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Archive for July, 2020

Monday Morning Greetings 2020 #30 – The Road Less Traveled

July 27th, 2020

I woke up last week to an unexpected thought: “Your sādhana has crashed. No excuse!” Since my health challenges began, my chanting has gone down, and my deity worship has been manasa-pūjā (done mentally). I began to reflect on what happened.

 

One rarely starts meditation with full absorption and taste. You need a little effort and discipline at the beginning to gradually come to that stage. Deep meditation is just like a car that cannot begin in fifth gear, but instead must first rev up through the other gears. Not being able now to sit comfortably made that initial discipline of chanting much more austere, giving my mind the excuse not to make the extra effort needed for taste. As my energy level waned and my chanting became more of a struggle, my practices were reduced to my minimum vows.

 

“No excuse” is exactly the loud message I needed to hear. The mind always looks for the easy way out, or the road less traveled. The phrase “the road less traveled” is derived from a line from the poem “The Road Not Taken”[1] by former American Poet Laurette Robert Frost, and later became the title of a best seller by Scott Peck, a prominent psychologist. Scott Peck used the phrase to indicate that on the path of true fulfillment one often avoids the essential components of that path, delayed gratification and personal responsibility, which today, unfortunately, is too often the road less traveled. For me that meant to abdicate spiritual responsibility to some degree by the excuse of poor health.

 

The Yoga Sutras explain that we do āsana so that the body is happy and steady, so poor health can, and usually will, reduce one’s ability to adopt the austerity and discipline of spiritual practice. That’s natural. What I did, however, was use health as an excuse to reduce my discipline and spiritual responsibility beyond what I now think I was capable of performing, even if that capability was less than my usual standard.

 

If we are just a little mindful, we will observe a multitude of ways that our mind justifies avoiding the challenging work often needed to move to the next step in our spiritual life. For example, I have become vigilant about how powerful victim consciousness is, taking the easy way out of blaming the cause of one’s own failures on others, rather than doing the hard work of purifying oneself. In general, my health challenges just made me more aware that I need to take full responsibility for my spiritual life.

 

I have again picked up my practices. My health has also somewhat improved, but it is not just that. I heeded the warning of “no excuses!” I also see the gift of health challenges. When you lose physical power due to health, your engine of determination must come more from the heart, which now has a much deeper voice of dependence on mercy, and that is the real impetus for full absorption in the holy name, whether you are healthy or not.

 

“No excuses!”

 

“People who are evil attack others rather than face their own failures.” – Scott Peck

 

“Rationalization is intelligence in the service of the false ego.” – Dhanurdhara Swami

 

 


[1] Scott Peck adapted the name The Road Less Traveled from the last lines in Frost’s poem: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—/ I took the one less traveled by, /And that has made all the difference.”

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2020 #29 – Defriend the Police?

July 20th, 2020

I am no stranger to the tragedy of police brutality. I have mentioned this before. My very beloved youngest cousin, Jeffrey, was murdered at the hands of the police 45 years ago in a Midwest jail. His crime: He was Jewish. I am also no stranger to the hell of weak government in relation to effective law enforcement. I am from New York City. When I would return from India for the summer in the early 1990s, I couldn’t help but notice how dangerous it had become to walk the streets at night. Violent crimes especially plagued the poorer neighborhoods. I then watched how a stronger government quickly turned the situation around to make New York City one of the safest cities in the world.

 

Any system of hierarchy or authority, however, is by human nature challenged by the abuse of power. We shouldn’t be surprised to see such stark examples of that today. That doesn’t deny or justify, however, that law enforcement is still plagued by, to one degree or another, the problems of excess force and racism, and that this problem needs to be addressed. As the scope of the issue is much too broad for a Monday Morning Greetings, my discussion will be limited just to the necessity of having a strong police force in society and the qualification of people fit for that service. I will do that from the standpoint of the ancient texts of India, which I consider authoritative.

 

The Sanskrit for a person in society responsible for law enforcement is kṣatriya, which literally means to protect one from hurt.[1] What is implied here is that there must be a specific class of people in society to keep society safe and secure. In other words, society will not be peaceful unless there is a specific group of qualified people that have the strength and character to appropriately use force to subdue unsocial elements. There should be cooperation with the community, but any conception to protect citizens from crime that minimizes a strong and qualified police force is just sentiment according to the Vedic version.

 

What the texts therefore see as a solution to proper law enforcement in society is a strong enforcement presence of qualified people with a system of vigilance against its natural abuse. One story from the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam comes to mind that illustrates this.

 

When the powerful King Aṅga  abdicated his throne and left for the forest, the kingdom became overrun with crime. The respected brāhmaṇa priests became concerned that if they didn’t act quickly it would become worse, and therefore immediately installed Aṅga ’s very powerful son, Vena, as the next leader. Although the elements of lawlessness were quickly quelled, Vena also abused innocent people. The priestly caste found themselves in a dilemma that is described in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam by a powerful analogy.

 

“When the great sages consulted one another, they saw that the people were in a dangerous position from both directions. When a fire blazes on both ends of a log, the ants in the middle are in a very dangerous situation. Similarly, at that time the people in general were in a dangerous position due to an irresponsible king on one side and thieves and rogues on the other.” (Bhag. 4.14.8, Purport)

 

The brāhmaṇas then forcibly removed Vena and managed to replace him with a powerful leader of impeccable character. The brāhmaṇa solution to police overreach is instructive. They realized the necessity of both reform and change, but not at the expense of strong law enforcement. But what are the qualifications of a kṣatriya?

 

“Heroism, power, determination, resourcefulness, courage in battle, generosity and leadership are the natural qualities of work for the kṣatriya.” (Bg. 18. 43)

 

Of note is the qualities of enforcement are always tempered with the character of generosity or kindness.

 

There are a myriad of problems in today’s world. People are passionate about solutions. How to know that what one proposes will actually be effective? I put my trust in Vedic knowledge. Otherwise, solutions will be based on how they sound or feel according to one’s ideology, and not whether they are practical and effective. A safe and secure society therefore requires a strong police force screened for both powerful and noble qualifications. There is no other option.

 

 


[1] The basic derivation I heard from Prabhupāda is: “kṣa” – destruction, injury, loss, etc (coming from ‘ksati’) + “triya” – one who protects (from the verb ‘tra’).

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2020 #28 – The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men Oft Go Astray

July 13th, 2020

When I left India in March, my life was in transition, both by the circumstances of my life and by my age. I made a resolution after much thought. My service from now on would be the holy name, and I would consciously cultivate being equal in happiness and distress. The Hare Krishna movement is so service oriented in an active way that such a resolve for chanting almost seems radical. It’s not. Although I would prioritize my schedule around the holy name, there would still be time for my weekly blog and classes. I would also continue to meet with people, which now I could hopefully do from a higher level of spiritual integrity. To reserve time for chanting in my schedule, I would not take up any more time-consuming endeavors such as writing new books or organizing new retreats or projects, activities that had very much been my nature.

 

This type of life change is actually very standard in the culture in which my tradition is born. I am in the renounced order of life, sannyāsa, which has four stages. Modern sannyāsa very much begins and focuses on the third stage called parivrājakācāryaParivrājakācārya means to cultivate detachment by constant travel so that one is unable to become attached to home and hearth and to a world under the illusion of one’s control. The final, or fourth stage, is paramahaṁsa, where one sits in a holy place and completely depends on God, dedicating the rest of one’s life to chanting the holy name.

 

I am not a paramahaṁsa, which also means one who is completely above the modes of material nature, so my renunciation will not be that radical. I won’t retire to Radha Kunda and live in seclusion or anything like that, but I will increase my chanting and make that the most important thing in my life.

 

The most important thing in bhakti is being available for service as directed by the spiritual master. At the highest level that means a life completely free from frivolousness and hypocrisy. In other words, to know truth as far as possible and the practical application of it, and to live by that exclusively without any deviation, whether in the world of family responsibilities or the renounced order of life. I am open to Krishna’s will and the directions of those whom I respect, but as far as I can ascertain, and in consultation with others, what I have described above is now my calling in life.

 

For three months I was relishing my new focus in life. I also got a lot of inspiration to continue this service by seeing how much of a focus on spiritual practice empowered my writing, my classes, and most importantly the quality of my contact with others. It was also enlivening for me as a disciple of Śrīla Prabhupāda to see how my service was enhancing my contribution to his mission in this way beyond my own personal spiritual cultivation. Krishna also mercifully gave me a chance to practice the second resolution I made leaving India, to be equal in happiness and distress.

 

Health challenges suddenly came, and my whole program was thrown off keel. I hope it’s temporary, but I see that my illness is gifting me so many important realizations for inner life and spiritual practice, especially this importance of being equal in happiness and distress. There is no question of bhajan, deep spiritual practice, if one’s moods are too affected by the ever-changing world around one, especially various bodily afflictions that come with life, and especially old age.

 

My conclusion is that too feverishly trying to the control world as it moves beyond one’s control is just as painful, or even more so, than the afflictions one is trying to counteract. I am thus trying to remain detached, happy with God’s will, whatever it puts on my plate. Where does that leave me now?

 

I am just doing my duty by reasonably trying to get healthy, but ultimately leaving the result up to Krishna, and trying to build my spiritual practice again, whatever physical condition Krishna puts me in. That has been quite a test.

 

I shared with my friend this ironic twist of events in my life: I set off from India with the determination to live the rest of life as a more traditional Vrindavan sādhu, and I wound up in New Jersey wearing pants,[1] living twenty minutes from my mother. The well-known quote by 18th Century Scottish poet Robert Burns comes to mind:

 

“The best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray.”

 

Note: As many of the readers are my friends and well-wishers, I think it is incumbent to explain a little bit more about my health. For over a month I have been having different arthritic muscle pains shifting to different parts of the body that make ordinary activities, and certainly sitting for chanting, a bit challenging. So far blood tests have shown no indications of rheumatoid arthritis or any other cause. I have been on a very strict anti-inflammatory diet and have seen a chiropractor. The discomfort has lessened, and for the last week I have been reasonably functional, but not nearly to the level of my previous health.  

 

 


[1] My illness made my body quite cold, and thus I am forced to wear pants to keep warm, which is something I never do.

Monday Morning Greetings 2020 #27 – Sounds of the Ultimate Reality

July 6th, 2020

In Memoriam: Before this Monday Morning Greetings, I want to offer some heartfelt remembrance of His Holiness Bhakti Caru Swami, who passed away this Saturday. Perhaps many of you are not familiar with him, but he was my god-brother and a respected spiritual leader in the Hare Krishna movement. There will be many things spoken about his accomplishments, which were many, but I wanted to just say something personal. All of my exchanges with him were filled with his respect, kindness, and expressions of empathy. It was humbling to be in his presence. He was a rare soul and will be missed dearly.  

 

Sounds of the Ultimate Reality

 

Love is an emotion, but it is experienced through the senses. If someone says they love you, does not the sound carry their emotion or conviction? On Mother’s Day, or another noted occasion, we may receive flowers or a garland. Do we not experience the other person’s affection through the shape, color, and fragrance of the flowers? Whether it is sound, sight, taste, fragrance, or touch, feelings are mostly communicated through the objects of senses.

 

This emotion/sense relation has a strong bearing on the krishnabhakti conception of the ultimate reality. In krishnabhakti, the highest reality is the overwhelming experience of universal love between the Supreme Soul, Krishna, and His unlimited parts and parcels played out through His līlā, a divine drama of loving exchange, or rasa. As this reality is a world of pure love, it is therefore also a world of beautiful sights, sonorous and ambrosial sounds, and delectable tastes, all manifest as an expression or vehicle for devotion. If we hold pure love as the most universally exalted concept is not, then the sensually expressive krishnalīlā a reasonable conception of what the ultimate reality may be? Let’s explore this contention through just one of the objects of the senses described there as a vehicle of perfect love: sound.

 

Upon entering the forest, Krishna blows His flute. Imagine what that sounds like, but more importantly try to understand where that matchless sound is coming from. Krishna is overjoyed entering the Vrindavan forest, the land of love, where even out of devotion the wind is intentionally carrying the fragrance of the flowers and the cool droplets of the lake for the His pleasure and that of His devotees. The supreme sound is thus carrying Krishna’s joy and His love of His devotees.

 

The sound of the flute is also a personal expression of Krishna’s heart. It announces Krishna’s affection for each particular devotee, who somehow hear in that sound their name and a confirmation of Krishna’s love for them. In response to Krishna’s acknowledgement, the cowherd boys sing songs of Krishna’s pastimes deep from the heart, with sonorous melodies supported by the perfectly driven beat of the wood drums of a few select friends. The kirtan slowly builds up to such an unprecedented level of joy that some boys even spontaneously grab the big shiny leaves of particular trees and roll them as trumpets to add the sound of triumph to Krishna’s march through the forest.

 

When Krishna enters the forest there is the stunning sound of the singing of thousands and thousands of birds and bees, a breath-taking spectacular that would even shame the forest sounds of a modern science fiction extravaganza set in the background of a tropical jungle or forest. Anyway, accompanying the flute and cowherd kirtan is the all-pervading and overwhelming chirping and buzzing of devotion.

 

Despite the brilliant forest choir of birds, Krishna somehow initially becomes allured by the sounds of the bees. They have drunk the pollen of flower after flower, and are now buzzing, with eyes closed, in a state of intoxication. Actually, they are simply overwhelmed with singing for Krishna as they surround His garland. Krishna then adds something new and extraordinary to the forest symphony. He perfectly imitates the bees in the intricacy of their songs, and then, while exploring their various forest paths, He spontaneously replicates all the varieties of feathered crooners in the forest. Mind you, these are not ordinary birds who have just one tune and pitch, but Krishna’s birds, who are operatic and expert as they glorify Krishna in different pitches, cadences, and tunes.

 

The cowherd boys will not be outdone by the birds and bees. They bring their kirtan to new heights even outdoing the bees. All that can then be heard in the forest is the extra-ordinary sounds of devotion. The heart of any entity, therefore, who simply opens their ears in Vrindavan completely melts overflooded with prema.

 

Ah, the sounds of Vrindavan! May we all one day hear the sound of Krishna’s flute, but more importantly, feel the joy and love it carries!