Printed in the Winter 2026 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Heubel, Peggy "Kurukshetra Now: The Bhagavad Gita and the Battle for the Human Spirit" Quest 114:1, pg 8-9
By Peggy Heubel
Kurukshetra is here. It is now. To act from the still center within is to strike a blow on behalf of humanity’s soul—and no act of courage ever dies.
This article is meant to be practical and reflective: to draw from the ever-timeless teachings of the Indian scripture the Bhagavad Gita while attempting to illuminate the moral challenges of our present age.
The Gita takes place at the outset of the great battle on the plain of Kurukshetra between the wicked Kaurava clan and the virtuous Pandavas. (This battle has been traditionally dated to the late fourth millennium BC.) Before it begins, Krishna, an avatar or incarnation of the god Vishnu who is serving as the charioteer of the warrior Arjuna, has a discussion with him about the nature of the universe and reality.
The Gita emerges not as ancient scripture, but as a practical and living manual for ethical encounters of every kind—uniting inner spiritual discipline with outer action in defense of truth, justice, and compassion. Through principles such as karma yoga (selfless action), svadharma (one’s rightful duty), and samatva (equanimity in success and failure), the Gita offers a framework for modern spiritual activism that resists injustice without hatred and serves humanity without attachment to personal reward, challenging us to meet today’s political, social, and ecological crises—our own Kurukshetra—with the still heart, steady hand, and fearless resolve of the warrior-soul.
On the ancient field of Kurukshetra, Arjuna sat in moral anguish. Before him stretched the opposing army—filled with relatives, mentors, and friends. The call to battle demanded that he fight those he loved, yet his heart retreated. Laying down his bow, he told Krishna that to kill, even in the name of duty, would be a stain upon his soul.
In reply, Krishna spoke words that have echoed through millennia: the true warrior fights not for personal vengeance, but for dharma—the upholding of truth, justice, and harmony in the world. To refuse such a duty when the time for action has come is to abandon one’s sacred responsibility.
Today, our Kurukshetra is not an open plain between two armies. It is the contested ground of the human spirit: in the halls of government, in the shaping of public discourse, in the treatment of the vulnerable, and in the care of our earth. The battle is fierce, though the weapons are not of hard metal but of propagandistic misinformation spreading like wildfire. Greed and indifference eat away at the common good. Division is stoked for personal gain. In such an age as this, the temptation to withdraw into private spiritual practice, trusting that karma will eventually set things right, can feel noble—but it risks becoming a form of quiet surrender.
The Bhagavad Gita is not only a philosophical scripture; it is a guide to practical yoga—the uniting of inner discipline with outer service. In Krishna’s guidance to Arjuna, we find the template for spiritual activism: action born from clarity, steadiness, and selflessness. Karma yoga, the yoga of action without attachment to results, teaches us to act because it is right to do so, not because success is guaranteed. This principle frees us from both arrogance in victory and despair in defeat. We fight for truth because truth is worth fighting for—always.
Another vital teaching is svadharma—our own unique duty. Arjuna’s was to wield the bow; ours is to speak truth wherever we can: in a public forum, to protect the voiceless, to reform broken systems, to build bridges across divides, or to heal what has been wounded in body, mind, or spirit. The Gita warns against abandoning one’s role out of discomfort, just as it warns against taking up another’s role out of envy or ambition. Each of us has a sphere where we can stand up most effectively for dharma—and it is there where we must give our full measure, as any warrior would.
The Gita also insists on samatva, equanimity, balance, or evenness of mind in success or failure. This steadiness is not apathy: it is the capacity to remain anchored in purpose when the tide turns against us and humble when it flows in our favor. In the turbulence of modern activism—where progress can be slow and opposition fierce—samatva keeps our work from becoming poisoned by bitterness or hollow pride.
Equally transformative is the Gita’s call to act as an instrument of the Divine Will. This is not passivity; it is alignment. When we act from the recognition that the life within us is part of the One Life, our activism loses the destructive edge of egoism. We can resist injustice without dehumanizing those who oppose us. We can speak firmly without hatred. We can confront falsehood without becoming false ourselves.
Above all, the Gita affirms that clarity of action arises from clarity of consciousness. Inner discipline—through meditation, self-study, and devotion to an ideal—is not separate from outer engagement, but is its source. The battlefield is not only out there in the world; it is also within our hearts and mind, where fear, prejudice, and selfish motive must be faced and overcome. Only then can our words and deeds carry the unshakable power of truth and righteousness.
Kurukshetra is here. It is now. The call that came to Arjuna comes to us: not to wage war for personal gain, but to stand up for the soul of humanity. To withdraw entirely into the safety of contemplation in this moment of crisis is to abandon the field. To act from the still center within—to speak, to protect, to build, to heal—is to live the Gita’s wisdom in its highest form. When we do so, every step becomes both an offering to the Divine and a blow struck for the victory of the human spirit over the forces that would diminish it! As Krishna assures us, in such work no effort is ever wasted and no act of courage ever dies.
Peggy Heubel is former secretary of the Theosophical Society in Oakland, California, and a member of the board of directors of the TSA.