Mundavani

Guru Amardas Sahib, Guru Arjan Sahib

This salok (verse) revealed by Guru Arjan is recorded without a rag or musical mode. Popularly associated with the title Mundavani, this verse draws on the same powerful imagery of the seal. Appearing towards the ending folios of the Guru Granth Sahib, it metaphorically serves as a riddle-seal: once resolved, that which was previously concealed is unfurled. The placement of this verse is deliberate. It does not merely conclude the corpus; it offers a clue to understanding the expanse contained within. Just as a seal protects and authenticates a precious message, this verse safeguards the essence of the teachings, revealing their depth to those who approach with openness and sincerity. Each line builds gently upon the next, drawing the listener and reader deeper into an experience that is simultaneously profound and beautifully simple: Everything is Grace—illuminating the Grace that underlies existence, and guiding us toward humility, gratitude, and awareness.

Guru Arjan’s words are soaked in humility and emphasize true gratitude: I have not known Your doing; You have made me capable. These are not the words of someone seeking acknowledgment, but of someone profoundly aware of the Source, IkOankar (One Creative and Pervasive Force, 1Force, the One), behind all action. When we accomplish even the smallest of tasks, we are often quick to take credit. It is a deeply ingrained human tendency—whether through upbringing, culture, or habit—to place ourselves at the center of our own achievements, even others at times. This moment is striking: upon compiling the Adi Granth, where we may have expected self-praise or pride, we witness humility and a particular kind of grace. Where many might celebrate personal triumph, we find gratitude and humility instead. It is not simply about deflecting praise; it is about recognizing the eternal Source of ability, vision, and accomplishment. There was no sense of individual authorship or personal claim—it was through the grace of the One that it all happened. In this way, Guru Arjan models an orientation of deep humility and awareness, guiding us toward gratitude rather than self-importance. His example calls us to reconsider how we understand our own actions and successes—not as isolated achievements, but as part of a larger flow of grace.

Guru Arjan uncovers another dimension of gratitude: There is not any virtue in me, the virtue-less; compassion has arisen in You by Your Own-Self. These days, we often equate gratitude with external acts, such as hosting a prayer meeting, donating money, organizing a meal, or offering a service. These acts are meaningful and valuable, yet we are pointed toward something more profound. True gratitude does not end with the act. It begins with a quiet turning inward, a recognition of the grace that underlies even the capacity to give, to serve, to act. Until what we do is savored, until every cell of our being feels the depth of what we’ve been given, gratitude remains incomplete. It is easy to express gratitude, making it visible through social or communal means. It is far more challenging to let gratitude permeate one’s being, to allow it to soften the heart and reshape the lens through which life is seen. When gratitude shifts from the surface to the core, it transforms how we live and relate. It shifts how we perceive what we have and what we give. It transforms service from obligation into love, and offerings from performance into an intimate conversation with the One. In this articulation, gratitude is less about the visible act and more about the invisible orientation. It is a way of being—one that emerges from profound awareness of grace, blossoms into humility, and flows outward through gentle and sincere action.

Guru Arjan motions towards this greater weft of the universe: Compassion has arisen within You, Your grace has been bestowed; true Guru, the friend, has been met. While we often chase recognition, Guru Arjan quietly acknowledges that he had no virtues of his own. And yet, something beautiful happened. Compassion arose—not from effort, but from grace. Through that compassion, the eternal Wisdom-Guru—the guide, the friend—was met. This is not the language of fear or formality. Guru Arjan speaks to the One, not with grandeur but with closeness, using words that feel like they come from a heart-to-heart conversation, not a place of distance. There’s a quiet lesson here: the greatest transformations do not come from effort alone. They often emerge from openness—an openness to being guided, to being moved by something far larger than individual will. It is in this openness that grace enters, not as a reward, but as a natural flow. As the saying goes, “The tree laden with fruit always bows low.” Guru Arjan bows low—not out of obligation, but out of love, out of recognition of all of it. This posture of humility does not diminish; it expands. It draws the gaze away from the self and toward the vastness of the One, where human effort and Divine compassion intertwine to reveal something transformative and enduring. This is a gratitude that bows low, not to display piety, but to acknowledge the vastness of what has been bestowed.

Guru Arjan does not claim to know the full reality or expanse of the One and proclaims, Only if Your Nam is received by me, Nanak, then I live; the body and mind become lush-green. There is something deeply intimate in this language—anchoring everything not in personal effort, but in the benevolence of the One. It’s a blooming of complete surrender, of self-awareness grounded in grace. In our everyday lives, we often define benevolence by tangible acts such as donating money, feeding others, and offering our time. And while these actions are meaningful, we are invited to think beyond material giving. This speaks of a kind of benevolence that does not just touch one area of life—it transforms us entirely. Not a partial change, but a complete inner shift. A full-circle transformation that revives the spirit, redirects the course of our lives, and reconnects us with the One. The difference lies in connection. When our link to IkOankar—the One—is neglected, we remain untouched by this deeper benevolence. But when that connection is nourished, the spirit within us awakens. It’s like a spark catching fire; blessings and grace begin to move together, and we come into the presence of the eternal Guru. And at the center of all of this, again, is Nam (Identification with IkOankar), the essence that makes life come alive. What is shared with us is not a doctrine, but a lived experience: this is how it happened for me, this is what I felt. And that connection makes our entire being feel lush—green like a forest after rain, full of vitality. It’s a joy that pulses through both mind and body, not temporary, but lasting. This is not just poetry—it’s an insight into how to live, how to feel, how to acknowledge the Force behind our becoming.

We are gently reminded: grace is not earned, it is received. And when received with humility, it reshapes everything. Taking a cue from Guru Arjan’s way of living and expressing gratitude, we’re invited to reflect on how we want to show gratitude to the One for the grace constantly showered upon us. We are invited to consider how we respond to a benevolence that holds us, shapes us, and makes the impossible possible—not just in moments of crisis, but in the quiet, everyday unfolding of our lives. Often, we get caught in the chase of things we believe we cannot live without. We build our sense of identity and stability around careers, relationships, status, and routines. And yet, we are prompted to ask: What is our true support? What sustains us when all else feels uncertain? What keeps us internally lush, alive, and rooted—not just physically, but from within?