Some Doors Open Only When You Let Light In

Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa

This stanza is the bright answer to the blindness of the one before. The lost soul of stanza five couldn't see the way; here, "gur saakhee mitia andhiaara" — through the Guru's teaching, the darkness was wiped away. The cure for blindness is light, and the Guru is where the light comes from. Notice the soul didn't cure its own blindness by trying harder to see — that's impossible. The light had to come from outside, from the teaching. This is the humility at the heart of Guru Amar Das's vision: we cannot save ourselves by willpower; we are awakened by grace working through the Guru.

The middle line names exactly what got quiet: "haumai meraa thaak rahaaia" — haumai (the "I," the self-importance) and "meraa" (the "mine," the grasping) were stilled. These two — the "I" and the "mine" — are the whole engine of the ego. "I am important" and "this is mine" — almost all our suffering grows from those two roots. And they don't get killed in a dramatic battle; they get "thaak rahaaia" — stilled, brought to rest, the way a spinning top finally wobbles to a stop. When the "I/mine" engine stops spinning, the peace that was always underneath ("sadaa sukh") is finally felt.

The closing image is one of the most powerful in all of Guru Amar Das's writing: "bajar kapaat khulaavania" — the adamantine doors swung open. Bajar kapaat means doors hard as diamond, impossibly heavy, doors you could never force open by your own strength no matter how hard you pushed. These are the doors of the closed-off heart, sealed shut by years of ego and fear. And here's the wonder: you don't break them down. They open — "khulaavania," are caused to open — once the Guru's light reaches them and the ego goes quiet. The thing you struggled against for years, that wouldn't budge, simply opens on its own when grace touches it. Some doors can't be forced; they can only be opened from the other side, when you finally stop pushing and let the light in.