Moment of Liberation

For the past several week, I have experienced a sort of stillness in writing - like a book that has been sitting on the shelf and has gathered dust. So much is going on in my life, but I haven't been in the mood to formulate my thoughts into words to share with the world.

Last night, though, in the thrumming whorl of Gaura Vani's and Madhava's kirtans here at the Festival of the Holy Name, I felt the murmurings of a desire to write. I was surrounded by a beauty that begged for expression.

Undulating waves of the holy name washed all around me and through me. I felt like a rough stone in the midst of great waterfalls of the holy name, and by the constant flow the rough edges of my heart became smoother and smoother.

At one point in Gaura Vani's kirtan, I experienced every single molecule in my body rest at peace. I tilted my head upwards gently into the light, and my eyes were closed. I lifted my palms skyward. And I experienced: this is the perfection. This is the perfection.

The holy name filled something deep inside of me, a yearning that I realize I am searching for in my life; I've been searching for this for lifetimes.

I observed a sign on the wall (which I shall paraphrase):

Chant the holy name in bliss. This is liberation. - Srila Prabhupad

I felt as though for those indescribably beautiful moments, I had experienced that liberation Srila Prabhupad spoke of, even if for only a moment. I pray for those moments to become my lifetime. 

A Conversation with God

A week or so ago, a friend of mine recommended that I read the book Conversations with God, by Neale Donald Walsch. Basically, it's a guy who sits down one night, picks up a pen, writes down a question, and God responds through the guy's pen.

You know, a conversation.

Yes, Neale Donald Walsch had a conversation with God. If you don't believe me, go read the book yourself. All I can relate is my own experience in reading it, and for the past two weeks I feel like I've been going through life in technicolor. It's like every moment is a jewel because it has been given to me by God.

And tonight was a jewel!

For one of my college classes, I have this assignment to attend various events with high school age kids. The catch is that it must be different from my own upbringing. Nervous that the assignment deadline is approaching, I finally did some Google searches today and found a youth Bible Study in Gainesville. I decided to go tonight - hey, carpe diem!

So at around 7pm, I walked through the doors of The Rock school/ministry. I felt a little nervous yet also happy to have an excuse to dive into another world. I struck up some conversations and immediately felt at home.

The evening began with worship - a rock band played a devotional song and everyone sang along. I was surrounded by teenagers with rapt expressions on their faces, eyes closed, their palms raised to the sky.

When the song ended, the pastor got up to announce the subject of tonight's Bible Study: hearing the voice of God.

I stood there, gaping in shock. Whaaat?

He told the story of how many years ago, he couldn't sleep and he felt that God was trying to speak to him, so he sat down and wrote and wrote - four or five pages, he just wrote everything he felt God was trying to tell him. He saved those pages, and many years later he still lives that timeless wisdom, and how what he wrote has come to pass.

Just like the Walsch guy, I thought.

We broke off into groups, and I followed the 11th and 12th graders upstairs. We arranged our chairs into a circle, and the young woman leading the Bible Study group asked the first question: "Describe a moment when you think God was trying to speak to you."

The entire Bible Study, I just sat there dumbfounded. I contributed at times, but mostly I was absorbing every single word said. Some teenagers were more outspoken than others - they spoke in such a real way, that God was a part of their everyday lives, and how they listen to their intuition. I felt so deeply humbled - although I am chronologically older, I experience these young people as having such a deeper connection with God in their hearts.

There was no sacrilege here to say that one can hear the voice of God. Frankly, it was conversed about in the most chill, down-to-earth way - even encouraged. "I listen to the voice of God. God is real, God is in my heart," one girl put it so simply.

Of course, not everyone felt such a connection, which brought us to our next question: Why is it sometimes difficult to hear God's voice?

"Movies, bad music, bad habits..." some teens volunteered. "Maybe we ignore the voice of God, so our channels get clogged up... If we are an instrument, we must be properly tuned to hear the Lord's voice."

When the leader of the group asked if anyone would like to add anything, I decided to speak up. "You know, I'm actually college age and I come from a different spiritual tradition, but I would like to express how grateful I feel to be here with all of you. This has been an important experience for me for the past two weeks or so, about listening to the voice of God. I feel that God has directed me to this very room to be here with all of you tonight. Every word that you've shared I've taken it to heart, you have all been my teachers. I realize how God transcends all boundaries. God is in my heart, He is your heart. I feel humbled. So thank you!"

A boy or two began to applaud, and then everyone applauded, smiling. I grinned in surprise and did a little bow where I was sitting. "Thank you!" I said again.

What an adventure life is when every moment, every breath is infused with God... including this one! The Lord in your heart has brought you to these very words.

So what are you waiting for? Go have a conversation with God!

Tears of Love

"When will my eyes be decorated with tears of love when I chant Your holy name?" - Sri Shikshastakam, 6th verse

I never quite know what to expect when I come to the temple of Radhe Shyam. Each visit is a gift, each visit is an adventure. I never know who I'll meet, what conversations I'll have, what experience shall wash upon the shore of my life.

This afternoon, one wave came that washed my soul in stillness.

In the velvet quiet of the temple room, I settled to the marble floor to chant japa. The only other person there besides me was an old Bengali woman. I have seen her around the temple many times with her daughter and grandchildren. She doesn't speak a word of English, but we have always exchanged smiles.

My japa felt especially deep this afternoon - so much that I felt inspired to set my beads aside for a little while to pick up the harmonium and sing "Krishna Deva Bhavantam Vande." This bhajan contains a line that especially resonates with me, and I paraphrase the translation in my heart when I sing it: "Oh Krishna, I possess only a sesame seed of bhakti. But You make the impossible possible, so please grant me the grace to devote my soul to You."

The old Bengali woman wandered over to where I sat. She didn't know the words, but she swayed and clapped off-beat, absorbed in the bhajan. We exchanged a smile. Then I pumped the harmonium one last time and picked up my beads again to chant.

Time meandered by and the old woman settled close to the altar to gaze at the forms of the Lord, Radhe Shyam. And then, with simple grace, she offered her obeisance with her whole body, as if she had collapsed to the floor.

For a moment I was stunned - the thought crossed my mind that maybe she had come to the temple to leave her body, so different was this obeisance, so profound in surrender did it strike me.

The woman slowly got to her feet. When she turned I saw that her face shone with tears. To my surprise, she walked right over to me, knelt, and we embraced. She was weeping and weeping - I could feel her chest gently heaving. We came away from each other to look into each others' eyes - her eyes were shining. We embraced again.

Her bhakti surrounded me like a warm woolen shawl.

When the woman pulled away with her arm still around my shoulders, she gestured to Radhe Shyam and murmured, "Oh Krishna! Oh Krishna!" She brushed the floor and touched her hand to her head in rapture. She rose to her feet and faced the Lord with her arms upraised, still weeping.

I folded my palms and bowed my head to this woman. I wept simple tears, deeply humbled.

This woman doesn't speak a word of English and we shall probably never engage in a full conversation, ever. But the connection of our hearts said more than words ever could; the tears in our eyes united us beyond barriers of age, language, race, culture...

Oh Krishna, thank You. Today You made the impossible possible - through Your beloved devotee, You gave me a glimpse into the mystery of bhakti. 

What is the Seed?

At last I have published a page on my blog to describe the philosophy of the "seed of devotion." Below is the new text.

***

The morning that I was born I was given the name Bhakti lata bij which, in the ancient Sanskrit language, translates as "the seed of the vine of devotion."

This bhakti lata bij is very special and rarely given. It is described in ancient scriptures that the living entity has been wandering the universe for millions of years, so very, very lost, so heartsick in his search for love. But somehow, by the grace of the Lord and a loving spiritual master, the living entity receives within his heart the bhakti lata bij, the seed of devotion.

This seed of devotion must be tended to with great care. One must water the seed by serving the Lord and His devotees.

One must receive proper sunlight through the chanting of the holy name.

One must dig out all of the unwanted weeds within the heart - pride, lust, envy, and so many others.

I find it very curious and very profound that the plant in this metaphor of devotion is not a stately banyan tree or a divine lotus. It is a vine. And what is the most important feature of a vine?

It must always rest upon something else to grow.

In this metaphor, that "something else" is the Vaishnavas, the devotees of the Lord.

Then with proper cultivation, love, and grace, resting upon the strength of the devotees, this vine of devotion may wind up and up and up to at last reach the feet of the Lord Himself.

***

brahmanda brahmite kona bhagyavan jiva
guru krsna prasade pay bhakti lata bija


"According to their karma, all living entities are wandering throughout the entire universe. Out of many millions of wandering living entities, one who is fortunate gets an opportunity to associate with a bona fide spiritual master by the grace of Krishna. By the mercy of both Krishna and the spiritual master, such a person receives the seed of the creeper of devotional service." (Chaitanya Charitamrita, Madhya 19.51)

A Profound Interview

My fellow writer, Madhava Smullen, is writing an article for ISKCON News (news.iskcon.com) on the phenomenon of gurukulis (second generation devotees of Krishna) who have received formal initiation. He interviewed me and quite a few others via e-mail.

His questions have prodded me to reflect deeply upon the commitments I have made.

Who initiated you?
Radhanath Swami

Where and when did you get initiated?
Alachua, Florida, May 31st, 2010

What age were you when you got initiated?
23

What were your full names before and after initiation?
My name before initiation was Bhakti lata bij, and after initiation my name became Bhakti lata.

Please explain in a detailed, thoughtful way why you made the decision to get initiated.
        I often hear parallels between marriage and initiation - both are very grave steps in life that involve very profound vows. Of course, marriage is more of a common phenomenon, something that humans can universally relate to, so I'll start from there. So one may ask, why get married? Why make those vows when you can just live lives together as a very committed couple? I have come to the conclusion that there is something about taking those profound vows in front of the world and in front of God that gives the couple the strength to weather the storms.

In very related respects, I was born to devotee parents who gave me a spiritual name at birth. I have followed the four regulative principles my whole life, and Radhanath Swami loves me unconditionally, whether I would have ever received initiation from him or not. So one may wonder - why take that formal step of initiation? For me, it was about committing to those vows in front of the world and in front of God. The vows of initiation are so powerful that sometimes I feel chills to meditate upon them. Those vows carve and shape my life, and give me a safe place to fall. Receiving initiation is like marriage in the sense that now I belong to someone, now I can rest my soul, knowing that I am connected to a family who can carry me in the fiercest of spiritual storms.


What major and subtle changes have there been in your life now that you are initiated? What do you think initiation will continue to change in your life?
        The most profound change I experience is the peace I feel in my heart. I feel settled. I feel grounded and sure and safe. I feel strong - I no longer am only accountable to myself, I am accountable to my spiritual master, to Srila Prabhupad, to all of the devotees. That accountability gives me great strength to set an example for others. I feel that initiation will continue to change my life by giving me the sureness and strength to offer every breath of my life in service, knowing that it shall be offered in the right direction, like water not just poured upon any soil, but soil with seeds underneath.

Why do you think gurukulis have typically been slower about getting initiated? Do you think that is changing now, and if so why?
          I sense that gurukulis have been slower about receiving initiation because they're already immersed in Krishna culture. What's the point in making such heavy vows when one is already IN the flow, chanting, doing service...?

         But the biggest reason for the slower movement towards initiation, I believe, is chanting 16 rounds. It's a huge commitment. For me, getting to the point of actually steadily chanting 16 rounds every day has been the greatest challenge of my entire life, and it still is. I chant a lot slower than even most people, so it takes me around 3 hours every day. And although gurukulis love to chant in kirtan - sometimes for 24 hours straight! - there's something very austere about chanting japa for us. Several years ago, Radhanath Swami once gently commented to me (after I had told him yet again that I was still struggling with chanting), "Yes, you gurukulis would rather feel sincere about japa all the time, or not chant at all."

        I think the trend towards initiation amongst gurukulis is growing, but only very slightly. In my experience, most gurukulis ask this question: "Why initiation?" and usually don't feel very satisfied with the answer.

A question and a concern that the older generation often have is, will gurukulis step up and continue this movement when they are gone? Do you think more gurukulis getting initiated means positive things for the future of the movement?
         I'm not sure if initiation will address the issue of succession. But I do know that where powerful vows of commitment are made, vigor and strength naturally follow. I personally find it incredibly inspiring to witness my peers take to this process so seriously. It gives me hope that my own children shall take to this process naturally as well. That yes, Krishna Consciousness is the nature of the soul, and the process that Srila Prabhupad has given us is complete.

A Freewrite Poem for my Spiritual Master

Thank you

I would be stumbling
stumbling
stumbling
in the jungles of my mind
searching
searching
frantically
searching for love
My soul would be weeping
weeping
every day
weeping
Thank you for giving me
a reason to live
a way to die
at peace
I would be so lost
so lost
searching for love
in all the wrong places
sinking in quicksand
sinking
I would be trying
to capture the moon
in a mirror
I would be clawing at my face
searching for beauty
I would be so lost
so lost
seeking guidance
in a broken compass
I am weeping
weeping
knowing that your love
gives me strength
to live
I am humbled
by your love.

Thank you. 

The Beauty of Fragility

Today I have felt like spun glass that keeps getting cracked. My body feels frail because I'm getting sick, my computer is probably headed to the grave, schoolwork is crashing into my life in an avalanche, and I'm tired and woozy and disoriented.

You know, one of those fragile days.

Krishna Lunch is a program I like to go to on school days - I get to sing kirtan and then be with devotees in the chaotic whirl of school. And of course, the prasadam.

But today I didn't want to go - I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to be my spun glass little self and silently get through the day. You know, survive.

But the desire for good food drove me to Krishna Lunch anyway.

Man, does prasadam work wonders. After I ate, it was all quiet so I decided to sing, if just for a little while. The melody that came to me, unbidden, quieted my heart. I closed my eyes and forgot I was on campus, forgot I was getting sick, forgot about my computer, forgot about schoolwork, forgot about everything. All that existed was the gentle sun shining on my face and the holy name.

When I finished singing, I said to Anthony, "You know, this is a special melody,"

"How so?" he replied.

"There is a song that one sings when someone leaves this world, it's a song of separation and grief. I sang this maha-mantra kirtan in the melody of that song."

"Oh really? I didn't know you could sing Hare Krishna when someone died," a girl commented.

"Oh yes, you can sing and chant Hare Krishna at any time, in any place. It is the most beautiful thing one could do. And when I was singing this kirtan just now, I was meditating that we are all destined to die. So how do I utilize this moment and every moment? To not waste away my life? I just want to chant. I just want God."

I write this only a half an hour later in the library, wondering why I've taken time to narrate this simple experience. Maybe because when I am closest to my frustration with the world is when I feel closest to my realization that I need God.

I need God.

That is the beauty of fragility.

My Eyes So Soft

Don't surrender your loneliness
So quickly.
Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice
So tender,

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.

- Hafiz