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Monday Morning Greetings 2024 #12 – Why Humility is the Jewel of Devotional Practice

March 18th, 2024

Humility is the most important quality in developing devotion. I am therefore always interested in explaining it in various ways to save it from conjuring up misconceptions, such as humility is weakness or that humility fosters low self-esteem. That’s what I will do in this post, but first I need to make the concept of “authority”, which is fundamental to my definition, properly understood, as “authority” means different things to different people based on their personal and cultural experience or what definition they use. First, my definition of humility and then a clarification of the use of the word “authority” in terms of that definition: Humility means to give up one’s false and personal authority to the abode of real authority.

 

I am not using the word “authority” here in the sense of “the power and right to give orders and to make others obey”, because to acquiesce to such authority would indicate that the blind followers of despots and cult leaders would be humble. Rather, I am using the word “authority” in the sense of “a person of special knowledge” and humility as the tendency to acquiesce to such an authority, specifically to the Absolute Truth.

 

Also, when I refer to the authority of an Absolute Truth, I am not referring to a specific deity or a particular religion, but more in the sense that there is a logos, a truth embedded within the universe, and that humility is the tendency and feeling to be ruled by universal principles or truths above one’s own authority.

 

To help make this concept clearer I thought of an analogy to put this perspective of humility in the proper light. Relinquishing one’s personal authority to a greater authority is like the mood of child happily taking full shelter of their loving mother. The analogy is not meant to demonstrate that a humble person needs to be under the constant direction of someone else, for such a person can fend and think for themselves, as those principles of authority (higher knowledge) have already been internalized by their education and life experience.   In other words, the analogy is meant to demonstrate that, like a child in their mother’s arms, a humble person has a positive sense of insignificance when acknowledging the care and direction from a higher authority.

 

The first symptom of humility is therefore realizing that one’s own personal authority in pursuit of happiness has miserably failed, and that prudence dictates that one seeks a greater authority than one’s own regarding such a pursuit. If one is sincere and fortunate, by God’s grace, one will certainly find such shelter and fully surrender to the direction of such authority (higher knowledge).  As one’s life flourishes under such truth and the people who represent it, the validity of God’s authority and the limits of one’s own becomes more apparent and a deep sense of humility wells in the heart. Feeling mercy from God in this way, one’s devotion also blossoms. So, in this sense I see humility as giving up one’s false and personal authority to the realm of true authority, which, even more significantly, is the jewel of devotional practice:

 

“One should chant the holy name of the Lord in a humble state of mind, thinking oneself lower than the straw in the street, more tolerant than a tree, devoid of all sense of false prestige, and ready to offer all respects to others. In such a state of mind one can chant constantly.” (Śikṣāṣṭakam 3)

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2024 #11 – Immigration and the Gītā

March 11th, 2024

Immigration and the Gītā[1]

 

April 10, 2017

A friend of mine in Washington, D.C. complained to me that the Hare Krishna movement is losing a good opportunity to share the profundity of its teachings by not being involved in spiritual activism.[2] I will take up his challenge by commenting on the modern-day mess in governance by analyzing immigration policy based on the Bhagavad-gītā.

 

There are two extreme views of immigration. One is radically exclusive nationalism, wherein, in the US, “America First” is the only principle, and to protect that principle we have to apply the letter of the law seemingly without heart. In this view, families can sometimes be separated and people who have been terribly oppressed, some who have sacrificed their lives abroad for American interest, can be detained or deported upon arrival, even if they have already been thoroughly vetted.

 

The other view is radically inclusive globalism, a perspective that sees any imposition based on nationalist borders as antithetical to both humanistic and spiritual values. I will argue based on the Gītā that both of these views lack compassion and sensibility.

 

The extremism of the first view would be opposed by verses in the Gītā that present the universality of living entities based on the soul.

 

“The humble sages, by virtue of true knowledge, see with equal vision a learned and gentle brāhmaṇa, a cow, an elephant, a dog and a dog-eater [outcaste].” (Gītā 5.18)

 

Such verses either imply or outright condemn viewing people according to the bodily concept of life such as nationalism. Another of many examples:

 

“That knowledge by which one sees that in every different body there is a different type of living entity you should understand to be in the mode of passion.” (Gītā 18.21)

 

It should also be noted in this discussion that at times Srila Prabhupada spoke very strongly against borders based on artificial bodily distinction:

 

“We pass through Canada to USA. Why Canada? Why USA? This is bodily concept. ‘It is meant for the Canadians,’ ‘it is meant for USA, Americans.’ Immigration, customs, the same mentality as a dog coming from another neighborhood. The other dogs, they all come together, ‘Yow, yow, why you have come, why you have come?’ In civilized dress only. This is the position. What is the difference between the dog’s mentality . . . When another dog comes to another neighborhood, these neighborhood dogs, you know that? All animals. ‘Yow, why you have come?’ So this department, ‘Why you have come here?’ dogs barking, and this immigration, what is the difference?” (June 2, 1976 Toronto)

 

Although the Gītā certainly speaks about the principle of universality, the underlying value against nationalism, it also promotes the value of reciprocity, a view opposed to indiscriminate globalism. I would define reciprocity as the principle of caring more for those dependent on one, such as family, or in this case a government, giving special care or consideration for its citizens, and to understand that not doing so is impersonal. Before I reference the Gītā, I would like to share an interesting exchange that Confucius had with an adversary specifically in relation to this tension:

 

“Confucius advocated ‘care with distinctions’: we owe everyone a baseline benevolence, but we have specific duties toward those close to us, those who have done us the most good, like our family, our parents, our close friends.

 

“He was opposed by Mozi, a philosopher who argued that we owe everyone the same care, that the idea of specific obligations was too much like partiality.

 

“Confucius’ disciples like Mencius argue that Mozi’s idea is completely impracticable; even Mozi’s best followers treated their parents with special care. But worse, it is immoral: to treat people who have sacrificed much for us, like our parents, the same way that we treat a stranger is grossly offensive.”[3]

 

It seems clear that in the Gītā Krishna also supports this principle, “care with distinction,” that challenges the extremism of the second view.

 

“I envy no one, nor am I partial to anyone. I am equal to all. But whoever renders service unto Me in devotion is a friend, is in Me, and I am also a friend to him.” (Gītā 9.29)

 

In his purport Srila Prabhupada discusses how the very basis of personalism is that one appropriately reciprocates with those under one’s care and such “partiality” is beyond selfishness and karma. I would recommend that one read the whole purport, but here is just a small excerpt where Srila Prabhupada defends special care as natural, not narrow:

 

“One may question here that if Kṛṣṇa is equal to everyone and no one is His special friend, then why does He take a special interest in the devotees who are always engaged in His transcendental service? But this is not discrimination; it is natural. Any man in this material world may be very charitably disposed, yet he has a special interest in his own children.” (Gītā 9.29, purport)

 

Another famous reference for the principle of reciprocity as being above prejudice:

 

“As all surrender unto Me, I reward them accordingly. Everyone follows My path in all respects, O son of Pṛthā.” (Gītā 4.11)

 

In his purport Srila Prabhupada comments on this principle of “care with distinction” in relation to the dealings of Krishna and how it is equally applicable in this world:

 

“Kṛṣṇa reciprocates with His pure devotees in the transcendental attitude, just as the devotee wants Him. One devotee may want Kṛṣṇa as supreme master, another as his personal friend, another as his son, and still another as his lover. Kṛṣṇa rewards all the devotees equally, according to their different intensities of love for Him. In the material world, the same reciprocations of feelings are there . . .” (Gītā 4.11, purport)

 

I think this “care with distinction” principle is also just common sense. I know one person close to me who, when growing up, had a father who was altruistic to everyone but not especially partial to her, and whose evenness to everyone caused her to feel sorely neglected.

 

In regard to the issue of immigration, both universality and reciprocity, as espoused in the Gītā, have appropriate application. Every entity, whether family or country, should extend itself as far as possible for all people, understanding the superficiality of bodily distinctions, including taking those less fortunate into one’s fold to whatever practical extent one is capable of (care). However, it is also reasonable for a country to protect its borders and show some special concern to the needs of its own citizens for economic, social, or security reason (distinction). According to the Gītā we can’t deal with even illegal immigrants just on the basis of law without some real consideration for them as spiritual beings, nor can we deal with people living here illegally in total neglect of the laws intended to protect its citizens.

 

The specific application of these contradictory principles is beyond the scope of this paper, but their application calls for compassionate and intelligent leaders who apply these principles neither as indiscriminate multi-culturalists nor as xenophobic nationalists, having respect both for the universality of all beings and the need for reciprocity with those under one’s care.

 

These are complex issues with many considerations, including the legitimacy of proprietorship of those who rule certain lands, but those discussions are again beyond the scope of this column. I have presented certain eternal principles in my attempt to add to these discussions a view through the eyes of shastra. I will send it to my friend and see if he is satisfied with my attempt at spiritual activism.

 

 


[1] It’s been quite a while since I used a reprint, Usually this is done only when I absolutely don’t have time to finish an article because of my schedule. This week I was tackling a complex issue and despite having the time I wasn’t able to achieve enough clarity on it to complete an article to my standard.

[2] By spiritual activism, I mean having an active voice in contemporary problems—not taking partisan sides, but rather trying to find perspectives within the spiritual traditions by which we can make sense of our problems and challenges.

[3] From a correspondence I had with Professor Matthew Dasti, Associate Professor in the Philosophy Department at Bridgewater State University.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2024 #10 – Substance is More Important Than Allegiance

March 4th, 2024

A few stories and the question they raise:

 

I have dealt with Father Ashley intimately and have observed him carefully as he manages the Isopanthi Retreat Center where we have been holding our Puri Retreat for years. He serves others selflessly and shows utmost deference to everyone, including the Vaiṣṇavas. As far as I can tell he tries to emulate Christ. We were impressed with him. If I had any criticism, I suspect it would be his diet.

 

I am still in touch with my elder cousin, Ma Seva Bharati, a sannyāsini, who, forty-five years ago, renounced a very comfortable and successful life to serve her guru in the Himalayas, at times high in the mountains without even running water. She has visited me in Vrindavan several times and has shown great respect to the devotees of Krishna, the holy name, and Śrīla Prabhupāda’s Bhagavad-gītā, especially appreciating his strong purports. When I introduced my cousin to a god-brother who, for a second, was taken aback by her appearance—a shaved head with a bright orange kurta down to her ankles—I loved her response, indicating her study of those purports: “I’m a rascal impersonalist!” She’s good humored, respectful, and saintly. I enjoy her company.

 

Twenty years ago, due to visa problems, I had to leave India for six months and started visiting and teaching at yoga centers in New York. I especially liked the Broome Street Temple where Kaustubha was learning yoga and had become friendly with the head teacher, Eddie Stern. I was very impressed with his brahminical qualities, including how respectful he was to others, especially the devotees who visited. He even invited Kaustubha to bring his Radha-Krishna deities to his center, which Kaustubha worshiped there for a while. I was surprised how my mind initially responded to him, myself having been cloistered in a Hare Krishna center in India for so many years: “How can he be so elevated? He’s not a devotee,” but I quickly corrected such petty thinking by recalling the obvious—that although I have my faith as a Vaiṣṇava in the preeminence of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s teachings, a person’s spiritual status is much more than just belonging to a group. I immediately branded my realization as “substance is more important than allegiance”.

 

I think my “mantra” is a challenge to the members of all institutions, as there is such a tendency to worship and serve an institution and forget what that institution is a vehicle for. That is not meant to minimize the importance and benefit we receive from proper spiritual institutions, which socialize, preserve, and disseminate the realizations of the great spiritual leader who founded them. I only mean to offer a caution to not fall prey to the illusion that I saw in myself—that just because one feels they have the best tradition or have the most elevated guru or belong to the most powerful organization, it makes one more elevated than others who adhere to teachings one finds less elevated or even questionable. In other words, if we don’t do the work to imbibe and practice the tenets or ideals of our tradition, then our allegiance to that tradition means little in terms of our stature.

 

A few years ago, while visiting Isopanthi, a friend of mine and I were walking around their center when we noticed two large, framed pictures of two prominent saints in their religious order. One of the saints, although from Poland, very much looked Chinese with a Fu Manchu beard and a traditional Chinese cap. We read how he spent his whole life in China preaching the gospel and so much appreciated being there that “he prayed to be Chinese in heaven.” We looked at each other and shared the same thought: “What a shallow understanding!” We were glad that we were in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s line where “you are not the body” is the most rudimentary of teachings. In a playful way I then challenged my friend:

 

“OK. Who does Krishna look more favorably upon, Father Ashley who serves Christ selflessly and shows utmost respect to the devotees or _______ who, although was a devotee of Krishna and had done a lot of service, also terribly mistreated the devotees, even banning people from his temple for personal and doctrinal reasons, all the while using it as base for his personal business eventually being forced to leave with probably millions of dollars only to sue ISKCON for more?” My friend thought for a moment and responded:

 

“Good question.”

 

Yes, good question, but I think ultimately the conclusion should be clear:

 

Substance is more important than allegiance!

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2024 #9 – The Agony is the Ecstasy

February 26th, 2024

I just finished studying and teaching the second chapter of the Madhya-līlā, “The Ecstatic Manifestations of Lord Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu”. It’s a challenging chapter because counter-intuitively the highest ecstasy is described as manifest through emotions, which reflect neither ecstasy nor the highest consciousness, but gloom and an uncontrolled mind:

 

“[…] all the ecstatic symptoms of Lord Caitanya Mahāprabhu—including despondency, moroseness, humility, restlessness, joy, endurance and anger—instructed His body and mind.” (Cc. Madhya-līlā 2.76)

 

Śrīla Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja outlines this dichotomy:

 

“Externally there appeared severe tribulation, as if He were suffering from poisonous effects, but internally He was experiencing bliss. This is characteristic of transcendental love of Krishna.” (Cc. Madhya-līlā 2.50)

 

My attempt to resolve this quandary:

 

Beyond Duality

The spiritual realm is beyond duality. The Taittiriya Upaniṣad describes this as raso vai saḥ, “He (the Lord) is rasa (heightened love)”, which is ecstasy, because pure love is the highest pleasure. Makes sense. If there is a God, everything that happens in His spiritual realm would naturally be only for the purpose of intensifying rasa, or His transcendental pleasure, and thus every emotion, even the apparently negative ones, would also serve this purpose and in that way there is no duality between the agony and the ecstasy there. The rasa theory further resolves this dichotomy.

 

The Rasa Theory

The rasa theory, based on the ṭya Śāstra, is a thorough description of how drama is to be composed. It’s a complex thesis but let me try to simplify it for our purpose, which is to reconcile how agony can be ecstasy in Krishna’s pastimes. Rasa is a consuming human emotion. There are generally nine in number such as tragedy (karuṇa-rasa), fear (bhayānakarasa), romance (śṛṅgāra-rasa), and so on. Rasa theory is the science of recreating a consuming emotion in a drama, so that the qualified audience feels that same emotion and enjoys the drama. In other words, the audience should feel sorrow (karuṇa-rasa) while watching a tragedy or feel scared (bhayānak-rasa) while watching a horror movie and enjoy those dramas at the same time, a dichotomy I think we may have all experienced. Śrī Krishna-līlā in the spiritual world, as portrayed in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, operates by the same principles of drama found in the ṭya Śāstra, but instead of recreating one of the nine consuming human emotions, Śrī Krishna-līlā is about bhakti-rasa, the heightening of love for God. Cannot therefore the same principle be applied there, where negative emotions are intensely felt but enjoyed at the same time? But I think there is one more point that is even more compelling in terms of resolving this dichotomy.

 

The Lord has Inconceivable Potency

We often make the mistake when trying to solve apparent contradictions in reference to the Divine by trying to resolve them through how things operate in this world, forgetting that God has inconceivable potency and thus not subject to the laws of nature and the reasoning they dictate. The Śrī Īśopaniṣad describes this nicely:

 

“The Supreme Lord walks and does not walk. He is far away, but He is very near as well. He is within everything, and yet He is outside of everything.” (Mantra 5)

 

Śrīla Prabhupāda elucidates the point further in his purport:

 

“[…] Ordinarily, if someone can walk, it is illogical to say he cannot walk. But in reference to God, such a contradiction simply serves to indicate His inconceivable power. With our limited fund of knowledge we cannot accommodate such contradictions, and therefore we conceive of the Lord in terms of our limited powers of understanding.”

 

So, I think, in a sense, this may be the ultimate reconciliation of such quandaries—that God has inconceivable potencies, and such contradictions cannot be resolved by ordinary reasoning based on how the laws of nature operate, which do not rule the Absolute.

 

So can the agony be the ecstasy? Why not?

 

 

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2024 #8 – This is the Movement of the Living Entity!

February 19th, 2024

I was standing in a large meadow in Golden Gate Park in the middle of San Francisco before the stage where Śrīla Prabhupāda was lecturing to thousands of young people who were attracted by the Ratha-yātrā. It was July 1974. Perhaps, you remember that famous picture of Śrīla Prabhupāda wearing a white sweater adorned with a starkly contrasted bright red rose garland, his hands raised in ecstasy in kirtan surrounded on stage by his dancing disciples. To this day I remember the profundity and force of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s speech that reverberated from the speakers in the trees that lined the back of the meadow:

 

“There are so many movements of liberation: women’s liberation, black liberation, this liberation, and that liberation, BUT THIS IS THE MOVEMENT OF THE LIVING ENTITY!”

 

Now let me take you forward to yesterday, here in Govardhan, and then explain what inspired me to connect that experience to what I heard in 1974.

 

Paramananda das and his son Kana were visiting, so I took them, along with two lady guests, Bhakti Śāstra and Yogamāyā, for some Brijabasi rotis in the nearby village of Aniyor in Govardhan at the house of the family of Bal Kishan Sharma, 84, one of the blessed brāhmaṇa families who, for generations, cook rotis for the sādhus who circumambulate the hill once or twice daily. I like to share the experience of taking lunch there with others so they can relish the rotis and watch one effulgent sādhu after another show up at the door as the family enthusiastically responds to serve them. When we arrived, Bal Kishan was there along with his wife, daughter-in-law, and a couple of late teen/early twenties granddaughters congregated in their small second floor common room, which also has two attached small bedrooms and an adjacent uncovered large veranda that houses a small enclave for their one simple clay chula (stove) on the floor.

 

We watched how the family exchanged so lovingly with each other, served us with enthusiasm and reciprocated with the sādhus who blessed them with their smiles. When we finished, they also brought us into their web of joy and laughter. It took me some time to extract our group from the “party.” I finally just looked at my watch and decided it was time to kill the fun and politely asked permission to go. We then proceeded again towards the parikrama on a small village road perpendicular to the front of their house, which rests practically adjacent to Govardhan Hill. It was the first day of spring so as we were walking, we passed many elderly Brijabasi ladies sitting in bunches in front of various houses getting sun and enjoying each other’s company. Upon seeing us they also invited the people with me to exchange with them. My party was again caught in a web of joy.

 

When were back on the parikrama path, I think we all had the same epiphany—that this was a kind of Alice in Wonderland experience where you fall down a rabbit hole into a fantasy world. It was like a veil was lifted and we entered Krishna’s village thousands of years ago when He was manifest there. But something else struck me that was also more topical, which is the focus of what I was inspired to share this week and brings me back Śrīla Prabhupāda’s comment in 1974.

 

Besides our epiphany in relationship to seeing the real Vrindavan, I also saw something more basic, a very functional family and community. To me it was such a stark contrast to the increasing social dysfunction today in the west, especially America, where I stay part of the year. Numerous studies show that there is a burgeoning mental health epidemic that just can’t be minimized by the greater awareness of mental illness today.[1] It’s real, just as is the rapidly increasing problems of drugs, crime, and loneliness in the modern world are real. I think you have to be blind to not see that something has gone terribly awry. Therefore, when leaving Aniyor, and experiencing what seemed to me to be the best of tradition in terms of family and community and contrasting that to what I am seeing today, I thought of the statement by Śrīla Prabhupāda that reverberated in my ears in 1974—that although some change, some liberation was arguably needed, that alone would not lead to the transformation that people wanted and that should be obvious today more than ever. What we need more than ever before is a spiritual revival—A MOVEMENT OF THE LIVING ENTITY!

 

 


[1] Studies that indicate this take into account that mental illness is less of a stigma and more readily acknowledged and reported today.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2024 #7 – I Have No Devotion!

February 12th, 2024

There is a principle in spiritual life that the more one is advanced in devotion, the less devotion one feels they have. Here’s how Śrī Caitanya feels at the height of His devotion:

 

“Srī Caitanya Mahāprabhu continued, ‘My dear friends, I have not the slightest tinge of love of Godhead within My heart. When you see Me crying in separation, I am just falsely exhibiting a demonstration of My great fortune. Indeed, not seeing the beautiful face of Krishna playing His flute, I continue to live My life like an insect, without purpose.’” (Cc. Madhya-līlā 2.46)

 

It sounds almost counterintuitive to have the most of something, in this case devotion, but to feel you have none of it. Here’s four reasons why this is the case in terms of prema-bhakti, the height of devotion:

 

Purity and humility

 

Just as in a clear, pure glass of water a speck of dust becomes apparent, in a pure heart even an apparent indiscretion seems significant. Srīla Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja illustrates this humble position in relation to attaining prema with a similar analogy:

 

“Love for Lord Krishna is very pure, just like the waters of the Ganges. That love is an ocean of nectar. That pure attachment to Krishna does not conceal any spot, which would appear just like a spot of ink on a white cloth.” (Cc. Madhya-līlā 2.48)

 

The immanence of God and humility

 

The very definition of maya (illusion) is ma (not) ya (this)—that what you are seeing is not what it is. In other words, everything is God’s energy, but we fall into the illusion that it is not God’s because if we recognize God’s immanence then our false ego, the desire for a sense of control and superiority, cannot be maintained, and we are humbled. In contrast, one who has pure devotion embraces God’s immanence rather than avoid it, for seeing God’s immanence is simply an inspiration to serve Him. In this regard, I always liked how Śrī Gopīparāṇadhana dāsa, in his commentary to Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta, described the reason why a pure brāhmaṇa so militantly demurred Nārada’s praise, when Nārada deemed him the topmost recipient of Śrī Krishna’s mercy:

 

“Any true devotee of Krishna considers himself insignificant, thinking himself one of countless jīvas who are mere sparks of God’s splendor.” (Bb. 1.1.44, commentary)

 

Hunger and humility

 

When one strongly desires something, one feels a lack of it, even if they have a substantial amount of it, just as a craving for food indicates a lack of it in one’s mind, even if one already has been sufficiently fed. Pure devotion is the strong desire to be with and serve God. Therefore, as one’s hunger for God increases, one naturally feels they have less and less devotion.

 

Reverence for the sādhus and humility

 

A devotee just related to me an exchange that he had with a senior Vaiṣṇava from ISKCON who had just given class, a devotee I know for his deep internal attainment. He asked him how to remain humble when one’s devotion increases, especially when one has a deep religious or spiritual experience. I loved his answer: “We don’t compare ourselves to our previous selves or compare our devotion to just anybody, but we compare ourselves to those more advanced in devotion. Whenever I feel Krishna’s mercy while chanting in a particular place of pilgrimage in Vrindavan, I just imagine what Srīla Rūpa Gosvāmī was feeling there in comparison, and it’s humbling”. When this was related to me, I immediately thought of Uddhava’s response when Śrī Nārada approached him as the topmost recipient of Krishna’s mercy:

 

“[…] Aware of what Nārada was thinking, Uddhava remembered many devotees who had received the Lord’s special favor. As Uddhava meditated on those devotees, their love for the Lord, and the wealth of their loving ecstasies, he felt distress, thinking himself fallen, and cried helplessly […]” (Bb. 1.6.19-21)

 

It should not, therefore, be hard to understand:

 

“Wherever there is a relationship of love of Godhead, its natural symptom is that the devotee does not think himself a devotee. Instead, he always thinks that he has not even a drop of love for Krishna.” (Cc. Antya-līlā 20.28)

 

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2024 #6 – The Art of Traction

February 5th, 2024

Years ago, I showed a short TED Talk called “The Art of Distraction” during a japa seminar.[1] It featured Apollo Robbins, the world’s most expert pick pocket, explaining and demonstrating his art. His premise was that perception is based on attention and as the mind can focus on only one sense at a time, if you can distract a person from the feel of touch in their pocket to some other sense—perhaps touching them someplace else—you can pick their pocket without them knowing it. He was so expert at the art of distraction that he was able to pick the pocket of a person brought on stage right in front of the audience with neither the person nor the audience noticing it.

This principle—that perception is based on attention—is more deeply described in ṅkhya when discussing the two main qualities of the mind as anutvam (atomic) and ekatvam (it can only focus on a singular object at one time).[2] Using these terms, for example, “the art of distraction” can be translated as deliberately moving or distracting the atomic and single focused mind away from something someone really wants, in this case a focus on the things in their pocket for the purpose of taking them without notice. It doesn’t take much to understand how this principle of perception based on attention can be applied to japa meditation, for if one doesn’t take precaution to concentrate on hearing the holy name by at least creating a time and space for chanting free from distraction, our perception of, and therefore taste for, the holy name will probably be compromised. I would like, however, to couch this discussion in just a slightly different way, which I will aptly call “the art of traction”—consciously moving the atomic and singular focused mind toward something we want, in this case the sense of hearing, so that we can perceive (hear) Krishna’s holy name during our japa meditation.

There are two ways that the mind can be focused in japa meditation by “the art of traction”. We can do this by bringing the atomic mind to a single focus on hearing the holy name by consciously awakening an understanding that we should do so (traction by intelligence) or awakening an attraction to do so (traction by the heart).

Of course, the most powerful connection with an object is through traction by the heart, or an emotional connection, in the case of japa meditation by a love for Krishna and thus an attachment to His holy name. Most of us, however, either do not have a profound attraction for Krishna or are too distracted at the beginning of our meditation to immediately access such devotion. Here are just some ways in which I try to gain traction for meditation, at least at the beginning of my chanting.

There are no hard and fast rules for gaining traction for the holy name. This post is more about explaining a principle than outlining a definitive guide. To demonstrate the “art of traction” I will therefore share two ways I have used recently to gain traction in meditation, and then I will share a link to some other ways that I have previously described.

An example of traction by intelligence

Focusing on one couplet of the mantra: I especially consciously focus on pronouncing one couplet of the Hare Krishna mantra, usually the first. At the beginning of our meditation the mind may wander even during one mantra. By bringing the mind to the first couplet with special concentration on pronouncing it helps fix the atomic mind (anutvam) back to singular focus (ekatvam) on the whole mantra. I was inspired to do this by Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura’s Bhajan Rahasya.[3]

An example of traction by the heart

Reading and chanting: The Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and books based on the Bhāgavatam describe and imbibe devotion for the person (Śrī Krishna) whose name you are chanting. The combination of imbibing the mood of the Bhāgavatam and chanting the holy name can help one gain focus in japa meditation, especially when done together. This was the example of Śrī Caitanya in the Gambhīra. During His bhajan, He both chanted the holy name and listened to the songs and stories of the person of the name He was chanting (Śrī Krishna) recited by His confidential associates Śrī Rāmānanda Rāya and Śrī Svarūpa Dāmodara. Following His example, sometimes before chanting and after every eight rounds or so I read a few pages of Krishna Book.

Other examples of the art of traction

In a post from over ten years ago I mentioned five ways in which I gained traction for chanting, both from the intelligence and heart. For example, I mentioned how Śrīla Prabhupāda told us to chant like a child crying for his mother, which is a powerful technique to gain traction in meditation by the heart.

https://wavesofdevotion.com/2012/04/10/the-five-qualities-of-effective-mantra-meditation/

We should not be surprised that meditation is not always easy for us. The Bhāgavatam predicts that people today will always be disturbed and distracted.[4] I thus found it helpful to understand “the art of distraction” and apply “the art of traction”.

 

 


[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZGY0wPAnus

[2] I first heard this concept of the mind in a discussion with Bhakti Vijnana Goswami about ayurveda and mental health. I assumed it is from the school of Sāṅkhya but never confirmed it.

[3] I first was inspired to do this by reading Bhajan Rahasya by Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura. He described advanced techniques to connect each couplet of the holy name with a stage of devotion and with a period of time in the day of Krishna’s pastimes. I am not referring here to such an advanced meditation, but reading this did spark in my mind that this was also a technique for mechanically focusing the mind. In our dīkṣā mantras there also is a seed mantra before each mantra that helps refocus brings the mind back to our mantra before each repetition of it.

[4] Bhag. 1.1.10

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2024 #5 – Coming Attractions

January 29th, 2024

The past week we celebrated our 17th annual Puri Yatra. I wish you could have been there especially for Hari Pārṣada Dās’s seminar, “The Joyous Waves of Śrīla Rūpa Gosvāmī’s Poetry”. Needless to say, I was engaged twenty-four hours a day and couldn’t finish a Monday Morning Greetings. It was not that I had a dearth of topics to write about. This week I will share a short synopsis of the topics I was thinking of writing about and then share a previous Monday Morning Greetings.

 

The Mission of Śrī Caitanya and the Genius of Sanātana Gosvāmī in Presenting It

 

This was the subject of my seminar. I described the immense challenge that Śrīla Sanātana Gosvāmī faced trying to communicate to his audience, us, the extreme level of transcendence (parama-daśānta) and the brilliant way he built the frame of reference of his audience in Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta for us to understand it.

 

The Art of Traction

 

I once wrote an article about the most famous pick pocket in the world called the Art of Distraction where he showed how to take your attention away from what you were doing or thinking about so that he could pickpocket you.[1] The Art of Traction would be about the opposite, techniques that I learned to take your attention towards what you are doing or thinking, in this case meditating on the holy name.

 

Substance is Higher than Allegiance

 

Our Puri Yatra was held at a beautiful Catholic retreat center that was run by just one Catholic priest, Father Ashley. His mood of service and his non-sectarian mood was very impressive. In this article I will explore the concept that more important than the devotional spiritual lineage you belong to is your adherence to its principles.

 

 

It’s the Mind!

July 23, 2018

Everyone has their own set of irrational fears and anxieties according to their past experiences, in this life or previous ones, often embedded deep in the subconscious. Mine is travel. I wouldn’t say it is debilitating—I don’t lose sleep over it—but when I travel, I worry unnecessarily. I have to be hours early for a flight. I can understand being reasonably cautious, but inevitably I arrive far before what is necessary. And as soon as my car pulls out of the driveway to leave for the airport, I nervously slap my pockets to check for my passport, ticket, and wallet, even though I checked for these things numerous times before I left. Today, after more than forty years traveling in the Hare Krishna movement, I think I finally came to my senses:

 

Why all this worry? Am I really the controller? Whether I miss my plane or not is really not up to me. There are five factors of action, and only one is our endeavor, so just do your duty and leave on time, not hours before. The rest is really up to Krishna. He has already decided whether or not you need to be to the next place on time. It is all so basic that it is almost embarrassing.

 

Thinking this way reaffirmed a realization. It’s the mind! In other words, all our problems are more how we see things than how they actually are.

 

A personal and classic example: Previously, when coming from the airport to Vrindavan, I would have my driver head directly to Kesi Ghata on the bank of the Yamuna. My ritual was to take a holy bath for purification before daring to begin my undeserved stay in this most sacred of places. One year, while descending the steps of the ghāṭa to bathe, I noticed a big black snake looming on the bottom step. Whoa! Apprehensively, I moved thirty yards further down the river before quickly bathing, still harboring that very dangerous serpent in my mind. While walking back to my car, I looked down to the first step only to see that same black snake sitting in the exact same position. It hadn’t moved an inch! I was surprised. As I wasn’t wearing my glasses, I began to squint to examine the situation more clearly. Then I began to chuckle—it was just a black tire! Just see, a snake posed a danger, but the problem existed only in my mind.

 

A deeper existential example: The greatest problem or fear is death, because we lose everything including our present identity, but death itself is only the illusion of non-existence. How much unnecessary and unlimited worry do we have to endure due to the mind before we wake up!

 

Back to my petty anxieties: I am in Sochi. My flight for Vilnius is 11:15 AM, and the airport is 45 minutes away. My host says we will leave at 8:00. I suggest leaving 15 minutes earlier, but my host assures me that it is more than enough time. I naturally start to think, What if… but I check my impulse. Stop this silliness and depend on Krishna. I begin to reflect that the anxiety I have accrued over the years in the process of travel is so much worse than the worst-case scenario—a rare missed flight—which may never even happen.

 

It is so clear. There may be serious challenges in life, but most of our worries are needless. How much time and energy we could save for a productive and peaceful life if we could only starve those irrational thoughts by neglect. It’s funny, but I suddenly think of one of the most famous quotes in American history:

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”[2]

 

 


[1] https://wavesofdevotion.com/2016/05/23/what-i-learned-from-a-pickpocket-about-krishna-consciousness/

[2] Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the 32nd president of the United States, in his first inaugural address, referring to the Great Depression the country was facing at that time.

 

Monday Morning Greeting 2024 #4 – The Passing Away of Sridhara Mali

January 22nd, 2024

The Passing Away of Sridhara Mali[1]

This may be a relatively simple Monday Morning Greetings, but sometimes things can be superficially simple, but in essence very deep. This is about my (our) very simple, but deep friend Sridhara Mali. Our story:

When I first came to Vrindavan there was one taxi and one phone in the whole town. The phone was at the police station. Communication with the outside world was near impossible. I don’t know exactly how it worked, but to call the USA you had to call Mathura, which would call Delhi, which would call the USA, and you were rarely successful. But there was also a certain joy in that level of technological solitude. The parikramā road was still a bumpy dirt road, and halfway around you started entering the forest of Vrindavan. Those who came with me on parikramā over twenty-five years ago remember Hari Bhajan, the saintly forest sādhu whose hermitage was right off the path, and how with his charm and unbounded enthusiasm he would pull you into his forest ashram for prasādam, and then have you sit and do kirtan until it was ready. I’m just trying to give you a sense of the quietude of Vrindavan when I came and some years after that. And then suddenly, about twenty years ago or so, everything changed. The once rustic Raman Reti, where our temple is located, became the center of a burgeoning mini metropolis with traffic jams on the weekends. And that’s where the story of Sridhara Mali begins.

My service has always been sharing Vrindavan with people, but about that time new people arriving began to notice the increasing urbanization. They would become either upset or confused, expecting it to be just a little more like the description they read from Krishna Book—a place filled with flowers, birds, and cows. To facilitate my service, I began a little search for a place nearby to introduce people to the real Vrindavan. One day, instead of walking to the right on the parikramā path where it suddenly veers towards Madan Mohan, I veered left off the path to a dirt road that seemingly went to nowhere. After wandering for about only thirty meters, I saw on my left a small narrow alley leading in the distance to a mysterious black door that piqued my curiosity, so I walked to that door and pushed it open. I was stunned—acres of untouched flower gardens lush with roses, marigolds, tulsi, and a variety of fruit bearing trees. I kept walking towards the Yamuna through the gardens, carefully navigating though the faintly crushed grass paths, until I hit a long makeshift barbed fence. What I saw on the other side further astounded me—a small dirt path running parallel to the main parikramā path lined on the right with small flower garden farms and to the left by hundreds of acres of fertile farms with an unobstructed majestic view of the stately Madan Mohan temple in the distance. I managed to get through the fence and began to walk along that timeless path, and just when I decided to search for a way to get back to the main road from there, I saw a makeshift wooden gate to my right. I entered and began to walk a twenty-meter small rose garden lined path leading to what looked like—from the distance—a humble hermitage. There I was warmly greeted by a very friendly family led by an elderly sādhu, the head of the clan who insisted I take lunch. His family immediately started cooking. All I can say is that I was transported to another world. It was as if I had entered Krishna’s original village, and those Brijabasi rotis, those thick ghee ladened rotis, were like nothing I had ever tasted before. It was the home of what would soon become my good friend Sridhara Mali, his wife, his three sons and their wives, and their many happy and playful young children. They begged me to come back, and I did, bringing whichever people who would visit me. It worked! They were also transported to another world by the natural love for Krishna in the hearts of these simple Brijabasis, and by those rotis. To this day I challenge anyone after going there to look me in the eyes and with all honesty tell me that they have ever tasted anything so ambrosial as those rotis. Since then, I have taken hundreds and hundreds of people, who have all been received with the same unbounded hospitality. I especially enjoy watching how our sophisticated “New Yorkers”[2] sit in awe as these simple Brijabasi ladies, sitting on the floor and cooking on small mud stoves stoked with twigs and cow dung, make “the supreme personality of rotis”[3] with just the repeated pats of their hands. One day my Russian friend insisted on bringing one hundred and fifty people there despite my resistance to the idea. No problem. The Brijabasi lady team just made two additional chulhas (mud stoves), the children helped, and voila! One hundred and fifty Russkies also transported to the spiritual world!

As more and more people started to come and bathe in their hospitality, I built them a small, thatched pavilion to host their guests. It only cost three hundred dollars. I often joked that for three hundred dollars “my temple” in Braja—that thatched pavilion—has turned more people towards Krishna than the majestic temples that our mission is building in India costing millions of dollars. But in a sense it’s true, at least in terms of the hundreds and hundreds of international people, not yet committed devotees, who were transformed by their visit.

To this day when walking in New York near the Bhakti Center people still come up to me, and sometimes I don’t even know who they are, to remind me of the time they visited the home of Sridhara Mali with me and the lasting impression it made on them.

So that is the story of a humble man who opened his hermitage and heart to the world and carried a deep message that Śrīla Prabhupāda often taught—that simple living and high thinking puts to shame our increasing anxiety ridden and confusing techno world.

Sridhara Mali ki jaya!

Epilogue: All is not lost. His family will carry on. When I have my retreat in Vrindavan in two weeks, our group will honor him by again relishing rotis there. Hopefully we will also have a special ceremony there to remember his kindness. I also plan on building a simple shrine there to help remember him. And my challenge remains: After visiting the ashram of Sridhara Mali, look me in the eye and tell me you ever tasted something so sublime!

 

 


[1] “Mali” just means “gardener”.

[2] I initially brought groups from New York as that is where I would preach in the west, but it soon expanded to groups from other places who contacted me.

[3] “The supreme personality of” is my own term for something superlative, especially a food preparation.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2024 #3 – The Spiritual Practice of Śrī Caitanya

January 15th, 2024

This is how Śrī Caitanya practiced and taught His direct disciples the process of attaining love of Godhead as described in Second Chapter of the Madhya-līla of Śrī Caitanya-caritāmta:

 

“By personally tasting the mellows of love of Godhead, Caitanya Mahāprabhu taught His direct disciples. Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu is a wealthy capitalist possessing the touchstone of love of God. Not considering whether one is a proper or improper recipient, He gives His treasure to anyone and everyone. Thus He is the most munificent.” (Cc Madhya-līla 2.81)

 

In the verses preceding this one, what that tasting of the mellows of love of Godhead looks like is described. There Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja depicts Śrī Radha’s extreme feelings of separation from Śrī Krishna as transcendental madness, which hardly seems to be something one coming to the practice of Krishna consciousness can practically embrace. Can this really be the process that Śrī Caitanya gave to everyone and anyone? Concerning another seemingly remarkable claim about the practice of bhakti, I once asked a Vaiṣṇava scholar in Vrindavan how to possibly make sense of the last and eleventh verse of the Upadeśāmta: “If one simply bathes once within those holy waters, one’s pure love of Krishna is fully aroused.” I loved his answer: “Yes, that is true, but it is the last verse. You must first go through the other ten verses to get there, beginning with verse one where it says one must conquer all the pushing’s of the senses, body, and mind.” In the same way, the description of Śrī Caitanya tasting the mellows of love of Godhead refers mostly to His time in Puri at the end of His life (antya-līla) where He practiced nirjana-bhajan (solitary spiritual practice) to perfect His inner spiritual hankerings. Before practicing that stage, however, we are meant first emulate how He practiced devotion in His life to qualify for that stage.

 

Surrendering to a spiritual master

Śrī Krishna is the object of His devotee’s adoration. He came as Śrī Caitanya because He wanted to experience the adoration or devotion that rests only in His devotee’s heart. Therefore, only after surrendering to His teacher and invoking His grace did devotion fully awaken in Śrī Caitanya. The first principle of devotion Śrī Caitanya therefore taught by His example was guru-pādāśraya, taking shelter of a spiritual master.

 

Performance of sakīrtana

Of all nine practices of devotion, chanting the holy name is the most powerful way to attract the Lord’s mercy and advance on the path of bhakti, especially when done congregationally and accompanied by appropriate musical instruments. Consequently, when Śrī Caitanya awakened devotion after taking initiation, His main devotional practice was participating in all-night kirtans at the house of Śrīvāsa Ṭhākura.

 

Showing compassion

Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura wrote that the essence of all religion is to show compassion to the living entities by giving them the holy name. Before settling in Puri to practice nirjana-bhajan, he traveled for six years throughout southern India enlightening others and giving them the holy name. He thus taught that one cannot chant the holy name purely unless one cultivates compassion, thinking of others before oneself.

 

Seek sādhu-saga

Sādhu-saga—the association with those advanced in spiritual life, with a similar mood of devotion, and with whom we can develop an affectionate relation—is the foundation of the path of bhakti. Śrī Caitanya took advantage of the association of the eminently qualified Śrī Rāmānanda Rāya, who he met in southern India to have extensive discussions on the deepest aspects of Krishna consciousness. Later, when He retired to Puri, He asked the same Rāmānanda Rāya, along with Svarūpa Dāmodara, a similarly exalted Vaiṣṇava, to be His confidants. From them, to perfect His bhajan, He would hear the appropriate devotional songs and stories about Śrī Krishna to awaken the type of devotion He was aspiring to achieve. Śrī Caitanya thus showed that at every stage of our spiritual life we must seek the association of advanced devotees.

 

Study the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam daily

Śrī Caitanya studied the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam daily in the Ṭoṭā-gopīnātha temple from Gadādhara Paṇḍita, who taught Him through such study how to prepare oneself in the requisite knowledge and devotional sentiment to understand, awaken, and nourish one’s relationship with Śrī Krishna, in this case the mood of Śrī Radha. He especially liked to hear Śrī Gadādhara narrate and comment on the pastime of Dhruva Mahārāja, to learn determination on the path of bhakti, and the pastime of Śrī Prahlāda, to be inspired in unbroken devotion. Śrī Caitanya thus demonstrated the utmost importance in studying the complete Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam to awaken and nourish a relationship with Krishna.

 

Nirjana-bhajan

Nirjana-bhajan means to retire to a solitary place and to relish the mellows of love of Godhead that one aspires to attain by chanting the holy name and remembering those pastimes in every spare moment. Śrī Caitanya taught by His example that having been established in one’s relationship with Krishna, the foundation of such bhajan is to absorb oneself in the holy names of one’s beloved lord, which further and further reveal in the heart of the devotee the Lord’s form, qualities, and pastimes. Focus on the holy name, however, depends on the depth of our relationship with Krishna in the form of the holy name. To increase that sambandha (relationship) with the holy name, He listened to the songs and pastimes of the person whose names He was chanting, and worshiped the form of the person of the name He was chanting, in this case Śrī Jagannath.

 

So that’s the practice of Śrī Caitanya—surrender to a qualified guru, chant the holy name, preach Krishna consciousness, take sādhu-saga, study the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, and when one’s heart becomes purified and one has awakened their relationship with Krishna, sit down in a holy place and dedicate twenty-four hours a day to chanting, hearing, and remembering one’s beloved Lord. Sounds a lot like what Śrīla Prabhupāda gave us.

 

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