In previous chapters Krishna has explained how to develop control of the mind as an essential feature of yoga practice. Now he elaborates this theme with special attention to the yogī’s preparation for death. He also speaks about the destination of the successful yogī, having clarified for Arjuna (near the end of Chapter 6) that a yogī who has not perfected yoga practice has nothing to fear, since he or she will be able to resume practice in the next life.

We may notice that from chapter to chapter, Krishna is speaking more and more about himself as bhagavān, the primordial person, toward whom practitioners of yoga are to direct attention. This is surprising, since Krishna appears to be like an ordinary human being. Furthermore, he acts as Arjuna’s charioteer—an activity that is traditionally, in ancient India, considered somewhat lowly in terms of social status. But in this chapter we find Krishna straightforwardly exhorting Arjuna to fight in the battle and, simultaneously, to combine (yoga) his renounced action with remembering him, Krishna (8.7), recognizing Krishna for who he actually is. Krishna then provides some tips about just how to think of him: He is the “ancient seer” or poet (kavi) and perpetual ruler; yet he is smaller than the smallest conceivable thing. He is founder of everything, has an inconceivable form, and he is brilliant like the sun, beyond darkness (8.9).

To sustain such an image of bhagavān in one’s mind at the time of death is possible by bhakti—devotion—as the active principle in yoga practice. This is what gives the mind strength to endure the bodily pain and mental disturbance that are likely to overwhelm one as death approaches (8.10). To be fixed in devotion enables one to attain the unperishing realm, and here Krishna refers to this firmness as yoga-dhāraṇā, the discipline of concentration (8.12; the seventh of the eight limbs of classical aṣṭāṅga-yoga).

Krishna contrasts the realm of what he calls akṣaraṁ brahman, or unperishing spirit, with the temporal realm. The latter is a place of perpetual return, of cyclical creation and destruction, in which living beings are born again and again, only to die again and again. The temporal realm is a “misery asylum” to which perfect yogīs must never return, for they attain permanent residence in the supreme unperishing realm (8.15-21).

The theme of returning or not returning to this world takes an interesting—and somewhat mysterious—turn near the end of this chapter, echoing passages in the ancient Indian philosophical classics, the Upaniṣads: Persons who know spirit (brahman) whose bodies die “during fire, light, day, waxing moon, and while the sun journeys north” can expect to attain to brahman, the unperishing realm. In contrast, persons whose bodies die “during smoke, night, waning moon, and while the sun journeys south” must expect to reach only the lunar realm (8.24-25) from which they must return to this world. The point, Krishna assures, is not to fret about the time of one’s inevitable death; rather, one should be firm in the practice of yoga. Finally, anticipating further possible doubts, Krishna assures that a wise yogī surpasses all such considerations of piously gained benefits as are promulgated in the Vedas, sacrificial rites, austerities, and charity. Instead, the yogī attains complete freedom of spirit in the abode of spirit (8.28).