Waves of Devotion

Reflection One

My experience is that my ability to meditate on the holy name is very much commensurate with the quality of my life the previous day, meaning that I met my responsibilities, reasonably prioritized them, and didn’t frivolously waste time. If chanting becomes our service, our life becomes our service.

Reflection Two

Chanting is like shooting an arrow, for in both marksmanship and prayer one must aim at a target or objective to be effective. I aim my chanting at the lotus feet of Sri Krishna and the Vaiṣṇavas and beg for the mercy of the holy name. O Holy Name! O Sri Girirāja! O devotees of the Lord! O Śrīla Prabhupāda! Please engage me in your service!

Reflection Three

Don’t fall into the misconception that the holy name isn’t service because a person is seemingly not actively doing or accomplishing anything. Service means to give pleasure to another person, and real pleasure is to feel the love of another. To sit and to offer our consciousness to Krishna in devotion is the highest service, for we are consciousness that reaches maturity and fulfilment in pure love. And in that mood of devotion, we remain fully available for whatever other service is requested from above.

Reflection Four

Taste in chanting makes us humble, because whenever we just glimpse the holy name, although the experience is sublime, it is also so simple. We then realize that so many others, including the everyday practitioners, must be already at that level of chanting, and that we may be so far behind.

Reflection Five

By our nature and upbringing, we tend to see the fault in a devotee whose nature and thoughts differ from ours. Unfortunately, we often mistake that small aspect of that person as the whole person and miss their devotionally inspired side. Lately, I have been meditating on the qualities of my godbrothers and godsisters who have passed away and have noticed that the reverse is true. I focus only on their inspired side as dedicated servants of Śrīla Prabhupāda, even in cases where their nature and thoughts appeared so much different than mine. A real Vaiṣṇava, however, always focuses on the inspired side of the devotees, whether they have passed away or are still living.

Reflection Six

The key to chanting: You have to know what you are praying for and want it really bad.

A friend shared with me an excerpt from a book he was reading on his favorite subject, the realizations of the Greek Stoics. I am always impressed with what he sends me:

“Listen, as the saying goes, it’s crisis time: make a last desperate effort to gain freedom and tranquility — to be a Stoic. Lift up your head, like a person finally released from slavery. Dare to face God and say, ‘from now on, use me as you like. I am of one mind with you, I am your peer.’ Whatever you decide, I will not shrink from it. You may put me where you like, in any role regardless: officer or citizen, rich man or pauper, here or overseas. They are all just so many opportunities to justify your ways to man, by showing just how little circumstances amount to.” (From Epictetus’s Discourses and Selected Writings, translated by Robert Dobbin, pg. 116)

Reading this, I felt challenged; Could I throw my hands in the air and “dare to face God” and say, as the best of the Stoics do, “From now on use me as you like”? I will soon again visit and stay with my mother. It is not at all easy for me to live there for many reasons, but knowing how overwhelmed my family is with their own responsibilities and struggles, it is not out of the question that more and more responsibility could eventually fall on me. If that is the case — that it is God’s will — I will have to bow my head to Krishna with full conviction and declare, “Whatever you decide, I will not shrink from it.” It won’t be easy.

I think my situation may be a good example of why, unlike the path of jñāna, the simple process of bhakti, which has no rigid prerequisites, can be so darn challenging. In devotion, all we have to do is sincerely serve the will of God, leaving the results up to Him. Anybody in any condition or station in life, therefore, can advance on the path of devotion. The only difficulty is if we are asked to do something that does not conform to our desires, in which case a simple task will seem difficult and will likely be resisted. In other words, the path of bhakti is only challenging because we don’t always like to serve a higher purpose, especially when, in the process, we have to relinquish control.

This “stoic” acquiescence to a higher truth is also called surrender. It is the foundation of devotion, for without surrendering selfishness — and that’s what surrender means — one can never enter the door of bhakti, or, for that matter, any sincere loving relationship.

As we go deeper in any spiritual endeavor, we will inevitably hit a barrier, and an inner voice will challenge us: “If you want the highest love you have to fully surrender.” The Stoics had it right. Are we ready to meet The Krishna Challenge and boldly declare in full devotion, “From now on use me as you like”?

Dying in America[1]

For the past week, I have been staying at my mother’s house. She will be 100 years of age next June, bless her soul. My younger and older brother responsibly manage her affairs, but besides a full-time helper, she lives without any family. Prior to the pandemic they could at least visit regularly.

I won’t bore you with the details, but getting old and dying is no fun, especially in America where independence is valued to such a degree that everyone wants their own place, even after visibly getting older. Unfortunately, the result is that when one eventually becomes debilitated, they hardly ever age or die with family and are mostly shuffled off to a nursing home. What could be a worse fate than dying without the care of loved ones, which now seems the norm or culture in most of the first world?

I think the root of this tragedy is a misunderstanding of freedom. Freedom is great when it allows you to worship the God of your choice and freely voice your opinions. When freedom, however, is defined simply as freedom to, which tends to overvalue abject independence, then an equally important freedom is excluded, the freedom from, in this case from loneliness, when the support one requires to be secure and emotionally fulfilled is insufficient. In my opinion, this situation is a direct result of the unhinged freedom to culture that minimizes the value of duty, sacrifice, and ultimately the extended family. Thinking about this gave me a remembrance that I think highlights this loss of tradition and culture.

I was walking down the main road in Govardhan with a friend when I noticed a stately old building. The sign carved in stone on the edifice in bold letters announcing “ANATHALAYA” caught my attention. I asked my friend what it meant. It was an orphanage. I was then immediately able to recognize how the meaning of the word was derived from its components, which were common Sanskrit words — a (not)—nātha (to control or rule) — ālaya (dwelling). I was struck by the cultural implications of the meaning, “a dwelling for those who have no ruler.”

In a traditional culture, the concept of no one to rule one describes a tragic situation, for the concept of authority or rule mostly means shelter and consequent guidance, and to lack that is indeed unfortunate. In the post­modern world, the term no ruler or controller, however, would never be the choice of words to describe something negative, because becoming free from rule or authority is actually valued. Today’s children therefore usually don’t remain with their parents, and most parents today prefer to stay in their own house even when getting older. By the time the need for serious care arises, there are usually not even enough family members in one house capable or willing to take on such responsibility.

Anyway, I am here with my mother trying to help. I am arranging to get her hearing aid fixed. Somehow her helper didn’t realize it was not working, which made it practically impossible for the family to talk with her on the tablet they purchased. I am trying to do my part. Aging and dying without spiritual realization is difficult enough, but dying in America is especially tragic.

[1] America can refer to anyplace in North or South America. Here I am using it to refer to the United States.

Humility! Humility! Humility!

This was St. Augustine’s declarative answer to the rhetorical question he posed to an assembly of the faithful gathered to hear him speak: “What is the most important quality for spiritual advancement?” As humility is of paramount importance to spiritual life, I have discussed this subject many times in Monday Morning Greetings, from posts defining humility to discussing how it is distinguished from low self-esteem. This week, I had an inspiration to define humility in another way that I hope adds to the understanding of this important subject: Humility is moving out of the center.

When I refer to the center here, I am referring to the pride that the world should or does revolve around my desires and the faith that happiness occurs when that is achieved. Moving out of the center is the humility to shift from this identity to one of servant of God, who is actually the center of all existence and inclusive of all. Some thoughts on how this perspective demonstrates the subject of humility.

Family and Humility (moving out of the center)

A sannyāsī once told his student monks ( brahmacārīs), “If you want to remain a monk, you have to be the humble servant of everyone. Otherwise, you should get married and at least be the humble servant of a wife and family.” Marriage and family are meant to teach that there is something higher than oneself. If, out of pride, one tries to use family to center himself for enjoyment and control, the whole purpose of it is ruined.

Community and Humility (moving out of the center)

The whole purpose of community is to provide a place where one can happily leave the self-centered false ego at the door in order to joyfully experience that common interest is higher and serves one better than self-interest.

Disciple and Humility (moving out of the center)

Disciple means one who moves out of the center and puts guru and Krishna there.

Guru and Humility (moving out of the center)

A spiritual master is indeed the center of his disciples’ lives. A guru, however, never thinks he is guru or the center, but humbly accepts this position as a service to his spiritual master. In that way, guru and Krishna remain the center of the guru’s life. If he wavers from holding that consciousness, he is not qualified to be a guru.

Coming to the Path of Bhakti and Humility (moving out of the center)

The path of bhakti begins with the realization that our attempts to be the center of existence have only led to duality and fear, which impels us to take the humble position of desiring a truth higher than our own failed authority.

Bhakti and Humility (moving out of the center)

The practice of bhakti is the process of putting God in the center of one’s life by moving to the periphery for service and vigilantly resisting the false ego’s constant attempt to drag one back.

Bhakti-sastra and Humility (moving out of the center)

Bhakti-sastra is meant to attract us to Krishna by describing His glories. By reading the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and hearing Krishna’s glories, one becomes attracted to Krishna and puts Him in the center of their life, which inspires one to move to the position of Krishna’s servant. This hearing process, this study of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, is thus the crux of the bhakti practice.

Shunning Praise and Humility (moving out of the center)

Material consciousness means we like to be praised, because it puts us in the center where we can control and enjoy. A bhakta thus militantly deflects or shuns praise.

Experiencing Love and Humility (moving out of the center)

The only place where God’s love does not shine is the center where we shield ourselves from His mercy by the cloud of self-centeredness. Why are we so attached to the only place where love and happiness do not flow?

I think I understand further now as to why St. Augustine was so emphatic: “Humility! Humility! Humility!”

“Be silent and listen: Have you recognized your madness, and do you admit it?” – Carl Jung