When we take incarnation in a human body, we willingly submit to a veil of forgetfulness so that we can experience duality, gather experiences, and test our growth as a soul. This veil of forgetfulness is called Maya in the Hindu tradition, and much has been written about its baffling power.

One of the most beautiful and famous parables in Hindu philosophy—a story about the deity Krishna and the celestial sage Narada—is often used to illustrate the staggering grip of Maya. It shows just how quickly we can forget our true spiritual nature and our soul’s deepest intentions once we are immersed in the material world.

The Parable of Narada and Krishna

Narada, a supreme devotee of Vishnu (incarnate on Earth as Krishna), was traveling through the worlds. Because of his intense devotion and high spiritual standing, a tiny speck of spiritual pride had crept into his heart. He believed he fully understood the nature of the universe and considered himself completely immune to the illusions of the material world.

During a visit with Krishna, Narada confidently asked, “Lord, I understand the workings of this world, but please, explain to me the secret of your Maya. What is this illusion that binds all human beings?”

Krishna smiled his characteristically enigmatic smile and said, “Narada, Maya is difficult to explain in words. Let us take a walk, and perhaps you will understand.”

They walked across a hot, dusty desert under a blazing sun. After some time, Krishna sat down under the shade of a tree, looking visibly exhausted.

“Narada,” Krishna said, “I am terribly parched. There is a village just over that hill. Would you be so kind as to fetch me a cup of water?”

Narada, eager to serve his Lord, immediately grabbed a vessel and rushed off toward the village.

The Illusion Takes Hold

When Narada reached the village, he knocked on the door of the very first house. The door opened, and standing there was a young woman of breathtaking beauty. The moment Narada looked into her eyes, something shifted inside him. The desert, his mission, and even Krishna waiting under the tree completely vanished from his mind.

He was utterly captivated. Instead of asking for water, he found himself speaking to her father, asking for her hand in marriage. The father happily agreed.

Narada married the beautiful woman and settled down in the village. He built a home, farmed the land, and became a respected member of the community. In time, they had children, and later, grandchildren. Narada was deeply happy, completely absorbed in the joys, worries, duties, and deep attachments of a householder’s life. Twelve years passed in what felt like a rich, full lifetime.

The Storm and the Wake-Up Call

In the twelfth year, a catastrophic monsoon hit the region. The nearby river broke its banks, and a violent flash flood tore through the village, sweeping away houses and crops.

In the chaos, Narada tried desperately to save his family. He held his wife with one hand and his children with the other, wading through the raging, waist-deep waters. But the current was too strong. One by one, his children were ripped from his grasp and swept away. Finally, a massive wave struck, tearing his beloved wife from his arms.

Narada was washed downstream, battered, exhausted, and utterly broken. He eventually dragged himself onto a muddy bank, weeping uncontrollably in absolute despair. He had lost everything—his home, his beautiful wife, and his children.

The Return to Reality

As he lay there crying out in agony, the storm clouds suddenly vanished, and the raging waters disappeared. The landscape instantaneously shifted back into the dry, dusty desert.

Narada looked up. There was no village, no flood, and no family.

Standing right in front of him was Krishna, looking perfectly relaxed, holding out an empty hand. With a gentle, teasing look in his eyes, Krishna asked:

“Narada, I have been waiting for quite a while. Where is my water? You have been gone for nearly half an hour.”

The Remorse of Narada

Narada fell at Krishna’s feet, weeping now not out of grief, but out of a profound, shattering realization. In just thirty minutes of earthly time, Krishna had allowed him to experience twelve years of an entire lifetime—complete with its intense love, deep attachments, crushing grief, and absolute distraction.

The story serves as a profound metaphor:

• The Village represents the material world (Samsara).
• The Beautiful Woman and Family represent the attachments, roles, and identities we form (as spouses, parents, professionals).
• The Flood represents time and our ultimate physical death, which inevitably sweep away everything we own or cling to in our human life.

Krishna’s demonstration showed Narada that Maya is an incredibly powerful, immersive psychological force that can make a soul completely forget its divine origin and purpose in the blink of an eye.

Parallel Near-Death Experiences

This ancient concept of a “cosmic forgetfulness” is not just confined to old texts. Time and time again, modern individuals who undergo Near-Death Experiences (NDEs) report a strikingly similar phenomenon. Upon crossing over, they are shown how completely they forgot their soul’s intentions, often realizing they were not living the life they had carefully planned for themselves before birth.

Anita Moorjani

Dying of end-stage lymphoma, Anita Moorjani’s organs were failing when she slipped into a coma in 2006 and experienced a vast, hyper-aware dimension.

During her NDE, Anita realized that she had spent her entire life engulfed in fear—fear of not being good enough, fear of disease, and an intense compulsion to “people-please” at the expense of her own well-being. She understood that her true purpose wasn’t to be a martyr or to shrink herself to fit into cultural expectations, but to be fearlessly authentic and embody her own divine value.

She was shown that her cancer was a physical manifestation of this severe, lifelong emotional and spiritual energy depletion. She was told that if she chose to return to her body, her purpose would be to live fearlessly and share this truth with others. Upon making the choice to return, her body underwent a miraculous, rapid healing, and she completely pivoted her life to become an author and speaker.

Erika McKenzie

Erika McKenzie was a registered nurse who, on the surface, seemed to be doing everything right. Internally, however, she was battling a severe, hidden addiction to diet pills and an eating disorder. In 2002, her heart failed, leading to a profound NDE.

When she entered a realm of overwhelming, non-judgmental love and stood in the presence of God, the superficial metrics she had used to measure her worth—her physical appearance, her weight, and the masking of her pain—instantly dissolved into irrelevance. She realized she was completely missing the mark on why she was here.

She experienced a profound wake-up call regarding the value of the soul over the external vessel. She was shown that every individual has a unique, invaluable piece of the puzzle to bring to the world. She returned with a completely restructured worldview, leaving her destructive habits behind to focus on holistic healing, emotional vulnerability, and helping others look past external illusions.

George Ritchie

Dr. George Ritchie’s 1943 NDE (which famously inspired Dr. Raymond Moody to begin his pioneering study of the phenomenon) offers a classic example of a paradigm shift regarding purpose. As a young soldier who died of pneumonia, Ritchie was guided through a life review by a Being of Light.

Ritchie had always considered himself a good, religious person. However, during his life review, he watched his actions from a detached, spiritual perspective and realized that many of his “good deeds” were actually driven by a desire for personal validation, pride, and ego, rather than pure love.

The Being of Light asked him a central, staggering question: “What have you done with your life to show me that you’ve learned to love?” Ritchie realized he had been fulfilling a superficial, checklist version of righteousness rather than the true spiritual purpose of selfless love. When he revived, he dedicated the rest of his life to psychiatry, teaching, and deeply impactful counseling, fundamentally altered by that confrontation.

Awakening from the Dream

The striking parallel between Narada’s thirty-minute “lifetime” and the modern NDE life review reveals a timeless truth: the physical world is a beautifully designed, highly convincing simulator. Just as Narada forgot his thirst-stricken Lord the moment he entered the village, we too become easily ensnared by the earthly scripts of status, fear, bodily perfection, and ego validation. We mistake the roles we play for the reality of who we are.

Whether through an ancient parable or a modern medical crisis, the message remains identical. We do not need to wait for a literal “flash flood” or a flatlining heart to remember why we came here. By stepping back from the demands of the ego and peering through the veil of Maya, we can remember our true mission in real-time: to transcend fear, to honor the unique puzzle piece we carry, and to answer the only question that ultimately echoes into eternity—how well did you learn to love?

“Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

With your one wild and precious life?”

— Mary Oliver, “The Summer Day”

The Existential Vacuum: The Price of Drifting

A life lived without a sense of direction is rarely just “neutral.” It often leaves us vulnerable to an internal erosion. When we drift aimlessly, we fall into what Viktor Frankl—neurologist, psychiatrist, and Holocaust survivor—termed the “existential vacuum.” This void is not merely boredom; it is a breeding ground for anxiety, depression, and a sense of futility.

Frankl observed in the Nazi concentration camps that the ultimate human motivation is neither pleasure nor power, but the Will to Meaning. Those who survived the unimaginable were often those who possessed a “why”—a future task to complete, a loved one to return to, or a spiritual meaning to fulfill. Recognizing that our time is finite is the first step in realizing that life is too precious to be spent on activities that do not nourish the spirit.

The Two Tiers of Purpose

We often speak of purpose as a single, elusive “thing,” but it is more helpful to view it through two distinct lenses:

1. The Universal Mission: This is the common thread that binds us all—the journey to realize our truest nature. It is the conscious effort to express our “highest self” or inherent divinity within the mundane reality of daily life. It is the quest for authenticity in a world of performance.
2. Individual Agreements: Beyond the universal, we carry specific “soul contracts” or intentions. These are the unique roles and lessons we are here to master.

Examples of Individual Purposes:

• The Relational Anchor: Choosing to play a foundational, supportive role in another’s life—such as a parent or partner—to facilitate that soul’s evolution.
• Karmic Resolution: Seeking specific interactions to clear past energetic debts, heal generational trauma, or find closure in complex dynamics.
• Creative Radiance: Mastering a craft—be it music, gardening, or code—not for the sake of ego, but to channel joy and inspiration into the collective.
• The Wisdom-Bearer: Acting as a mentor or guide, translating personal hardship into shared wisdom for others.

Life is the Interrogator

We often spend our lives asking, “What is the meaning of my life?” as if the universe owes us an explanation. Frankl suggests we have the equation backward:

“It is not we who are permitted to ask about the meaning of life—it is life that asks the questions… We are the ones who must answer, must give answers to the constant, hourly question of life… Living itself means nothing other than being questioned; our whole act of being is nothing more than responding to—of being responsible toward—life.”

— Viktor Frankl, “Yes to Life: In Spite of Everything“

To hear these questions, we must silence the “external noise”—the static of societal expectations, the “shoulds” of our peers, and the relentless hum of digital distraction. We must pivot from seeking external validation to honoring the unmistakable signal of the heart.

The Three Indicators of Alignment

How do you know when you’ve stopped drifting and started sailing? Look for these three internal markers:

Magnetic Attraction -A pull so strong it feels like a responsibility. You don’t just want to do it; you feel you must.

Natural Resonance – The activity feels less like “labor” and more like an effortless extension of your identity. You are “at home” in the task.

Sustained Bliss – A deep-seated satisfaction that persists even when the task is difficult. The work itself is the reward.

The State of Flow

When you dedicate yourself to your purpose, you will frequently enter the state of Flow. This is the psychological sweet spot where the self vanishes and the action takes over. In flow, there is no struggle, no “trying,” and no conscious control; there is only the seamless, spontaneous unfolding of skill and intent. It is here, in this state of “active meditation,” that we make our greatest contributions to the world.

The Courageous Inward Turn

Ultimately, the journey to purpose is an act of bravery. It requires the courage to be still enough to hear the call and the discipline to follow it. By honoring your natural attractions and pursuing the activities that generate bliss and flow, you do more than just “succeed”—you create harmony within yourself and fulfill your unique karmic destiny.

We enter this life with specific objectives and a unique set of talents designed to fulfill an intended purpose. Our journey begins in total dependency; as helpless infants, we rely on the care of others for our very survival. Slowly, we progress through the stages of development until we reach a point where we are physically and intellectually capable of standing on our own feet.

During our formative years, it is natural to take direction from parents, teachers, and mentors. Then a secondary force begins to exert its influence: peer pressure. We quickly find ourselves caught between the guidance of authority and the desperate desire to belong.

The Architecture of Influence

The world we navigate is one where control and influence pervade almost every element of our lives—from social media algorithms to cultural expectations. Yet, the central task of our maturity is to develop the ability to make decisions for ourselves. In the process of claiming this independence, fear inevitably enters the frame. We ask ourselves: “Am I capable of doing this alone?” or “What if the worst-case scenario manifests?”

This dread of failure can be debilitating, often masquerading as “prudence.” While we must be thoughtful in our choices, there is a profound danger in becoming over-dependent on the external world. To live a life of pure conformity is to live a wasted life; it is a stay of execution for the soul. Growth can only take place when we move toward our own passions and internal North Star.

The Space of Power

As Viktor Frankl famously observed:

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

To grow, we must be willing to step into that “space” and take risks. It is through the courageous embrace of uncertainty for a worthy cause that we earn the prize of self-actualization. Erich Fromm echoed this in Escape from Freedom, noting:

“The quest for certainty blocks the search for meaning. Uncertainty is the very condition to impel man to unfold his powers.” (emphasis added)

Ultimately, the transition from the “helpless baby” to the “self-actualized adult” is not merely a matter of age, but a matter of will and courage. We are constantly tempted to trade our freedom for the illusory safety of certainty or the approval of the collective. But to “escape from freedom” is to escape from oneself.

True power is not the absence of fear, but the refusal to let fear make our decisions for us. When we stop looking outward for permission and start looking inward for direction, we fulfill the purpose we brought with us into this world. We realize that the “uncertainty” we so often dread is actually the fertile soil in which our highest potential takes root.

The modern world is designed to be a vacuum, perpetually sucking our attention away from our center and scattering it across a thousand superficial points. We are besieged by the relentless demands of the workplace, the hypnotic flicker of screens, and a ubiquitous advertising apparatus that treats our attention as a harvestable crop.

“Experts” and influencers curate every facet of our existence, dictating not just what we should buy, but how we should feel, where we should travel, and how we should spend the few hours of the day we actually own. To this “old mix,” we have added the digital leash: social media algorithms and electronic devices that demand constant interaction. These tools are engineered to exploit our biological need for connection, turning our social instincts into a feedback loop of dopamine and consumption.

“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” — Blaise Pascal

The Economic Tether and the Spiritual Cost

Beneath this flurry of activity lies a singular motive: the commodification of the self. Every force mentioned above conspires to keep us in a state of perpetual “doing”—buying, borrowing, and reacting—so that others may profit from our restlessness.

However, this constant externalization comes at a devastating spiritual cost. By abandoning the “inward path,” we lose the inclination—and eventually the ability—to sit with ourselves. We become strangers to our own minds. Without realizing it, we tie ourselves into a psychological knot, unable to fathom or fulfill the very evolutionary purposes for which we incarnated.

The Jolt

When the soul is ignored for too long, a “jolt” often hits us—a sudden loss or a period of forced isolation—that severs our external ties and compels us to examine this precious human life.

The psychologist Rollo May’s battle with tuberculosis in his late 30s was exactly that—a forced withdrawal from the world that became the cornerstone of his existential psychology. While in a sanatorium for 18 months, May faced only a 50% chance of survival. In his book “Man’s Search for Himself” he wrote:

“Whether or not I lived depended not upon the doctors or medicine but on me… One does not become fully human painlessly.”

During his recovery, May observed two types of patients. He found that the outer-directed–those who were “gay and hopeful” and tried to ignore the disease–often died. However, the inner-directed–those who accepted the gravity of their condition, struggled against it, and used the time for deep introspection–were the ones who recovered.

This experience led him to conclude that many of the feelings that we struggle with as human beings are not a pathology to be cured, but a signal that we have a life to live and a death to face. May later wrote that simply choosing to be your authentic self is the highest form of courage.

The Inner-Directed Greats

History’s most transformative figures were characterized by one trait: they were inner-directed. They refused to be the clay molded by social forces. They understood that to influence the world, one must first be uninfluenced by it.

• Nikola Tesla: He famously credited his revolutionary inventions to his ability to visualize and “work out” entire engines in the silence of his mind before ever touching a tool. He believed that “solitude is the secret of invention.”
• Ralph Waldo Emerson: A champion of “Self-Reliance,” Emerson argued that the “great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.”
• Ramana Maharshi: Having undergone a “death experience” that forced him into total inwardness, he spent years in silence and solitude at Arunachala, proving that the highest power is found when the outward-seeking mind is turned back toward its source.

The Ultimate Aim: Self-Realization

The highest human endeavor—Self-Realization—cannot be achieved by following the crowd. It is not a product that can be purchased or a philosophy that can be downloaded. It is a solo trek.

True realization requires the intentional cultivation of silence. It demands significant periods of solitary meditation, where the layers of social conditioning, egoic desire, and external noise are peeled away. As the Bhagavad Gita suggests, the mind is a friend to those who have conquered it, but an enemy to those who haven’t.

“Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.” — Carl Jung

Only in the stillness of our own company can we untie the knots of the world and finally see our lives for what they truly are: an opportunity to realize the Divine within.

There is no greater gift that one can make than the wisdom of Supreme Knowledge, and the way of life (Dhamma) that one must undertake to achieve freedom from suffering (Dukkha). In the Dhammapada (Verse 354), the Buddha famously declares: “Sabba dānam dhamma dānam jināti” (“The gift of Dhamma excels all other gifts.”) 

While giving food, clothing, or shelter to those in need is a noble act of merit, the Buddha taught that the gift of truth is unique because it addresses the very root of human suffering. Sharing the Dhamma is therefore the ultimate act of compassion (Karuna).

The reasoning behind this is practical: material gifts provide temporary relief from physical hunger or cold, but the Dhamma provides the tools for permanent liberation from the cycle of birth and death (Samsara). By sharing the Dhamma, you are giving someone the “medicine” to heal themselves forever.

The Gift of Knowledge in the Vedic Tradition

This elevation of the dissemination of knowledge is echoed in the Vedic tradition, in which it is known as Vidya Dana—the gift of knowledge. It is considered the highest form of charity because, unlike material gifts, spiritual knowledge removes the root cause of ignorance and suffering rather than just its symptoms.

In the final chapter of the Bhagavad Gita (Chapter 18) Krishna speaks directly to the merit of those who share these spiritual teachings with others. In verses 68 and 69 He calls this act the highest form of devotion and a path to ultimate liberation:

“For the one who explains this supreme secret among My devotees, performing the highest devotional service to Me, they shall undoubtedly come to Me.”

“There is no one among all human beings who performs a service more dear to Me, nor will there ever be anyone on this earth more beloved by Me than that person.”

Krishna also mentions in Verse 18.70 that even those who simply study the sacred dialogue worship Him through “the sacrifice of knowledge” (Jnana-Yajna). Furthermore, in Verse 18.71, He notes that anyone who listens to the Gita with faith and without malice is liberated and attains the “happy worlds of the righteous.”

The theme of “sharing the light” is a universal spiritual imperative. Across traditions, wisdom is never viewed as a private possession to be hoarded, but as a transformative force that reaches its full potential only when it is transmitted.

The New Testament: The Unhidden Lamp

In the Gospel of Matthew (5:14–16), Jesus uses the metaphor of light to describe the social and spiritual responsibility of his followers:

“Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others…”

Here, the “lamp” represents the truth of the Gospel and the inner transformation of the believer. To hide it is to deny its purpose. The virtue lies in transparency and service, ensuring that the light one has received becomes a guide for those still in the dark.

Rumi and Suffism

For Rumi, the 13th-century Persian poet and Sufi mystic, sharing wisdom was not a formal academic exercise; it was a natural “overflow” of the soul. He viewed the heart as a vessel that, once filled with the divine light of God (Allah), must necessarily pour out to others to keep the water fresh and the light alive.

Rumi often compared the spiritual seeker to a fountain or a stream. He believed that if you try to hoard wisdom, your spiritual life becomes stagnant, like a pond without an outlet.

“A fountain that stops flowing becomes a swamp. The water of life must move through you to remain pure.”

In his view, the act of sharing wisdom is what keeps your own connection to the Divine clear. You aren’t just giving to others; you are participating in a cycle of “spiritual irrigation” that keeps the world’s garden blooming.

Rumi taught that every human soul is a mirror. If your mirror is polished and you catch a ‘sunbeam’ of truth, your primary duty is to angle that mirror so the light reaches a dark corner. Sharing wisdom, for Rumi, was synonymous with Love—an invitation into divine ecstasy. He frequently reminded his readers that the ‘words’ he spoke were not his own, but the breath of the Divine moving through a flute.

Similar to the New Testament imagery, Rumi used the candle to explain how sharing does not diminish the source. In the Sufi tradition, this is part of the concept of Suhbat (spiritual companionship), where the light of one heart kindles the light of another through presence. As the ancient proverb echoes:

“A thousand candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.”