𝗔𝗻 𝗜𝗹𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗜𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗚𝘂𝗿𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘃 𝗥𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗲..

An illuminating incident from the life of 𝗚𝘂𝗿𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘃 Rabindranath Tagore offers a quiet yet profound lesson on ego, perception, and creativity.

Once, Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore   was crossing the river Yamuna by boat. It was night. A few fellow passengers, recognizing him, began praising his genius and urged him to compose something worthy of his greatness. Pleased by their admiration, Gurudev agreed.

Under the dim glow of a candle, he began to write. But the words refused to flow. The more he tried, the more strained and irritated he became. Time passed; inspiration did not arrive. Finally, frustrated and uneasy—unwilling either to disappoint his admirers or to expose his own inner struggle—he extinguished the candle.

And then something remarkable happened.

As the candlelight vanished, soft moonlight flooded the boat. The river shimmered, the silence deepened, and the entire scene became quietly soulful. Gurudev was suddenly overwhelmed by beauty. In that moment, poetry began to pour forth—effortlessly, unforced, alive.

Turning to his fellow passengers, he said gently,

“Thank you for teaching me an important lesson today.”

The candlelight, though small, had been sufficient to hide the moonlight. In the same way, a petty ego—even a subtle one—can obscure the vast beauty of life.

Gurudev’s ego, momentarily awakened by praise, was searching for proof of his own greatness. That search failed. The candle in this story symbolizes ego: limited, self-referential, and blinding in its own way. The moment it was put out, the moonlight—symbolizing the creator’s beauty—revealed itself. When Gurudev ceased trying to prove something, he began to receive something. Poetry flowed, not from effort, but from attunement.

In the computer world, we often hear the acronym WYSIWYG—What You See Is What You Get.

In life, the principle may be stated differently:

“What you look for is what you find.”

The vulture and the hummingbird

Both the vulture and the hummingbird fly over the same desert.

The vulture looks for rotting flesh—and finds it.

The hummingbird seeks flowers—and sings.

The desert has not changed. Only the seeker has.

So it is with us. Sometimes, we are the vulture; sometimes, the hummingbird. Sometimes, we allow the candlelight of ego to hide the moonlight of truth, while the moonlight patiently waits for the candle to be set aside.

Life faithfully reflects our inner orientation. What we habitually look for—faults or beauty, lack or abundance, self-importance or wonder—that is what comes to dominate our experience.

Hence the wisdom behind the phrase Sapere Vedere—knowing what to see.

To know what deserves our attention is a mark of maturity and inner refinement.

Consider the hammer: the same hammer that shatters glass can shape steel. The hammer does not change; the material does. Whether life’s blows break us or strengthen us depends on what we are prepared to be.

And perhaps we need not choose only one.

Why not be steel and glass together?

Steel in will and resolve.

Glass in transparency and integrity.

With the strength to endure, and the clarity to let light pass through:—

we may then discover that the moonlight has always been there, waiting quietly for the candle to be put out.