus observed how people have tired themselves over the ages probing and debating the mystery, whose details are known only to the Creator (‘āpe jānai soi’ – Jap Ji Sahib, pauri 21). The main focus of their teachings was on how to live a human life, the one life form where it is possible to realise and merge with the Divine light latent inside all. Nevertheless, they did describe a primordial state of absolute darkness and infinite silence, before the Divine Force made itself manifest, allowing its hidden (or gupat) qualities to become revealed (or pargat). In this way, the universe is regarded as an expression of the Divine, more so than an object that is separate from its Maker, so that reverence for creation is integral to reverence for the Creator. From the primary element of air, the verses recount, life-giving water was born (nature’s miraculous resource that remains too impossible for humans to manufacture, given the degree of explosive energy it would involve). From water, we are told, sprang diverse evolutions of life across the ‘three worlds’ of the sky, earth and unseen realms of our planet, in the form of myriad beings born of egg, womb, soil and moisture (andaj, jeraj, utbhuj and setaj). Beyond our planet, as Jap Ji Sahib itself introduces, there are untold planets, galaxies and solar systems (pauri 37).
Social Responsibility
Orbiting through the cosmos and revolving through days, nights and seasons, the earth was described by Guru Nanak as a dharamsāl (Jap Ji Sahib, pauri 34). As such, it is seen as a place our travelling soul comes to visit for a temporary stay, for the purpose of cultivating dharam, a spiritually enlightened way of life. Dharam, as we saw, is based on ideas of a Divine order, so carries ideas of a way of life that is virtuous, responsible, and righteous (in the sense of doing what is good and right with courage and humility, instead of arrogant self-righteousness). Dharam then encompasses ideas of social responsibility, infused with a sense of loving responsibility to creation and Creator. The Sikh principle of serving ‘sarbat dā bhallā’, the welfare or wellbeing of all, reflects an outlook based on expanding one’s circle of belonging and seeing oneself as connected to others and all creation. Guru Gobind Singh’s call to see all human beings as one family (‘mānas kī jāt sabhai ekai pehchanbo’) is then a natural extension of Guru Nanak’s message of Ik Oang-Kar. The art of Sikh life is to serve this global outlook whilst preserving the faith identity which it stems from.
Five and a half centuries on since the birth of Guru Nanak, the earth faces unprecedented social and environmental challenges. What began as the campaigning of fringe ‘green’ movements has become the focus of urgent international collaborations to safeguard the planet. With this are stirrings to transform the very ethos upon which our economies and other systems are based. In our collective search for healing, restoration, peace, prosperity and wellbeing, Guru Nanak’s spiritually-grounded, globally-oriented and locally-engaged teachings offer tools as well as treasures. They speak also to the Punjab, the land of his own birth, as it faces its own share of ecological and social problems, with faded memories of its once rich and abundant natural landscape – evoked so beautifully through the many metaphors of Guru Nanak’s compositions. Embracing all human beings, gurbani’s teachings point to a simple but far-reaching truth: ‘ghar sukh vasiyā, bāhur sukh paiyā’. When we learn to dwell in peace within the volatile and conflicted ‘home’ (ghar) of our mind, as well as in our families and local circles of belonging, we become capable of generating peace ‘outside’ (bāhur) and beyond us. As we search for the kind of sustainable solutions our world so badly needs, such teachings bring some timeless truths to the table, for self-awareness and serenity, along with care, gratitude and responsibility are the very qualities we need to forge an enduring key.
True Sovereignty
To be sovereign is to live free from enslavement, to be independent and self-governing. From a spiritual perspective, it means liberating the self from the dominance of haumai, the overbearing ego.
At one level the ego gives us our self-identity, it grounds us and enables us to survive. However, when it overpowers the mind, the pull of human desire becomes obsessive lust (kām); acceptable anger becomes wrath and vengeance (krodh); meeting valid needs turns into incessant greed (lobh); nurturing a loving bond turns into possessive attachment (moh) and a sense of self-identity turns into arrogant pride (ahankār).
Because the mind is prone to becoming a-sādh (out of control), the true sādhū is that saintly person who sustains an intuitive state of inner grace and balance. For such a person, the mind becomes a realm where spiritual qualities steadily reign, such as compassion (dayā), integrity and benevolence (sat), contentment (santokh), humility (nimratā), and love (prem).
Guiding people through changing times, in the face of many testing personal and social challenges, the Sikh Gurus modelled a way to affirm and maintain this inner sovereignty. The condition of the world, they taught, reflects how we govern our minds.
The Gurus had a history of kinship with those of all faiths and backgrounds. This included Bhai Mardana Ji, the Muslim musician who travelled with Guru Nanak, and Hazrat Mian Mir, the renowned Sufi spiritual leader, as well as members of the Mughal royal family.
Established since the time of Guru Nanak, the Mughal dynasty had built one of the world’s most powerful empires. Early emperors had been respectful towards the Gurus. Later, however, state policies towards non-Muslims became particularly severe. Expressions of faith and sovereignty by Sikh or Hindu subjects were harshly curtailed or banned, including the wearing of turbans, bearing of arms or the riding of horses.
For Guru Gobind Singh Ji, the outward marks of sovereignty, such as the turban (dastār), and sword of dignity and mercy (kirpān), linked back to Guru Nanak’s ideal of a dignified, noble and responsible human being, who recognises the ultimate sovereignty of a Sacred Oneness that connects us all.
After the loss of his father, mother, four young children, and numerous disciples at the hands of Mughals, Guru Gobind Singh Ji wrote to the emperor, Aurangzeb. The letter, in Persian, was entitled Zafarnāmā — the Epistle of Victory.
Reminding the emperor of his responsibilities as a political ruler and representative of his faith, he highlighted the emperor’s broken oaths and lack of integrity. The Guru noted that true loss was a loss of morality. Benevolently, he offered Aurangzeb forgiveness and redemption.