The Wedding of Jackie and Parama Karuna

Yesterday morning Jackie and Parama Karuna legally became husband and wife, most importantly to accommodate Jackie's parents (they plan to hold a Vedic wedding in the fall). I felt touched to see two people so compatible and willing to strive towards Krishna together.

So reflecting on marriage, last year I wrote this:

Yesterday at the wedding of Indradyumna Swami's brother, Maharaj spoke some cool stuff about marriage. Once he was on a plane and encountered a couple in their 90's and they were heading out to celebrate their 75th wedding anniversary. 75 YEARS. And so Maharaj inquired, "I am often the priest for many weddings, and I also give a speech. So please tell me, what are some words of advice that I can give to newlyweds? What has held you both together for so long, and so happily?"

They both replied at once:

"Give more than you take."

I realize that this applies to all of our relationships, especially with Krishna. To love is to give... to serve.

The Wedding of Jackie & Parama Karuna

Politics of Inspiration

But then even within a certain religion, people will say, "My certain branch is the best," and even within that branch, people will say, "My teacher is the best." But really, it's just an extension of our own ego - that anything is relation with me must be the best. But it is an illusion! - Radhanath Swami

Narayan Maharaj is coming to Alachua next week and almost half a dozen people have approached me - including my unofficial siksa guru, Indradyumna Swami - and have expressed concern that I want to go to his festival or that I casually encourage others to do so as well.

But I have a different perspective. I grew up spiritually in Hawaii with no "ISKCON" temple. Narayan Maharaj, Bodhayan Maharaj, Paramadvaiti Swami (my brother's guru), and other visiting saints were my source of inspiration in a land of very little Krishna conscious resources. I never encountered an "ISKCON" guru when I lived in Hawaii. So I believe that spiritually, I grew up around my cousins. I feel a great appreciation for their perspectives and branches.

Where I receive inspiration is completely personal. No one can tell me where to find it. I have gone to a Buddhist service, a mosque, a Baptist church, a Catholic service... and for each one I gleaned some beautiful wisdom and the essence of religion: love and service. 

And yet sometimes I find that the most heated arguments and debates occur amongst people of the same religion with simply different branches. Amazing!

So I offer my respects unto all the vaishnava devotees of the Lord, those who specifically love to serve Krishna and His devotees. A vaishnava is a rare and precious person to find in this world. Personally, I pray to somehow transcend all these politics of inspiration.

Paramadvaiti Swami, my brother's guru

Puri Maharaj, a godbrother of Srila Prabhupad

Bodhayan Maharaj; he often visited Hawaii and is the disciple of Puri Maharaj


Narayan Maharaj

Indradyumna Swami, an inspiration

Radhanath Swami, my spiritual master and life and soul


Srila Prabhupad, the ultimate inspiration

This Is My Request! [Day 2.4]

When we dash out of the apartment and jump into our cars, our whirlwind game of keeping-up-with-the-former-NYC-taxi-driver continues, nevermind we just scolded such-named taxi driver. And when we finally pull into the street where the evening program will be, we’re all breathless from laughing and screaming (mainly at Rupa). I hop out of the car, ready for either a 3-mile jog or a 3-hour-long kirtan. Who knows when the latter is going to start, so even if this means hiking up my sari, I have GOT to get my energy out! (All due respects Maharaj, but I’ll get your class on mp3 or something.)

I get neither dancing nor a jog… but I get something better.

I set my mind to one intention: setting my purse down inside the house, offering my respects to Maharaj, and sprinting right back out. About three dozen people are all getting settled around Maharaj. I put my purse down… linger… just a little longer… okay, I’m leaving, now… Maharaj is getting ready to sing Jaya Radha Madhava. He instructs Chintamoni to play the mridanga. He looks to the kartal player and frowns.

“Who was playing kartals this morning?” He asks the crowd. Some people murmur and turn to me. My face flushes bright red. “Aha, give the kartals to Bhakti, please.” He commands. Someone hands me the kartals as I’m standing up in the back of the room, flabbergasted. But… my jog! “Come sit up here,” he beckons to a spot right up front. The crowd on the floor parts and makes room for me, The Kartal Player That Maharaj Has Requested. Someone even hands me their special pair of kartals that were encased in a silken bag. What is going ON?? This is crazy. My kartal-playing kinda blows, anyway.

But there’s no time to think, because Maharaj begins to sing.

The Comic Strip [Day 2.3]

So it’s just the three of us for over an hour, connecting with Maharaj. We laugh, we confer, we question, relaxed and peaceful in our spiritual discussions. The whole time I suspend my disbelief that we’re chilling out with Indradyumna Swami. Then, Chaturatma gently reminds Maharaj that it’s time for the evening program. Maharaj turns to us. “You’re coming?” he asks hopefully.

“Of course!” Rupa replies.

“Well then I’ll see you there,” he smiles.

"Ah yes, the Musketeerinis," Chaturatma chuckles.

Grinning, we offer obeisance. I had felt completely detached that I would never speak with Indradyumna Swami, nor associate with him closely. I was fully willing to just bask in his presence. And yet Krishna has His own agenda.

Just a moment to reflect, because now it’s time to jump in the car… again. Go, go, go! Now get this: Rupa – who’s been driving for all of four months – has to follow former-NYC-taxi-driver

Chaturatma in Atlanta rush-hour traffic. Yeah, the combination is ridiculous to me, too. We run several lights, cut off no less than three people, and practically bribe one to cut in front to make a left turn. We collapse in laughter! How insane! We’ve been joking since the start of the trip how our escapades should become a comic strip: The Musketeerinis. We even discuss our personas: Nama the calm princess, Rupa the wired hilarious one, and me, the anxious and sensible director.

The reason for our rush happens when we reach a gated community (in which we slip in after Chaturatma quite clandestinely). We had been told this was to be a hush-hush operatin of zipping in and zipping out of a certain apartment.

We're all cool with parking and waiting for Maharaj to go in and come out, (Besides, if I don't move my tingling legs I swear they're going to run away) but we’re ushered over to dash upstairs with Maharaj, and as we climb to the apartment, we dog on Chaturatma for driving us nuts on the road (no pun intended).

Maharaj just chuckles.

Vani and Vapuh [Day 2.2]

Later in the afternoon, the three of us wait in the living room for our scheduled darshan with Maharaj. Rupa and Nama chat, but I’m still quiet, meditating on my realization from this morning. I write down the questions I will ask in my gold diary, whittling my list down to the most important ones.

And then, Chaturatma motions to us that our time has come. I hold my breath as we step out into the warm afternoon. There is Indradyumna Swami, seated on a chair, the sun illuminating his robes. How simple and so sweet. I let my breath out.

The three of us settle around him, and he catches up with Rupa, his disciple of ten years now. As they converse, Maharaj amazes me with his memory and his desire to connect with his disciples despite the fact he receives a couple hundred e-mails per day. Yeah, just try that for a day. I barely respond to my friends.

Maharaj then turns his serious blue gaze to me.

Suddenly shy, I search for words that I had written down so carefully. “Maharaj,” I begin. I pause. And then, I say what has been on my mind every waking hour since driving up here. “Maharaj… thank you. Thank you for helping me understand what it means to be a disciple of my own guru maharaj,”

He listens. So kindly, he listens. He emphasizes that the instruction – or vani – of my teacher is the most important. But then he addresses my aching concern by mentioning that personal association – or vapuh – is also important, so he smiles and says, “Then write me. Please.”

“I will,” I reply, tears welling in my eyes. Aaaahh… a peace flows over me.

He's Still Here.

In the chill and dark morning, Rupa, Nama and I rushed about the guest house, groggily gulping down oatmeal and mumbling tilak mantras. We dashed out the door and made it in time to sing some morning bhajans while the people of the program began to gather.

At last, Indradyumna Swami joined us. Last night after I had picked up the mridanga, I had been so absorbed in playing it that I hadn’t fully appreciated Maharaj's special melody for Jaya Radha Madhava. And so now as he began to sing, tingles swept across my skin.

During breakfast, Rupa, Nama, and I discussed youth in Alachua and ISKCON. In the quiet mid-morning, we laughed and practically shouted out our jokes. Maharaj was still sitting where he was for class, chanting his japa intently with eyes closed. Suddenly he snapped them open and commanded the three of us.

“There is time for this later. Come, chant japa with me,”

Hushed immediately, we fetched our japa bags sheepishly. We settled around Maharaj, but then he commanded again, “Face me.”

We faced him. And in the current and wave of chanting, with Maharaj as my anchor, I tasted each syllable of the maha-mantra for the first time in months. I meditated deeper and deeper, as if drinking deeper and deeper.

When Maharaj rose to finally take some breakfast, the others dispersed. But I stayed, transfixed.

He’s still here, I murmured to myself. My hair stood on end. Even though he’s gone… I’m going to keep chanting.

My mind turned to my own guru, Radhanath Swami, and how most of my life he’s not there. 

Suddenly I made the connection that Radhanath Swami is my inspiration, my map, my compass… but I must captain my own ship. I must rise to the challenge; take responsibility for my spiritual life.

My guru is there in my heart, asking me - commanding me - to chant. That is how he will always be there, sitting across from me, inspiring me to go deeper and to never stop chanting the holy name.

Be Quiet!

On the ride up to Atlanta, I had one meditation: silence. I want to listen. For once I want to just be quiet and observe. Instead of jumping at every opportunity to hammer out questions and playing deaf to their answers, I want to soak in Indradyumna Swami's association. Serve. Watch. Listen. Just be.

So one evening when Rupa, Nama and I returned from a japa walk, the street was filling with cars. A twinge of excitement fluttered in my chest. I calmed it immediately though. Just observe, Bhakti… for once in your life…

While bhajans rocked the house, I sat down modestly in the back of the room. But then, when one devotee finished singing, people started to beckon me to sing. WHAT THE…?? I had never been to Duluth, Georgia in my LIFE, I had never met 99.9 percent of these people, and they were summoning me to sing??

Rupa just grinned her huge grin and nodded her head really fast in her Rupa way. “Yeah, yeah, go Bhakti! … Hey! Bhakti’s going to sing,”

So with a smile to myself and a shake of my head, I settled in front of the harmonium. I looked across to the mridanga player and beheld a gentle, wise man that I knew but his name escaped me.

I began to sing and couldn't help but smile. The rhythm began to groove, voices rose in enthusiasm, and suddenly the most hilarious thought hit me: Quiet. ME. This is ridiculous! This is the farthest thing from quiet I could possibly get! My voice literally broke as I sang because I couldn't help from laughing. Rupa made it worse by laughing along with me.

And just as I swung into the high register, the beat went double time, and the room started to clap, Indradyumna Swami entered. In a wave, everyone offered their obeisance. I looked up to see him observing the room in his regal, serene way.

Drawing the bhajan to a tumultuous close (in which I threatened to break down laughing again), I felt the room grinning.

“Good evening,” Maharaj said smoothly. He picked up a pair of kartals and began to sing.

My eye was drawn to a lone mridanga just begging to be played. Realizing how hilarious this was getting, I motioned to Satvata that I wanted to play. He handed the drum to me. I turned to face the gentle man, and he nodded and smiled as we played in sync.

Then the rhythm picked up and with a shout, people jumped up to dance! I’m sorry, but I simply cannot watch others dance in a kirtan, and so I handed off the drum and dove right in. Out of my penchant for leading the way, I directed the women to dance in a circle, then lines, then the bridge!

Maharaj ended the kirtan in a beautiful crescendo. Breathless, we offered obeisance. Rupa, Nama, and I glanced at each other in between our hands, grinning ear to ear.

[SNORT.] So much for being quiet.

Kirtan!

"Everyone, please stand up," Indradyumna Swami announces. The initiation ceremony has come to a close.

Murmurs go around, "kirtan, kirtan", and although I'm standing at the back of the templeroom, Maharaj manages to catches my eye anyway. His eyes light up and he beckons to me, "Bhakti! Come sing,"

I exhale deeply and summon my courage to make my way up to stand next to Maharaj. Someone places a pair of brass karatalas (hand cymbals) in my hand. I adjust the microphone and begin to sing a simple tune while the two disciples of Maharaj circumambulate the initiation fire.

One day... one day.I pray, closing my eyes. One day I will circle my own initiation fire.

When the crowd shifts toward the altar, Maharaj smiles and turns to me and requests that I sing the formal evening arati song. "Sundar Arati, please,"

My first impulse is to refuse. Sundar Arati, for a crowd and occasion such as this, ME?? But Maharaj's encouragement fortifies me. So I sing. Maharaj sways in front of the Deities, chanting. Thank you for empowering me, my dear shiksha guru, I muse. Halfway through the arati, I untangle the microphone from the stand to dance with everyone else!

And then, the kirtan is coming to a grand crescendo with cries of "Gauranga!" and "Haribol!" When suddenly, Maharaj turns around from his placid place near the altar. He picks up his dear godbrother Sikhi Mahiti and grinning, begins to swing him 'round and 'round and 'round! Everyone goes wild, "HARRRIIIIIIBOOOOOOL!!!!"

My mind flashes with pictures of Indradyumna Swami swinging my own dear guru maharaj, Radhanath Swami, in the same way. I watch in total disbelief, and with a final note I call out, "Gaaaaura Premanandi..."

The voices of the devotees rise as they reply, "Hari Hariboooool..."

Indradyumna Swami ki.... jai.