Waves of Devotion

It is one of those weeks that I am not inspired to write. I am still recovering from some health issues that significantly reduced my chanting and hearing, which substantially limits my ability to conceptualize and express ideas. It’s the way it works. It seems all I can think about deeply is the body, and I wrote about that last week. The only thought that has come to mind is how much the world has changed in such a short time. The title of a Bob Dylan song about “changin’” just came to mind. I hope it activates some insights, because I need to write something today. I’ve delayed long enough.

We are eternal, so it’s natural that we want an “always”, not changing, situation that pleases us. Most people therefore make plans around such life fixtures, but because of recent events many of those things are no longer certain. For example, I live for visiting and residing in Vrindavan. That has been a given for forty-four years, but who knows if that is even an option, at least for the immediate future. And it is like that about so many things now that used to be permanent fixtures in our life. We thus fear the times they are a-changin’.

In fact, loss (change) of the things we are attached to is the very definition of suffering. I thought of three categories where we can place all changing, and thus suffering.

Let’s make the first category of change the big one ­– death ­– where all material attachments are obliterated. As death causes the biggest change, it is therefore the greatest suffering. It does, however, do one very important thing. It informs our life that all our material attachments, even those serving some purpose at the time, are temporary, and only gain real value when connected to the eternal.[1]

There are times in life when we may not feel immediately threatened with death, but still major fixtures in our world are seriously disturbed. Let’s call that second category of change calamity. We will see how the pandemic and the resultant unrest plays out, but we can’t discount the possibility of it turning into a more serious calamity, where our key life foundations are endangered. The times they are a-changin’ doesn’t bode well.

For one in the consciousness of enjoyer, daily life is suffering, because to enjoy we need to be the controller, and we are just not. We thus suffer from one small change that goes against our desire to another, from the common flu to relational disappointments, and so on. The third category of change we can just call daily life.

Attachment means suffering, because whether it is small changes, calamitous ones, or final ones, everything we like will change, and we have no power to control that. The only solution is to become unmoved by the changes around us. That is called detachment, which does not just mean to renounce things, but to be satisfied with God’s will no matter how He moves the world around us. Here is how it works:

A spiritual person is unmoved by destiny because he views it differently. Rather than seeing destiny as happiness, which is beyond one’s control, he views the development of consciousness as happiness, which is dependent on one’s free will. He thus remains detached from the changes in the world, because they have little bearing on his main objective of enlightenment. Every change is thus simply a different opportunity to develop one’s inner life, or to serve God. For such a person the times they are a-changin’ hardly matters.

“Devotees solely engaged in the devotional service of the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Nārāyaṇa, never fear any condition of life. For them the heavenly planets, liberation and the hellish planets are all the same, for such devotees are interested only in the service of the Lord.” (Bhag.  6.17.28)

[1] An example of connecting a material attachment to the eternal is family life, but only if one does it as dharma, meaning properly according to one’s duties ordained by God.

I wrote about this subject a month ago. This time it’s different. In that article I wrote theoretically about pain in relationship to the pandemic in terms of how pain, or reversals in life, are not bad, but are rather the indication that something is wrong and how it is mercy. However, this time it is personal. I’m actually in pain.

It started about nine days ago. My left thigh became sore and became progressively worse until I couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep at night. The pain then spread to my other thigh and then my upper arms and neck, which made it even worse. Now my whole schedule has been thrown off.

I think I am beginning to understand the purpose of all this. I had just finished almost three months hunkered down in New Jersey. I described this before as a blissful “boring” life. All my needs were perfectly being met, and I was able to do the same thing at the same time every day. I would rest very early, rise just after midnight, and regulate my day mostly around chanting and hearing until evening. As I look back at those months, there wasn’t a minute in my day that I would want to change, but in retrospect there was something in my thinking that needed to be adjusted to deepen my practices further.

An ordinary person’s goal in life is to enjoy the world, which naturally entails trying to control it. That, in a nutshell, is material consciousness. Of course, I regulated myself during the pandemic for the purpose of focusing on the holy name, a type of control that is naturally a good thing. But to the extent one’s effort fosters a sense of “doership” and control, one’s practices will lose the full sense of dependency and humility foundational to bhakti and become mechanical. This subtle type of tether to material consciousness is described in the commentary to Nārada’s failure to attain perfection despite his notable efforts.

“There is no mechanical process to see the form of the Lord. It completely depends on the causeless mercy of the Lord […] When He pleases, being satisfied with the sincere attempt of devotional service depending completely on the mercy of the Lord [emphasis mine], then He may be seen out of His own accord.” (Bhag. 1.6.19, Purport)

So, I see this karmic episode of discomfort and pain that has torpedoed my regulation and practices as just a reset. I hope to soon begin again with a greater vigilance, so that in regulating my life it doesn’t engender the misconception that I can control or earn Krishna’s mercy, a thinking that covers the sense of dependence necessary to actually attract the Lord’s mercy. I guess Krishna doesn’t want me in any way, shape, or form to maintain a sense of trying to control and enjoy if I want to deepen my internal life.

I started seeing a chiropractor a few days ago. I can sleep now, but, so far, the discomfort during the day hasn’t abated. Two more realizations came today about the internal components of spiritual life that this experience is giving me. I am practically never ill, in pain, or without full energy. As one tends to see the world through the lens of their own experience, it is harder for me to fully empathize with those in physical pain. There is a component here of increasing my empathy that I see as essential for deepening my spiritual life. Also, taken in the right way, pain can foster detachment for material enjoyment and serve as an impetus to increase one’s determination to realize the self.

Sorry to talk so much about myself, but I have no other choice in Monday Morning Greetings than to write unabashedly what is on my mind, and this is it. I shouldn’t actually complain. I know many who live with worse discomfort all the time and rarely talk about it. It is just that I am not use to this, so I take it hard. It is not so bad, and the gifts of essential realization are worth the pain. I’m grateful.

I received some unusual feedback from a friend on my last article, “Krishna Loves the Earth”. “Hilarious, the world is burning!” It was tongue-in-cheek, but he had a point. Monday Morning Greetings is the platform where I try to serve as a public intellectual, and one important aspect of that is reflecting on my tradition to make it relevant to current issues. My regular readers over the years know that I have never shied away from addressing the issues at hand, so the question arises, why have I not yet addressed this crucial one? Truth just doesn’t neatly fit in an ideological box. In a world that is increasingly polarized it is not an easy task to represent our tradition in a way that will not be misunderstood by people on both ends of the political spectrum. Don’t get me wrong. I have patiently heard the views of many people on this issue and have come to my own conclusions about its cause and where the solution rests. My understanding of the prejudice African Americans face has certainly deepened. I have just become painfully aware from my experience in being inadvertently drawn into such discussions that I would not be an effective agent of change here, nor is it particularly my duty to do so. I will leave that service to others,[1] but I will do my part in another way that very much reflects our tradition and my personal mission, which is to highlight the ancient practice of turning our minds to God in all circumstances, especially in times of social tumult. I hope I have not disappointed you, and that doesn’t discourage you from reading “Krishna Loves the Trees”.

In the two previous posts, I have discussed the need to more deeply realize the pastimes of Krishna by understanding the mind of the main protagonists. I demonstrated this through an analysis of Krishna’s exchange with Mother Earth. I would like to continue this theme in terms of Krishna’s relationship with the trees.

When Krishna enters the forest of Vrindavan, all the trees simultaneously blossom with the most exotic fruits and flowers, which display gorgeous colors, stunning designs, and emit ambrosial fragrances, all manifesting as an offering of unalloyed devotion. Other forest entities vie for Krishna’s attention with no less beauty and devotion. Each bird sings beautifully in a variety of tunes and pitches. Of the sounds Krishna hears, He is especially allured by the bees buzzing with intoxicated devotion, but all the animals of the forest come to the path where Krishna is walking to offer Him their best, from the beauty of the peacocks, to the cute auspicious glances of the does. Although Krishna looks here and there all over the forest in appreciation of the many exquisite devotional offerings, He first turns His attention to the trees by pointing them out to His brother Balarama. Why of all the millions of entities in the forest welcoming Him are the trees recognized by Krishna first?

As Krishna enters the forest, the tallest trees lining the path gradually bend so their reddish flowers touch Krishna’s lotus feet as if to announce, “The opulence and beauty of our flowers is nothing compared to stunning red lac on Your lotus feet.” Krishna reads their minds: “We are so fallen. Due to our sinful life as trees, we are cursed to stand stationary, while all others can follow You into the forest.” Their sentiment especially moves Krishna’s inner heart as He considers their disability — their inability to move. Overflowing with affection, Krishna therefore veers towards them to accept their offerings. Perhaps more than any other quality, Krishna exudes compassion and is allured by those humble souls who realize their dependence and take shelter of His lotus feet.

The trees are described as vanaspatim, the Lords of the forest (vanas) because they stand tall and erect and project a sense of aristocracy. There is special charm when those with status humble themselves. But it is not just their humility that invokes Krishna’s attention, it is there unparalleled level of service. In the Bhagavad-gītā Krishna deems four natural items that can be offered in devotion: a fruit, flower, leaf, and water.[2] Is there any other entity among all innumerable devotees in the forest that can offer to Krishna, from their own body, three of the four items mentioned by Him as offerings of devotion?

Krishna’s relationship with the trees is so sweet. The trees are humble, dependent, and dedicated to service. Krishna’s heart melts in response, and He reciprocates with their desire to serve. In fact, there is not a flower or fruit in the forest that He does not personally harvest and accept.

The world is burning in hatred. If I was more qualified and had more time, then maybe I could have added something of significance to that discussion. But perhaps there is relief to hear that there is actually a world where God loves the trees.

[1] There is an attempt to analyze the current controversy from the standpoint of śāstra by Hari Pārṣada Dās, a scholar whose articles I have often shared with you. I appreciate people who can step out of ideological lenses and look at issues neutrally. I will send out his article on Tuesday to everyone here.

[2] Bg. 9.26

To truly perceive another person requires more than just what we overtly see. It requires an understanding of the mind behind what we perceive. For example, when someone is happy, we don’t see just the end of the lips curl up and the teeth show, we see the emotion of happiness. All actions represent the consciousness that produce them. If we miss that, our perception is very limited. This principle is especially important in understanding Krishna’s pastimes as described in the Tenth Canto of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. I discussed this in a previous post called “Spiritual Autism”.[1] Let us now look at the pastimes of Krishna through the lens of the consciousness behind what is described, specifically in relation to Krishna’s feet touching the ground of Vṛndāvana as He is about to enter the forest.

When Krishna first enters the forest, the marks of His feet make the ground of Vṛndāvana auspicious. As mentioned above, one must also see in this pastime the affection with which Krishna touches the Earth and the emotions that she feels in response. Another name for the Earth is dharaṇī meaning “one who sustains and maintains”, for the Earth sustains and maintains everything in this world, including Krishna’s abode there. Krishna’s feet touching the ground is therefore an expression of overwhelming gratitude for her service. In fact, His feet not only touch the ground, but caress it as He compassionately walks behind the cows to pacify the Earth, which is being trampled by the stampede of His beloved cows.

There are so many pebbles, thorns, and other rough patches in the thick forest of Vṛndāvana. His mother therefore implores Him to wear shoes. Krishna refuses. He argues that a servant cannot enjoy more than the master, and therefore as the servant of the cows, He must also walk barefoot like them. His argument to not wear shoes, however, is just an excuse.  When, in desperation, Krishna’s mother offers to make silver shoes for all the cows in Vṛndāvana, He still refuses. Why is Krishna so adamant? He loves the Earth so much that He just wants to reciprocate with her by placing His soles on her dust without a covering in between. Krishna’s feet touching the ground of Vṛndāvana is thus a deeply affectionate act of gratitude, compassion, and devotion. To truly see this pastime of Krishna is to also see this.

For a devotee there is nothing more stimulating to one’s devotion than a tangible acknowledgment by Krishna of their relationship. When Krishna’s feet affectionately touch the ground, Mother Earth intensely feels the exchange of energy flowing between the Lord and His devotee called prema. As the Lord’s lotus feet step-by-step make imprints in her dust, a deep sense of belonging to the Lord increasingly awakens in her heart. Those footprints then become her tilaka, the sign of devotional belonging to one’s revered lineage and ultimately Krishna. Her sense of belonging to Krishna then becomes so deep that she never allows those imprints, her tilaka of belonging, to fade, even while the cows trample them.

How could the Earth allow Krishna to walk barefoot and bruise His soft lotus feet? Isn’t she concerned, like the gopīs, that His feet will be bruised and pained? Mother Earth is completely absorbed in sevā-bhāva, the mood of service, and like all great devotees she transforms in devotional ecstasy by that sevā. As Krishna’s feet touch her ground, the Earth therefore in devotional ecstasy immediately softens like butter to protect Krishna’s lotus feet.

This connection with the Divine that moves the heart to ecstasy is the greatest mercy. The Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam therefore describes that the Lord’s feet made the Earth ati-punyam, extremely auspicious. In conclusion, we should try to understand and hear the Lord’s pastimes by seeing the emotions that are generated by Krishna’s loving exchanges with His devotees and, in doing so, become inspired to make our lives auspicious by a connection with the Divine, especially His presence in the holy name.

“O dearly beloved! Your lotus feet are so soft that we place them gently on our breasts, fearing that Your feet will be hurt. Our life rests only in You. Our minds, therefore, are filled with anxiety that Your tender feet might be wounded by pebbles as You roam about the forest path.” (Bhag. 10.31.19, The Gopīs to Krishna)

[1] I received comments after my last article on “Spiritual Autism” that my definition of autism as “mind blindness” was too narrow, and there are multiple ways to describe such brain complexity.

Have I Become Nārada Muni?

A vision came. It was post quarantine New York. Pedestrians again filled the street. Cars again packed the road. All of sudden my mind let out a scream, “No!!!” What a strange reaction from this born and bred New Yorker. The peace and goodness of the last two months has indeed been spiritually intoxicating. I feared losing it. “Have you become Nārada Muni?” What a strange thought.

Nārada Muni gained audience with God only to have that vision quickly disappear. In desperation, he repeatedly tried to regain it, but to no avail. Finally, a divine voice from the sky revealed his defect, “You are not yet complete in service and have a material taint!” His taint? He was attached to the peace and goodness of the serene mountain place where he was meditating. How is that a blemish? Attachment even to goodness is passion and thus stains an otherwise pure consciousness. Permanent audience with God is only for those in viśuddha sattva, pure goodness, who are completely selfless and detached, and they go wherever service takes them, even New York. I hope this helps put my strange question in perspective.

Some Sannyāsī!

My students and friends from the Middle East were visiting me. I was being lavished with their gifts, and the bed where I was sitting was obscenely piled up with the exotic fruits, nuts and dried fruits from their country. I especially liked the pomegranates as big as softballs, the ambrosial sweet lemons, and the packages and packages of fresh saffron. A new devotee who was visiting Vṛndāvana, a red-headed actress and comedian from New York, suddenly walked in and paid obeisances in front of my bed. She then sat up, looked up at my bounty, and quipped, “Some sannyāsī!”

I loved it. That’s my type of city humor. Thinking back on it, I see some truth in it. Sannyāsa literally means “to practice dying”, learning the joy of shedding attachments before they are forcibly taken away. Modern sannyāsa, however, is filled with the accoutrements of opulence, such as followers and wealth. It poses a challenge to anyone entering that order, like sitting on a bed surrounded by doting followers and being showered with opulence. This is not by any means a blanket condemnation of the modern saffron soldiers. It is a caution, especially as a personal reflection on my own life.

In the last four months there have been challenges to the order of my world. I tend to handle things well, but when major attachments are threatened it tends to become a bit scary. But realizations also come. Why fret over that which you will lose anyway? Give it up now. Practice dying. Isn’t that what sannyāsa is for anyway? Otherwise, the red-head would be right, “Some sannyāsī!”

The Heart of Bhakti

Bhakti means devotion or love for God. Love manifest through relationship. The heart of chanting must be a call to understand our relationship with God. That is the specialness of the bhakti theology. Lover? Parent? Friend? O Lord, who am I? Please fully instill that sense in my heart.

A final thought: “Have I become Nārada Muni?” What a joke!