For the sick, grace is help; for the healthy, grace is health || On Vivekachudamani (2018)

He remained occupied in graveyards, while you waited for him with moon and dew. Smile, for such foolishness and disloyalty, is the preserve of a lucky few. Smile, for if the One cannot abandon even a corpse, will He ever abandon you?

~ Acharya Prashant

Questioner: This poem you have written touched me deeply like all your other poems I have read so far. Please go into the verses, as I would like to hear the meaning straight from you.

Acharya Prashant: “He remained occupied in graveyards, while you waited for him with moon and dew. Smile, for such foolishness and disloyalty, is the preserve of a lucky few. Smile, for if the One cannot abandon even a corpse, will He ever abandon you?”

Truth, grace have no form of their own. They have nothing of their own, so obviously they cannot have a particular or unique quality or image or appearance. When you are sick, Truth comes to you as help. When you are healthy, Truth is in you as health. If the healthy one starts asking for the same kind of help that a sick one needs and deserves, it would be a travesty.

But man is a creature of habit. If one becomes used to receiving a kind of help, one starts valuing the help less and the kind more. The kind is the form, the kind is the appearance, the kind is gross; help itself is the real thing, but it is subtle, essential, imperceptible. It is far easier for the senses to relate to the kind; it is far more demanding to relate to the essence.