Bhagavad Gita Chapter 8, Verse 19 (BG 8.19) — Meaning, Translation & Commentary

# BG 8.19 — Commentary on the Nature of Creation and Dissolution Verse 8.19 describes the function and methodology of Brahma, the Creator, along with the origin and dissolution of the universe. It is said here that during his day—which spans a thousand yugas—he brings forth creation, and the moment his night arrives, the entire cosmos merges back into the unmanifest. In common parlance, creation means the fashioning of something new. Yet from the philosophical perspective, creation carries a more subtle meaning that reveals the true nature of things. A potter can fashion a clay pot but cannot fashion a sweet ball from clay. The act of creation takes a particular substance (the material cause, like clay in the example) and shapes it into a form with specific qualities. Different forms are then given different names. Upon reflection, one realizes that what is created—this named and formed thing—already existed latently in its cause, along with its qualities. Clay possessed the potential for pot-ness but not for sweet-ball-ness; therefore, a pot could be made from clay, but not even a particle of a sweet ball. Thus, the Vedantic philosophers concluded that creation means the manifestation of the unmanifest names, forms, and qualities. The condition in which any person appears to exist in the present is the result of countless days gone by. According to the thoughts, feelings, and actions of the past, so is the present. The actions that arise in accordance with a human being's intellectual convictions and life values leave their impressions upon the inner faculty. These impressions become the architects and regulators of the future. Just as a specific law of continuity operates in the origin of creatures of different species, so too does it apply in the realm of thought. From a frog comes a frog, from a human comes a human, and from a mango seed comes a mango tree. In exactly the same way, from noble thoughts flows a stream of kindred noble thoughts in the mind, and it grows progressively. The impressions of these thoughts inscribed in the mind remain unmanifest to the senses and are often not grasped even by the mind and intellect. These unmanifest impressions manifest as thoughts, words, and deeds. The nature of impressions is also expressed in actions. Consider, for example, four persons—a physician, a lawyer, a saint, and a thief—sleeping in a rest house. In that state, from the perspective of the body, all possess equal heat, breath, blood, flesh, and bone. The distinction between doctor and lawyer, or saint and thief, is not apparent. Although we cannot perceive each person's uniqueness through the senses, it remains present in each of them in unmanifest form; it does not cease to exist. Their unmanifest nature, capacities, and tendencies manifest only when they awaken. Upon leaving the rest house, each will engage in activities according to their own nature. This manifestation from the unmanifest is what philosophy calls creation. When one properly understands the process of creation in this way, one can easily comprehend the creation and dissolution of the entire cosmos. The cosmic mind (Brahma), in its wakeful state during a day of a thousand yugas, manifests the entire unmanifest creation, and at the arrival of night, all beings merge back into the unmanifest. Here, Lord Sri Krishna, emphasizing this point, declares that this same multitude of beings is repeatedly born and dissolved, compelled by necessity. This means that at the beginning of each cycle, new beings are not created anew. From this statement, we can clearly understand how a human being becomes bound by their own thoughts and feelings. It is impossible that a person of animal nature, who lives a life of constant sensory indulgence and commits cruel and merciless deeds to fulfill their desires, could overnight become a person endowed with all virtuous qualities. Such a transformation is not possible, no matter how great the teacher, how auspicious the occasion, or how sacred the place or time. Unless divine impressions exist latently within the disciple, no teacher can instantly transform them into a saint through instruction alone. If someone argues that in ancient times a rare sage underwent such an unprecedented transformation through a particular teacher, then we must also accept the story of a magician creating a sweet ball from clay. In that tale of creating a sweet ball, we know it was merely illusion, a trick of perception, and in reality, no sweet ball was actually made from clay. Similarly, those who are wise, who understand the science of life, and who harbor some faith and devotion toward the Gita's Teacher will not give such arguments more weight than a fanciful tale. Such a story can only be accepted as poetic exaggeration, the kind offered by disciples in praise of their teacher. "This same multitude of beings" means these same desires. A being is not separate from their desires. To exhaust desires, the being assumes different bodies in different worlds. In this, the being is compelled. "Compelled" is a powerful word indicating that, as a result of their firm desires, the being is unable to separate itself from its past. When we turn our back to the light of knowledge and walk away, our past life darkens our path and walks with us. When we turn toward the light of knowledge, that same past humbly accompanies us like a guardian angel on the path of self-inquiry. When a being abandons one body, its existence continues just as an actor, after removing the costume of a king at the play's end, remains as the husband of his wife and father of his children. To assume a particular body and sing the song of one's mind's desires or thoughts through deeds is creation; and the dissolution of thoughts into the unmanifest upon abandoning these limitations is dissolution. A musician expresses their knowledge of music through their instrument, but when the instrument is set aside, that musician's knowledge of music remains in an unmanifest state. A human being's contact with the external world, or their desires—the unmanifest—is in constant flux. It has been said before that this constant change cannot be known without an unchanging, eternal, immutable substratum upon which this change appears. What is that eternal substratum upon which the drama of this creation is enacted?