Wings

"Where are you from?" I'm asked sometimes.

Sigh. I can see that they're puzzled by my name, dress, accent, and/or hairdo.

"Do you want to know where my parents are from, my ethnicity, my nationality, where I grew up, or where I live now?"

In fact, none of these categories really give a sense of where I'm from, because I don't identify with any of them. What often follows is my declaration that I'm a second-generation devotee of Krishna - or, a gurukuli.

Everyone is searching for who they are, where they're from. Everyone wants an identity. I'm no exception, struggling and slipping upon words and definitions, searching for something to hold onto to keep me from being a nobody from nowhere. So I sometimes I grab ahold of being a gurukuli.

Gurukulis can be found in almost every country in the world speaking almost every language in the world. We sometimes get drawn to each other, like flamingos, eagles, penguins, and sparrows who all flock to one place with only the basics in common. Wings. Beaks. Feathers.

Boiled down to one thing, we have parents that are devotees of Krishna. Of course, nowadays its becoming complex to even define gurukuli. We all seem to struggle with that question, "Where are you from?" because we all have a long list of possible answers. We all seem to slip and slide upon definitions.

But one thing I know for sure is that when I'm with gurukulis, I have this experience of unconditional acceptance - I'm accepted, I accept others. Family. That sense of belonging transcends all cultures, languages, countries. And when the motley crew of us birds gather in one place, my own experience is that deep down, our wings are Krishna. We seem to all be connected to Krishna in some way - whether we accept Krishna as God or not. Krishna seems to be that gene that we were born with, and whether we like it or not, we've all got wings.

And ultimately, don't we all have wings? Don't we all yearn to shed our identities - even of being a "gurukuli"? Doesn't every soul long to fly?

"This sky 

where we live

is no place

to lose your wings

so 

love

love

love." 

- Hafiz  

Shadow of Samadhi

The teacher training weekend with Sondra and Raghunath began with us all sitting in a giant circle, knee-to-knee. Each of us were sharing how the past month had gone. For most of us, the month had been rough, even dire. But we were here.

When my turn came, I said, "I have been reflecting how progressing through the 8 limbs of yoga seems like so much work, it's all about my endeavor to work my way up to samadhi [complete absorption]. It seems so overwhelming, so exhausting.

"But bhakti yoga is the path of grace. Bhakti turns the entire system of yoga on its head, because it's not about my endeavor any more. The endeavor is mainly there to show that hey, I care." I looked around the giant circle of aspiring yogis. The words just came out of my mouth: "So really, I could experience samadhi right here, right now."

"Okay, do it, right now," Raghunath challenged almost playfully. Everyone laughed.

My heart pounded. I raised my arms, closed my eyes, and called out the holy name:

"Hare Krishna Hare Krishna
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
Hare Rama Hare Rama
Rama Rama Hare Hare."

While I had been chanting, the laughter had died down. In those moments, I felt the Lord's presence in my heart.

I opened my eyes. I folded my palms to my two teachers.

Thank you, Raghunath, for opening the path of grace, even if for only several moments.

Presence

Tonight I sat down at the harmonium in this quiet, empty house. I sang the holy name, the mahamantra. I submerged myself in the music. The sound of the Lord surrounded me and I became overwhelmed with gratitude that Krishna has given me a voice to sing to Him. Somehow when I sing to Krishna when it's just the two of us in an empty house or an empty templeroom, I feel the closest to Him. I feel that He is standing right in front of me. He is listening. I feel the most pure, as if Krishna sees my soul, past all of my layers and layers of hardened and twisted shells. Krishna sees me. I get to be me.

Thank you for giving me a voice to sing to you, my beautiful Krishna. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be in Your presence by singing the holy name.

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
Hare Rama Hare Rama
Rama Rama Hare Hare

Finish It

About two years ago, I so happened to be staying the night in a house across the street from Satsvarupa Maharaj. I had never met this swami before. All I really knew about him was that he was one of the very first people to join the Hare Krishna movement in 1966. Also, he - along with a team - was the writer of the voluminous biography of Srila Prabhupad, The Lilamrita.

He being a writer and a saint, I relayed my request to meet with Satsvarupa Maharaj and I was given permission to come. So early afternoon, I entered the old house and walked up the creaking stairs. The sun slanted in through the window and illuminated a man who was seated in an armchair wearing orange clothes. I bowed to him, offering my respects. He peered at me through his glasses. I remember how the sideways light seemed to make his brown eyes glow.

A little ways in to the meeting, I said, "Maharaj, I want to write a novel for Krishna, but I have such hard time in completing a project. Would you be willing to share with me some words of wisdom for writing?"

Immediately Satsvarupa Maharaj declared, "Lower your standards and finish it."

Thirst for Wonder

"Wisdom begins in wonder." - Socrates

This afternoon, I drove across a bridge and glanced over past the waterfalls. My eyes widened. Mist rose from the rushing, swollen river and the sun glimmered.

I crossed the bridge, parked my car, and dashed back out to the bridge with my camera phone. Who knew when this moment would come again, this precise painting by God?

I took several pictures then paused there in the middle of the bridge, gazing out at the river, the shrouded forests, the blue sky. The roar of the waterfalls surrounded me. Sometimes I measure my thirst for wonder by how desperate I am to take a picture. I'll crouch, crawl, tiptoe, reach, run, run, run. Photography for me is about viewing life as art and capturing the perfect way it blossoms and unfolds.

I paused on the bridge for only a couple moments, then dashed back to my car, pulling my coat tight. I drove into town and ran my errands.

When I returned much later, I parked my car again and walked out onto the bridge. I took more pictures. Wonder surrounds us every moment of every day if we are only willing to open our eyes to it. Okay, maybe we need to open our eyes AND crouch, crawl, tiptoe, reach, or run

run

run.

Consolation

"While we are impressed with your qualifications, after careful consideration we have decided not to advance your application in the hiring process at this time."

Two nights ago I read these words and heaved a sigh. My shoulders slumped. I had put so much effort into my application for this teacher apprenticeship program - cover letters, resumes, even an interview. It had been my ideal program. I had been applying to many other programs as well, but with this one especially I had dared let my spirits rise. Now...

Nothing.

Back to square one.

I've been searching for the right place to teach and learn for a full year now. But my career progress has kept slamming into a brick wall.  At this point, nothing is consoling me.

Today I went to a basketball tournament to watch a friend's 11-year-old son play. For the first game, each player seemed to make each shot as if by magic. They worked together seamlessly. We all cheered when they won.

The second game, both teams played with ferocity. But our team lagged; towards the second half, they were 24 points behind. Catching up seemed impossible.

The second half, our team exploded with momentum. 20 points behind. 14 points behind. 10. 7. The other team's score was at a standstill. I couldn't help but feel this crazy hope rise in my chest.

Would we make it?

59 seconds left.

36.

20.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

Our team lost.

Families cheered for our team, telling them they had done well. I overheard the coach tell some parents, "How they played in that second half was better than a win,"

I agreed. What a spectacular game. If you lost, so what, learn and move on, right? What matters is the effort. 

I was leaving the gymnasium when I saw one of the young boys from our team - his mother was helping him put on his coat. The boy's face looked grim.

"Hey," I called out, "You played an amazing game out there, great job,"

The boy barely looked at me, his face turning even darker.

"That's what I told him," his mother said, "but he won't listen,"

I insisted, "How you played in that second half was just amazing,"

The boy turned away from me, shrugging on his coat.

I walked away, pensive. The expression on that boy's face resonated deeply with me. As the hours go on, I can't help but feel such a kinship with that boy. A relief that someone else in this world can feel the way I do, a human being who feels disheartened, discouraged, and plain old sad.

When I've done my best, and my best isn't enough, maybe for awhile it's okay to hang my head.

I'm sure the little boy would agree, too.

(image courtesy of calaverasenterprise.com)

Clearing My Throat

"To withhold is to perish." - Khalil Gibran

A friend of mine recently told me that I often clear my throat. In fact, over the years I have had the constant experience of losing my voice. As one of the seven chakras is located in the throat - the capacity to communicate and share the self - I find it no surprise that I have had a rocky relationship with my voice.

Communicating my self is one of my greatest joys and one of my greatest struggles.

This morning I was chanting japa and watched the sun slant through the window in a brighter and brighter patch. I thought of this blog, Seed of Devotion, and came across that all-too-familiar sensation of blankness. Whiteness. Void.

I want to communicate something, anything, and although so much beauty has been transpiring in my life, I'm at a loss. More and more, I'm at a loss. I'm frustrated and angry that I refrain from communicating even on Facebook or an email thread. I'm afraid of no one getting me, no one listening, no one caring.

I realized this morning that not trying is painful, but to try and fail is even more painful.

But to withhold is to perish. This morning I felt like I was going to explode.

I am praying to my dear gurudeva and my beloved Lord that somehow or other They may allow me to communicate my heart.