What does this have to do with Krishna consciousness?

Two days ago, on a sudden inspiration, I started re-reading one of my favorite books, Memories by Satsvarupa das Goswami. Its amazing... an honest, bittersweet, struggling, comforting, challenging, collection of insights into a sadhaka's world, seen through the lens of his remembrances.

In a chapter where Sdg remembers listening to Coltrane's "A Love Supreme", he ponders the criticism that may arise from sharing such an apparently "mundane" memory:

When a practicing devotee asks the inevitable question: "What does this have to do with Krishna consciousness?" there are different ways to answer. We can be stern: "It has nothing to do with Krishna consciousness. It is maya and should therefore not be discussed." Or we can answer in another way: "Exactly. What does this have to do with Krishna consciousness?" Does the music have an inner form? Does it sing of an incoherent expression of love of God? That very question -- "What does this have to do with Krishna consciousness?" -- can become a search and a cry.

I've asked this question before. And as much as I've tried to rationalize it or explain it away by citing a busy schedule, the truth is that this same doubt -- What does this have to do with Krishna consciousness? -- has caused me to fall off the blogging wagon.

Thank you Sdg, for daring to suggest that we can answer that question in another way. Thank you to all those who have dared to risk being labeled a "deviant" by asking that question in their own lives.

Like them, I want very much to let it become a search and a cry.

Thursdays are for Bhakti Club

Today is Thursday, which means that for most of the day my consciousness is absorbed in the Rutgers Bhakti Club, our program to share the treasure of Bhakti Yoga with students at the largest university in New Jersey. Its funny, actually, because Thursdays used to be the day that Krsangi and I offered deity seva at the temple. A few months ago, we found that it was too much and that we needed some "time off" so we asked to be excused from our seva. At the time I thought it was an arrangement for us to calm our schedule down a bit; I see now, though, that Krishna had other plans. Krsangi and I hooked up with some empowered devotee students at Rutgers who were enthusiastic to start a club... and here we are.

So now Thursdays are for Bhakti Club.

When he heard, our friend Damodar half-joked that Lord Caitanya is making sure that we serve Him one way or another. "You guys don't want to dress or feed Me anymore? Okay, then go out and do some sankirtana, instead!"

Anyway, since today is Thursday and all, I thought I'd share a piece of writing I posted up on the new Rutgers Bhakti Club blog. Hope you like it...

Clearing Your Mind

After our last Bhakti Club lab on mantra meditation (which was awesome, by the way --- many thanks to those who joined us and took the plunge), a student asked me about clearing the mind. After all, she reasoned, isn't that what meditation is supposed to be all about?

My answer: yes and no.

If by clearing the mind, we mean turning it off, emptying it out, and becoming devoid of all thought... then no. First of all, it is nearly impossible to truthfully do; we usually end up thinking awfully hard about not thinking (quick -- don't think of a purple elephant!). Secondly, it is unnatural and, well, boring. Honestly... would you rather sit still and stare at a blank wall or watch the latest episode of Lost? Because the self is hard-wired to be active (to be, to love, to serve), the mind's got to do something. Starving it now will probably just cause it to freak out later.

Bhakti Yoga teaches that the mind can be positively engaged by focusing on the sacred sounds of the mantra. The great Bhakti mystic Sri Chaitanya wrote:

Chanting the Divine Names
allows one to clear away the dust
that is covering the mirror of the mind.

This is what we mean by clearing the mind. Right now, we peer into the mirror of our minds, but there is so much dust gathered there that we can't see much of anything else. A good mirror isn't one that is empty or reflects back nothingness; a good mirror is one which is clean and allows us to see ourselves as we are.

Mantra meditation is one practice that helps us to do some badly needed spring cleaning (from the inside out) by clearing away the layers of ignorance, selfishness, and materialism that prevent us from seeing our own potential and the beauty of the creation around us.

When we can do that, we will will be able to peer into the mirror of the mind, and see -- perhaps for the first time -- the true Self.

~ V.

"All monotheistic religions..."

A devotee forwarded this news item about Saudi King Abdullah's call for interfaith dialogue to me, wondering if there were a place for devotees of Krishna (Vaisnavas) at such a dialogue. It doesn't seem like it.

Despite the Saudi monarch's noble intentions to bring members of different faiths together, it seems that he may fallen prey to a common misconception, rooted in ignorance or stereotype: that only Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are "the monotheistic religions." The article says that the "Saudi king has made an impassioned plea for dialogue among Muslims, Christians and Jews" and quotes Abdullah as saying:

"The idea is to ask representatives of all monotheistic religions to sit together with their brothers in faith and sincerity to all religions as we all believe in the same God."

It is true that Judaism, Christianity, and Islam share common roots in Abraham, and it is true that they have been traditionally associated with a fierce (and sometimes violent) defence of monotheism among polytheistic neighbors. But because they are monotheists does not mean that they are the monotheists. Followers of the Vaisnava tradition (including ISKCON members) are staunchly monotheistic.

Of course, we can't really blame King Abdullah; even among the media, scholars, and interfaith advocates -- folks who ought to know better --the old "the three monotheistic faiths" line rears its ugly head from time to time.

So what can Eastern monotheists do to set the record straight?

Well for one thing, we need to gently (but firmly) educate those who may be unaware of monotheism east of Palestine. That means working proactively with other faith groups and writing in non-abrasive letters correcting reporters who got it wrong (and appreciating those who got it right).

For another, we must recognize that definitions are not set in stone and that perceptions can be changed. To do that, devotees of ISKCON (and other specific denominational Vaisnava institutions) may need to broaden their scope and re-connect with their identity as Hindu
representatives.

Some devotees cringe at the use of the term, offering standard "Srila Prabhupada said we are not Hindus" reasoning to justify their stance. (See this presentation by Gauri Dasa for a more balanced view of Prabhupada's feelings on identifying and not identifying with Hinduism).

Scholars already agree that Vaisnavism is numerically the largest denomination within Hinduism. The fact of the matter is, if Vaisnavas want to help to shape how "Hinduism" is defined and understood (and not misunderstood), we have to be willing to reclaim our Hindu identity. If we want to be players on the world stage, those are the rules of the game that we need to accept.

King Abdullah is not likely to extend his plea to dialogue with a handful of Hare Krishnas, but he might find it difficult to ignore the united and articulate voices of Vaisnava Hindus.

like rabbits at His lotus feet

The great Vaisnava saint Parasara Bhattar* was told the story of a hunter in the forest who had caught a rabbit. The hunter was about to kill it, but it kept circling around him and it finally placed its head at the hunter's feet. The hunter's heart melted, and rather than kill it he offered it protection.

When Parasara Bhattar heard this, tears began to flow from his eyes, his hairs stood on end, and he fell unconscious. Seeing these ecstatic symptoms, his disciples became filled with wonder. They revived their illustrious master and asked him to explain why he had fainted. In a voice choked with transcendental emotion, the Acarya explained:

"The hunter was a low caste brutal person, and he had given no instructions and made no promises. The rabbit was a simple animal who studied no scriptures and performed no sadhana. Still, when the rabbit sought shelter at the feet of the hunter, he could not refuse. How much more fortunate then are we that the Lord has explicitly instructed us to surrender to Him and that He has promised us that He will protect us from all sinful reaction? Just see how merciful the Lord is! If even a common and lowly hunter will protect a creature that takes shelter of his feet, how can we possibly doubt that our Lord will take care of us if we take shelter at His lotus feet!"

Thinking of His beloved Lord in this way, Parasara Bhattar experienced ecstasy.

____
* = Parasara Bhattar was the divinely conceived son of the South Indian Vaisnava saints Kuresh and Andal and was personally installed as the next Acarya of the Sri Vaisnava Sampradaya by Sripad Ramaunjacarya.

On Blogging: "To Blog or Not to Blog..."

Madhavi said whatever happened to your New Year's resolution to get back to blogging?

So here I am (again).

Oh come on, stop rolling your eyes. Stranger things have happened. :-)

Tonight on CNN...

Haribol! I feel somewhat embarrassed to be blogging again -- not because I don't want to -- but because the thing that has brought me back to a blade of grass is some shameless self-promotion.

Yesterday afternoon, I got a call from a producer at CNN. She asked me to be a guest on a live Holiday Show, hosted by Christian speaker and journalist Roland Martin, on the subject of Christmas and the culture wars. The show is called "What Would Jesus Really Do?" and I will be part of a panel of representatives from other (i.e. - non-Christian) faith traditions.

The show is live, and is on tonight (12/21) and possiblly will be replay on Christmas Eve (12/24) at 8pm EST. Not sure about international airing.

I am excited and more than a little nervous. I've done media interviews on TV and radio before. But still, each time is like the first. The butterflies are already holding a Ratha Yatra festival in my stomach. Oh, and let's not forget... CNN is CNN.

I want to speak with integrity, warmth, and honesty. I want to communicate the essence of my faith's spiritual message, and do so in a way that comes from the heart as much as it does from my mouth. I want to be an instrument.

Dear reader, I know that I haven't been the best at keeping up my end of this blog relationship. Okay, okay: so I've been downright neglectful. But I hope that you will find it in your heart to tune in and say a prayer for me tonight. Under the glare of the hot lights, with cameras aimed at me, and knowing that millions (?) of people are watching me from the comfort of their living room couches... I will need all the prayers I can get.

More later, if I survive...

.v.

iPhone, mePhone, minePhone

For the last three and a half months, I've been using someone else's phone.

My godbrother Shyama Vallabh Prabhu is a doctor by profession and is serving as the executive director of the new Vrindavana Hospice. He and his wife spent some time in the United States to undergo some training this past year, and paid us a visit. We took them around New York a bit and helped them do some last minute shopping...

... which brings us back to the phone. Shyama Vallabh wanted a top of the line smart phone to take back to India with him. He selected the HTC Pocket PC -- just the sort of uber-expensive ($700 without a plan) high-tech gizmo that I could only dream about owning myself. But just as I resigned myself to a fate of drooling over the iPhone from afar, Shyama Vallabh turned my world upside down. It turns out that the HTC would not be in stock for a few days (and Shyama was flying out the next morning) so... would I mind holding on to the phone for the next few months, trying it out with my sim card, making sure that it was okay during the 90 day warranty period, and then sending it on to India with my mom in November? Suddenly the impossible was literally in the palm of my hands.

And so, for the past three months I've lived the life most of us can only dream about. I've been able to jump on the internet at my whim, not having to wait until I got home to update my FaceBook status or to find that Nigerian bank account scam email waiting for me in my inbox. While my peers scrambled for pieces of paper and pens that work, I've used a stylish stylus to jot down notes right on the large backlit screen. I've QWERTY'd my way through the ups and downs of life. But mainly, I've just tried to look like a guy cool enough to actually own this phone.

All good attachments must come to an end, though. And so today, as my mom zips her last suitcase and prepares for a three-week spiritual adventure in Mayapur, I bid farewell to my ostentatious pocket pal. I've never been too good at goodbyes, so I just extracted the sim card as quickly and painlessly as I could, and slipped it back into my good old Motorola Razr.


There is an interesting post-script to this story, though. The HTC had a feature where I could type in the phone's ownership information (in case it was lost or something). I would type in "Vineet" or "Vyenkata" or "VBD" ... and each time he'd come over, Amul would take it and change it to "Krishna." It became a little game for us, and -- although neither of us said anything about it -- I think we both knew that it was a game he was destined to win. The phone never was mine; like everything else in this life, it was a loaner. Still, it didn't take me very long to write my name on it anyway. Krishna, when will I learn?

So I'll stick with the Razr for a while. Its a decent phone, and it reminds me that there is more to life than QWERTY.

In the mean time, I think I'll go help my mom with her bags.