Waves of Devotion

I remember when I first got the Krishna Book. My college roommate, who had since left to join the temple, returned to school to visit me and gave me a copy of the book. Instead of going to a party that evening, I stayed back in my apartment and began reading it. I couldn’t put it down. I had already become a devotee of sorts, but not to the point of full commitment, so I was only somewhat familiar with the subject. I remember getting to Chapter Two, “Prayers by the Demigods for Lord Krishna in the Womb”, where Krishna’s supremacy is first described. I had already heard stories about His loving and seemingly human exchanges with His parents, friends, and the gopīs, but now I was hearing of His omnipotence. At the time I was majoring in philosophy, and from one of my classes the definition of God was still fresh in my mind: “That being of which no greater can be conceived.” I had an epiphany.

“I can’t think of anything greater than this, an omnipotent, omniscient being who is not devoid of very sweet familial and romantic affairs. This is certainly greater than just an amorphous impersonal energy that can’t talk or love. Yes. Krishna must be God, that being of which no greater can be conceived.”

Through my years in studying Krishna consciousness, this philosophical concept became fascinating to me — that Krishna’s attributes, such as His apparent human-like activities or His form seemingly confined within space, rather than limiting His Absolute authority were in fact an opulence. I remember reading a quote a few years back in one of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s purports that especially struck me by the way it confirmed this fact in such simple terms:

“Krishna doesn’t have the defect of impersonality.”[1]

What I particularly liked about this sentence is the way the word “impersonality” is used. The word “impersonal” (impersonality) has two meanings. It can have a philosophical meaning describing God as without attributes, which in today’s world appears laudatory, for, in a sense, it describes God as transcendent. In other words, if God is impersonal one cannot attribute to His nature the dualities of this world. Śrīla Prabhupāda, however, by a play on the word “impersonality” is actually referring to the second definition, meaning cold or not concerned with another’s individual needs. By doing so, Śrīla Prabhupāda is describing God’s impersonality as a defect, for if God is impersonal, He is not only all-pervading and without duality, but also cold and void of the ability to lovingly reciprocate. Is it not somewhat absurd to describe the source of everything as lacking the ability to properly relate with others?

As I continued to study the teachings of bhakti, especially Krishna’s pastimes, I read how Krishna not only has human-like qualities, but qualities that even seem humanly limited. For example, Krishna is described as forgetful or unaware (mugdhatta). Again, what appears to be a diminishment of His supremacy is in fact an attribute of His divinity, for without experiencing surprise and drama (being unaware), how could God experience the full range of rasa (heightened love), and if He doesn’t then how can He be God? I think a story here will help make this point clearer:

Krishna’s friends are caught in the midst of a forest fire and are saved by Krishna, who swallows the fire. Afterwards, following a long trek in the forest, they finally reach the shore of the Yamuna River. Impelled by dire thirst, they quench it without thinking carefully about the condition of the water that had been poisoned by the Kālīya serpent. They immediately die. Overwhelmed by grief, Krishna begins to cry deeply out of separation from His friends. His tears of compassion revive His friends back to life. If Krishna was only all-knowing, He would lack the experience of drama and consequent feelings of compassion that such pastimes bring. Even the ordinary soul sometimes has their joy heightened by the drama of being unaware, a surprise party for example. How then can one deny the experience of drama in the source of all?

Conclusion: O, glory to the God who does not know everything, for I can’t conceive anything greater than a being that is all-powerful and all-knowing, but who still has the capacity to be surprised!

[1] It is one of my favorite quotes, but I can’t find the reference at this time.

I just threw out what I was working on for this week’s Monday Morning Greetings. I just couldn’t make the article work. It’s Friday. My deadline is tomorrow at noon. Can you imagine how frustrating that is? What to do? I can only do what I am doing now, baring my frustration and praying that something comes. I read about this type of desperation technique years ago in a book on public speaking. It recommended that when you are in front of an audience and somehow at a loss for words you should just run with your frailties by admitting them. Your audience will be sympathetic and embolden you, and the honesty itself will be empowering. I find it quite interesting that my thoughts here connect exactly with something I was reading just yesterday.

In his introduction to The Art of the Personal Essay, Philip Lopate writes that essentially a writer and reader enter into a contract. “The essayist,” he says, “must then make good on it by delivering, or discovering, as much honesty as possible [. . .] So often the ‘plot’ of a personal essay, its drama, its suspense, consists in watching how far the essayist can drop past his or her psychic defenses towards deeper levels of honesty .”

That is so in tune with my own experience in writing. I often get comments from my readership appreciating that I share my own struggles. And I do really feel “a contract between writer and reader”. It’s a personal relationship. I feel that sitting here trying to meet my end of the bargain.

Now let me share what I wanted to share this week, but have not yet been empowered to articulate in a satisfactory way.

I wanted to highlight how important it is to have a meaningful metaphysical goal that informs all aspects of one’s life. That idea was inspired by a paṇḍita from Vṛndāvana who was visiting the USA. He happened to be a presenter after I spoke in the same yoga teacher training program where we were both teaching. I thus stayed for his talk. He gave a brilliant analogy. Here’s my recollection:

He began with a puzzling statement: “The most important thing to have in life is a GPS.” He then watched the initial reaction of his audience, paused for a moment, and clarified his statement, “GPS: Guru Paramparā System. To learn any subject, one needs to study under a mentor representing a lineage of accomplished teachers. In Sanskrit that lineage is called the guru paramparā system. Just as one’s effort in driving only bears fruit when one has entered the correct address in one’s GPS, one’s endeavors in life will only be meaningful when one sets the right goal under the guidance of a bona-fide lineage, the Guru Paramparā System.”

I wanted to develop his point further with a strong reference. The first one that came to mind was a quote by Jesus questioning one’s accomplishments in life when devoid of a spiritual objective.

“For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Mark 8:36-38)

A very pertinent analogy by Śrīla Prabhupāda also came to my mind. Rather than just condemn material accomplishments, he highlights their potential value when connected to that transcendent objective.

“So zero is zero always. Hundred million times zero adds, it is zero. But when there is one, immediately value increases. So without Krishna, all this material advancement, they are all zeros. But if you bring Krishna, then it…that increases—-ten, hundred, thousand, tens of thousands, like that millions, billions.” (July 31, 1975, New Orleans room conversation)

Dwelling on the subject I thought I could also touch on how much the definition and practice of bhakti is predicated on its goal: “Sādhana-bhakti is the use of the senses with the aim of achieving the goal of bhāva (mature devotion).” (Brs. 1.2.2) There is definitely a discussion to be had about the need to be consciously hankering for the goal in our devotional practices (bhāva) for them to be meaningful and dynamic.

There were other subjects I wanted to expound:

How bhakti often begins by the mercy of guru and Krishna with a small taste of the sublimity of devotion, for the inspiration to practice is dependent on one’s faith in one’s goal.

I wanted to discuss the honesty of the existentialists. As they see no goal or meaning in life, they honestly contemplate suicide.

It’s 2:00 AM. When I lost all hope of producing anything of value this week, I threw my hands up in helplessness. There is a large picture of Śrīla Prabhupāda directly facing me on the wall where my desks rests. I prayed for his help and this is what came — stress the utmost importance in having a legitimate spiritual goal.

When I grew up in New York there was a renowned yogi in the Bronx who was famous for his pithy and paradoxical sayings spoken in the language of the ordinary man. I leave you with one that says it all. Think about it deeply.

“If you don’t know where you are going, you’ll end up someplace else.”
― Yogi Berra

They were wildly cheering for God! Nine hundred thousand enthusiasts lined the streets of Farrukhabad. It was their annual Ram Bharat parade. “This is God’s country!” shared one humbled god-brother observing the scene. Lord Siva sat on Mount Kailash in the float before us—a huge block of ice, with live snakes circling his body. I was freaked and restless. It was a late start—already 9 PM. When will it end? BB Govinda Swami began kīrtana in his overpowering, yet sweet and melodic style. We all joined in. At first, I struggled on that muggy summer night, but the resonant melodies opened my heart to Krishna’s holy name. I gradually began to sway with the rhythm. My heart was touched, my mind concentrated. It was 5 AM before I knew it, and time to return to Vṛndāvana. This was 1992, and certainly one of my most memorable kīrtanas. But the greatest kīrtana ever?

What about the kīrtana of the cowherd boys as they left for the forest accompanied by Krishna’s flute? Their kīrtana was rich with sonorous melodies, sung deeply from their melted hearts of devotion, built up slowly in tempo from the force of their bhava, and appropriate for the time of the day and pastime. Some cowherd boys even spontaneously blew trumpets crafted from the large smooth leaves of particular Vṛndāvana trees. They also returned with the same fervor, awakening the residents of Vṛndāvana from their slumber of separation. Seeing Krishna in the distance blowing His flute, prancing behind a stampede of cows accompanied by the kīrtana of the cowherd boys, they were overflooded with bliss. Imagine how the Vrajavāsīs felt. Can there be anything better than that?

Mother Yaśodā fainted upon seeing her son hanging limp in the coils of the many hooded snake in the midst of the fuming, boiling polluted waters of the Yamunā. She fainted. In desperation, Mother Yaśodā’s friends, whose love for Krishna was equal to her own, tried to revive her by singing with the most heartfelt devotion about Krishna’s exploits of killing the demons in Vṛndāvana. What a heartfelt kīrtana! Can there be anything deeper than that?

Seeing the gopīs’ seeming pride from dancing with Him in the rāsa dance, Krishna suddenly disappeared from their company. They madly began to search the forest of Vṛndāvana for their beloved:

“When they saw that it was getting gradually darker, they stopped. Their minds and intelligence became absorbed in thoughts of Krishna; they all imitated the activities of Krishna and His speeches. Due to their heart and soul being completely given to Krishna they began to chant His glories, completely forgetting their family interests. In this way all the gopīs returned to the bank of the Yamunā and assembled there, and expecting that Krishna must return to them, they simply engaged in chanting the glories of Krishna—Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare/ Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare.”[1] Can there be anything sweeter than the unsurpassed kīrtana of the gopīs on the bank of the Yamunā?

The depth of Śrī Radha’s devotion for Krishna manifests in her intense feelings of separation from Him. That devotion is the pinnacle of bliss, and even inspires Śrī Krishna Himself to come in the form of Śrī Caitanya to taste that love, especially during the Jagannath Ratha-yātrā, a festival that commemorates that devotion. Overwhelmed with Śrī Radha’s love for Krishna, He personally organized seven separate kīrtanas surrounding Jagannatha’s cart for His lord’s pleasure. He placed two expert mṛdaṅgas in each division, assigned Svarūpa Dāmodara, Śrīvāsa Ṭhākura, and his best singers to lead each of those parties, as well as His most charming dancers, such as Vakreśvara Paṇḍita and Śrīla Haridāsa Ṭhākura, to be the lead dancer in each group. The groups suddenly converged.

“All the Vaisnavas came together like an assembly of clouds. As the devotees chanted the holy name in great ecstasy tears fell from their eyes like rain. When the kīrtana resounded, it filled the three worlds. Indeed no one could hear any sounds or musical instruments other than the sankīrtana. Lord Caitanya wandered through all seven groups chanting the holy name, ‘Hari, Hari!’ raising His arms, He shouted, ‘All glories to Lord Jagannatha!’”[2] What it must have been like to be inundated with the holy name and inspired by the ecstatic dancing of Śrī Caitanya at Ratha-yātrā! Can there be anything more sublime than that?

Krishna surfed the return wave caused by His atomic splash into the Yamunā onto one of the wide heads of the multi-headed serpent, Kālīya. In order to dodge the bites of the venomous reptile and to crush his various poisonous heads, he dexterously jumped from one head to another. Observing His own feet moving so quickly, and being innately filled with rhythm, a beat arose in His heart. By way of His infallible desire, two ankle bells appeared on His legs, and Krishna began to dance.[3]

Krishna is the guru of all arts. He is thus also naṭa-vara, the most excellent of all dancers. His enthralling dance thus attracted the demigods. First came Indra, an expert in mṛdaṅga, and then Nārada, the maestro of vinā. As news of Krishna’s desire to dance began to spread, more and more celestial instrument players appeared above Vṛndāvana.

Of particular note were the vidyādharas, a community of heavenly musicians, especially expert in percussion. They carefully observed the tal (beat) of Krishna’s dance before starting, and they gradually supported His dancing performance in a circle of various expertly played drums, mostly the paṇava and ānaka, huge drums with majestic sounds played with two sticks on each side, one representing bass and the other treble. The vidyādharas made sure that all the instruments in the heavenly realm that were suited for the occasion were brought to enrich the kīrtana and support the dance. Experts in the flutes, bugle, vinā, and shehnai soon arrived and joined the fun.

The gandharvas, the heavenly singers, already knew of Krishna’s extraordinary artistic abilities. When the news of Krishna’s dancing reached their ears, they rushed to the earth for kīrtana sevā, especially the most prominent of the gandharvas, such as Viśvāvasu, Citraratha, and so on. The Krishna kīrtana of the gandharvas, the best singers in the universe, accompanied by the vidyādharas, the world’s unparalleled percussionists, and supported by the powerful mṛdaṅga playing of Indra, brought the kīrtana to heights never before imagined. And just to add to the scene’s glory, the residents of siddha-loka, the planet of poetic geniuses, arrived. They immediately spontaneously composed lyrics to what they were witnessing in booming and rhythmic Sanskrit chants.

As the demigods never touch the earth, the kīrtana was hovering from above, an excellent vantage point for a puṣpa abhiṣeka. Those without instruments immediately began to shower the scene with a cascade of the most colorful and fragrant flowers from the celestial realm, even from Vaikuṇṭha itself. And from the shore below, the residents of Vṛndāvana, having just gained full consciousness, became overwhelmed with relief and joy at the spectacle before them. Especially the cowherd boys danced along with Krishna’s movements in extreme bliss. By the powerful beats of the mṛdaṅga led by Indra, an instrument especially designed to invoke dance, even the crestfallen heads of the serpent began to move in time to the beat.

With the Vrajavāsīs dancing and cheering in utter amazement on the ground, and the kīrtana symphony of the demigods above, the performance of Krishna’s supreme virtuoso dance on the swaying stage of the serpent’s hood lighted by his red jewels became the festival all festivals.

And that’s what I think is the greatest kīrtana ever!

[1] Chapter 29, p 299 Krishna Book

[2] Cc. Madhya-līlā 13.49-51

[3] The elaborate description of Krishna’s dance on the serpent Kālīya’s head with the accompaniment of the demigod musicians is from various commentaries of Bhag. 10.18.26-19 as described in the lectures of Śrīla Radha Govinda Swami.

He vowed never to again hear anything of this world besides the pastimes and service of his worshipful Lords, Śrī Śrī Radha Krishna. That was 1962, over fifty years, when he arrived in Vṛndāvana, and he has kept true to his vow ever since. A few years ago, my friend visited this saint. I am not sure why — it seemed a bit inappropriate — but he asked him, “What was the last thing you heard in the news?” The kind baba searched his memory for a second. His matter of fact answer took my friend aback: “Marilyn Monroe died.” He soon related his conversation to me. I was impressed.

Last week I got a similar message. It reminded me of the saintly no-news baba in Vṛndāvana. Again, I was impressed.

I needed something researched in Vṛndāvana for a book Satyarāja Dāsa is writing, so I texted a friend of mine, who took the summer months off to stay there, for help. At the end of our conversation, I casually asked him a more personal question: “How is your bhajan?” His texts surprised me:

“Good.

Better.

New experiences

Of chanting 64 rounds

Everyday

And reading Bhāgavatam for 3 hrs a day

Also I keep vrata of kīrtana at the temple 3 hours a day.

Nothing Going on

Summer is best for me

It’s so amazing how Vṛndāvana is so different in summer

But one thing, I miss preaching

You are the only one I shared actually

I never knew its possible

I also left social media, I use none whatsoever”

The last line, “none whatsoever”, struck me. Knowing him, I could imagine how much this media fast contributed to his renewed depth of practice. It got me thinking. Although I am not personally on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, I do read about the world. But how much could my personal meditation improve if the input of the world, with its very consuming distractions, hates, and dualities, was completely shut off? I began to think of those special friends that seem to go much deeper than others in their chanting of the holy name. They all seem to have, to one degree or another, one thing in common. In terms of social media, they are all in the school of “Marilyn Monroe died”, so to speak. I thought, yes, media “none whatsoever.” What is the use of having the mind stimulated with so many thoughts that are of no use to the soul? Why not go even deeper into the holy name? Time is short. I’ve begun my fast today. I’ve been here before. I have my doubts. Can I do it? I wrote something on this many years ago.

I am convinced that, like television, the medium of the computer has insidious effects because it subtly injects one with the need for incessant distraction—an especially menacing prospect for those on the spiritual path where the mind needs to be calmed to touch one’s essence.

I lived in Vṛndāvana for 20 years without even a phone. I didn’t die of boredom; instead I remained absorbed in scripture, nama (meditation on God’s names), and seva (service). To be peaceful now I require the world at my doorstep with the click of a button, even while living in Vṛndāvanaa. Something is wrong. (MMG May 27, 2004)

If something was wrong then, then what to speak of now! Back then, I had to walk to the nearest market to even download my email! I recalled a talk that I listened to recently that seemed so relevant to the moment here.

Simon Sinek described how the constant use of social media has the same chemical effect on the brain as any form of addiction, from gambling to alcohol.[1] They all produce an inordinate amount of dopamine, the chemical in the brain that activates the nucleus accumbens, the brain’s pleasure or reward center.[2] In time, as the nucleus accumbens is over stimulated by dopamine, it naturally adapts, requiring one to take more and more of one’s desired substance to obtain the same dopamine “high”. Compulsion takes over, and one is addicted. And here’s the real point that struck me: “If you arise in the morning and the first thing you do is check your computer you are addicted!

OK, I am using “media” to research and write this. Certainly, it has many good uses. People who are isolated can be connected to spiritual events like never before. Compassionate souls may research the world to effectively comment on it with spiritual insight. Even Śrīla Prabhupada occasionally wrote or spoke on “that rascal Nixon” or “a prayer day in the US Senate” and other worldly events to illustrate his point. So yes, our renunciation of media should be balanced — we should only reject that which cannot be used in Krishna’s service.

But here’s the point. How much does one need in Krishna’s service? The cultured sādhu retired in Vṛndāvana didn’t need any. And how much do you actually require for the service of Krishna? If attentive chanting is our problem, or if we want to go much deeper into the holy name, perhaps this is the cause — too much absorption in what Śrīla Prabhupada called “the world of names”. One of the main obstacles to devotion is prajalpa, idle talk. Social media is idle talk on steroids. Add that to the dopamine induced impressions for endless social and frivolous distraction and is there any wonder why we don’t have sufficient taste for sitting in one place and focusing on the holy name without distraction?

Just imagine that you are sitting in Vṛndāvana at the end of your life chanting and hearing about Krishna. A new spiritual aspirant walks in and asks you what is the last thing you read in the news. After thinking for second you respond […] (fill in the blank of the last thing you heard on the news). Wouldn’t that be glorious!

“The great kings, leaders and soldiers fight with one another to perpetuate their names in history. They are forgotten in due course of time, and they make a place for another era of history. But the devotee realizes how much history and historical places are useless products of flickering time.” (Bhāg. 2.2.3, Purport)

[1] Simon Sinek on Millennials in the Workplace — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hER0Qp6QJNU

[2] This explanation of the effects of dopamine mentioned in Simon Sinek’s talk comes from article on addiction from Harvard Heath Publishing a division of Harvard Medical School. https://www.health.harvard.edu/newsletter_article/how-addiction-hijacks-the-brain

What the heck is “cultural procreation”? I made the term up. Well, not exactly — a friend of mine did, but I’m using the term he coined. The explanation of the title and its origins will come later in the article.

I want to speak about cultural appropriation. There are many examples of a dominant culture economically exploiting the treasures of a minority culture, or the dominant culture misrepresenting a disadvantaged culture sacrilegiously, or out of context. At the same time, I think that today’s blanket application of cultural appropriation as something immoral has gone too far.[1] Taking elements of another culture as your own has historically been more of a bridge to unity than a vehicle for denigration. What I would like to show in this article is how a truth with a limited application, such as cultural appropriation, becomes a passion, a truth extended far beyond its application, specifically as applied to my lineage, the bhakti tradition of India, which actively promotes sharing elements of its culture around the world as part of its teaching.

Before discussing this topic further, I think it is important to know exactly what culture is. Here’s one definition that I like: “Culture is the purposeful construction of one’s environment to help one relate, learn, and communicate more effectively.”[2] Of course, there are more general definitions of “culture” that are devoid of any uplifting objective. However, if we look at the earliest derivative of the word “culture” from the Latin cultura, which initially meant to prepare the land for crops, or its later biological usage as the suitable environment for the production of bacteria or other microorganisms, this sense of facilitating growth gives a more accurate sense of the meaning of “culture” than just an arbitrary collection of communal rituals and mores. It is also consistent with the meaning of Indian culture, which in its purest sense certainly cannot be divorced from spiritual and uplifting objectives, especially in the bhakti tradition of India.

When the aim of culture, and specifically the culture of bhakti, is to promote spiritual growth, why would the tradition object to the adoption and propagation of that culture by foreigners when intelligently and appropriately applied? Is not one of the foundational concepts of Indian philosophy to awaken our non-designated eternal spirit souls from their temporary bodily identification? In terms of welcoming others to adopt the path of bhakti, which necessarily includes at least some elements of its culture to facilitate its growth, there are many verses in traditional texts that mention the universal applicability of bhakti, down to listing specific nationalities, such as Germans, Turks, Greeks, and Chinese.[3] In fact, one of the hallmark signs of Śrī Caitanya’s bhakti movement is that a number of its greatest early teachers were formerly Muslims, either by birth or acculturation!

It is therefore ironic that those who claim to speak on behalf of the tradition by criticizing foreigners who adopt and promote the culture of India are themselves violating the tradition by claiming to speak for and impose on bhakti a postmodern view of cultural appropriation, which is antithetical to the tradition itself. The bhakti tradition vigorously fought for equal opportunity in Indian societal and religious life, based on one’s qualities, against the priestly class (caste brāhmaṇas) who wanted it restricted by birth. Denying foreigners the right to practice bhakti based on the doctrine of cultural appropriation, which disqualifies people from elements of bhakti culture simply by birth, only feeds into the foundation of the discredited Indian caste system. At its worst, is it not another form of racism?

Further, when the banner of cultural appropriation is raised, who exactly is speaking on behalf of the Indian people? Is it the people within the tradition itself? I have lived in India for over forty years. I came shortly after Śrīla Prabhupāda, my spiritual master, returned to India from the West with his foreign disciples specifically to help revive the culture of India, which was under siege by modernity. What was the overwhelming reaction of the people of India? Rather than see forces of cultural dominance, Indians overwhelmingly saw the Westerners adopting their culture with a sense of pride and liberation. For years the British, through Christian missionaries, tried to destroy its traditions, but now those same foreigners were adopting India’s traditions as their own.

Back to the title. When the thought of writing on cultural appropriation first came to mind, I shared the idea with a friend who has a sense humor. He either pretended to not hear me or didn’t understand what I said, and responded in jest, “Cultural procreation.” We laughed. Later, when writing the article and looking for a catchy title, I thought “Cultural Procreation” was perfect because my idea was that rather than bhakti practitioners being affronted by emulation of their culture, one of the principles of bhakti is that its teachings and culture should be reproduced around the world. Get it? Reproduced: Cultural Procreation.

[1] https://iskcondesiretree.com/profiles/blogs/bhakti-yoga-club-accused-of-cultural-appropriation-and-shut-down

[2] I don’t remember and can’t find where I read this definition of “culture”.

[3] Bhag. 2.4.18