The Last Ashram
Designing the inner climate of the heart and soul.
Modern society celebrates an image of successful aging: the elderly person who remains endlessly active—traveling, socialising, consuming experiences, and staying perpetually “busy.”
In one sense, keeping busy with the external world is preferable to loneliness or depression, real risks in later life due to declining health, loss of roles, and social isolation. Yet the Bhagavad Gita invites a deeper inquiry: is perpetual engagement the highest ideal for the evening of life? (Bhagavad Gita 12.16–17)
Sri Ramakrishna once observed elderly men, retired and passing time at cards, and gently asked: “Hasn’t the time come to call on God? The evening of life has arrived; the shadows are lengthening.” His question points not to withdrawal from life, but to a shift in orientation, away from external stimulation to inner anchoring.
Krishna describes this shift when He speaks of the devotee who is dear to Him:
“He who neither rejoices nor hates, neither grieves nor desires, who renounces good and evil, and who is full of devotion, is dear to Me.”
— Bhagavad Gita 12.17
Human life is driven by desire. We seek pleasant experiences and we delight in them when they arrive. When they depart or fail to appear, we become irritated or anxious. Krishna does not deny the naturalness of these reactions; rather, He points out their cost. They disturb the inner climate of the heart, making it restless and unfit for sustained devotion.
Modern culture often mistakes happiness for a cycle of tension and release. Desire is stimulated, gratification follows, and dissatisfaction soon returns. This rhythm, amplified by advertising and consumption, keeps the mind perpetually agitated. A heart yo-yoing between craving and disappointment, Krishna implies, is not a stable dwelling place for the Divine.
What replaces this agitation is prasāda, not merely ritual food, but an inner state of calm clarity, contentment, and luminosity. Such equanimity arises when one no longer oscillates wildly between elation and despair, gain and loss. This is echoed in the preceding verse:
“He who is free from expectations, pure, skillful, unconcerned, untroubled, and who has renounced ego-driven undertakings—such a devotee is dear to Me.”
— Bhagavad Gita 12.16
Even devotional preferences must mature. The devotee naturally cherishes worship, chanting, and sacred company, and feels pain in their absence. Yet Krishna asks for ripeness even here: a love that is steady, not dependent on favourable conditions. Devotion deepens when it rests in divinity itself, rather than in supportive circumstances.
In the twilight of life, the Gita does not counsel withdrawal, but re-centering. The movement is from outward busyness to inward fullness; from desire-driven engagement to equanimous devotion. Renunciation here does not mean inactivity, but the relinquishment of inner compulsion. Action continues, but without the fever of expectation. Life is lived fully, yet lightly.
Patanjali echoes this movement in his teaching on vairāgya—dispassion not born of aversion or fatigue, but of fullness and discernment (Yoga Sutra 1.15). When the heart is no longer driven by lack, it releases its grip naturally.
Thus, both the Bhagavad Gita and the Yoga Sutras converge on a single insight: spiritual life is not defined by outer activity, but by the quality of the inner climate. What ultimately matters is not how busy one is, but whether the mind has become a fit dwelling place for clarity, devotion, and truth.
Relentless outward motion, driven by desire and aversion, keeps the mind disturbed at any age. The evening of life, therefore, calls not for withdrawal, but for inward stabilisation, a final ashram not of walls and rituals, but of settled awareness.
The Last Ashram — where the heart learns to rest, the mind learns to steady itself, and life, freed from striving, becomes a quiet offering.
“a life no longer in a hurry,
offered back
with open heart.”
If years, like people, must also mature, perhaps 2025 has some settling to do before arriving at 2026.
Happy holidays, on this quietly somber note.
Season's Greetings and a Happy New Year