So, there are a lot of stories in the Ulster Cycle, about that lad, Setanta, who was a great hurler, and who later became Cuchulainn, the champion of Ulster. There was another lad over in India about the same time, by the name of Arjuna and the stories about him are in a book you may have heard of, the Bhagavad Gita, but probably never read. In the same way as the Ulster Cycle is only part of Bealoideas na hEireann, the Bhagavad Gita is a part of a story tradition called the Mahabarata, which contains the origin myths and folklore of that part of the world.
Anyway, I was re-reading a book by Joseph Campbell, “The hero with a thousand faces” and thinking about that lad, Arjuna. Now, Arjuna was a great warrior like Cuchulainn and he had a chariot and driver, the same as Cuchulainn. Laeg was Cuchulainn’s charioteer (I suspect, if you dig into it, and I haven’t, that you’ll find that Laeg is the same fellow as Lugh Longspear, who is actually the Sun god in Irish mythology). Arjuna’s charioteer was Krishna, who like Lugh, was in disguise as a relatively ordinary human. Mostly he was being human, like the rest of us).
So, getting back to Cuchulainn. You’ve all heard the story about how he choked Chulainn’s guarddog with a sliotar and got his name. However, he was also nephew to King Conor McNeasa, King of Ulster, and was sent for warrior training to the warrior woman, Scatha, on the Isle of Skye. I suppose you can imagine this as the sort of training you’d get if you were going to be a Shaolin monk (but with lots of added randiness since we’re dealing with an Irish warrior in training and in our tradition there were lots of Irish women warriors training too). If you had a sparring partner, you’d get to know him pretty well, and know his moves. Cuchulainn was there with a Connaught lad called Ferdia (not the fellow from D4 that’s trying to sell you insurance on RTE), but an actual brilliant warrior, almost but not quite as brilliant as Cuchulainn (it’s the Ulster Cycle so they’re telling it, not the Mayo lads) and they were great friends and spear-brothers. There are a number of versions of the tale and this is one:
It fell out, anyway, that Cuchulainn became champion of Ulster and Ferdia became champion of Connaught. Because of a cattle raid (that’s a story for another wet day) it came about that Cuchulain and Ferdia had to represent their kingdoms in single combat and to the death, at a particular ford. Now these men were best friends, they knew each other’s moves and fighting style and they certainly didn’t want to kill each other. So, everyday they would show up at the ford and throw shapes. In Karate, these shapes are called kata. The point is that each move is carefully choreographed. Performed correctly, the two lads would look like they were hammering each other, but really they were just play-acting. Naturally, they were using pointy things so they’d be able to draw a little blood to make it look realistic, but nothing fatal. Every evening, they would retire to their respective camps at each side of the river and send over ointment or supplies to one another.
Three days went by with this shaping, this procrastinating. Fate (in the shape of the Morrigan, the Crow goddess, the scavenger of souls) takes a hand and causes Cuchulainn to slip. He falls back, sword gone from his hand, and Ferdia has him. Ferdia doesn’t want to kill Cuchulainn and hesitates. In that instant, Laeg throws Cuchulainn a spear. This is a special spear, the Ga Bolga. Once it goes in, it doesn’t come out without killing you. Cuchulainn catches the spear, and by reflex, as if without thought, and certainly with no hesitation, throws the spear, fatally wounding Ferdia, his friend. Ferdia dies in Cuchulainn’s arms.
Back to the Indian prince, Arjuna. The lesson of the ford in Cuchulainn’s story takes up the whole book for Arjuna. Arjuna is the greatest warrior of his age (obviously there was never an Arjuna vs Cuchulainn to test that statement). The Bhagavad Gita starts with Arjuna being faced with a great battle. He’s on the side of right, he believes, and he knows that if he goes into battle, his side will win, but to win, he will kill loads of people, some of them friends and relations, and while they may be fighting for the enemy, they are good people.* He doesn’t want to fight (like our two heros at the ford). So his charioteer decides to teach him the lesson he needs to learn, and the rest of the book is about Arjuna learning that lesson. The moral of the story, the bottom line, is that life presents us, all of us, with choices. We can chose to hesitate, to mark time, to procrastinate, to close our eyes to what’s in front of them, but like poor Ferdia, that approach doesn’t end well. Arjuna learns from the teachings of Krishna that the trials and sufferings of life are unavoidable and that we are called to engage on the Kurukshetra, the field of action. In Arjuna’s case, the field of action before him was the battlefield he’s on at the start of the book and having become enlightened by the teachings of Krishna, he rides into battle and kills all around him, without hesitation or regret.
The trite saying is “he who hesitates is lost.”
We can sit on the fence, be the hurler on the ditch. Alternatively, we can answer life’s call, and set out (to echo Campbell) on the hero’s journey, accepting life’s challenges, dealing with them head on and without hesitation.
That is the way of the warrior. What has that to do with yoga? Well, as a very good teacher, Richard Freeman, says, for the space of the lesson, the yoga mat is your Kurukshetra, your “field of action”. The mat is a space apart, apart from the worries and stresses of the day, of ordinary life. There is no competition. There are no prizes or awards for the “Yoga All Stars”. But it is a place of challenge. This is where life is asking you how far can your body take you? How far can your mind take you? And the other side of the coin: How far will you allow your body to take you? How far will your mind allow you to be taken? Who is this you that is being taken anyway? Why does the teacher keep going on about the breath? Why do I have to think about inhalation and exhalation? Why does this pose feel so sore? Can I find the sweetness in the pose?
So, when life calls you to action, are you going to invoke Cuchulainn or Ferdia? Usain Bolt, or that other guy who came second?
*This is only one interpretation. Like all myth, the Bhagavad Gita has many levels of interpretation.
Om Shanti. 20 August, 2019
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