Waves of Devotion

Dhanurdhara Swami July 1st, 2024

For many years I had the idea of writing a book called The Mind of God. It was inspired many years ago by the story of the passing away of Bhīṣmadeva. That episode describes the lengths Śrī Krishna would go to for the purpose of glorifying His devotees. For various reasons I choose not to write that book, but the idea always stayed with me. Recently, while studying the Śikṣāṣṭaka prayers, the last chapter in the Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta, I started to see that chapter through the lens of the mind of Śrī Caitanya.

Śrī Caitanya comes to fulfill both internal and external reasons for His descent. That is, He comes both for Himself and for others. For Himself He was Krishna in the form of a devotee seeking to relish the love and ecstasy of Śrī Radha, His topmost devotee, at the height of Her love. He already had been almost 18 years in Puri, the place where he had come specifically for that purpose. He had just heard from Śrī Advaita that the external reason for his descent (why He came for others) was complete—the world by His mercy was now flooded with love of God. In this last year of His life, He could cultivate and relish ecstatic love for Krishna in the mood of Śrī Radha with even more focus. Almost all His time is thus spent in the Gambhīra, a little cave-like room in Kāśī Miśra’s house, with Rāmānanda Rāya and Svarūpa Dāmodara, his most confidential associates. He relishes verses and songs which encapsulate and excite the mood of Śrī Radha’s devotion which He had come to attain. Often He becomes so overwhelmed with those feelings that His words and emotional outbursts appear like the expressions of a mad person. His close associates, however, know better. He had entered deeply into the very heart of Śrī Radha’s deepest devotion. They watched as His devotion became so spontaneous that when a particular feeling would embrace His heart, He would ride that emotion into the night reciting related verses and relishing their taste

As one who is pure, He did not consider Himself advanced in devotion. But it is obvious to His closest followers that Śrī Caitanya is relishing rādhā-bhāva, the ecstatic mood of Śrī Radha, and He understands that indeed something wonderful is happening. As He realizes that both His missions are coming to fruition, a sense of gratitude overwhelms Him, and the cause of His fortune becomes clear to Him. He is a recipient of the unbounded mercy of nāma-saṅkīrtana, the chanting of the holy name! Overwhelmed by that feeling, He begins to carry that particular emotion into the night. He recites verse after verse glorifying the holy name and deeply relishes their taste. As His internal focus on chanting the holy name becomes deeper and reaches its height, the Śikṣāṣṭakam prayers, his ultimate glorification of the holy name, burst from his heart: “Paraṁ vijayate śrī-kṛṣṇa-saṅkīrtanam!” (All glories to śrī-kṛṣṇa-saṅkīrtana).

And that is the mind of God!

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Dhanurdhara Swami June 24th, 2024

I wake up in the morning and chant for several hours and then chant more during the day. Does that make one advanced on the path of bhakti? It is certainly good to chant more, and it could reflect some internal devotion, but not necessarily. Could it also reflect that one has little else to do, or is lazy and shirking responsibilities or pretending to be an advanced devotee? In fact, Krishna warns in the Gītā of prematurely becoming renounced with the motive of seeking adulation:

“One who restrains the senses and organs of action, but whose mind dwells on sense objects, certainly deludes himself and is called a pretender.” (Bg 3.6)

Śrīla Prabhupāda also makes clear that what makes one advanced is one’s inner mood and not necessarily what one is doing externally:

“…The Supreme Personality of Godhead is known as bhāva-grāhī janārdana because He takes only the essence of a devotee’s attitude. If a devotee sincerely surrenders, the Lord, as the Supersoul in everyone’s heart, immediately understands this. Thus even though, externally, a devotee may not render full service, if he is internally sincere and serious the Lord welcomes his service nonetheless. Thus the Lord is known as bhāva-grāhī janārdana because He takes the essence of one’s devotional mentality.” (Bhag. 8.23.2, purport)

When I read the above, I thought of a devotee, a disciple of Śrīla Prabhupāda, who seemed to me spiritually evolved in many ways although he had very little sādhana. I don’t know why, but early in his devotional career he came down with a severe mental disability. For him to function his doctors were forced to prescribe lithium. It is a very high-risk toxic drug which now is only given in the most serious cases, if at all. As a result, when I met him years ago he lived in government housing and rose from bed around 4:00 pm. When visiting the Boston temple and exchanging with him, however, I was always impressed with the depth of his humility and his dedication to service. Without fail for hours and hours every evening he would clean every nook and corner of the four-story ISKCON Boston temple with the utmost devotion and use whatever extra money he got from the government to serve the devotees.

But how can we say he was advanced in spiritual life when he woke up so late and probably rarely chanted? I composed an analogy that I hope helps resolve this quandary.

In Olympic diving a participant is not just judged by his score on a particular dive, but by multiplying that score by its degree of difficulty. Similarly, a devotee’s advancement is gauged not just by the amount of spiritual practice performed, but also by the degree of difficulty—the challenges they face in its execution.

In other words, my god-brother was extremely limited karmically in the amount of basic sādhana he could do, but the great effort he gave to overcome his challenges demonstrated a very sincere desire to serve Śrīla Prabhupāda. I don’t think it would be too much to claim that that he scored higher on the platform of devotion in the eyes of Krishna than many who were more accomplished on the level of sādhana, but not as deep in humility and devotion.

Of course, this doesn’t diminish the status of those with strict devotional practices which usually reflect a deep devotional mentality, nor does it indicate that those wasting time on social media are not plagued with weak faith and devotion. I am only stating that what’s ultimately important in devotional life, and what is the truest indicator of spiritual advancement, is “the essence of our devotional mentality.”

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Dhanurdhara Swami June 17th, 2024

During the Memorial Day weekend, I held several programs in the New York/New Jersey area. The events were accommodating to newcomers, but for the most part they were gatherings of like-minded people with deep, longstanding bonds. There was no dearth of volunteers, and the many services were all done expertly, especially the Memorial Day feast—chapatis, rice, sweet potato soup, koftas in tomato sauce, creamy paneer subji, bhel puri, handva, coriander chutney, potato patra, cupcakes, ladoo, kheer, mango lassi, and nimbu pani.

There was such a strong sense of community. I was impressed, and right after kirtan, at the beginning of my class, I made a simple point based on what I had just seen: “Bhakti is easy. Just chant Hare Krishna with people who like each other.” Like Christianity, the Hare Krishna movement must offer different “churches” for different people—eventually more localized, to bring nearby like-minded people together and provide community to the maximum number of those interested in devotion.

The modern world is increasingly exploitative, and it does not provide sufficient genuine community to give people respite from our dog-eat-dog modern society. As the Catholic social activist Dorothy Day said, “We have all known the long loneliness, and we have found that the answer is community.” More than ever, people need gathering places that can foster a deep sense of care and belonging, where one is inspired by the community’s service mood to serve others before themselves, the first step in spiritual life. It’s with this vulnerability, this letting down of the guard of self-centeredness that covers the soul, that one’s heart can be open to God’s grace—essential to experiencing the divinity of the holy name.

Bhakti is best expressed through seva, humble service, and genuine community inspires and offers opportunities for service; it is one of the most attractive and powerful tools to draw people toward devotion and keep them within the association of devotees. So, this week I am sharing a very simple realization: We need more of what I saw on Memorial Day—devotees who know and like each other gathered with a sense of belonging and care in genuine community expertly and selflessly engaged in service.

To address this need, I have started Metro Mantra Sanga. It’s a simple idea: I am organizing a yearly calendar of events—home programs and festivals—in the metropolitan area to provide more opportunities for participation and service in devotion and thus bring like-minded people together in spiritual community. On occasion we will also invite other devotees to enlighten us—some of whom are close to us but don’t have local platforms to share their wisdom.

Many of my students and followers render service and/or participate in other communities’ gatherings, events, and online groups, and I encourage them to continue to do so. Metro Mantra Sanga just adds another resource for in-person community and devotional service.

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Dhanurdhara Swami June 10th, 2024

A reasonable person wants to understand what is true and live by it. But how to ascertain the truth? The wisdom traditions of India generally outline three main means of knowing called pramāṇa.[1] The three main pramāṇas are verbal testimony (śabda—what we accept as true in the form of the testimony of a recognized authority), pratyakṣa (direct experience), and anumāna (inference or logical conclusions). In our tradition we consider śabda, our sacred texts, as the highest pramāṇa.

Of course, there are limits to śabda when communicating the truth. The audience may not accept the authority of one’s tradition or may accept the authority of śāstra but misunderstand the point being referenced. I therefore find upamān or analogy, making comparison between things that have similar features, helpful in communicating certain points, especially those which are somewhat abstract.

For this Greetings I would therefore like to share a few of the analogies I composed to hopefully demonstrate how helpful analogy can be in illustrating concepts that are sometimes challenging to explain.

What is Bhakti?

Introduction: Is bhakti our nature, an energy of God, or a practice to achieve perfection? It is all of these, but in explaining what bhakti is, especially to an audience not familiar with our tradition, I composed the following analogy.

Analogy: Just as there is a natural love that flows between a newborn calf and its mother, there is a natural love that flows between the soul and God called bhakti.

Comment: I was in the flower gardens of Vrindavan visiting a gardener friend when I saw a calf being born for the first time in my life. The calf got up immediately to drink its mother’s milk and the mother began to intensely lick its calf. I had an epiphany. There is a universal principle of natural love between two beings that have a relationship clearly seen in this innate love between a cow and its calf. It perfectly illustrates what bhakti is, except that in bhakti the natural affection is between the soul and God.

Why devotional practice must be concentrated, uninterrupted and prolonged to bear the fruit of realization.

Analogy: Just as a piece of paper under the intense rays of the sun focused upon it through a magnifying glass will not burn immediately but only catch fire when those rays are focused steadily for some time, similarly the experience of the holy name will only touch one’s heart in the practice of japa meditation when one is concentrated on the holy name uninterruptedly over a prolonged period.

Comment: This analogy came to me after reading in the Yoga-sūtras the definition of practice—meditation that is concentrated, uninterrupted and prolonged over a period of time.

How can the same divine energy of the holy dhāma which pushes us so sweetly and easily towards God feel sometimes so challenging?

Analogy: The same eastern wind, which is very pleasant for a sailboat moving east, is oppositional and unpleasant when the sailboat is moving west. Similarly, the divine energy of Vrindavan is helpful towards the service of Krishna and makes residing in Vrindavan so sweet. But it is oppositional to our desires when we are moving in the direction of false ego and makes residing in Vrindavan quite unpleasant.

What does śuddha-nāma, or the pure name mean? Isn’t the holy name pure itself?

Analogy: Sometimes a person whom we don’t recognize, although they are right before us, doesn’t reveal their full self and remains a stranger. But when we serve and love them, they reveal their full being as a child, friend or lover. Similarly, when we chant the holy name with neglect, although the holy name is right before us, it remains distant like a stranger. But when chanted with pure love, the holy name reveals itself fully as our child, friend or lover and that is called śuddha-nāma.

Analogies are a powerful tool in communicating principles of truth that we seek to share with others. I hope you found mine effective.

[1] From root mā, “to measure”. Pra usually means “completely”.

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Dhanurdhara Swami June 3rd, 2024

I was surprised by the emotional reaction from some to my class and the questions and dialogue that ensued.

I was speaking on Nṛsiṁha-līlā and somehow a point in the class was made about reconciling evil in the world with the existence of God. This is just a summary of the perspectives on that issue.

“If one has lived a life of dharma and has thus gained the realizations one was meant to get by appropriately responding to one’s karma (destiny), one should be able to look back on all those experiences and understand that the consciousness that has evolved by the lessons of destiny has been worth any of the suffering needed to get there.”

The audience was divided, some seemed to be enlivened by my point and others disturbed. When I say disturbed, no one was disrespectful, but they expressed their personal challenges concerning my point, somewhat intellectually, but more emotionally. Here were the responses as far as I understood them at the time:

“There are so many horrible things that happen to one and it is so difficult to go through them. It seems this kind of philosophy, that it is all one’s fault, just adds to the burden.”

“I can accept that I have learned from my past, but I will find it hard to accept it if God puts me through more.”

“I am trying in devotional service, but these powerful emotions come up again and again. Why?”

“I was just so relieved when the doctor told me after my diagnosis of breast cancer that it wasn’t my fault. Now I find out it is.” [Related to me later.]

I tried to engage with each doubt by tackling the problem of evil comprehensively as I have done before as outlined in a previous Monday Morning Greeting[1], at the same time trying to remain sensitive to people’s individual feelings. It is not easy, however, to satisfactorily respond to a person’s trauma individually, while at the same time remaining cognizant of the collective mind of a whole audience. In fact, there were just as many who expressed how the philosophy has pacified them as people who felt challenged by the discussion. One lady offered a quote from the famous book A Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, a survivor of Auschwitz:

“Even though conditions such as lack of sleep, insufficient food and various mental stresses suggest that inmates were bound to react in certain ways, in the final analysis it becomes clear that the sort of person the prisoner became was the result of an inner decision, and not the result of camp influences alone. Fundamentally, therefore, any man can, even under such circumstances, decide what shall become of him, mentally and spiritually.”

The discussion seemed to be so relevant that the following day I addressed the issue again to another audience in even a more thorough, and in a sense, refined way.[2] A few days later, I contacted one of the people initially raising doubts and asked for the question to be expressed so that I could understand it more clearly. This is what I received:

“It seems like an added cruelty to also hold the victim responsible to fix or move on from the dilemma and also blame them for not having enough faith or mental wherewith-all in the face of their circumstances—how to see God’s benevolence in the actual moment of pain’s infliction, when contending with what seems like that added cruelty?”

After receiving the reply, I began to contemplate if I could’ve responded in class more effectively. I don’t think there is anything more I could have added philosophically during my class or by my writings. I have dealt with this problem comprehensively.[3] In terms, of seeing God’s benevolence in the actual moment of pain, it’s a question of application of the philosophy. I therefore doubt, except in the rarest of instances, if it is the time and place for utilizing the philosophy of karma at all. In terms of speaking of it in a class of devotees, if the point comes up it must be addressed. But perhaps one should be a little cognizant of the trauma and pain that people, especially those growing up in the modern world, experience. The Yoga-sūtras make it clear that compassion (ahiṁsā) is the most important or most foundational yama (abstentions) and if there is any conflict with any other principle, such as satya (speaking truthfully), compassion takes precedence.

So, if such a situation arises again, in addition to tackling the issue comprehensively from a philosophical standpoint, I would stress to the audience how carefully the philosophy must be presented, and, of course, how it rarely should be the first response to trauma. Perhaps I could have also stressed another point, that an understanding that we are the ultimate cause of our destiny affirms our agency to change things in the future. That is comforting, while a sense of victimhood robs us of our own agency by externalizing the cause of our suffering, which dampens hope and is depressing.

Conclusion: There is the problem evil, an intellectual challenge, and the problem of the problem of evil, an emotional one. Both are not easily addressed, but I haven’t seen a better approach to this quandary than the Bhāgavatam.

[1] https://wavesofdevotion.com/2018/03/26/believers-and-the-elephant-in-the-room-tackling-the-challenge-of-evil/

[2] Home Program – May 26, 2024

[3] https://wavesofdevotion.com/2017/03/20/the-problem-of-evil/

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Dhanurdhara Swami May 27th, 2024

Blind Following is Condemned[1]

Some readers may be thinking, “You write about authority and surrender, but isn’t blind following dangerous?” Yes. It’s condemned![2] Here’s why.

Blind faith means accepting what one hears without a reasonable effort to understand it which poses two risks: accepting something that is false because of faith in an unqualified authority presenting something fallacious; or accepting something that is false because we have misunderstood what the qualified teacher has properly presented. Either way one fails to catch the truth.

Accepting things that are false

Without being thoughtful we not only wind up accepting things taught that we would normally see as overtly false, but we are also surrendering the tool required to extricate ourselves from being misled.

To avoid such an unfortunate situation, one must be thoughtful before fully accepting a spiritual authority. Ultimately, a spiritual teacher is sent by Providence in response to our sincere desire for truth. To ascertain, however, whether someone is qualified to play that role, one must first test that person’s qualification over a reasonable period by asking questions and having one’s doubts cleared.

Misunderstanding something that is true

Having a worthy guide also doesn’t guarantee understanding the truth. We often filter what we have heard through our desires and conditioning so that even if what we are taught is true, what we have understood is not. That’s why we often see good people with qualified guides nevertheless embracing untenable positions in the name of faith.

To avoid misunderstanding a qualified teacher the student must continue, if necessary, to ask questions and get any doubts cleared. Such questioning does not belie our faith in our teacher, because we are not doubting the teacher’s authority, which should have already been tested, but rather our own understanding of what has been said.

The need for such thoughtfulness in learning is stressed in most traditional teachings of India in the form of a dialogue in which we can observe the sincere student continually questioning his teacher until his doubts or misunderstandings are cleared. The best example is the Bhagavad-gītā. It took Arjuna five chapters of going back and forth with Krishna before he finally understood and accepted one of the basic points that Krishna was stressing—what makes something spiritual is not necessarily a particular activity but the understanding and consciousness in which such an activity is done. Therefore, Arjuna’s surrender to Krishna is not an example of blind faith, nor is Krishna the example of a teacher who demands blind allegiance.

So yes, authority is not a bad concept, nor is surrender, but blind faith is.

“Don’t follow blindly. Following blindly something, that is not good. That will not stay. But one should take everything with logic. But the servants of God, they put everything in logic. caitanyera dayāra kathā karaha vicāra. If you study the Caitanya’s philosophy with logic and argument… Don’t go by sentiment.” (Śrīla Prabhupāda’s lecture on Bhāg. 6.2.1-5, Calcutta, January 6, 1971)

[1] While waking early today (Saturday) to finish my Monday Morning Greetings I found that it was mysteriously nowhere to be found. I thus searched my files for an old one. The first one I opened was this one from December 19, 2019, and when I read it, I realized something—how much my writing has improved. I thus completely rewrote this old Greetings. I have also decided that my old Greetings must be re-edited. I really see Krishna’s hand in mysteriously deleting this week’s Greetings. This morning what started off as a real bummer has turned into a real blessing.

[2]I got the phrase ‘Blind following is condemned” from Śrīla Prabhupāda’s purport on Bg 4.34: “In this verse both blind following and absurd inquiries are condemned. Not only should one hear submissively from the spiritual master; but one must also get a clear understanding from him, in submission and service and inquiries”

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Dhanurdhara Swami May 20th, 2024

I wonder if anyone ever has written a definition for the phrase “notable quotation.” So far, I haven’t found one. I suspect that’s the case because there are almost innumerable characteristics that inspire a statement to become memorialized, anywhere from a nugget of wisdom to a historical moment, what to speak of the cultural context by which some may appreciate a particular quotation. Thus “notable quotations” is just too broad a term to precisely define. To give my post some context, however, I will offer my own definition of the phrase as a criterion to deem whether a statement is notable.

“A notable quotation is usually a short, succinct statement that clearly and powerfully captures an insight, inspiration or event that others are inspired to repeat so that eventually that statement becomes memorialized.”

One more point: I will offer short explanations of some statements I have made, although ultimately a notable quotation should be able to stand alone.

Swami’s Notable Quotations

Destiny is the language of God

Karma, what happens to us, is God’s law to teach us lessons to help us become closer to the self, which is the mood of service. In other words, destiny is the language in which God affectionately speaks to us.

Commitment changes consciousness

Making a commitment or vow is the promise to act on a good idea from a time-tested traditional perspective rather than just our whims. Such good ideas are called dharma, which is the science of elevating or changing one’s consciousness to a higher level of perception and contentment.

Humility is happy small

We generally fear the humble position because acquiescing to those greater than us may mean that we are exploited and abused. True humility, however, is acquiescing to that which is not only greater than us but which can maintain, protect, and love us. One thus feels shelter and happiness in the truly humble position.

For the rest of the post, I will just list other statements that I made that I think may encapsulate an insightful truth in a concise and expressive manner. In the future I may comment on them.

Krishna is God with His guard down

Position covers personality

Rationalization is intelligence in service of the false ego

All our problems are perceptual and not actual

Humility is reality

Death is the illusion of non-existence

And I will end with my favorite statement worth repeating (not mine):

Essential truth spoken concisely is true eloquence—Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja Gosvāmī

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Dhanurdhara Swami May 13th, 2024

After just completing this week’s Monday Morning Greeting based on my theory of when and how the Śikṣāṣṭakam was written, I found a verse indicating that my theory was wrong. So, I was not left with much of a choice—either post a reprint or post what I have written with an explanation. I really try to avoid posting reprints, so I have chosen the latter. I reasoned that even though I came to the wrong conclusion on the historicity of the Śikṣāṣṭakam, I think my post gives an interesting and important view on Śrī Caitanya’s relationship to the holy name in terms of His mission and how philosophical speculation works and what can be gleaned from it.[1] Therefore, I have added this introduction, and I will include another short paragraph following my original post highlighting what I think were the important points one could gather from this week’s Greetings.

The Birth of the Śikṣāṣṭakam

This post is an attempt to pinpoint when Śrī Caitanya wrote the Śikṣāṣṭakam, His only literary contribution of eight verses summarizing His mission. Within the biographies of Śrī Caitanya, there is in no definitive description of Him writing the Śikṣāṣṭakam, nor in those descriptions of His God-intoxicated life is there even any indication that writing, which was a very cumbersome process at the time, was an activity He would have given His time to. I have a theory, however, how the Śikṣāṣṭakam was born based on the twentieth and last chapter of the Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta, His main biography, titled “The Śikṣāṣṭaka Prayers”. To elucidate my point, I need to first explain and analyze the beginning of the chapter. Please bear with me as the relevance of my initial analysis won’t be clear until I come to the part where Śrī Caitanya begins to recite His seminal composition.

“The Śikṣāṣṭaka Prayers” begins with a description of the various intense emotions Śrī Caitanya felt towards the end of His life produced by ecstatic love for Śrī Krishna. These sentiments parallel the deepest sentiments of Śrī Radha that fulfill the internal reason for the Lord’s descent, which is to taste Śrī Radha’s feelings at the height of Her love. Besides this internal cause of the Lord’s appearance (why He appeared for Himself) there is an external cause for His descent (why He appeared for others), which is to distribute such devotion. The fulfillment of His external mission is described in the chapter that directly precedes “The Śikṣāṣṭaka Prayers”, Chapter Nineteen. There it is described how Śrī Advaita Ācārya, who first petitioned the Lord to appear, and is therefore considered one of the prime causes for His descent, sent Śrī Caitanya a cryptic message strongly indicating that His mission had been fulfilled and that He could now return to His eternal abode. In other words, “The Śikṣāṣṭaka Prayers”, this last chapter of Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta, which is set at a time at the end of His life, begins with a clear indication that both missions of the Lord have now been fulfilled.

Next what is described is how Śrī Caitanya tasted the devotional sentiments that He had attained with His two most confidential associates. He would sing songs and recite verses imbibing the rasa (mood) of Śrī Radha, at times losing Himself throughout the night in a particular mood or pastime expressing those feelings. Amid such intense joy and reflecting on the success of His descent, which He is now tasting, He suddenly turns to His associates and gratefully acknowledges the cause of the fulfillment of His mission.

“In great jubilation, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu said, ‘My dear Svarūpa Dāmodara and Rāmānanda Rāya, know from Me that chanting the holy names is the most feasible means of salvation in this Age of Kali.’” (Antya-līlā 20.8)

From here on in, rather than return to His discussion of the pastimes of Śrī Śrī Radha and Krishna, Śrī Caitanya continues to elaborate with deep emotion on the glories of the holy name. It’s almost as if He is getting carried away with a personal ecstasy. Then after expressing the glories of the holy name in a conversational, non-poetic manner, a formal composition of those same thoughts, the first verse of the Śikṣāṣṭakam, spontaneously flows from His heart. He then, in a seeming continued trance of personal ecstasy, continues to extol the glories of the holy name and progressively produce in a similar manner the remaining verses of the Śikṣāṣṭakam.

My theory in summary: After completing His mission and relishing the fruits of His attainment in association with His confidential associates, and in acknowledgment of the cause of such fortune, the Śikṣāṣṭakam comes from His heart in an ecstatic trance, conveniently codifying His legacy at the end of His pastimes in this world. And we know from His biography that this type of extraordinary wordcraft was well within His ability. In His mid-teens, when He was a brilliant student of Sanskrit and before He had awakened ecstatic love of Godhead, in a debate with Keśava Kāśmīrī, the top scholar in India at the time, Śrī Caitanya was able to spontaneously memorize and correct on the spot the most minor grammatical defects of the one hundred verses composed about the Ganga by the renowned pandit extemporaneously. And that’s my theory of the birth of the Śikṣāṣṭakam, having no other indication in the biography of Śrī Caitanya of how and when He wrote anything.

After finishing the above essay and going over Chapter Twenty again, I came upon a verse that sunk my theory. Although it doesn’t indicate when He wrote the Śikṣāṣṭakam, Śrīla Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja writes:

“The Lord had formerly composed these eight verses [pūrve aṣṭa-śloka kari] to teach people in general. Now He personally tasted the meaning of the verses, which are called the Śikṣāṣṭaka.” (Antya-līlā 20.64, emphasis mine)

There is still no light, as far as I know, when Śrī Caitanya wrote the Śikṣāṣṭakam, but what hopefully comes out in my attempt to resolve that quandary, even if wrong, is just how much nāma-saṅkīrtana is at the root of what Śrī Caitanya gave, for even when relishing the height of devotion with His two closest associates, still thoughts of appreciation and gratitude for nāma-saṅkīrtana still overwhelmed Him. Could I have been wrong, but for the right reason?

[1] There is difference between mental speculation, which Vaiṣṇavas reject, and philosophical speculation which they accept. In mental speculation you reason to find out if the philosophical conclusions in a tradition are true, In philosophical speculation you speculate how they are true. In this case, I am accepting the authority of the Śikṣāṣṭakam and that its author was Śrī Caitanya, and I am just trying to figure out how it was composed.

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Dhanurdhara Swami May 6th, 2024

This morning, I found out that my godbrother His Holiness Gopal Krishna Maharaja passed away. I won’t go into the details, but his service for Śrīla Prabhupāda was practically unparalleled, and he will be missed dearly, but what I remember about him most was that he treated devotees with respect and never criticized others. In his honor I will offer this fairly recent Monday Morning Greetings[1] reminding us how important it is to honor all devotees, big and small, who have given their lives to God, while they are among us.

A Decade of Tears

The phrase struck me. I was talking with Bhūrijana Prabhu after the passing of Śrīla Bhakti-caru Swami. We began to reflect on the fact that practically all of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s disciples have just turned near seventy when this decade began, if not before, and that it was evident that as the decade proceeds, the number of our god-siblings that leave us will exponentially increase. We shared some pain at the thought. As our discussion ended his parting comment struck me: “It will be a decade of tears.”

Honestly, I never felt this deep sense of upcoming loss before. Maybe it comes with age, or maybe as I mature in spiritual life my heart is softening. I am not sure. What is certain, however, is that as one is advancing in Krishna consciousness, those who sincerely represent that should be valued more and more. It’s śāstra:

“Śrī Caitanya asked, ‘Of all kinds of distress, what is the most painful?’

Śrī Rāmānanda Rāya replied, ‘Apart from separation from the devotee, I know of no unbearable distress.’” (Cc. Madhya-līlā 8.248)

True friends and well-wishers should be missed when they pass from this world. They add so much to the development and comfort of one’s life. When they are dedicated Vaiṣṇavas they add even more. They nourish the soul. Their loss to the world and our lives is incalculable.

I remember over twenty years ago before The Bhakti Center was secured, we used to host programs in 26 Second Avenue. You can imagine how packed it was when Śrīla Radhanath Swami visited and gave class. I invited one young Jewish lady from Brooklyn to the program whom I had been guiding for the past year. She was a budding professional comedian who even appeared several times as a guest panelist on the very popular television improvisational comedy show Whose Line is it Anyway with Drew Carey.[2] I had introduced her a few months back to Mahārāja, so she was very anxious to see him again, but at the end of the class Mahārāja was mobbed in the front of the room. She was also by nature a very self-conscious person, so she hid towards the back in a little corner where the wall suddenly veered off to the right. When Mahārāja finished giving audience, however, and began walking towards the door, he noticed her to his right. He slowly walked towards her to greet her. She immediately broke down in tears but managed to sob, “I am so fallen, but I feel such relief that people like you are traveling around the globe helping others!” Later Mahārāja shared with me how much he appreciated her sentiment of humble appreciation for devotees. We should also.

We may not be attracted to every senior Vaiṣṇava we meet. Some have even failed to live up to the standards we expect and disappoint us, or it may just be that we just fail to see the inspired spiritual and dedicated side of an advanced Vaiṣṇava because they are not like-minded with us. This young lady, hardly a practitioner, however, got it right. There is something very special about sincere devotees who have given their whole life to God whether we are like-minded with them or not. It will certainly a sad day when any of them leave us.

Even more tragic is the loss of those people who are not just more dedicated than us, but those whom we deeply relate with and who have affection for us. If we have such people in our lives, whether as friends or mentors, we should consider ourselves very fortunate. When they leave a part of our life will be missing. I do have such people in my life. Sadly, their time with us is in a sense numbered, and as these next ten years go on, more and more of them will sadly leave us.

It is an unfortunate phenomenon that often we most appreciate the important people in our lives after they have left us. Let us all now think of the blessings we have and are receiving from those dedicated devotees who have given their lives to uplift others for decades and who have personally touched our hearts. Let this next decade therefore not just be a decade of tears but an epoch of increased appreciation of and service to those who have carried the mission of His Divine Grace into our lives.

“Then Śrī Caitanya asked, ‘Out of all auspicious and beneficial activities, which is the best for the living entity?’

Rāmānanda Rāya replied, ‘The only auspicious activity is association with the devotees of Krishna.’’ (Cc. Madhya-līlā 8.251)

[1] Originally published September 5, 2022.

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whose_Line_Is_It_Anyway%3F_(American_TV_series)

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Dhanurdhara Swami April 29th, 2024

After that dog attacked me, I remained quite calm, almost as an observer. I guess different people react in different ways—some shaken up, some perhaps angry or even hysterical. I was a bit proud of how much I could extract myself from the drama, but after my friend cleaned my wound and I went back to my room, I was surprised by how much the dog’s antagonism towards me had entered my body. In other words, although I wasn’t traumatized, in the sense that I could observe what happened and not react to it emotionally, I could still see that trauma of aggression within me and feel it somewhat physically. Thinking back on that observation affirmed an important realization: Our words and actions can carry our emotions to others—a realization that is also applicable to the path of devotion where our words and work serve as a vehicle to carry our devotion to God for His pleasure, which is the essence of devotional practice.

This phenomenon is clearly expressed in Śrīla Rūpa Gosvāmī’s principal definition of pure devotion where he explains that the primary characteristic of pure devotion is that the endeavors of one’s mind, body, and words flow towards Krishna carrying our intention to please Him.[1]

This same principle is also indicated in the Yoga-sūtras in terms of japa meditation, where Patañjali writes that one should dwell on the meaning of the mantra, which is full surrender to Īśvara (God), and carry that mood of devotion to God through the mantra to invoke His mercy.[2]

And certainly, this applies to kirtan. What is kirtan? “Kirtan is when the bhava (devotion) in the heart is expressed through the discipline of music.”[3]

Our practical service must also carry our devotion to Krishna. I heard this nicely explained by a local sādhu in Vrindavan in a charming way: “The term for servant in Sanskrit is sevāk. If you take away sevā (the mood of service) from sevāk (the person doing the act of service) you are left only with vak. Vak or bak represents Bakāsura, the duck demon in krishna–līlā who represents duplicity.”[4]

As I was chanting this morning, this realization of the mantra carrying my devotion to Krishna came to my mind, impelling me to listen carefully to the sincerity of my chanting so that I truly meant what I was saying—a call to Śrī Krishna begging for a heart of service and the mercy of the holy name.

So, this ends my two-part series of “Dog Bites Monk” (and enlightens him).

[1] “One should render transcendental loving service to the Supreme Lord Kṛṣṇa favorably and without desire for material profit or gain through fruitive activities or philosophical speculation. That is called pure devotional service.” (Brs.1.1.11)

[2] Vyasa, the main commentator on the Yoga Sutras, describes how the mantra expressing surrender invokes His mercy: “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.” (Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali, commentary 1.23, Professor Edwin Bryant)

[3] Sat Hari Singh Khalsa, “Kirtan: The Sacred Music of the Sikhs,” Journal of Vaishnava Studies, Volume 17, No. 2 (Spring 2009), 169–184.

[4] I can’t remember where I heard it.

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