Hari Hari,
This week things have improved to some degree. The fatigue continues, but not in such long spells. Satsvarupa Maharaja got some “lessons” in the importance of hydration at the hospital and seems to have absorbed them nicely.
Baladeva
If you would like to help, please contact Kṛṣṇa-bhajana dāsa at [email protected] or [email protected] and we will find you a service that utilizes your talents.
“O my tongue who is overwhelmed with the desire for material enjoyment, please hear my instructions. Always remain deeply absorbed in drinking the nectarean loving mellows of the divine and beautiful names of Radha and Krsna.
“….With great care, you should eagerly mix and blend this ambrosial name of Radhika in the wonderful sweet condensed milk of the name of Krsna.
“Now add into that mixture the sweet fragrance of love and affection, which is both cool and delightful. With great joy and ecstasy drink this nectar both day and night.
“No longer will there remain on the tongue a thirst for mundane enjoyment, for these wonderful transcendental mellows will fulfill all of your desires” (Bhaktivinoda Thakura, Gitavali)
******
Even though we remain at the beginning stages, it is helpful to know that nama-bhajana can become progressively more advanced until it reaches the stage of nama-rasa. Therefore, I should not lose my enthusiasm in my fight with the inattentive mind. I don’t have to be frustrated in my attempts. We are working toward something so great and so nectarean that all struggle is worthwhile to achieve it.
******
I cannot be satisfied to “return to earth” and face the reality of my struggle. What is it that is dragging my mind away from the holy name? The Brooklyn Dodgers? Something else? But this part of earth is where I have to start. It is my garden to plant and grow and weed and hoe. I am poor—my garden is not lush and green—but a poor man cannot be embarrassed by his poverty. He simply has to continue living and work toward improvement. I think gentle devotees will understand exactly what I am talking about.
******
It is a pleasure to walk on these roads and chant on my beads alone in the early morning. When I wake up the house dogs and they start barking, I remember to be forbearing. In a secluded section, out of the dogs’ range, I stop and pick some yellow wildflowers. Think about the plant kingdom, how it is suffering and how it appears beautiful to man. But mainly I walk and chant, walk and chant. This is real wealth.
******
There is nothing more important to do than chant. Italy is not Vrndavana and I am not Haridasa Thakura, but the Name is pure and some abhasa rays filter down to dispel my inner darkness. As the electric power is humming through that steel electrical tower, so I am buzzing and crackling with spiritual electricity.
******
The more I chant, the more things change around me. This morning while I was walking, I suddenly imagined that someone was running to catch up to me from behind. I remember over thirty years ago how some tough guys did that to me. I was leaving a building at Staten Island Community College and they surrounded me and my friend, John Young. The past runs up from behind and catches you again and again. Will you be cowardly and deny the truth? I thought, “No, I am in a deeper reality. If someone runs up from behind, I will remain rooted in Krsna consciousness and see them as agents of karma. I will not forget aham brahmasmi.” Such a mixed line of thought takes place in less than a moment, followed by another and another. But don’t mind it so much, go on chanting as you walk.
******
Nothing is more important than hearing the holy names. Yet I think of lesser things one after another. Dwelling on the Names is hard because it is such a stark, simple thing, while at the same time, it is such a deep ocean. The Name is Krsna and all of His pastimes. Whether I take it as a simple act of hearing or as a profound act of meditation on lilas—either way I seem unable. I count, I finger beads, I chant.
******
The japa was better than it has been; I kept them going at a steady clip of eight and a half minutes. Didn’t get up to change my position and didn’t fall asleep. That is an accomplishment in itself. I was frequently aware that I should be hearing the Names, but it seems each time I tried, I got quickly thrown off. It’s like wrestling with a giant—one of those asuras that Bhima used to take on. The two of them would fight every day for weeks, but Bhima could not tire out the demon.
I am not Bhima, but I am armed with the maha-mantra. Sometimes I surrender a bit—put a good wrestling hold on the demon of my mind—but then he flexes his shoulders and throws off my “full nelson.” Again. Anyway, I am willing to fight. I refuse to be defeated.
Krsna, dear Lord, I cannot win You over in this way. If only I could get past all those thoughts—so many useless memories, and so many concerns for the present—if only I could get past them and surrender.
pp. 31-34
Chatikara is the place to which Krsna’s family and villagers moved when they decided too many demons were attacking Krsna at Gokula. They had already seen Patana, Sakatasura, and Trnavarta. The villagers moved all their belongings on bullock carts. They crossed the Yamuna and chose this beautiful place. They put their carts in a circle for protection, then built a fence around that. It was here that Krsna and Balarama began Their lives as cowherders, and where They first took out the calves to pasture. I like to think of Them observing the attractive features of Chatikara, its nearness to the Yamuna, then going out the next day with the calves. Of course, we know the demons found Them again and began their attacks. Vatsasura came disguised as a calf. Krsna killed him.
This is parikrama, to think of the lila. The gopis were only five years old. Their attraction to Krsna was childish. They watched Him and loved Him, and He also noticed them, especially Radha.
It’s so important to keep ourselves pure. We acknowledge that when kids in Krsna consciousness grow up, they become affected by the world of maya. I visited the home of one Indian man whose family has always worshiped Krsna. Now he’s living in America and his sons go to school here. One has sports posters hung all over his room, except for on the door where there is a big poster: “Batman Returns.” If they lived in Vrndavana it would be different. One devotee-father told me, “I think Vrndavana is my best shot for helping the children grow up as devotees.” Yes, it’s nice there if they can take austerity. They want to live there to be with their children and give them “the best shot” at growing up detached from the glittering world of maya.
We may not have a natural attraction to Vrndavana, but gradually we add it to our lives. We’re proud if we can live there for some time, and we plan for it again. To develop that natural affinity, we have to be prepared to accept a simple life, one free of amenities, and we have to be prepared to pray. It is Radha’s realm. We have to pray for entrance. Where is that land of brilliant yellow mustard flowers, that yellow that reminds me of Your complexion and the color of Krsna’s dhoti?
Chatikara may no longer bear a resemblance to what is described in KRSNA book. We won’t see a circle of carts or Krsna’s elders or young Krsna with His calves, but it is still full of spiritual potency. If we go there, Krsna will see us and appreciate the faith that brought us there. He can open our hearts.
The Skanda Purana states,
“The world-famous holy place, Sri Visranti (Visrama-ghata) is situated in Mathura. By visiting this place, a traveler attains eternal rest. By bathing here and worshiping Acyuta, one attains immortality and is automatically freed from the miseries and agonies of the material world.” (Quoted in Bhakti-ratnakara [BR], p. 14).
When Narottama dasa Thakura and Srinivasa Acarya went on parikrama with Raghava Pandita, they often recited the benedictions offered by each tirtha. They cried in ecstasy or were speechless and rolled on the ground.
“See here, Srinivasa, the place called Shakata Rohana. It is a beautiful, pleasant place and very dear to Krsna. Bumblebees are always humming in the forest of flowers. By bathing in this kunda, one will get supreme bliss.” (Bhakti-ratnakara, quoted in Mathura-mandala Parikrama, p. 25)
They also went to Garuda-Govinda, where Sridama once transformed himself into Garuda and Sri Krsna into four-armed Govinda mounted on his shoulders.
“As Raghava continued to describe the holy places, they returned to the parikrama path and walked until they reached a place called Gandhesvara-sthana. At this place, Krsnna applied scented oil. Therefore this name was given.” (Bhakti-ratnakara, p. 23)
My parents gave their best shot at trying to turn me into a get-ahead karmi. They failed, but I gained the impressions. My heart is filled with old matchboxes and apple cores and cast-off shoes and long afternoons spent throwing a pink Spaulding rubber ball against a wall. I was full of anxiety about whether I would be accepted by the other kids. I played the comic and was somewhat daring. At the same time, I didn’t want to make my parents angry, so I walked the line between looking for acceptance from people like Ned Finley of the Beach Rats and trying to get on the honor roll.
Thank you, Srila Prabhupada, friend Prabhupada, spiritual father Prabhupada. You have guided me to stay on the parikrama within the boundaries of sastra. I will always keep myself in your care. Batman returns, but I no longer have a part of that or anything else in this material world. I only want to be with you in your eternal form.
I will have to forget my maya. My present narrative sometimes remembers it or contains the names of those who attack my pure self. I am always fighting to throw it off. Prabhupada, please make it so that whatever I do, the goal is to attain Krsna consciousness. You wanted this of me, and you wanted me to share it with others. If I can accept what you have given me, I can stay twenty-four hours in Krsna consciousness. For example, I can go and chant japa and strive to drag my mind back to the holy names. Please help me.
pp. 23-26
Prabhupada singing:
hare krsna hare krsna, krsna krsna hare hare
hare rama hare nima, rama rama hare hare
I have been speaking the radio shows down by the lake, but since yesterday, big trucks have been going down there to pick up rocks. Let’s see if I can get out early enough that I don’t run into them. Just in case, though, I’ll talk as I walk down there.
Prabhupada asked, “Who is crazy?” It’s not difficult to find a crazy person—he said that in 1968 in Los Angeles as he saw the cars going back and forth, back and forth all day long. They’re crazy,” he said, meaning, “What are they doing?” Their commercial endeavors are especially useless, especially in a city like Los Angeles where despite their serious intentions, everything can be finished with one earthquake. An earthquake has destroyed the roads? Don’t worry! Within hours, they have arranged new roads upon which they can continue their serious back and forth travel. Prabhupada questioned whether it was really so different from a dog’s running back and forth, or a cat’s.
Of course, as he said that, I thought, “Well, you’re really stepping on some toes here! I mean, would he stop it all?” And of course, Prabhupada knew he couldn’t stop it. Devotees are not stoppers through violent aggression, so who will notice if one sadhu is standing on the sidewalk saying, “This is crazy, all this back and forth for sense gratification”? It seems of no account except to a handful of followers.
But it is of definite account to those followers, and those followers are out making it of account to others. And besides that, it becomes of account as those followers are taught by the sadhu to use the inevitable energy being generated out there in Krsna’s service. We too get into cars and go out for Krsna’s purpose. Beyond the activity of driving back and forth on crowded freeways is the motive behind it, and that’s what makes the difference between someone caught in a world of craziness and a devotee.
Sadhus should speak the truth. Prabhupada said that the real purpose of human life was to awaken to our constitutional spiritual nature as Krsna’s servants and those of us who were willing to go out and tell others that message were real welfare workers. Prabhupada conceded that other welfare work is nice—hospitals, and so on—but that those other forms of charity have little ultimate value. He compared it to finding a lost child and discovering that he is actually the son of a rich man. It is far better for the child’s ongoing improvement to carry him back to his father than to give him a free meal. Similarly, it’s better if we carry people back to their true father than tend only to their bodies.
And, of course, the sadhu’s words are not of no account if they are part of the message carried to others. They weigh so much that they will be heard and taken into the hearts of people and applied. That’s how Krsna consciousness is spread. Imagine if the preaching were so successful that numbers of people became devotees. Whole constituencies! Then we would see the craziness diminish. People would begin to wonder themselves why they were working so hard, driven on by the modes of passion and ignorance. What about these people here? Why are they working so many hours to remove stone from a lakeside and to put it somewhere else? Yes, people would ask themselves that question.
pp. 13-17
We are walking just as the tomatoes walk up the vine and the bugs walk up the wall and a reader makes progress through a book’s pages. The sun marching through the sky from horizon to zenith to horizon measures this walk.
Srila Prabhupada talking to Professor Durckheim. The professor says that at his ashram, if after a week the students are still sleeping soundly and regularly, he thinks something is wrong. He wants to upset them, to get them thinking, especially of those moments when they were desperate and faced death. He thinks at those times one becomes spiritually revived and develops a sense of something beyond the self that is a higher power.
“That is self-realization,” Srila Prabhupada said, but he didn’t approve of all the professor said. He meant, “That to which you are referring as transcendental to the body—that is self-realization. It’s discussed not in what you are saying but in Bhagavad-gita.”
I was there for those talks, but I have forgotten so many details.
Sometimes you work for yourself, sometimes for the recognition of others, and become a success. I’m a success when I’m recognized as a lecturer and guru. These roles define and shape me. I don’t exist unless others recognize me according to this identity.
Is that true? But then when I come to write, am I striving for something? Can I come alone here and not pretend that I am something that I am not? They think I’m the Answer Man. Sometimes I am, but it’s not my whole identity. I am not the doer.
Henri Nouwen, a Christian, gives the example which for him is the highest: of Jesus Christ. Mark’s gospel describes Jesus in the middle of events where he was performing miracles and the nondevotees were demanding more. His disciples were also impatient. Mark writes that long before dawn, Jesus went to pray in a lonely place. Simon and a disciple went after him, but he said, “Let’s go to another town because I want to preach. That is why I have come [into the world].”
We have to go alone sometimes. Jesus went alone to get in touch with his Father and to affirm that he was under His power. Jesus asserts this repeatedly in the gospel of John: “I don’t speak on my own, but for the Father. I do His will, not my own.” In prayer, Jesus got that affirmation. Then he could go forth for more preaching. In a tiny, tiny way, that’s what I am asking for myself.
This pada-yatra is meant to be such prayer, something unto myself. . . . .
The brahmana in Benares who had seen Lord Caitanya was convinced that He was the Supreme Person. He loved Lord Caitanva and the ecstasy of His chanting and dancing. He spoke up for the Lord to Prakasananda Sarasvati, who was scornful. He called Lord Caitanva a pretender and a sentimentalist. The brahmana was aggrieved and ran away from Prakasananda. He went to Lord Caitanya and told him what had happened. He said that Prakasananda could not even utter the word “Krsna, Krsna.”
“Yes,” Lord Caitanya replied, “that’s because he is an offender.” Offenders cannot chant. Krsna’s name is Krsna. The nondevotees cannot enter the mystery.
Can I enter the mystery? As I write, the faces of those I have known come to mind. Most of them are still alive. They come to mind and then fade. I love them, even though I seek solitude. Be free. I am no dancing bear on a chain. Be free….
Did you know that my life is rich in fantasies and that some of them are colored with the sweetness of Krsna consciousness? The conclusion of all of them is Krsna consciousness, but some of them bear a special hue. I fantasize that I actually worship Krsna with my whole heart. I fantasize that I truly understand my dependence on the Supreme. Imagine really knowing that you are the servant of the servant. And I imagine all these things while I’m there at the Alamo or joining an automotive club in Ireland or England.
I seem to often defend my vocation. I feel the pressure of Prabhupada’s order to go out and preach, and sometimes I think writing is not preaching. Preaching is, of course, the greatest act of compassion. I was pleased, therefore, when a friend said that it was compassionate to reveal my inner thoughts.
pp. 80-82
Bhaktivinoda Thakura is not discussing yukta-vairagya. If you need to study something or use something for your service, ask your guru’s permission and then carefully proceed. But don’t fool yourself. Nondevotional music and writing and work is often empowered by the grace of Mayadevi. She bewildered you before and she can do it again if you leave the shelter of the Vaisnavas.
O most powerful, insurmountable Lord, who are kind to the fallen souls, I have been put into the association of demons as a result of my activities, and therefore I am very much afraid of my condition of life within this material world. When will that moment come when You will call me to the shelter of Your lotus feet, which are the ultimate goal for liberation from conditional life?
—Bhag. 7.9.16
My dear Lord, You are always transcendentally situated on the other side of the river of death, but because of the reactions of our own activities, we are suffering on this side. Indeed, we are fallen into this river and are repeatedly suffering the pains of birth and death and eating horrible things. Now kindly look upon us—not only upon me but also upon all others who are suffering—and by Your causeless mercy and compassion, deliver us and maintain us.
—Bhag. 7.9.41
It is serious business getting out of the material world. We have to be careful as we nurture our spiritual lives, and it takes patience to mature. How many seasons must a fruit tree grow before it starts to produce? Yet it can be cut down at any moment. Don’t flirt with the material world, I tell myself. Be careful of self-administered drops of poison and your foolish self-assurance. Don’t ever think you are safe. Give up everything unfavorable.
But some say, I grew up in gurukula with the devotees. I was forced to participate in Krsna consciousness. I didn’t choose it. Now I want to check out the material scene. I can’t repress it, it’s breaking out of me—a desire to tour the town and to see what the materialists enjoy. I want to go to night clubs and dance. I want to find out who I am and I think the nondevotees can help me. They have so many teachings and ways. Perhaps I’ll go to college. It’s not that only Hare Krsna people are good. In fact, I’m beginning to think they’re shallow. I don’t want their company, at least not exclusively. I want to be with people who can think for themselves.
It sounds feasible in some respects. I know you have good reason to feel this way and you’ve convinced yourself. You won’t listen to me why you should be patient and find all that you need within the wide bounds of devotional service. I will pray for you, but I won’t go with you. I am satisfied with bhakti.
O Kesava, it’s a weird world where souls eat abominable things and appear in multifarious forms as fish and birds and beasts and plants and insects and humans and demigods. There seems to be no end to the possibilities in material life, and once you’re caught up in changing one body for another, you can’t get out. Bound by ropes hand and feet, among cruel monsters, I pray to be delivered. Your feet are the only safety.
I am not a zombie. I really did go through all that and I don’t want to go back for more. Please spare me the company of sense enjoyers and monists. Actually, the sense enjoyer is better than the Mayavadi. Mayavadis harden the heart against devotees and devotional service. Giving up sins is easier than giving up non-devotional meditation. I will not listen to those Ayurvedic doctors who say, “Why don’t you add nondevotional meditation to your life? You have Krsna, but you should go beyond Him. Transcend.”
“Bhaktivinoda drives away the philosophy of illusionism and sits safely in the society of Vaisnavas under the shelter of the holy name” (Saranagati, 5.3.9).
No place seems to mean much to me. You could say I love mountains like this, and the spring season (although I’ve renounced yogurt mixed with big spoons of honey), but they’re all just places to pass through. I am a traveler. I can’t feel the spring the way you can if you always live in a little house in the country near Gita Nagari.
I never see a bluebird’s rusty breast, but I see sparrows everywhere I go. I am growing familiar with more and more places around the globe—Italy, France—the big tree there, the door knob on the bathroom in the Paris temple, the passenger cabin on the ferry to Ireland, the gorse in Wicklow, the skylight in Uddhava’s house . . . I pass through them with no sense of belonging.
What about sacred places? Srila Prabhupada’s samadhi, and his rooms in Vrndavana. I haven’t been living in the guesthouse at the Krsna-Balaram Mandir now for two years, but I haven’t forgotten it and I am willing to go back.
The point is that it’s not the place, but who you are—chanting anywhere quietly before pictures of special Vaisnavas, especially the one of Prabhupada to whom I offer my food.
I say I’m just passing through because I wish I had more feeling, although I am afraid of that too.
Listen mate,
if you draw a picture,
you may let your hand go free,
but how are you pleasing
Lord Hari?
That’s the point of life.
***
If you had a gold pen
in September
could you write on a walk
in the woods?
Tell my legs’ songs,
breast and
heart and ironic glance –
the factory abandoned,
thoughts of robbers awake,
are there any bears there?
If I could cease doubting
and the ditch, I’d
say it happened in September,
a likely time before
fall and winter…
No rhyme or reason
for that.
I’ll be happy one day at
a time, purchasing my peace.
Today, shaved up,
broke fast, a sumptuous
Ekadasi lunch (beets and
avocado and olives mixed,
a green veg…It was good.)
The afternoon is ebbing. I read
the sastra. No urgent special news.
September 13 sounds unlucky,
but it’s good and past now,
was gentle. God in
all things, even I
faintly perceive.
If I had enough light,
if the sun was up
you could sup
with little Miss Muffet.
If Charles Dickens wrote
swift and short, no, no
there is no one. You better
thank your stars you are
able to rise at midnight and
get that good lick in with
Srimad-Bhagavatam and your master say –
Soul is self,
body illusion,
turn to God.
***
My head feels pressure, but I’m
the soul. I don’t like poems
that don’t tell God
but how can mine rhyme
with devotion if I don’t
feel it in my chest?
If I don’t feel it in my
life? Jest awhile longer,
play ironic, seek the quiet
hour with Thee.
I mean to be with Krsna who allows
myself to play with words,
with colors and who gives
me the pressure to teach
me something.
He doesn’t neglect us,
though it may seem so.
He cares and waits until
we pay attention to the soul,
obey the guru and give up
chasing the prizes of
the world and listening
to misleaders.
Why do they still enchant us?
Talking this to myself,
mid-September in the
early eve, I’ll hit the
sack and hope to come
painless to a midnight rendezvous.
Once there was a September
tour I took to
Spain and one day wanted to
say, “Krsna, Krsna I don’t know
a damn thing.”
I just want freedom of pain
or if You like I’ll take it
but I’m sincere in wanting
to write…
The rest is blanked out,
unable on Haridasa Thakura’s
disappearance day.
I said, “There have been many
saints in this world but this
maha-bhagavata is very relevant
to us.”
Pray to be rid
of distraction and
to taste more the nectar
of Hari-nama Prabhu.
***
Mid-September is past
I gave the class,
and now I’m free a day
to do nothing or whatever
I want
in a room.
Some leaves are fallen,
pale, scorched green,
curled on the path.
I’m doing nothing much,
while you, you sir are the bravest burdened
preacher and manager.
I’m in Spain, where are you?
I don’t know how to use
a computer – that doesn’t
make me better, wiser, purer,
but still it’s nice.
To be illiterate and out of harm’s
way as the news broadcasts
the slaughter and I pray
for a little thing – that I
can hear my own chanting of
God’s names? Maybe.
I pray…I cannot say.
***
One bird whistles “Hare?” Startles
every morning. In this place,
near Guadalajara.
Did you read at least a little?
Yes, of Hiranyakasipu’s turning his body
into golden youth as
strong as thunderbolts
when Brahma sprinkled him
with water. That’s Bhagavatam
too.
Now feeling feeble, almost every
day, wings folded, walk to
the bed, repair. I’ve got
a country air, a transcendental
polka of my own – not
better than others but
surely my own.
***
September’s going,
I don’t care, I do care
for my welfare, want to
get through this tour manfully,
give all the lectures
make tunes on my flute,
record the starts and stops,
the awkward meeting with
an ISKCON leader or
immigration cop.
And then we return to Inis-free
where there will be no motorboats
this time of year – the start
of Karttika, is when we’re due.
Then I’ll have it my way:
Regulate so I can rise at midnight,
chant japa out loud,
sit before Prabhupada and
Radha-Krsna, my books,
a lone walk. But I am partly
imagining it ideal. There
will be a drag everywhere
you go.
So, read a little today in
absolute Bhagavatam
and chant on red beads
you carry wherever you go.
***
Cock crows, a neighbor’s?
Man murmurs Hare Krsna mantras.
The chill of September in
my chest and back. Are you
ready to give Srimad-
Bhagavatam class?
As ready as I want to be –
leaving room to improvise
to watch their eyes,
wait for the brain,
to make a spring –
Talk of this:
How the soul is,
how the practitioner is
materially motivated even in
bhakti, how he
overcomes this –
by higher taste.
You’ll speak, but
what do you know? Nothing.
The old woman looking on me as
a worthy guide for her last
days because I speak ideally.
My dreams tell another story:
Fear of unseen people
looking at me from the attic
and the literary poseurs who rob
the wayfarers just to get
a rhyme.
***
Now buckle your seat belt in
the best of Fords
and roar
over autostrada to the next
place, private viewpoint of
September-end,
lasagna, pizza, ravioli,
Pavarolli Vivaldi,
and Jaya Govinda.
Inscape and looking out
lecturing from the books.
You are headache-prone and
falldown-prone,
women in poetry-prone
it sometimes hurts
but do your best
and remember Swamiji wrote
with his own hand
on your apologetic letter,
“May Krsna protect you
from calamities.”
In the days that remain
let no one be blind to
the truth of Krsna’s Gita –
tell them and yourself
surrender to the King, sweet
Lord in three-fold bending form
and Radha’s blessing on us.
pp. 54-57
These days are peaceful but I’m keeping up a momentum of extensive writing sessions. It is work. You have some expectation that it will be good. But you can’t demand of a process like this – “Am I going to go deeper? Is this session going to catch fire and reveal and confess? Where is the good poem I could take out of this for publishing?” No motives, but writing. And devotional service is the assumed purpose of it all even though not always explicit.
Krsna on the ranch, in the sky, even in hellish planets. In the hearts of worms, He’s transcendental.
In Kali-yuga what is attained in former yugas by meditation or sacrifice, is attained simply by chanting the holy names of God. Mukta-sangah param vrajet. Kirtana. Chant. Chant on your beads.
This is the purnima. Look up through the skylight and you will see a sky brighter than usual. The rays will fill the room enough to see objects faintly. As you chant. No disturbing sights. Just chant in the rays of LC’s moon and beg to be able to hear those names and ask the Supreme Lord, who’s in your heart, to keep you always faithful and affectionate to your spiritual master. One is supposed to pray always with petitions. But yes, you ask for strength to serve. And you try to listen, just hear what Krsna wants you to do.
Pray, recite and savor verses, strive to be a devotee. A lowly sadhaka practices his bhajana. I don’t try to think of Krsna’s activities in Vraja and myself a manjari. I just chant and try to hear.
The cars don’t go by here. When I walk at 5 A.M. I usually see deer or yesterday foxes.
Krsna Krsna Krsna. You could draw a picture, and as artists show you what words are not showing. How to serve Krsna in the best way.
Thank you, brother and sister. We live in a community and they help us to love and serve one another. Things come in the mail.
Krsna is.
Krsna is.
Is He an ordinary person, a nice person, is he a neighbor person? Krsna is the only reality and He is revealed in sastra. One verse I saw asserted that everything is revealed in sastra and there is no other way. SB is best for revealing the truth of Krsna and His incarnations and the superiority of devotional service. Lord Caitanya praised SB as the spotless Purana. And Cc. is full of instructions and the life of Lord Caitanya among His devotees, beautifully composed by Krsnadasa Kaviraja in his native tongue, Bengali.
Rendered into English by His Divine Grace, who translated and his disciples helped him. Translated from the Bengali. The purports, and now my own book of some favorite selections. When will it be published?
Eggs and meat and wine and such enjoyment. Abstain from that so you can devote yourself to full service and pleasing Krsna. Food and acts must be yajna to please Him. And violence to others He doesn’t like. He wants service. Sometimes a warrior devotee is violent to the violent demon.
For me, I need to be kind,
Brahminical, study his words,
teachings of the Lord
composed odes
be friendly
and tolerate what comes and
when you get a chance, paint
a picture in colors.
There are too many demands on me when I go to Vrindavan to do it then.
“Why do you keep your whereabouts a secret?” she asked. That’s my business.
Where are going and when will you be back?
Where are the sheep?
Sherpas, they call them. Lamas. Dhamas. Voidists on the ridge (The Snow Leopard).
Creative greeting cards. Avoid the billboards in Italy or any city. You’ll have to enter cities but beware.
He prefers to sandwich his own? Make sense not always.
It’s the unconscious makes sense too, he says.
The chance encounter is better than a plan. They have no faith in reason or institutions. Play surreal games. But I’m more earnest in seeking shelter in sastra and these things. You can draw a face, a walker, a talker. But even that isn’t coming.
Face mirror of self.
Hello. What do you want?
To say hello. And to state I am here, dear Lord Krsna. I am Your servant (a thousand times removed) practicing my penmanship. You may see I’m working in that way. Be a devotee, color and serve and walk and look forward to ending this and chanting japa – but in other activities there’s always something to be desired. Be patient then, be present in the act.
This is the same body with freckles or a little brown mole on the back of the left hand. That’s you with the nose and ears. Accept who you are. Move along. There is no way out. But human passages
are not so long
say farewell and do your work before your allotted time runs out.
What are you trying to achieve today?
Oh, it’s clear. He doesn’t know. Send us the manual (to run the machines) and Madhu will figure it out for himself.
Sri Krsna Caitanya Prabhu Nityananda.
I’ll stay out of that world.
Come here to be with you. The stories of Sanatana Goswami are still on my mind. Let it inspire you to visit Vrindavan and to be a better devotee, to increase your taste for chanting and hearing in devotional service.
Give them enough to chew on, to live on. There’s the mantra, Hare Krsna prayers given to us by His Divine Grace who was here recently enough so that we don’t have to make big changes in what he taught. He said it’s all right. He said, please work, my children.
You’ll write a little more and then finish this one out. It’s in peacock blue ink again. Mild, mild. I can’t stand strong, loud music or fast changes or violence, pungent food, keep this pace at which I can do my own work.
Deliver us.
(One hour, twelve handwritten pages, July 30, 1996)
pp. 71-77
When Krsna went to the forest with His cowherd boyfriends and cows, the gopis did not physically take part, but their hearts went with Him. And because their hearts went, they were able to enjoy His company through strong feelings of separation. To acquire this strong feeling of separation is the teaching of Lord Caitanya and His direct disciplic succession of Gosvamis. When we are not in physical contact with Krsna, we can associate with Him like the gopis, through feelings of separation. Krsna’s transcendental form, qualities, pastimes, and entourage are all identical with Him. There are nine different kinds of devotional service. Devotional service to Krsna in feelings of separation elevates the devotee to the highest perfectional level, to the level of the gopis.
—KRSNA, The Supreme Personality of Godhead, 12th edition, “The Gopis’ Feelings of Separation”, p. 289
I agreed to go away for a month to Camp Aquahonga, because that was what a young Boy Scout was supposed to do. I had also heard enough rhetoric so that I had begun to believe it might be “a good experience.” And it would be the only way that I could be promoted from Tenderfoot to Third-Class Boy Scout. But when I entered into that woodsy camp in upstate New York, I was stunned with feelings of separation from my mother, father, sister, pet dog Mickey, and our home. I tried to make a show of interest, but whether it was playing in the lake, or sitting in a crowded dining hall eating strange food with strange people, or lining up in the morning for flag raising, or going on an extended hike, I was always nurturing my inner life of stunned loneliness.
Two days before the scheduled end of my stay, while I was hunting newts in the forest, a Boy Scout came and told me that my mother and father had arrived! There they were in the main building, with the Head Scoutmaster in the process of disenrolling me. I met them with strongly mixed emotions. Although I was suffering at camp and had never felt I belonged there, I now also felt somewhat of a stranger from my parents. What could they expect after having abandoned me for so long? How could I disenroll before the term was actually over?
My father explained that they decided to drive up to the camp because he had a few days’ vacation coming to him from the firehouse. Since in my last letter I had seemed lonely and hinted at wanting to come home, they thought they would come up and that it would be no problem for me to come home a couple of days early. Within a few hours, to the surprise of the other young scouts, I left Camp Aquahonga, in the back seat of our family’s 1940 Mercury. I was somewhat ashamed and sorry at my unvictorious departure. But within a few hours, driving through the scenic upstate countryside, I warmed up to my affectionate relationship with my mother and father, forgot the camp and the pains of loneliness, and was glad to be going home.
It may seem humorous to offer this childhood memory as an example of feelings of separation. It can certainly not be compared to the gopis’ love for Krsna, especially since my hankering was not for God but for my mother and father. But in terms of genuine heartache, a little boy’s yearning to go home, and his refusal to become adjusted to an alien world, may at least serve as a key for entertaining the greater emotions of the soul in its separation from the Supreme Beloved.
The nine practices of devotional service, beginning with hearing, chanting, and remembering Lord Krsna, are all absolute. That means association with Krsna is fully available just by ardent hearing of Srimad-Bhagavatam and Bhagavad-gita, or by chanting the Hare Krsna mantra, or by remembering His activities. In this world, our service is always in separation from Krsna, and therefore such acaryas as the Six Gosvamis of Vrndavana encourage us to enter gopi-bhava, the mood of the gopis in separation from Krsna, by performing devotional service. Srila Prabhupada writes, “The spiritual masters should enrich the devotees to the highest devotional perfection. Feeling constant separation while engaged in the service of the Lord is the perfection of Krsna consciousness.”
Separation doesn’t mean forgetfulness or mere absence of God and His energy, as in the mythical conception of “void.” Devotional service is called vipralambha, a consciousness filled with love for Krsna. The gopis missed Krsna, yearned to be with Him, and anticipated that He would rejoin them.
But how to increase our devotion and escape mechanical practice? One way is to gradually fall in love with our service. The spiritual master assigns duties, such as chanting sixteen rounds and reading, and as for the other big blocks of time, such as our work in the office or cleaning or preaching, we’re also taught the methods by which we can use these hours as meditations or sacrifices for Krsna.
Memory can serve here when we recall our own experience of service in separation. Srila Prabhupada helps us with common examples. A father whose son is sick at home thinks, even while busy at the office, “How is the boy?” And there is the famous example given by the acaryas—a wife who has a paramour thinks of when she will meet him, but at the same time she performs her household duties carefully, so as not to be suspected of her other love. A young boy at summer camp yearns to go home.
If we can remember that we have attained to a semblance of vipralambha, it will help us to be confident that it is regularly possible.
It is there. We just can’t see the forest for the trees.
My dear Lord Krsna,
My dear Srila Prabhupeda,
I’ve been away from you for a long time—
eating and boarding with strangers,
never really happy,
forgetful of you.
Will you please come
and rescue me from here?
I miss you both.
I never wanted to come here,
and I wish you hadn’t listened
to my rebellious entreaties.
But what’s done is done.
I know you love me,
so please take me back.
Please come and take me back.
There are many things to do here,
and I have many duties now.
I could become famous, for example,
for helping others,
and there are many other things to do.
But I have decided
I want to come home,
if you will take me.
But if you prefer
that your little son remain here,
then please ease my loneliness
and save me from forgetfulness.
I’ve heard about
“feelings of separation.”
So if you would give me that,
then I think I would be satisfied
to stay here
birth after birth
and do your real work.
Please give me
feelings of separation—
like you gave
the gopis in Vrndavana,
only suitable for me.
Viraha Bhavan Journal (2017–2018) was written by Satsvarūpa Mahārāja following a brief hiatus in writing activity, and was originally intended to be volume 1 in a series of published journals. However, following its completion and publication, Mahārāja again stopped writing books, subsequently focusing only on what became his current online journal, which began in August of 2018.
At first, I took it hard that I would have to live surrounded by the firemen, and without my own solitude. After all, for decades I had lived in my own house with my own books and my own friends. I was also now a crippled person who couldn’t walk, living among men who did active duties. But when Baladeva explained it to me, how it was not so bad living continually with other firemen and living in the firehouse with its limited facilities, I came to partially accept it and to accept the other men. I came to accept my new situation. I would live continually in the firehouse and mostly not go outside. I would not lead such a solitary life but associate with the other firemen.
Let me write sweet prose.
Let me write not for my own benefit
but for the pleasure of Their Lordships.
Let me please Kṛṣṇa,
that’s my only wish.
May Kṛṣṇa be pleased with me,
that’s my only hope and desire.
May Kṛṣṇa give me His blessings:
Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa he
Rāma Rāghava Rāma Rāghava
Rāma Rāghava rakṣa mām.
You mentioned that your pathway has become filled with stumbling blocks, but there are no stumbling blocks. I can kick out all those stumbling blocks immediately, provided you accept my guidance. With one stroke of my kick, I can kick out all stumbling blocks. —Letter by Śrīla Prabhupāda, December 9, 1972.
The Writing Sessions are my heart and soul. I’m trying my best to keep up with them. I am working with a few devotees, and they are far ahead of me. I wander in the wilderness of old age. I make my Writing Sessions as best I can. Every day I try to come up with a new subject. Today I am thinking of my parents. But I don’t think of them deeply. They are long gone from my life. Śrīla Prabhupāda wrote a poem when he was a sannyāsī, and he said now all my friends and relatives are gone. They are just a list of names now. I am like that too. I am a sannyāsī with a few friends. I love the books of Śrīla Prabhupāda. I try to keep up with them. I read as much as I can and then listen to his bhajanas.
The metaphor is song. Explain it. Yes, particulars may not seem interesting or profound to readers who want structured books.
Wait a minute. Don’t pander to readers or concepts of Art. But Kṛṣṇa conscious criteria are important and must be followed. So, if your little splayed-out life-thoughts are all Kṛṣṇa conscious, then it’s no problem.
I am near the end of my days. But I do like the company of like-minded souls, especially those who are Kṛṣṇa conscious. Yes! I am prone to Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I have been a disciple of Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda for maybe almost sixty years. Sometimes I fail him. But I always bounce back and fall at his feet. It is a terrible thing that I sometimes do not have the highest love for him. It is a terrible thing. Actually, however, I never fall away from him. He always comes and catches me and brings me back to his loving arms.
This edition of Satsvarūpa dāsa Goswami’s 1996 timed book, Upstate: Room to Write, is published as part of a legacy project to restore Satsvarūpa Mahārāja’s writings to ‘in print’ status and make them globally available for current and future readers.
A factual record of the reform and change in ISKCON guru system of mid ’80s.
Readers will find, in the Appendix of this book, scans of a cover letter written by Satsvarūpa Mahārāja to the GN Press typist at the time, along with some of the original handwritten pages of June Bug. Together, these help to illustrate the process used by Mahārāja when writing his books during this period. These were timed books, in the sense that a distinct time period was allotted for the writing, during SDG’s travels as a visiting sannyāsī
Don’t take my pieces away from me. I need them dearly. My pieces are my prayers to Kṛṣṇa. He wants me to have them, this is my way to love Him. Never take my pieces away.
Many planks and sticks, unable to stay together, are carried away by the force of a river’s waves. Similarly, although we are intimately related with friends and family members, we are unable to stay together because of our varied past deeds and the waves of time.
To Śrīla Prabhupāda, who encouraged his devotees (including me) To write articles and books about Kṛṣṇa Consciousness.
I wrote him personally and asked if it was alright for his disciples to write books, Since he, our spiritual master, was already doing that. He wrote back and said that it was certainly alright For us to produce books.
I have a personal story to tell. It is a about a time (January–July 1974) I spent as a personal servant and secretary of my spiritual master, His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupäda, founder-äcärya of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness. Although I have written extensively about Çréla Prabhupäda, I’ve hesitated to give this account, for fear it would expose me as a poor disciple. But now I’m going ahead, confident that the truth will purify both my readers and myself.
First published by The Gītā-nāgarī Press/GN Press in serialized form in the magazine Among Friends between 1996 and 2001, Best Use of a Bad Bargain is collected here for the first time in this new edition. This volume also contains essays written by Satsvarūpa dāsa Goswami for the occasional periodical, Hope This Meets You in Good Health, between 1994 and 2002, published by the ISKCON Health and Welfare Ministry.
This book has two purposes: to arouse our transcendental feelings of separation from a great personality, Śrīla Prabhupāda, and to encourage all sincere seekers of the Absolute Truth to go forward like an army under the banner of His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda and the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement.
A single volume collection of the Nimai novels.
Śrīla Prabhupāda was in the disciplic succession from the Brahmā-Mādhva-Gauḍīya sampradāya, the Vaiṣṇavas who advocate pure devotion to God and who understand Kṛṣṇa as the Supreme Personality of Godhead. He always described himself as simply a messenger who carried the paramparā teachings of his spiritual master and Lord Kṛṣṇa.
Dear Srila Prabhupada,
Please accept this or it’s worse than useless.
You have given me spiritual life
and so my time is yours.
You want me to be happy in Krishna consciousness
You want me to spread Krishna consciousness,
This collection of Satsvarūpa dāsa Goswami’s writings is comprised of essays that were originally published in Back to Godhead magazine between 1966 and 1978, and compiled in 1979 by Gita Nagari Press as the volume A Handbook for Kṛṣṇa Consciousness.
This second volume of Satsvarūpa dāsa Goswami’s Back to Godhead essays encompasses the last 11 years of his 20-year tenure as Editor-in-Chief of Back to Godhead magazine. The essays in this book consist mostly of SDG’s ‘Notes from the Editor’ column, which was typically featured towards the end of each issue starting in 1978 and running until Mahārāja retired from his duties as editor in 1989.
This collection of Satsvarupa dasa Goswami’s writings is comprised of essays that were originally published in Back to Godhead magazine between 1991 and 2002, picking up where Volume 2 leaves off. The volume is supplemented by essays about devotional service from issues of Satsvarupa dasa Goswami’s magazine, Among Friends, published in the 1990s.
“This is a different kind of book, written in my old age, observing Kṛṣṇa consciousness and assessing myself. I believe it fits under the category of ‘Literature in pursuance of the Vedic version.’ It is autobiography, from a Western-raised man, who has been transformed into a devotee of Kṛṣṇa by Śrīla Prabhupāda.”
The Best I Could DoI want to study this evolution of my art, my writing. I want to see what changed from the book In Search of the Grand Metaphor to the next book, The Last Days of the Year.
a Hare Krishna ManIt’s world enlightenment day
And devotees are giving out books
By milk of kindness, read one page
And your life can become perfect.
Calling Out to Srila Prabhupada: Poems and PrayersO Prabhupāda, whose purports are wonderfully clear, having been gathered from what was taught by the previous ācāryas and made all new; O Prabhupāda, who is always sober to expose the material illusion and blissful in knowledge of Kṛṣṇa, may we carefully read your Bhaktivedanta purports.
I use free-writing in my devotional service as part of my sādhana. It is a way for me to enter those realms of myself where only honesty matters; free-writing enables me to reach deeper levels of realization by my repeated attempt to “tell the truth quickly.” Free-writing takes me past polished prose. It takes me past literary effect. It takes me past the need to present something and allows me to just get down and say it. From the viewpoint of a writer, this dropping of all pretense is desirable.
Geaglum Free WriteThis edition of Satsvarūpa dāsa Goswami’s 1996 timed book, Geaglum Free Write Diary, is published as part of a legacy project to restore Satsvarūpa Mahārāja’s writings to ‘in print’ status and make them globally available for current and future readers.