Waves of Devotion

Dhanurdhara Swami May 1st, 2023

It was already Tuesday. I still had nothing to write about. Rather than continue to stare at a blank page, I shifted gears and started taking notes on what I was lecturing on at the time. I was teaching the Śrī Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta by Sanātana Gosvāmī, with translation and commentary by Gopīparāṇadhana Dāsa. In the back of my mind, however, I was still searching and praying for a realization to write about.

Gopīparāṇadhana Dāsa lived in Vrindavan at the time I resided there, and we were friends. Therefore, while taking notes today, I naturally remembered the difficulty he was having finding a suitable place to live with his family in Vrindavan when he began writing his translation. He was finally offered a place by a god-brother who had become the mahant of an ashram next to Caklesvara Mahādeva in Govardhana, which is where Śrī Sanātana Gosvāmī resided and wrote the Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta. What are the chances that the translator of arguably one of the most significant books in his spiritual tradition winds up in the very place where the author wrote the book? An idea suddenly came in mind! For this week’s post I would expand on something I had written before on the phenomenon of synchronicity as an argument for the existence of God.

Basically, in that article I argued that when there is an impossibly high improbability of two events coming together, it is far more likely that those events synchronized by forces outside the laws of nature than randomly, which points to the existence of God.

As I began meditating on what I was to write, I remembered that my friend was also the person who got me thinking about this argument. Over twenty-five years ago, when I was visiting the Radha Damodara Temple with a pilgrimage group, we unexpectedly ran into him. I naturally asked him to address our group:

“The Radha Damodara Temple is in Seva-kuṅjā, the forest (kuṅjā) to expand the intimate service (seva) of Radha and Krishna. In holy places, there is often a synchronicity between the place and what later happens there. For example, the Six Gosvāmīs of Vrindavan had many different residences and temples in Vrindavan, but this is the place, the forest of seva, where they would all meet to discuss their mission to increase the seva of Śrī Śrī Radha Krishna. It was also the place, five hundred years later, where Śrīla Prabhupāda stayed for the same purpose, although he chose to live here mostly because he was in need, and it was available. We can also see this same phenomenon when Śrīla Bhaktivinoda retired to the island of Godrumadvīpa to revive the Nāma-haṭṭa, his organization to spread the holy name to every own and village. It just so happened to be the same island in Śrī Navadvīpa that specifically represents and inspires kirtan and, where hundreds of years before, Śrī Nityānanda originally started the Nāma-haṭṭa.”

There are many arguments for the existence of God, but I think the phenomenon of synchronicity is particularly strong and can be developed in many ways. Most importantly, it can be a faith builder, especially when we become just a little mindful and repeatedly observe how what has come to us by destiny was mystically synchronized with the exact lessons needed at the time in order to help us come closer to God.

Think deeply. Is there anyone reading this who has not had that experience? And can there be any other answer than God?

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Dhanurdhara Swami April 24th, 2023

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)

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Dhanurdhara Swami April 17th, 2023

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.

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Dhanurdhara Swami April 10th, 2023

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)

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Dhanurdhara Swami April 3rd, 2023

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

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Dhanurdhara Swami March 27th, 2023

Tattva means science or subject. Rasa means heighten loving emotion to Śrī Krishna. I have seen, however, the words rasa and tattva used in a more colloquial manner. When people raise a question whether something is literally true or figuratively true, they sometimes ask whether it is tattva [hard fact] or rasa [figurative]. To make such subtle distinctions in one’s study of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam in terms of the meaning of words and phrases can be important in our understanding of the text.

Before I continue with this week’s post, I should be clear that scriptural analysis doesn’t mean that we take the history of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam as mere mythology or metaphor and discount the description of the demons and other seemingly fantastic stories, including the other worldly descriptions of the universe. It means using the pedagogical tools given by our ācāryas to help us interpret or understand those verses and stories in a deeper way and in the proper context[1].

The most important lens or tool by which we understand a particular sacred text is called sambandhi, understanding the reality to which all the texts in a particular śāstra has a relationship. In common language, this means deciphering its theme. For the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam that reality is that Śrī Krishna is the Supreme Personality of Godhead. In other words, the focus of Śrī Vyāsa, the author, is to establish Krishna’s position and other subjects such as material science or history, for example, are only studied as far as they help us realize that fact. They are therefore not meant as the basis of a deep independent study within itself, as the author himself didn’t find the necessity to do that.[2]

For example, every Purana (spiritual history) to be authorized must outline and describe to some extent the lineage of the kings. Why? To deter one from the natural material impetus to seek such lordship and to focus instead on attaining love for Krishna, which is the text’s sambandhi, it is necessary to hear how those at the pinnacle of control and enjoyment, the kings, have their attachments thwarted and suffer by the same twists of fate as everyone else. As the intent of such history is to promote renunciation, approaching the text to the standard of academic historical analysis may not only be wanting, but also a distraction from understanding the deep import intended by the author. Śukadeva Gosvāmī himself describes this:

Śukadeva Gosvāmī said, “O mighty Parīkṣit, I have related to you the narrations of all these great kings, who spread their fame throughout the world and then departed. My real purpose was to teach transcendental knowledge and renunciation. Stories of Kings lend power and opulence to these narrations but do not in themselves constitute the ultimate aspect of knowledge.” [emphasis mine] (Bhag. 12.3.14)

Similarly, cosmology also has a specific purpose in relationship to the text’s theme, or sambandhi. The subject of the planetary systems is described as sthānaṁ and defined in the Second Canto as sthitir vaikuṇṭha-vijayaḥ—that the right situation (sthitir) for the living entities is to accept the superiority (vijayaḥ) of Krishna (vaikuṇṭha) by understanding the grandeur of this world in relationship to Him and thus establishing our position as His servant, which is the sambandhi of the text. Again, those seeking an academic scientific description that neatly fits the language of modern cosmology when that objective was neither the author’s focus nor the language or interest of his audience at time will no doubt be disappointed. I had a friend that took nearly fifty years to surrender to Krishna in part because he couldn’t fit the descriptions of the universe found in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam into his highly educated and academic scientific world view. Perhaps a few tools of analysis based on an understanding of the author’s intent would have helped him surrender sooner and for that matter be of relevance now in deepening our faith and understanding.

Rasa or tattva? Yes, a few simple interpretative tools could save us years of doubt that obscure the message of the Bhagavat and impede our attainment of what’s really important—to well within our hearts the ultimate goal of life, love of Godhead.

[1] There are different types of verses and not all our meant to be understood literally. For example, most of the poetry in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam is to be taken as metaphorical, while Vedic verses are strictly literal and Puranic verses focus more on the moral the history is teaching than the exact historical facts. This is mentioned by Śrī Jīva in Tattva-sandarbha:

“The Vedas, Puranas, and poetic works instruct one like a master, friend and beloved, respectively, but Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam enlightens us in all three categories.” Quote in Tattva-sandarbha Anuchedda 26

[2] To instill faith in today’s audience who espouse faith in modern science, Śrīla Prabhupada did want his devotee scientists to understand and express the structure of the universe in the language of modern science to affirm the authenticity of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam’s scientific world view. He established the Bhaktivedanta Institute for that purpose. We see, however, still what an immense task that has been specifically because that level of scientific clarity wasn’t the objective of Śrīla Vyāsadeva, the author of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam.

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Dhanurdhara Swami March 20th, 2023

Ego Death Again[1]

Last week, I was fortunate to visit Srila Kadamba Kanana Swami a few days before he passed from this world. He set the ideal example of how to leave this mortal frame—no drugs to dull the consciousness, fasting to further purify the mind, and in a resultant calm and clear consciousness constantly hearing the holy name.

When I thought about how he passed away and how he qualified himself for that moment by a life of full surrender to guru and Krishna, somehow the term “ego death” kept coming into my mind. Seeing how the Swami died, it seemed “ego death”—a state where one is no longer apparently ruled by bodily and mental dictates, which are the life of the false ego—was something the Swami seemed to have attained. I began to explore this concept beginning with how we acquire our present identification that ultimately needs to die and how as bhaktas we transcend it.

We acquire our present false ego practically at the time of our past death. At that moment, Sri Krishna, through His inconceivable potencies, gauges both our cumulative deeds and present desires and chooses a suitable body for our next life to help further purify us of ignorance. The complete identification with this next body is then accomplished by the false ego (ahaṅkāra), a subtle material element designed to funnel or delimit our consciousness to identify with the body that Krishna has selected as the most suitable vehicle to carry out our next karmic journey. As this false ego, as described above, is born from and embodies material consciousness, the aim of human life is to eventually transcend this identification as controller and enjoyer. But how to accomplish this ego death?

On the path of bhakti, it is attained when one fully surrenders to the will of God through His representatives and thus no longer follows the irrational impulses of the body and mind. As the ego dies out of neglect, and one is no longer bound by bodily identification, then—like the Swami—fully identified as Krishna’s eternal servant, one faces the death of the material body fearlessly.

Although Kadamba Kanana Swami was a sannyāsī, specifically an order focused on “dying while living” by ideally leading a renounced life, attaining ego death is not exclusive to any one ashram. A devotee in any position of life, by strictly focusing on God’s will, including their duties within this world, can identify as servant of guru and Krishna and transcend the false ego, or at least put oneself in the best position to do so, as eventually old age and death overtly crush our sense of control and seem to leave us little choice anyway.

The Swami’s death was certainly impressive. It should inspire all of us to take an inventory of our sincerity and to aspire for the path of “ego death” offered in our tradition:

“Śukadeva Gosvāmī, however, gave this direction to him as follows: “My dear King, if you want to be fearless in meeting your death next week (for actually everyone is afraid at the point of death), then you must immediately begin the process of hearing and chanting and remembering God.” If one can chant and hear Hare Kṛṣṇa and always remember Lord Kṛṣṇa, then he is sure to become fearless of death, which may come at any moment.” (NOD, Chapter Two)

[1] By the number of times I have broached this subject in Monday Morning Greetings over the years, you may think I have an obsession with the subject of death. But it’s not an obsession. It’s just one of the most prominent subjects discussed in our philosophy. The Bhagavad-gītā dedicates a whole chapter to the subject of death (Ch. 8) and the seminal inquiry on which the whole Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam is based centers on facing impending death.

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Dhanurdhara Swami March 13th, 2023

I just arrived in the USA from India and left for Colombia yesterday. My computer also just came back from being serviced, so I wasn’t able to complete a new Monday Morning Greetings for this week. This is a reprint from six years ago.

Why Do We Make God Work So Hard?

June 5, 2017

I have an image of an aspect of my life that has this certain background music. I can’t exactly describe that tune in writing. But it is the background music for the cartoon image of a happy-go-lucky soul who is walking down the street oblivious to the impending disaster ahead and then either slips and falls or gets a pie thrown in his face. He gets up with confidence and begins walking with the same obliviousness to his impending danger until the same thing happens again and again. Let me see if I can describe this more vividly: It would be like the cartoon character Goofy, created by Disney in the early thirties, who, in each episode, haplessly fumbles over the same task repeatedly.[1]

Actually, this is not how I see my life, but there is a specific aspect of my life that I like to describe in this comedic sense, as it seems to be a fit to an interesting definition of comedy that I had first heard about from a friend and a professional comedian. He described comedy as tragedy plus time. I am not exactly looking back at tragedy in my life, but more like a pattern of folly that seems to so much fit this hapless image of one being oblivious to one’s folly and falling prey to it again and again.

About a month ago, after making a mistake in not only how I was thinking about something but also in how I had reacted to it, and then seeing the anxiety it caused, I had a very strong realization that seemed to correct and complete my vision of the world. I was surprised because I was convinced that I was already seeing the world perfectly clear, but I had one doubt. This pattern has been repeating itself every year, often several times a year, for the last 42 years, since beginning Krishna consciousness. I always think that I am seeing things clearly, until some upheaval, big or small, comes along that gives me a newer, more complete vision and with the same certainty as before. I often share this story with others with the background music of Goofy to express how hapless we are in walking the world with a vision of confidence, although destiny repeatedly turns our world on its head again and again.

I think my folly, however, is not unique, for until one’s mind is completely pure, it is the nature of the mind to see the world through a defective lens without even realizing one is looking through it. I think that therefore my story should be, in a sense, everyone’s story on the spiritual path. Our natural confidence in how we see the world should be repeatedly shaken by destiny to help give us newer and higher visions of reality even though at the time we are probably not aware that we are seeing things through a distorted lens.

In reflecting on how many thousands of components of vision have been added to my life to improve my vision of reality and reflecting on how many more realizations I probably require in the future, I am humbled. Reflecting in this way also helps me to realize how many unlimited components of truth one requires to actually be tattva-darśana, one who sees the truth, and how hard Krishna has to work, so to speak, to bring us to that point. And that leads to my final realization and the title of this post:

Why do we make God work so hard?

[1] From Wikipedia: “Goofy is a tall, anthropomorphic dog with a Southern drawl, and typically wears a turtle neck and vest, with pants, shoes, white gloves, and a tall hat originally designed as a rumpled fedora.”

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Dhanurdhara Swami March 6th, 2023

I tried my hardest but wasn’t able to finish this week’s Monday Morning Greetings. This is the fourth week without a computer where I write my Monday Morning Greetings by hand. Within two weeks I should have my computer back. In one sense I will miss writing by hand. When I put my pen to the page it really activates my mind and ideas flow very spontaneously. In fact, I still may write my first draft by hand. The problem comes when I have to organize them for clarity and force without a word processor. Even as I go back to writing by computer, I am now free from a lingering fear: “What if my computer breaks and I can’t write my Monday Morning Greetings?” As I hope you can see, I am very much dedicated to this craft and service but at least I am now no longer a slave to technology to write them.

For this week’s Monday Morning Greetings, in honor of Sri Gaura-purnima, I will again offer an article that I have posted many times for this day called “God’s Problem.” I was hesitant to post it again, but when I read it over it still seemed very fresh as a short explanation and glorification of Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. Enjoy!

God’s Problem: The Story of Sri Chaitanya

March 21, 2016

God has a problem.

And it is the same problem that we have.

What’s the problem?

He is not a devotee.

What is a devotee?

A devotee is one who loves God.

And love means to have a particular relationship with God. Why is that our problem?

Because in this sense we are trying to become devotees. But why is that a problem for God?

It’s a problem because God doesn’t have love of God. How does God lack that?

Love of God is in the heart of His devotees, not in God’s. God is the object of such love (the beloved), not the abode of such love (the lover of God, the devotee).

And why is that such a problem?

It’s a problem because to love is higher than to be loved. God is supposed to be the Supreme Enjoyer, but He lacks the highest pleasure—to love God—and to lack love (as the giver) is a problem.

What does God do about that? Surely, He can make a solution.

Yes, that is the story of Sri Chaitanya. God becomes His own devotee to become complete in His experience of love. And not only does He become a devotee, but He becomes His highest devotee, Sri Radha, at the height of Her love, in Her deepest feelings of love—Her moments of separation from Krishna.

Happy Gaura-purnima (The appearance of Sri Chaitanya)!

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Dhanurdhara Swami February 27th, 2023

Śrīla Tamal Krishna Goswami was too busy assisting Śrīla Prabhupāda in a managerial capacity to have time to study. He brought his quandary to His Divine Grace. I love the answer he got: “Find a way to give more classes. Fifteen minutes of teaching is worth two hours of study.” Many years ago, Maharaja personally shared this story with me, and I took it to heart. Every day for the last thirty-five years, especially when in India—and I was there at one time for almost twenty years straight—at 4:00 PM I would give class systematically on śāstra for not more than an hour.

I don’t so much have the nature to sit down and concentrate and study. I am amazed, however, how many books I was able to teach and study in this way.[1] Of course not everyone has the opportunity or nature to teach. After elaborating on this principle of study somewhat further, at the end of this post I will share a method that hopefully makes what I am talking about applicable for everyone.

Of note to this discussion is what appears to have been Śrīla Prabhupāda’s own example of study while leading and managing the Krishna consciousness movement. When I first came to Vrindavan, I could look down from the third-floor guest house where I resided and see Śrīla Prabhupāda in the wee hours of the morning sitting on his upstairs porch writing his commentary on the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. He would first read a section of the book he carried with him, which contained ten commentaries on each verse of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, and then dictate his own commentary based on what he read. Later in the morning, around 7:30 AM, he would leave his house and give a thirty-minute class in the temple. In other words, although he read the commentaries on the verses he would be writing about, it appeared that a great deal of his contemplation and realization of śāstra came by immediately reproducing it through writing and teaching about it.

On the path of bhakti, the most powerful practice to bring devotion into our hearts is kirtan, which is the oral reproduction of what we hear about Śrī Krishna.

Although we usually think of kirtan in terms of hearing and chanting the names of God, writing and speaking about the stories and philosophy of Krishna is also kirtan. Therefore, reproducing what we have heard or read by writing or speaking about it is not only an excellent way to learn śāstra but also a very powerful process of absorbing ourselves in Krishna and bringing devotion in our hearts.

One time I was visiting Śrīla Narayana Maharaja around 9:00 in the morning. By his regular schedule, I thought he would have finished his morning practice of chanting, but when I came in, he appeared to still be engaged in his morning sādhana, though I saw he was writing. When he saw me, he looked up, smiled, and said in a charming way, “Oh writing is such a good kṛṣṇānuśīlanam!” I immediately recognized what he said as the third line of Śrīla Rūpa Gosvāmi‘s definition of uttama-bhakti where the svarūpa-lakṣaṇa, or primary characteristic of bhakti, is described—that one’s activities, whether mind, body, or words, are absorbed in or follow the pleasure or will of Krishna.

I believe that for these reasons, both to assimilate what he taught and to absorb oneself in Krishna consciousness, Śrīla Prabhupāda encouraged his disciples to write every day:

“Realization means you should write, every one of you, what is your realization…You write your realization, what you have realized about Kṛṣṇa. That is required. It is not passive. Always you should be active. Whenever you find time, you write. Never mind, two lines, four lines, but you write your realization…This is cultivation of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Hear, write, remember, try to understand. Don’t be dull, dull-headed. Very intelligent. Without being very intelligent, nobody can have full Kṛṣṇa consciousness. It is for the most intelligent man.”[2]

For those reading this that feel they need to be encouraged in their study of Krishna consciousness I am sharing an excerpt from an article I wrote[3] about a method of reading śāstra that takes only fifteen minutes but could well be your “two hours of study”!

1. Set a time and place exclusively for reading shastra. If you don’t yet have the time or taste for it; even fifteen minutes is sufficient. More time, of course, is better, but whatever you can do is adequate to begin. During that time vow that nothing else will enter your sacred space, whether it’s email, Facebook, or even family.
2. Before beginning your study, pray to the teacher or teachers that you will encounter during your reading. Whoever it is, whether it be the book’s main speakers, like Śukadeva or Sūta Gosvāmī, or its prominent commentators, like Śrīla Prabhupāda, pour your heart out to them. You will be in the presence of a pure devotee, and a true saint is nondifferent than their vāṇī, or teachings. Ask them for inspiration, guidance, or whatever you feel you need spiritually.
3. Slowly and prayerfully read out loud in the mood of your entreaties and in the consciousness of being before the persons that are instructing you.
4. If any sentence or point in the text strikes you as exceptionally significant or relevant, read it over three times.
5. When the allotted time is up, close the book and offer obeisances to the saintly people in whose presence you have just learned. Express your gratitude.
6. Optional: Add three to five minutes of free writing. Free writing means that without referring to the book, just begin to write about whatever point in your reading of the Bhāgavatam impressed you, or even just write anything you remember. The trick is to keep the pen moving and never stop writing, even if you have to say, “I don’t know what to write.” In my experience that will not happen, for just moving the pen mystically connects you to your memory. You will have plenty to say.

Busy all day in Govardhana with guests today but managed to speak on the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam at the end of the day to three eager listeners for thirty minutes. And that was my “hours of study” in a very busy day![4]

[1] These are some of the books I remember covering systematically over those years by teaching daily and speaking for not more than forty-five minutes: First Canto, Second Canto, Sixth Canto, Bhagavad-gītā. Complete Nectar of Devotion, Śrī Bhakti-sandarbha, Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta, Nārada-bhakti-sūtra, Yoga Sūtras, Jaiva Dharma, Krishna janma–līlā, Brahma-vimohana-līlā, The Killing of Dhenukāsura, Kālīya-līlā, Akrūra-līlā, Antya-līlā. Rāmānanda-saṁvāda, Caitanya-caritāmṛta, Caitanya-bhāgavata, five chapters of rasa-līlā, Uddhava-līlā, Govardhana-līlā (presently).

[2] Lecture, August 14, 1972, Los Angeles

[3] From Monday Morning Greetings November 27, 2017 “The Talking Book”

[4] Śrīla Prabhupāda gave many instructions to read his books. Ideally, we should be absorbed for hours in reading his books. As I move forward in my devotional life, I have become increasingly absorbed in reading Śrīla Prabhupāda’s books, but I still marvel how relevant and effective is Śrīla Prabhupāda’s insight is to reproduce by speaking and writing what we have heard.

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