Waves of Devotion

Part 1: Prayerful Reading
 
Have you ever read a book that talks to you? If you don’t believe it’s possible, then prayerfully read the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam daily. Your sincere questions and prayers will be answered, for the book that you hold in your hand is not just ink and paper. It’s cit-śakti, spiritual potency, and spiritual things are alive and living means responsive. Here’s how to prayerfully read the Bhāgavatam:
 

1. Set a time and place exclusively for reading śāstra. If you don’t yet have the time or taste for it, even fifteen minutes is sufficient. More time of course is better, but whatever you can do is adequate to begin. During that time vow that nothing else will enter your sacred space whether it’s email, Facebook, or even family.
2. Before beginning your study, pray to the teacher or teachers that you will encounter during your reading. Whoever it is, whether it be the book’s main speakers like Śukadeva or Sūta Gosvāmī, or its prominent commentators like Śrīla Prabhupāda, pour your heart out to them. You will be in the presence of a pure devotee, and a true saint is non-different than their vāṇī, or teachings. Ask them for inspiration, guidance, or whatever you feel you need spiritually.
3. Slowly and prayerfully read out loud in the mood of your entreaties and in the consciousness of being before the persons that are instructing you.
4. If any sentence or point in the text strikes you as exceptionally significant or relevant read it over three times.
5. When the allotted time is up close the book and offer obeisances to the saintly people in whose presence you have just learned. Express your gratitude.
6. Optional: Add three to five minutes of free writing. Free writing means that without referring to the book just begin to write about whatever point in your reading of the Bhāgavatam impressed you, or even just write anything you remembered. The trick is to keep the pen moving and never stop writing, even if you have to say, “I don’t know what to write.” In my experience that will not happen for just moving the pen mystically connects you to your memory. You will have plenty to say.

 
And the book will also talk to you.
 

Part 2: My Personal Experience With Prayerful Reading
 
Over the years the Bhāgavatam has many times spoken to me personally to answer my questions and to guide me, but I especially like when the book reveals new philosophical insights on the meaning of a particular text, meanings that I have never before read in any commentary. Here’s one example:
 
There is a profound connection between the first and last verse of the Bhagavad-gītā.
 
In the very first verse of the Gītā, King Dhṛtarāṣṭra inquires from Sañjaya, his mystical advisor, about the impending battle at Kurukṣetra between his sons and the sons of Pāṇḍu led by Arjuna:
 
“Dhṛtarāṣṭra said: O Sañjaya, after assembling in the place of pilgrimage at Kurukṣetra, what did my sons and the sons of Pāṇḍu do, being desirous to fight?”
 
The commentators explain that Dhṛtarāṣṭra is concerned with how the holy place will influence the battle, but that he expected victory in this ugly fratricidal war because of the greater size of his son’s army. The verse also forebodes victory for the sons of Pāṇḍu. The battlefield is a place of pilgrimage (dharma-kṣetra) and Krishna, who upholds and protects dharma (righteousness), is on their side.
 
The last verse of the Gītā states its conclusion and answers Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s initial inquiry definitively:
 
“Wherever there is Krishna, the master of all mystics, and wherever there is Arjuna, the supreme archer, there will also certainly be opulence, victory, extraordinary power, and morality. That is my opinion.”
 
The connection seems obvious, although I have never seen it stated. The first verse is a view of the battle through the eyes of a materialist filled with anxiety about a situation he cannot control, calculating success based on one’s personal power rather than doing what’s right. In contrast the last verse, spoken by his advisor Sañjaya is a view of that same world through the eyes of a spiritualist, seeing success or victory not by expedience or material superiority, but by choosing righteousness or dharma. Dharma here is represented by the presence of Krishna, the master of all mystics, and His devotee Arjuna, the supreme archer.
 
So that’s what the book spoke to me. I highly recommend beginning this conversation yourself.
 
Where to purchase the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam:
 
Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam at Krishna.com
 
 

Unlike the traditional paths of jñāna and yoga, the path of bhakti does not deny sensual experience. Pure devotees feast and have favorite foods, hear beautiful melodies and rhythms, and enjoy the flower and jewel decorations of the deity. A question is thus raised. If one of the characteristics of pure devotional service is being without any extraneous desire, as a devotee advances in devotional service should not he or she try to gradually renounce any experience of sensual relish, even of certain favorite foods and music, even when offered to Krishna for His pleasure?
 
Intuitively, the answer seems simple. Of course not! But again the conclusion is not so free of complexity when considering the definition of pure devotional service as exclusively and even militantly only for Krishna. I always wanted to clearly reconcile this quandary. Recently, a situation gave me the inspiration on how to do so.
 
A few weeks ago I took some visitors here in Vṛndāvana to a special evening kīrtana program where the line up of singers was quite extraordinaire. Unfortunately I had to leave early for another engagement and was surprised how difficult it was to walk out the door. I was especially lamenting leaving before a particularly devotional and talented singer had the stage. Then it suddenly dawned on me why: More than staying to enjoy the kīrtana myself, I wanted to see how much my guests would relish it. Here was the example I was looking for, a clear illustration of wanting to enjoy a sensual experience, but not for one self. Other practical examples came to mind:
 
When I would visit my paternal grandmother she would always make for us her specialty—angel food cake. It was spongy soft, golden, and incredibly tasty. After we finished, my grandmother would only take a very small piece. I now understand why. She only needed a taste to relish how her grandchildren had enjoyed. Her experience was thus both sensual and selfless at that same time.
 
This juncture between the sensual and spiritual reveals how the pure devotee relishes Krishna mahā-prasādam. They experience the taste in relation to how Krishna enjoyed the offering. The experience or taste thus goes beyond the sensual to the spiritual or devotional, as our enjoyment becomes the happiness of our beloved, the very definition of bhakti.
 
It’s a comforting thought for those of us immersed in matter to understand that even when one achieves perfection and is serving in Krishna-līlā one can still enjoy the senses without that experience marring the fulfillment of consciousness, which is total and selfless devotion.
 
Of course initially within Krishna consciousness we can enjoy the senses for ourselves to the extent we need to keep the mind and body together for the purpose of executing Krishna consciousness peacefully, but as one advances in spiritual life our consciousness should gradually shift. We should see, taste and hear things through purified senses—senses that register the experience in the heart for a sense of devotion rather than direct the experience to the ego for a sense of enjoyment and control. We will then consciously hear music, taste food, and look at the deities through the pleasure of Krishna rather than our own. At the least we will not buy and eat things only for ourselves without offering them first in devotion to God.
 
And that is the bhakti-yogi’s guide to enjoying the senses.
 
 

The raucous and outrageously over amplified sound of the Indian wedding band from the nearby town of Govardhana even pierced my sound protectors. I cursed them. It wasn’t only that my early morning chanting was disturbed. I could tolerate that. I just hate when people are blatantly inconsiderate. Other examples raced through my mind.
 
Years ago I was responsible for overseeing the main temple kitchen in ISKCON Vṛndāvana. [1] My specialty was personally organizing gourmet feasts on special holidays and seeing that the fifteen preparations were impeccably served. One of our specialties was cauliflower and potato sabjī with fried paneer. When it came time to serve the feast inevitably one senior person would use their rank to sit in the front of the line. After receiving a generous helping the devotee would not only direct the humble server to stop and serve him a second helping, but worse would direct the server to pick out the soft and succulent cheese pieces just for themselves. I would freak. If people selfishly do that, by the time we get to the end of the line there will be no fried paneer left for others. How inconsiderate!
 
Here is another: I was sitting in a relatively small room in India with a few people sharing our reflections on Śrīla Prabhupāda. It was fairly hot and we had the fans at full blast. A thin senior sannyāsi (monk) walked in and instructed someone to shut the fans. I can tolerate the heat, but I was boiling inside. I thought: Because he has a vāta constitution and is cold, he sees the whole world as cold, even if others are sweltering. How insensitive!
 
I could go on and on. And I am sure I also am not innocent. It’s the core material disease to see the world according to our own desires and to think of our self before others. Perhaps this racket is blasting in my ears to teach me a lesson and make me condemn the very thing that must still be in myself. If that is how the law of karma works, it is doing a good job for inconsideration has become my pet peeve. I abhor it.
 
To be considerate is not just another moral principle. To think of others before oneself is the foundation of the bhakti tradition. If we don’t learn that in our ordinary dealings, whether it is within partnership, family, or community how will we be qualified for the spiritual world where the basic qualification is pure devotion, to always see the desires of God and all his servants before our own?
 
The band played on and I pray to never be that way: May we always be considerate!
 

[1] Oversee means that as a temple manager the kitchen was under my direction, not that I was the cook.

Beware! The false ego is lurking in the background of our consciousness waiting for the slightest inattention to steal even our best qualities to make us proud. I constantly remind myself of this, otherwise my efforts in spiritual practice will be spoiled. I am especially concerned this month. For over twenty years I have come to Govardhana during Kārttika to build up my spiritual strength by taking a vow to increase my chanting. I chant and chant. I pray not to ruin it as my vanity swells:
 
“My meditation is going deeper and deeper. Am I better than others?”
 
Suddenly I remember the gentle admonishment of an elderly Vaiṣṇava to my friend when he told that sādhu about his Kārttika vows: “You are not better than everyone or anyone!”
 
“I am getting taste for the holy name. Should I be proud?”
 
“What’s there to be proud of? You have been practicing for 47 years. It is about time you have some taste for the holy name.”
 
“I have been steady for the whole month. Am I becoming a great devotee?”
 
“What you are doing is a pittance compared to great devotees. And their mind doesn’t wander to do silly things. And let’s see how long it lasts.”
 
I battle the voice of egotism, the insidious part of me that will shamelessly use anything to promote my delusions of grandeur, even the little good I occasionally do. I remind myself, it just takes a little inattention and all my efforts will be ruined. I fight the voice of pride with the weapons of regret, mercy, and compassion – the sober voices of truth that arise by the grace of the holy name.
 
I regret my life as an enjoyer and controller. The things that I have done and that I have said embarrass me. I lament the people I have hurt. By the mercy of the holy name these thoughts spontaneously arise whenever I need to be humble. They remind me who I really am.
 
I consider the mercy I am receiving, for mercy requires an object of mercy and makes one reflect on one’s lack of qualification. By the grace of the holy name whenever thoughts of grandeur make me feel independent and proud I contemplate the undeserved kindness I have received on the path of bhakti.
 
I feel compassion. If I gain any small taste for the holy name I feel sorry for those lacking this gift, not proud that I have anything. By the grace of the holy name a drop of empathy awakens and I think of others instead of my inflated self.
 
Why I am writing this? Won’t sharing my bhajana make me proud? What can I do? My process of writing Monday Morning Greetings is to write about the first realization that comes to mind after I complete an article for posting. And this week it happens to be this realization. If I don’t post it, there will be nothing this week for my readers, but have I not also given away the personal benefit of my Kārttika-vrata? A story comes to mind:
 
I was taking lunch in Govardhana with a fairly renowned sādhu when a younger practitioner came over and announced to him, “I am chanting 64 rounds!” The sādhu smiled and replied, “Thank you. Now you have given the benefit of your chanting to me. When you announce your vow to someone you become proud and they become humble and the results is that the fruit of your effort goes to them.”
 
Oh, the perils on the path of contemplation!