Waves of Devotion

Deep Faith, Deep Space, Deep Time, Deep Work, Deep Taste[1]

Since Covid, I have shifted more internally in my devotional life. What else is there to do when you are stuck in New Jersey for almost two years? As I am approaching 73, it is also age appropriate to move somewhat more in that direction. I decided to share my realizations in an informal online japa and prayer school. Isn’t that what a teacher of Krishna consciousness is supposed to do, or one of their main duties? Anyway, let me share with you what I think my outline for the course will be.

Deep Faith

No one willingly puts effort into any activity without faith, which arises from the experience and understanding of the worth of our objective or goal. Therefore, if our chanting is lax, likely so is our faith. The first part of japa reform is therefore nāma-tattva, learning the truth or glories of the holy name. I find that if we chant even a few times select verses on the holy name composed by pure devotees who have strong faith, very slowly hearing each word, absorbing those verses will naturally spark within us the faith of their composer and inspire our chanting.

Deep Space

Every object has a potency to influence one to use it for its purpose—a bed will invite sleep, an iPhone will invite chatter, and so on. Chanting thus requires a sacred space, an area at least physically free from any competition for one’s attention. For that reason, I have put more focus into my deities and altar. I strictly sit before them while I chant, at least for the first sixteen rounds. My experience is that if I step outside that sacred space, the objects that I use for other purposes, like my computer, for example, will allure my attention. The powerful effect of environment on our consciousness is a science. It is all clearly outlined in the fourteenth chapter of the Bhagavad-gītā.

Deep Time

As you need a sacred space for chanting, you also need a sacred time for chanting, which means our chanting needs to be regulated as much as possible. Regulation means reserving a certain time for a specific activity that facilitates offering one’s exclusive attention to that activity. When you are not regulated in your chanting, so many obligations and allurements will compete for your time, and they are often more attractive in one’s mind at the time than chanting. The Sanskrit word for worship is upāsana, which literally means “to sit near” (upa: near, āsana: seat). When sitting down, unless there is resolve that this time is only for God, it is never real upāsana—sitting near or absorbing oneself in the holy name.

Deep Mercy[2]

Bhakti is the path of grace. As the object of our meditation in japa is not just a prop for steadying the mind, but mantra, or God in sound, our success or endeavor on the path of bhakti is not limited to our own abilities, but also enhanced by the grace of God. One way to attract such mercy is to glorify of God and His devotees. A few prayers said meditatively to Śrī Śrī Guru-Gaurāṅga, and the Vaiṣṇavas before chanting is essential in my practice to put myself in the proper mood for chanting and to invoke the mercy I need for success in chanting. I absolutely cannot be a successful meditator on my own power.

Deep Work

Scientific studies have shown that after some initial effort in an activity, even if we are sincere, our accomplishments tend to plateau unless we push ourselves somewhat beyond what we perceive as our present level of capability. If we want success in japa meditation, we need to be prepared for some tapasya, which simply means to sincerely put in the required work for chanting despite the irrational impulses of the mind and senses that dictate otherwise.

Deep Taste

Taste in chanting comes from the realization that the holy name is non-different from Śrī Krishna. Such realization comes with practice, which means concentration without interruption, over a period of time, in the right understanding and mood. Whether for just fifteen minutes or four rounds at a time, or completing our vows in one sitting, unless we endeavor to sincerely practice in this manner, there will be no taste in chanting. Unfortunately, without taste we may develop negative feelings for meditation, and our japa will wane or remain mechanical.

Spiritual success means to become deeper in our practice and devotion These are some suggestions how.

[1] I got the basic idea for this organization of how to worship Krishna from a class by Jaya Jagannath where he divided meditation into “deep space, deep time, and deep work”. I am just expanding upon it.

[2] The commentators on the Yoga-sūtras all describe that the benefit of worshipping Īśvara (God) as the object of meditation is the mercy that God can bestow on the meditator: “Devotion to God, according to Vyāsa, involves a particular type of devotion, bhakti-viśeṣa; simply by the yogī’s longing, God bestows his grace upon the yogī. When this happens, the fruits of samādhi become quickly available. As Rāmānanda Sarasvatī puts it, God turns toward the yogī as a result of such devotion and says, ‘Let this that he desires be his!’” (The Yoga-sūtras of Patañjali, translation and commentary by Edwin F. Bryant, p.82)

It was April 1st, but don’t let the date fool you. I swear this is true. It was the best of days. I had been away for three weeks in Colombia and had just arrived at 5:00 PM in Newark from a long flight. When I walked outside the airport to catch my ride back to my “home” in New Jersey, I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by an unseasonably pleasant 72° F soft breeze. I remember being very relaxed in my seat on the way back home, appreciating the clear sky above and basking in the balmy weather. I mostly fasted during my flight, and I was also looking forward to getting back to our place, taking some prasādam, and resting. I noted that the early evening did seem exceptionally heavenly. Suddenly, out of nowhere, almost like an ominous ākāśa-vāṇī,[1] I heard an eerie, sharp beep. It was from my phone. I grabbed the phone at my side and looked down: Emergency Alert: Tornado warnings until 8 PM. Immediately take shelter in the basement of your house or go to the nearest public shelter. “What?!” I turned to Jack driving. “It’s nothing. It’s like being warned of a lightning strike. The probability of getting hit by one is practically nil. This is not Kansas. We’ll be home shortly.” I looked up, and the skies were perfectly clear. Sounds good, then boom!

The Sāṁvartaka clouds appear.[2] It becomes pitch black. Columns of torrential rain pound our windshield, blinding our vision. We slow down and stop at the next intersection. The winds are ominously blowing like a wind tunnel on the highway crossing before us, kicking up debris. It doesn’t look good. Finally, we arrive. We scurry ten feet in the rain to the door, rush inside and close the door quickly behind us. Home at last! As I place my bags in my room and sit down, a realization suddenly comes to my mind based on something I had just read from the Govardhan-līlā:

“The word mac-charaṇam indicates not only Lord Krsna was the sole shelter for the vraja-jana, the people of Vrindavana, but also that Lord Krsna had established His home among them. Śrīla Viśvanātha Cakravartī Ṭhākura quotes from the Anekārtha-varga dictionary, śaraṇaṁ gṛha-rakṣitroḥ: ‘The word śaraṇaṁ can represent either home or protector.’” (Bhag. 10.25.18, purport)

The concept of śaraṇaṁ, taking shelter, and the suggested translation of “home”, seemed so appropriate for what just happened. I was somewhat in danger, then immediately relief—shelter at home. The translation of śaraṇaṁ as “home” does seem to add some important insight into its meaning, which is usually translated as “surrender”, such as in the famous verse:

sarva-dharmān parityajya
mām ekaṁ śaraṇaṁ vraja
ahaṁ tvāṁ sarva-pāpebhyo
mokṣayiṣyāmi mā śucaḥ

Synonyms

sarva–dharmān—all varieties of religion; parityajya—abandoning; mām—unto Me; ekam—only; śaraṇam—for surrender; vraja—go; aham—I; tvām—you; sarva—all; pāpebhyaḥ—from sinful reactions; mokṣayiṣyāmi—will deliver; mā—do not; śucaḥ—worry.

Translation

“Abandon all varieties of religion and just surrender unto Me. I shall deliver you from all sinful reactions. Do not fear.” (Bg. 18.66)

The English translation of śaraṇaṁ as “surrender” is certainly appropriate because śaraṇaṁ is a verb, and the word “surrender” expresses our agency in the matter of taking shelter, whereas the translation “home” is a noun and lacks action. The translation and metaphor of the word “home”, however, does add a lot to the meaning of śaraṇaṁ because the word śaraṇaṁ is never meant to conflated with a forced act of one defeated or enslaved, as the word surrender often implies, but rather seeking shelter willingly where one is protected and maintained like at home.

The word “śaraṇāgati”, is also usually translated as “surrender” but its literally meaning—śaraṇa (for shelter or protection) gati (to go)—is also very much enhanced by the image of going home, because the image of home suitably conveys what surrender looks like—putting ourselves under that place where our needs are finally maintained from an environment where those needs are threatened, and certainly not to a place of capitulation. I love how Śrīla Narottama beautifully expresses this concept of śaraṇaṁ as going from danger to relief in the song “Gaurāṅga karuna koro”, which also parallels my initial inspiration of finding shelter from a storm:

“I am plunged amidst the violent hurricane-stricken waves in the ocean of this material world, from which there is no escape. Kindly give me the gift of Your divine lotus feet, which are compared to a boat in which Your servant may cross over the ocean of birth and death.” (Verse 4)

One more important point must be stressed. Our greatest need is love. Ideally, home is a place where we also find fulfilling relationships in a world of strife and disappointment. The idea that home is where we find the shelter of love also enhances the metaphor between home and the ultimate shelter with God, because more than anything else our relationship with God is the place where our hearts can be fully satisfied. And that was my ultimate realization from the eye of a tornado!

“This temporary material world is full of suffering, take shelter of the holy name of Krishna as your only business.” (Arunodaya kirtan Song 1 verse 6 Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura)

[1] An ākāśa-vāṇī is an unembodied voice from the sky often described in the traditional literature of India, such as in the description of Krishna’s birth, when during the marriage procession of Devakī, his mother, a voice comes from the sky to predict that her eighth child will cause the death of her brother Kaṁsa. The emergency alert invoked that image for me as it came out of nowhere.

[2] The Sāṁvartaka clouds are the clouds of universal destruction. We see their effect in the story of Govardhan-līlā where they are summoned by Indra to destroy Vrindavan. The sky becomes black and there are unprecedented torrents of rain. The storm I was in reminded me of that.

One of my passions is to empower people. I define empowerment as recognizing, encouraging, and facilitating the abilities of others, especially those who are junior to one. I will be giving classes for the next few months in the New Jersey area and inviting others to speak at my programs in this spirit. Yesterday, after my short introduction, I asked Jaya Jagannath to do kirtan and share a realization. He didn’t disappoint us. I would like to outline his points from memory. Obviously, as it was his realization, and I am recounting it from memory, I can’t do it full justice, and therefore there might be slight gaps in logic between the points in my presentation that were not there between the points in his lecture. Still, it was so well conceptualized and expressed that I am sure that whatever ideas of his that I can recount will be appreciated. I will list what I remember point-by-point. It’s a shame we didn’t tape it.

1. Jaya Jagannath was always somewhat bored with reading the description of the universal form that is repeatedly described in several of the initial cantos of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam.

2. Gradually, with his studies of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and deep prayer, he began to appreciate these topics as he realized more and more that those things that manifest from God, such as the universe, are in many ways a microcosm of God and when approached in the proper way and attitude reveal the Divine.

3. He also realized how important those studies are in molding one’s psyche, for if one doesn’t see design and order in the world and thus just sees the universe as chaos and random, that chaotic or relative conception will naturally be reflected in one’s values or thoughts. As a result, one will tend to embrace post-modern conceptions, where there are no objective truths or values. For example, even the simple distinctions of what is a woman will be blurred.[1]

4. One important order of the manifest world as described in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam is that it is generally divided into three divisions: the underworld (the world of the demons), the middle earth or terrestrial realm (humans), and the celestial world (the Gods).

5. We are also a reflection of God, and thus these three divisions are also reflected in our psyche. Therefore, as within the universe there is both conflicts and cooperation between these three worlds, in the same way these conflicted and cooperative relationships between these different worlds manifest in our psyche in our day-to-day thoughts.

6. For example, if we are not aware of our underworld and don’t sufficiently recognize it, our lower side will remain as a shadow, and only break out later into our everyday plane with more force.

7. Also, people who want to develop spiritually must also pay more attention to the pure spiritual self in the upper or celestial world by hearing about and imbibing the consciousness of the residents there and then bring that consciousness into their daily lives.

8. For people on the path of Krishna consciousness, the celestial world is described in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, especially in the Tenth Canto, where the perfection of consciousness is described as the relationship or mood of devotion between the residents of Vrindavan and Krishna.

9. Rāgānugā-bhakti is the practice of emulating the perfected souls of Vrindavan (the celestial world), which is outlined in three verses in Śrīla Rūpa Gosvāmī’s magnum opus, Bhakti-rasāmṛta-sindhu. An understanding of the inter-relation between these three divisions in the psyche can also clarify the practice of rāgānugā-bhakti.

10. The first verse that Rūpa Gosvāmī cites about rāgānugā-bhakti says that one who has reached the platform of spontaneous devotion and becomes attracted to the devotion of a particular resident of Vrindavan should cultivate that mood of devotion by regularly hearing about that devotee and his loving relationship with Sri Krishna.[2] In other words, as we advance, we should increasingly develop our consciousness in relation to the celestial or spiritual world by hearing about that realm and appropriately emulating it, and not, as most people do, keep our thoughts just in the day-to-day karmic terrestrial plane.

11. The second verse says that we should follow that devotee whose devotion we covet both in their siddha-rūpa (their forms as a resident of the upper celestial world, as a resident of Goloka (celestial) Vrindavan) and in their sādhaka-rūpa (their corresponding form as a practitioner in the middle or earthly realm such as the Six Gosvāmīs of Gokula (terrestrial) Vrindavan.[3]

12. One way to follow the devotion of the devotee we emulate when they are in their sādhaka-rūpa on the earth plane is not just by emulating their spiritual practices, which is the main thing we should follow, but also by observing and following their bhāvanām (mood of devotion) as it plays out in their dealings with others and in their view of the cosmos in this world.

I am not sure I did justice to Jaya Jagannath’s presentation, but I would just like to elaborate on his last point, which ended his presentation. Remember his class was a response to my request for him to just share a philosophical realization he was a having. If I summed it up, his realization is that the world is a manifestation of the divine, and as one advances in devotion, one increasingly sees it and responds to it in that way. Therefore, when one enters deeper into a life of prayer and starts to increasingly dwell on the celestial or higher realms of existence, the bhāvanām, or mood of devotion one aspires for, increasingly comes into one’s daily life to the extent that rather than reject the material realm as separate from God, one will look at and relate to the cosmos as divine and in relation to one’s relationship with Krishna. Again, it was his personal realization, and I may have fallen short in personally expressing it, but his talk really hit me at the end when he brought his own aspirations in prayer for spontaneous devotion to where he began his presentation: the relevance of the universal form in terms of relating to the world as divine and in a devotional consciousness. In all, a somewhat unique, but substantial realization connecting the universal form, or how we even view the cosmos in a divine way, and spontaneous devotion or rāgānugā-bhakti. It was certainly well done and thought provoking.

[1] It was clear that this example wasn’t denying that people should be identified, treated, and respected by a gender they choose, even if is different than the gender of their birth. The confusion referred to is when the distinction between adult females and adult males is blurred on the biological level.

[2] “The devotee should always think of Kṛṣṇa within himself and should choose a very dear devotee who is a servitor of Kṛṣṇa in Vṛndāvana. One should constantly engage in topics about that servitor and his loving relationship with Kṛṣṇa, and one should live in Vṛndāvana. If one is physically unable to go to Vṛndāvana, he should mentally live there.” (Brs. 1.2.295)

[3] “The advanced devotee who is inclined to spontaneous loving service should follow the activities of a particular associate of Kṛṣṇa’s in Vṛndāvana. He should execute service externally as a regulative devotee as well as internally from his self-realized position. Thus he should perform devotional service both externally and internally.” (Brs. 1.2. 295)

In the history of the world, everyone has died. We don’t have to look far to see that our eldest relatives are gone, and that eventually we are next. Still, the most amazing thing, according to the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, is that we act as if somehow we will not die. Yes, we may acknowledge the fact that one day we will leave this body, and we may also be very fearful of death, but still, we are mostly oblivious to the stark reality of our mortality in how we look at, react to, and plan our lives. The Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam calls this paśyann (seeing) api na paśyati (but not seeing).[1] When I again chanced upon this phrase this week, I was intrigued and began to meditate on its meaning. What became obvious was the myriad of reasons why we don’t see that which is right before our eyes. What struck me most in my musings is how relevant it is to recognize this phenomenon to fully understand Radha and Krishna in truth.

First, my thoughts on what the various obstacles to perception are:

Inattention

Perception is not just a matter of the senses. It depends on the focus of the mind. Have you ever daydreamed while chanting your japa or reciting a prayer and didn’t hear anything although you were chanting the mantra or prayer and vibrating the eardrum with its sound? The reason you didn’t hear anything was because in order for something to register in our awareness it requires not only the activation of the external senses, but the focus of the internal sense—the mind. Real chanting is thus done with the mind—although for most people, without activating the external senses, the mind will not be focused on our meditation, and there will not be a willful impression of the holy name in the consciousness. Conclusion: Unless one is attentive, even though we may be hearing and seeing, we in fact are not seeing (paśyann api na paśyati).

Ignorance

Can you perceive something if you do not know what it is? Imagine going back 2,000 years in time and showing your iPhone to a person of that era. Although seeing it, they would not be able to perceive it as a phone because of ignorance of what it is. Therefore, to see and respond to the world properly, a cultured and intelligent person consciously sees the world through the lens or eyes of knowledge or śāstra (jñāna-cakṣus). Conclusion: Unless we have knowledge, although seeing and hearing, we in fact are not seeing (paśyann api na paśyati).

Attitude

Our attitude also effects our perception. Go back to the last presidential election in the United States and choose a candidate that you dislike the most. Probably half the country who is seeing and hearing the exact same person is perceiving him in exactly the opposite way as you. Our attitude, especially in terms of the dualities of desire and hate, very much affect our ability to accurately perceive the world, especially its people. For example, when we hate or envy someone, we tend to see them as less than they are. Conclusion: Unless one is beyond prejudice, although seeing and hearing something, we in fact are not seeing (paśyann api na paśyati).

Strong Material Attachment

Have you ever entered a monetary transaction with a narcissist? A narcissist sees the world through their own desires, so in all likelihood at some time in the transaction they saw your money as theirs and were either reluctant to give it back to you or they outright kept it. Our nature is to color the world by our attachments only seeing what we desire as true and not hearing as valid what we don’t like. Conclusion: Unless we become detached, although seeing or hearing something, we in fact are not seeing (paśyann api na paśyati).

Seeing and Hearing Radha and Krishna

The goal of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam is to hear and realize the Tenth Canto, specifically the love of Radha and Krishna. But are we hearing about Radha and Krishna in truth if we are not sufficiently attentive, knowledgeable, free from envy and pure in heart? Śrīla Vyāsa, the author, didn’t think so. He therefore organized the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam so that before we hear about Sri Krishna’s pastimes in the Tenth Canto, we need to study the preceding nine cantos first, which are written to purify us of the obstacles to perception so that when we finally hear about Radha and Krishna in the Tenth Canto, we hear the highest spiritual reality and not something mundane or fantastical.

I am foolishly convinced that the reality I see is what is there, including that my temporary body is my true, lasting identity, but if I am seeing the truth then why when I hear the holy name and the pastimes of Radha and Krishna, the ultimate reality and the truest source of love and beauty, does my heart not melt in ecstasy?

“Certainly that heart is steel-framed which, in spite of one’s chanting the holy name of the Lord with concentration, does not change when ecstasy takes place, tears fill the eyes and the hairs stand on end.” (Bhag. 2.3.24) Paśyann api na paśyati.

[1] Bhag. 2.1.4