Waves of Devotion

Every year I celebrate the birthday of Monday Morning Greetings, January 4, 2016, by dedicating my post on the Monday closest to the New Year to an aspect of the process of my writing.

This year I will discuss my voice in writing, the consistent style or personality in my composition. Looking at it from just a slightly different perspective, when you read my posts, I hope my voice comes through as if you were personally hearing me speak. Are you hearing my voice now?

In the “Zonal Ācārya Days” they had a unique arrangement in the Krishna Balaram Mandir in Vrindavan for the morning Bhāgavatam class. Towering over the vyāsāsana for the Bhāgavatam speaker was an adjacent and bigger marble vyāsāsana. If in attendance, one of the eleven “ācāryas” would sit there facing the audience. One day during my class, Bhavananda, the local ācārya, was sitting next to me. He is certainly, to say the least, a flamboyant and dramatic person. That day he really liked my class. Immediately after it was finished, he raised both hands above his head with palms out and fingers gently moving back and forth. He pointed towards the audience and declared in the confident mood and voice of a born and bred New Yorker (although I think he is from Jersey City just across the Hudson River):

“I like Dhanurdhara Swami because he is from New York, Jewish, and a devotee!”

He paused and then with even more drama declared:

“In that order!”

I hope my readers hear my “voice” in my writing, but not in that order. I am first and foremost a devotee and from Vrindavan, and I hope that voice drowns out my Brooklyn accent, which I am told persists a bit after almost fifty years in Vrindavan. I am also karmically packaged from New York and if you also hear that voice, so be it, especially if it flavors my overall voice in writing in Krishna’s service.

The most important point is that I and the regular readers of Monday Morning Greetings have been together for many years. You hear my voice every week and thus know me and I guess we are all therefore friends. I don’t write from a distance. I share my life, and even a little of my struggles, which I hope makes my writing somewhat authentic.

A few other observations about my writing:

Writing is like giving birth to a child. It also takes birth after labor and when it is born, there is great joy. For parents to get the joy of parenthood they must wait nine months in addition to enduring the labor of the mother during birth, and to produce a book and get that joy takes even longer, sometimes years. What I like about my writing is that I don’t have to wait to get that joy. I get it every week by giving birth to Monday Morning Greetings. I therefore thank you for lending me your time by reading it. Now I will reveal something personal about Monday Morning Greetings that you may find interesting.

I have a penchant for branding. Do you know where I got the title for this weekly publication?

Well, before Krishna consciousness I was, like many Americans, a sports junkie, so to speak. I especially enjoyed the football (not soccer) games on Sunday. The person with the most responsibility in directing the football team during the game is the quarterback. When someone criticizes or gives advice about a game after it has been played, that person is therefore called a Monday-morning quarterback. The term has become a general term for someone who passes judgment on and criticizes something after the event. Now, I am not exactly doing that in Monday Morning Greetings, but I got the name after a famous football column called “Monday-Morning Quarterback” which reviewed the games each Monday, a day after they were played. When branding my column, I thought the appearance of the column on Monday would help people greet the coming week with some wisdom teachings rather than something mundane. Monday Morning Greetings, like Monday-morning quarterback, seemed to me a catchy title. I think it works.

I think the main voice I would like the reader to hear is a devotional intellectual who shares his realizations on relevant topics from devotional practice to societal issues, mostly within a spiritual movement. Sometimes, like this week, it becomes more personal, and perhaps you hear that voice today more prominently.

Well, I am a proud father. Happy ninth birthday, Monday Morning Greetings![1]

[1] Every week Rathi Krishna sends me a list of people who clicked on my articles so that I get a sense of the audience and some people occasionally write me to appreciate or comment on an article. It helps me to know my audience. I see on the list many people I met years ago. If any of the readers would like to drop me a line and say hello or introduce themselves, I welcome that, and this is the time. Perhaps some could even pick out an article they especially liked and explain why. They are all listed on www.wavesofdevotion.com.

Well, maybe not the greatest fear. The Gītā explains that the greatest fear is losing this rare human birth which gives us the ability to turn to God. Fortunately, that’s not my worry. This guarantees that one on the path of God is protected from losing that precious opportunity. So, what is my greatest fear?

Presently, I am reading the first chapter of the Tenth Canto. I am up to the part where Vasudeva is trying to pacify Kaṁsa. Kaṁsa is threatening Vasudeva’s wife Devakī because her eighth child is predicted to be the cause of his death. Vasudeva, an expert diplomat, unsuccessfully tries many approaches to assuage Kaṁsa’s fear. One of his last attempts is the use of philosophy. He briefly explains to Kaṁsa transmigration of the soul. This body is not all in all, he explains. What we do in this life, and especially the mental state we develop, creates our next body. You will not therefore solve anything by killing Devakī. Rather, the heinous activity of killing your sister, and especially your envy of her, will carry you to a body in your next life racked with even more misfortune and fear.

What really struck me in this section, even more than the verses, was how this point was developed in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s commentaries. Here’s the gist of it:

“At the time of death, according to his mental condition, the living being is carried by the subtle body, consisting of mind, intelligence and ego, to another gross body.” Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 10.1 40, purport

Of course, I knew this already, but Śrīla Prabhupāda’s purports, and the conviction with which he spoke, forced me to examine more closely all that I am doing and the consciousness in which it is done. If even my devotional activities sometimes get subtly mixed with motive, then what is the quality of consciousness in which I lead my daily life? Am I actually creating the proper mental state to carry me to a spiritual body in the future?

If you look at all this soberly and honestly this is scary business. But aren’t devotees supposed to be fearless? Yes, but it seems this is the one fear that devotees should have.

“A pure devotee is always fearful of material existence. No one knows what will happen next, for one may have to change his body at any moment (tathā dehāntara-prāptiḥ). Knowing this fact, a pure devotee acts in such a way that he will not have his life spoiled by being obliged to accept another body and undergo the tribulations of material existence.” Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 10.2.6, purport

Of course, there is the promise in Gītā that Śrī Krishna will provide what his devotees lack and preserve what they have. Didn’t Śrīla Prabhupāda promise that he would deliver his sincere devotees who adhere to their vows and serve his mission and isn’t Lord Caitanya the deliverer of the most fallen? There’s an abundance of mercy, undeserved kindness, in serving the mission of God’s pure devotee. I truly believe that, but it is also true that normally only a pure mind attracts God’s full mercy and carries one to the best spiritual destination. That’s what I am reading today in purport after purport by Śrīla Prabhupāda. Isn’t it better I look at my life in that way rather than expecting “an honorary degree” or “free ticket.”

My conclusion is that I would be a fool to just wait for mercy to elevate me to my desired destination. I must be cognizant of what I do and how I think and pray that my sincerest effort attracts the Lord’s mercy and grants my spiritual wishes. That is my greatest hope and failure my greatest fear.

The Battle for Our Souls[1]

The success of yoga depends on our ability to focus our attention on a particular object. Never in history has there been so much competition for that attention. Perhaps the biggest competitor for our attention, and thus our spiritual life, is social media. Here’s a short analysis as to why.[2]

A successful business markets a product. How then did Big Tech become one of the most successful commercial enterprises in history overnight if it’s available for free? The answer is simple: we are the product. Big Tech markets us to advertisers. We are a valuable commodity because advertisers seek certainty in sales, and the extraordinary amount of data Big Tech collects on us ensures them that certainty. Whoever learns the science of utilizing the vast data of our preferences and proclivities will be, without doubt, successful in sales. Such predictability is obviously the advertiser’s and businessman’s dream.

I think we all already know this to some extent. What I don’t think we know is the extent to which they are able to control us. Simply put, we are dealing with behavior-changing geniuses. They have perfected the science of recording the gradual and imperceptible changes of what we think, what we do, and how to market things not to help us but to fill their pockets. Perhaps even more frightening is that as they collect more and more data over time, their prediction models on each of us becomes increasingly refined, enabling them to not only control us for commercial purposes but also to inculcate their own materialistic values.

There are obvious ramifications and a basic conflict in all this for those with a spiritual goal. On one side we stand, trying to mold our attention towards a culture of selflessness and devotion, and on the other side stands a business model geared to get as much of our attention as possible for the purpose of inflating our ego and greed. Just see the juxtaposition. While the whole purpose of yoga is to quell the frivolous fluctuations of the mind, the purpose behind social media is to exponentially increase them. It is a battle for our souls. May Lord Krishna save us.

“There are only two industries that call their customers ‘users’: illegal drugs and software.”—Edward Tufte

[1] This is a new edit of a Monday Morning Greetings originally published December 27, 2021.

[2] Much of my analysis comes from the documentary The Social Dilemma.

Recently, I was gifted a beautiful deity of Śrīla Prabhupāda. In fact, I think most of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s disciples were gifted one by the brilliant devotees in Russia who developed this project.

What is the eight-centimeter deity made of?

Coins were collected from every country that Śrīla Prabhupāda visited and then they were melted together for the mold! The deity is even quaintly boxed so that when you open the box it reveals an altar where the open doors become two picture panels on each side. On the left side is Śrīla Prabhupāda in Tompkins Square Park in New York, and on the right is Śrīla Prabhupāda in Radha-Damodar in Vrindavan, which is especially inspiring for me.

Those places, New York and Vrindavan, are my prabhu-datta deśa, the place where the Lord or His devotee grants one residence to serve. In this case, they are the two places gifted to me for residence for my service to Śrīla Prabhupāda.

I carefully started to worship the deity in a simple way—massaging it with oil, bathing it in warm water and then offering flowers. I am not by my psychology mystical in orientation. That is, my ordinary life does not seem to be overly governed by spontaneous instincts. Rather, I usually more move forward in life after careful thought and a healthy skepticism.

But in my worship of this Śrīla Prabhupāda deity, I felt spontaneously a very strong presence of Śrīla Prabhupāda, bringing out my sambandha, my relationship with him, the energy of love we may all feel in relationship to another. I immediately thought of the quotation in the title above, by Blaise Pascal, the French Catholic writer, philosopher, and scientist.[1] It seemed somehow to connect with my strong realization that Śrīla Prabhupāda was there in his form.

I don’t know what exactly what Pascal meant by the quote, but I take it to mean that when one’s sense of reality goes beyond a conventional understanding or measure, then a conventional understanding based on that reality breaks down. In this case, the concept that all objects must have a center breaks down in context that there is no limit or circumference to space. Similarly, the conventional view that God has a specific location in the universe falters in the context of God being infinite or having no circumference. Rather because of this context we can only commune with or locate the Divine in this material world by the vehicle of faith, which is our conviction of the worthiness of a personal God, or His eternal associates with Him in His transcendental abode, and our response to them in devotion. Isn’t that our philosophy, that faith attracts the transcendental Lord or His eternal associates to appear in our hearts, or the deity, or anywhere within the material sphere, inspired by their devotee’s love?

When the great demon Hiraṇyakaśipu is furious with his son Prahlāda’s deep faith in God, he challenges him. Prahlāda had asserted that God is all-pervading and everywhere. In response, his father strikes a pillar in anger with his sword, demanding to know if God is there. The Lord in the form of Nṛsiṁha immediately appears there to protect His devotee.

The Brahma-saṁhitā also describes this phenomenon of God having no location in this world in a very vivid way, denying the accessibility of God by material means, even if one travels at the speed mind for millions of years.

So that is the theistic experience. One’s distance from God is determined by one’s faith, or lack thereof, and not by a physical distance. That was strongly my experience while focusing my faith and worship on the beautiful form of Śrīla Prabhupāda. I strongly felt Śrīla Prabhupāda’s presence there and why not? His presence is everywhere that his followers focus their faith, whether through his teachings, our service, or worship of His deity form. Because where there is no circumference, the center is everywhere.

[1] I do not recall where I first heard this quotation, but it was in a Vaiṣṇava lecture or book. When I researched the source I found various references.

I think I need here to first define my terms. By self-consciousness I don’t mean self-awareness where you realize or become aware of the self and therefore think of others before yourself in the mood of service. By self-consciousness, I am referring to the disposition of focusing on oneself without considering others. I like how Jordan Peterson, the sometimes controversial, but insightful psychologist puts it.

“Self-consciousness is so connected with negative emotion that they are not statistically distinguishable. And there is no difference between being concerned about yourself and suffering… To be concerned with yourself is connected with anxiety and shame and grief and disappointment.”

One other important clarification before I expand on the theme of today’s post. The criticism of self-consciousness as described here is not denying our responsibility to take care of our needs, or even our pleasure. It is rather challenging the mindset that seems to subtly plague us all, at least to some extent, that pleasure is the most important thing in one’s life.

I found it interesting that self-consciousness even statistically, or shall we say scientifically, relates to negative emotion and suffering. But I not surprised. Such a conception is foundational to the bhakti philosophical conclusions.

What is the root of suffering? Suffering is the natural result of going against nature—a kind of cosmic parental punishment to veer us back to our true and fulfilling self. In other words, by constitution we are meant for service and when we deny our nature we suffer like a fish out of water.

It is not hard to perceive how self-consciousness also relates to negative emotions. The objective of self-consciousness is to enjoy and control, a temper that contradicts our very nature and thus one that is doomed. Naturally this is followed by feelings of anxiety, disappointment, grief and shame.

The correlation of self-consciousness and suffering is not exclusive to the bhakti canon. It’s the basis of all spiritual traditions. I especially like how in one Buddhist text self-consciousness and self-awareness are compared:

“Pleasure is the happiness of a madman and happiness is the pleasure of a sage.”[1]

The plague of self-consciousness is also on the minds of the more contemporary aware. Tom Wolfe, the legendary journalist and contributing editor to New York in 1976 wrote an exposé of the self-consciousness of the post-war generation in a brilliant essay titled The Me Decade.[2] There he describes how a type of unapologetic hedonism was embraced by the young in the west at that time. I especially like the line:

“They will never understand duty above self.”

This week the concept that self-consciousness is the root of all suffering intrigued me. It’s certainly food for thought.

[1] This quote was referenced in a book Happiness by the renowned contemporary Buddhist, Matthieu Ricard. I don’t have the book with me and can’t give the exact reference.

[2] https://nymag.com/article/tom-wolfe-me-decade-third-great-awakening.html