At the Feet of Krishna, Power Becomes Freedom
The world is fascinated by power.
Nations seek it. Corporations compete for it. Leaders rise because of it. History is shaped by those who acquire it, protect it, lose it, and fight to regain it.
Power appears in many forms: wealth, influence, status, authority, knowledge, networks, persuasion, and control. Some pursue power openly. Others pursue it quietly. But beneath much of human activity lies the desire to have more power than before.
And yet, the older I grow, the more I find myself asking a different question:
What happens when power is no longer something we need to chase?
Throughout history, thinkers have viewed power differently.
Machiavelli saw power as the ability to understand reality, navigate uncertainty, and act decisively. Power was practical. Strategic. Necessary.
Plato saw power differently. For him, the greatest victory was not over another person but over oneself. A well-ordered soul was more powerful than a well-governed kingdom.
The Bhagavad Gita takes the inquiry even deeper.
Krishna does not teach Arjuna how to dominate the world. He teaches him how to stand in truth, perform his duty, and surrender the fruits of action.
The battlefield is not merely outside.
The battlefield is within.
For much of life, we believe power comes from acquiring something.
More money.
More recognition.
More influence.
More success.
More certainty.
More control.
But at some point, another possibility emerges.
What if power is not about acquiring?
What if it is about remembering?
Remembering who we are beneath all the identities we have accumulated.
Remembering the source from which everything arises.
Remembering the divine.
My own understanding of power changed through devotion.
Through prayer.
Through meditation.
Through the simple and continuous remembrance of Lord Krishna.
Not as a ritual.
Not as an obligation.
But as a living presence in the heart.
When that remembrance deepens, something remarkable begins to happen.
The feeling of lack starts to disappear.
The need to measure oneself against others loses its grip.
The pressure to arrive somewhere weakens.
The fear of missing out begins to dissolve.
Life becomes less of a race and more of a relationship.
This does not mean one becomes passive.
Far from it.
Action continues.
Work continues.
Responsibilities continue.
Creation continues.
Service continues.
But the source of action changes.
One no longer acts to become complete.
One acts from completeness.
There is a profound difference.
The exhausted mind says:
“I must achieve so that I can finally be at peace.”
The awakened heart says:
“I am already at peace. Now let me act.”
One is driven by scarcity.
The other is guided by abundance.
This, to me, is where true power begins.
Not when we control others.
Not when we influence the world.
Not when we accumulate achievements.
But when we become free from inner compulsion.
The person who requires constant recognition is not free.
The person who depends on status is not free.
The person who depends on victory is not free.
The person who depends on being right is not free.
Freedom begins when our center no longer depends on external circumstances.
And that freedom is power.
When I sit quietly and remember Krishna, I am reminded of something simple.
Nothing is missing.
Life may still bring challenges.
The body may age.
Projects may succeed or fail.
People may come and go.
Circumstances may change.
But the ground of being remains untouched.
There is a stillness beneath the movement.
A presence beneath the noise.
A wholeness beneath the seeking.
And when one rests there, time itself changes.
There is no need for haste.
No need for unnecessary urgency.
No need to move faster than one’s own truth.
One can work intensely when needed.
One can rest deeply when needed.
One can engage fully with the world without becoming trapped by it.
Perhaps this is why the sages often speak of life as Leela, the divine play.
Not because life is trivial.
Not because suffering does not exist.
But because once the burden of becoming is lifted, existence feels lighter.
There is participation without attachment.
Action without anxiety.
Commitment without possession.
Love without demand.
The game continues, but the player is no longer lost in the game.
Today, when I think about power, I no longer think first about influence, authority, or control.
I think about freedom.
The freedom to remain rooted in truth.
The freedom to remember the divine amidst activity.
The freedom to act without fear.
The freedom to enjoy what is present without chasing what is absent.
The freedom to live fully while knowing that nothing essential can be taken away.
To stand at the feet of Lord Krishna is not weakness.
It is the end of dependence.
It is the discovery of an abundance that does not come from the world and therefore cannot be removed by the world.
And from that abundance, life becomes simpler.
What remains is to care for this body while it lasts.
To share what has been understood.
To serve where one is called.
To love deeply.
To act sincerely.
And to enjoy the divine play.
For perhaps the highest form of power is not control.
Perhaps the highest form of power is freedom.
And perhaps the highest freedom is remembering that we were never separate from the Divine in the first place.
