Bhaktivinoda Thakura was a nineteenth century religious reformer in the Gaudiya Vaishnava Sampradaya. He was a prolific author, songwriter, poet and proponent of Krishna bhakti. Below are some of his thoughts on the role of reason in matters of spirituality and love from an article entitled “The Temple of Jagannath at Puri”, dated September 15, 1871.

Kautubha das

We do not mean to say that Reason is a foolish principle. On the contrary we do not find better admirers of Reason than our humble selves. We hold that man’s superiority amongst all created beings consists in man’s possessing the noble gift of Reason.

What we maintain is this, that independent of this noble principle there is another higher gift in man which goes by the name of Love. Reason helps Love to maintain its proper bounds in the Spiritual world. Love often tends to degrade itself by exercising its function on objects other than God and converts itself into lust for women, wine, meat and gold. Here Reason advises her to rise higher till she reaches her proper sphere above.

Thus we find that the object of Reason is to help Love and not to create it. Reason may be properly styled as the servant of Love and must always be subject to her in all her hopes, aspirations, and holy works.

The Rationalist on the contrary considers Reason as all and all! This is a degradation of humanity! The progressive Rationalist, on the other hand, believes in the principle of love, but attempts to make her the maid-servant of Reason! This is another error! He makes spiritual love sometimes a prisoner in the jails of Reason! Love wants to soar on her spiritual wings to a realm where the Jailor (Reason) cannot go and the latter is sure to tie up her wings for fear lest she goes to an unworthy place!

Love utters sounds of a spiritual character peculiar to herself, but Reason, having no previous experience of it, mistakes it for a disease and administers medicine for her cure!! Thus it is that the natural strength of the Queen of our Soul is crippled by artificial administration of the dry principle of Reason and she rests in us as if a bird taken in a cage! Oh! What a havoc doth Reason commit by abuse of his power. Oh! Shame to the Rationalist! God help the man!!

Theist take care of those amongst you who mix with you only by assuming the name of Theist but are in fact Rationalists of a very dry character. They are divisible into two classes vis. the designing and the dupes. The designing Theist is he who is in fact a Rationalist but by assuming the name of Theist wants to degrade the sincere by his bad influence. He that calls himself a Theist in order to get rid of the name of Rationalist but still holds Love in subjection to Reason is a dupe because he is unable to find out his own position. The sincere Theist should however take care of both of them and preserve the sovereignty of Love over Reason and his comrades.

Source

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Sri Pillai Lokacarya (1217-1323) was a great teacher in the Sri Sampradaya who authored several works important to his Vaishnava bhakti lineage including the eighteen rahasya granthas known together as Ashtadasa Rahasya and Gadyatraya Vyakhyanam. In his Srivachana Bhushan (308-310), Pillai Lokacharya, points out three reprehensible delusions which must be avoided by the guru at all costs. Sobering words for one who would accept the role or title of guru and useful also for one who seeks a genuine guru.

1. The delusions of ‘preceptorship’ - thinking of oneself as the preceptor - a guru should think of himself as simply a conduit of the Lord’s Grace and not as a teacher of sacred lore, this awareness prevents the guru from developing the egotistical notion of being a great and learned person and having custodianship of spiritual knowledge.
2. The delusions about the role of the disciple - thinking of the disciple as one’s own personal adherent - the disciple should rather be thought of as a co-disciple of the same acharya. Thus the guru avoids the potential for exploitation inherent in the relationship.
3. The delusions arising from the process of instruction of a sisya (student or disciple) - these are of four categories-

a. seeking to gain financially from the disciple, either by tuition fees or dakshina.
b. the delusion that one is actually facilitating the liberation of the disciple.
c. the delusion that one is assisting the Lord in his salvific agenda.
d. seeking or expecting social companionship or service from disciples.

My source for this article was Kripamoya Das of The Vaishnava Voice, and I believe he may have sourced it from Sri Rama Ramanuja Achari’s article “Acharya-abhimanam — Resorting to a Preceptor”.

Kaustubha das

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Vrindavan is a town of literally thousands of Krishna temples, some small and mostly unnoticed, some popular and festive. Many date back hundreds or even thousands of years and new ones are always springing up. Among the most visited is the Krishna Balaram Mandir (temple) which was personally established by Sri Bhaktivedanta Swami in 1975. The temple is situated in Raman Reti, Vrindavan, where it is said that Lord Sri Krishna displayed His lilas 5,000 years ago. Sri Krishna and his brother Balaram would herd their cows at Raman Reti near the Yamuna River.

Approaching the temple, one passes under a grand marble archway connecting the samadhi (sacred tomb) of Sri Bhaktivedanta Swami, with a matching structure used for greeting and feeding guests. Next, one descends a few steps to enter through the temples large ornate doorway and, passing over the checkered marble floor, one comes to a sunken, open courtyard which provides a charming space for celebrating festivals or for simply resting and taking in the divine atmosphere. Past the courtyard, one steps into the temple itself where kirtan is held and scripture is discussed at the foot of the three magnificent alters dedicated to, on the left, Sri Caitanya and Nityananda, in the center Sri Krishna and Balaram, and on the right Sri Sri Radha Shyamasundara (Radha and Krishna).

Around the courtyard are large panels which serve as frames for murals depicting, on the left, the lilas of Sri Krishna and, on the right, the lilas of Sri Chaitanya. Other murals are squeezed into corners or fill open spaces. Collected here are photos of just some of the murals, to give the viewer an idea of the temples beauty and spirit of devotion. The photos are by Gitapriya dasi and unfortunately I don’t know the identity of the artists who painted the murals. If any viewer has information about the artists please feel free to leave a comment. I’ve included verses, relating to the lilas depicted in the murals, as captions.

For more photos and video of the Krishna Balaram Temple one cam follow the links below.

Kaustubha das

Photos of the Krishna Balaram Temple

Video of the Krishna Balaram Temple

Related Posts: Gopurams in Sepia / Portraits from the Kunds of Govardhan

yugayitam nimesena caksusa pravrsayitm

sunyayitam jagat sarvam govinda-virahena me

“O Govinda! Feeling Your separation, a moment feels like twelve years or more. Tears are flowing from my eyes like torrents of rain, and I am feeling all vacant in the world in Your absence.’ (Sri Siksastaka, Verse 7)

Inspirations

For devotees of Krishna, the world feels empty in the absence of their beloved Lord. In affairs of love there is no substitute for the beloved—no other person, toy, or material object can replace one’s beloved. Without Krishna the world seems like a playroom filled with meaningless toys—toys that hold no fascination. A devotee wants only Krishna.

Because the devotees desire Krishna intensely, they cry tears. There are two kinds of tears—hot, angry tears and cool, happy tears—but the tears devotees shed when crying for their Lord are of a different type. These tears have a special potency because they wash away whatever contaminations remain over the eyes that block them from seeing Krishna. These tears actually make the devotees’ eyes clear so that they can always see Krishna. So what are we to make of Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu’s wonderful verse that he composed while experiencing the highest ecstasy? Will we forever close our ears and hearts to his urgent message, fearing that we will never ourselves be able to experience exclusive longing? While it is, of course, a mistake to imitate exalted Krishna-conscious states, it is certainly favorable when we hanker for the day when we too will enter the mood of separation from Krishna. When we feel separation in this world, we feel only abject misery. We feel forsaken, forlorn, depressed. But if we can feel separation from Krishna, this separation will create the highest ecstasy in us. How? If we think of Krishna, Krishna will be present. Thoughts of Krishna are identical with Him. If we can think only of Krishna, intensely, then Krishna will be with us intensely. Truly feeling separated from Him and wanting nothing except His association certainly qualifies as intense thoughts of the Lord. In his Padyavali Srila Rupa Goswami cites this verse:

“If I have to choose between union with Krishna and separation from Him, I would choose separation, because when I am with Krishna I see only one Krishna, but when I am separated from Him, then I see Krishna coming toward me from every corner of the universe.”

If while in this world we can actually awaken to the fact that we are now separated from Krishna, we will not feel relaxed about our state. Especially when we are chanting Hare Krishna with an awareness of how we are separated we will begin to feel a deep necessity to reconnect with Him.

In 1969 Srila Prabhupada instructed the devotees to cry prayerfully for Krishna while chanting His name:

“So we are addressing, Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna: ’O the energy of the Lord, O the Lord, please accept me.’ That’s all. ’Please accept me.’ We have no other prayer. ’Please accept me.’ Lord Caitanya taught that we should simply cry, and we shall simply pray for accepting us. That’s all. So this vibration is simply a cry for addressing the Supreme Lord, requesting Him, ’Please accept me. Please accept me.’”

It is said that separation is the best mood in which to perform bhajan. Srila Prabhupada once said,

Actually, meeting Krishna is possible through the attitude of separation taught by Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu. When the feeling of separation becomes very intense, one attains the stage of meeting Sri Krishna. (Caitanya Caritamrita. Adi 4.108, purport) Many of you know how difficult it is to instruct the mind to think something particular. It is just as difficult to instruct the emotions what to feel. When we are unable to feel separation from Krishna and we either think we are doing all right or we remain disturbed by our material problems – that is, we do not long for Krishna – we should know something’s wrong with us. Sri Krishna is the source of all life and happiness. Why don’t we hanker to attain Him? Even a tree feels thirst when it does not rain and an animal feels hunger when there is no food. Isn’t God more to the soul than the food and drink that sustain the gross body? Still, there is hope on the horizon. The realized words of the great acharyas form a stream of sweet water to refresh our tired hearts and awaken in us feelings of devotion. Let us eagerly listen to Srila Bhaktivinoda Thakura in his song Kabe ha’be bolo as he makes his appeal:

1. Please tell me, when, o when, will that day be mine when my offenses will come to an end and a taste for the pure holy name will be infused in my heart by the power of divine grace?

2. Feeling myself lower than a blade of grass, welcoming the quality of forbearance into my heart, giving honor to all living beings, and becoming free of false pride, when will I taste the essence of the liquid nectar of the holy name?

3. Wealth, followers, beautiful women as described in worldly poetry—I do not want these bodily pleasures. O Lord Gaurahari! Please give me unmotivated devotion to Your lotus feet birth after birth.

4. When, while articulating the divine name of Sri Krishna, will my body thrill with ecstatic rapture, my words choke with emotion, and my body lose color and tremble ecstatically? When will streams of tears flow constantly from my eyes?

5. When, in the land of Navadvipa, on the banks of the celestial Ganga, will I run about innocently calling out, “O Gaura! O Nityananda’? Dancing and singing, I will wander about like a madman, giving up all consideration of proper social behavior.

6. When will Lord Nityananda be merciful to me and release me from the illusion of worldliness? When will he give me the shade of his own lotus feet and bestow on me the qualification necessary to enter the marketplace of the holy name?

7. Somehow or other I shall buy or steal the mellows of the name of Lord Hari. Becoming thoroughly intoxicated by those liquid mellows I will become stunned. By touching the feet of those great souls who are expert in relishing those mellows I will be constantly immersed in the sweet nectar of the holy name.

8. When will there be an awakening in me of compassion for all fallen souls? Then this Bhaktivinoda will forget his own happiness, and with a meek heart he will set out to propagate by humble solicitation the sacred order of Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu.”

I once met a devotee to whom I confessed the hard state of my heart: “I never feel any longing for Krishna. Rather, I feel satisfied with the present state of my life. What can you recommend so that I can enter the world of spiritual feeling?” The devotee’s answer surprised me: “If you cannot hanker for Krishna, then hanker that one day you will hanker for Krishna. If you cannot hanker for that day, then hanker for the day when one day you will hanker for Krishna.” He went on until his point was clear: start somewhere.

Sacinandana Swami

Under the Banyan Tree is a regular column featuring the writing of Sacinandana Swami.

In Bhagavad-gita 10.20 Krishna says

I am the self, Arjuna, dwelling in all beings.

In his commentary on this text Ramanuja suggests that a self relates to a body in three ways. First, it supports a body. The self is suporter (adhara), while the body is supported (adheya). Second, it controls a body. The self is controller (niyatri) while the body is controlled (niyamya). Finally, a self is the purpose-giving end which is served by a body. Here, the self is the principal (sheshin) and the body, the accessory (shesha).

Let’s consider these three relations in order. The first, between supporter and a supported thing, may be fairly evident already. In classical notions of reincarnation, a self is what supports the continued existence of a body as a unified, enduring substance. Should the self leave the body, the body would be left unsupported and slowly break down into more basic matter. Departing a bit from the obvious meaning of “support”, we may note that a self provides a body with a kind of holistic integrity. A body is composed of innumerable smaller components and sub-mechanisms. Yet, they all act in concert as an organic whole. This is due to the self’s supporting the body, informing the body such that its integrity remains.

I think that the controller/controlled relation is also fairly clear. The self is, so to speak, the master of the body. This mastery is limited much of the time. The control is often indirect and imprecise—much of the body’s function is beyond the willful control of the self. Nevertheless, the self often controls the body by means of volition. I choose to move my arm. I choose to exercise, etc.

The final relation, principal/accessory, is ambiguous because the Sanskrit terms involved do not admit of easy translation. The idea of a shesha, accessory is described by Ramanuja as follows:

The nature of an accessory (shesha) is to exist as having a use for something else. It exists to support the purposes of the principal (shesin) which transcends it. (Paraphrase from Vedartha-sagraha 121)

Given the above discussion, it seems fairly clear how the world may relate to God as a body relates to a self. Ramanuja quotes from a host of sacred texts to substantiate this idea, including Brihadaranyaka Upanishad 3.7.15.

This self of yours who is present within but is different from all beings, whom all beings do not know, whose body is all beings, and who controls all beings from within—he is the inner controller, the immortal. (Translation by Olivelle)¹

There are a number of interesting consequences to the notion of the world as God’s body. I will close by discussing one, which Ramanuja thinks central to his entire theological project. Commonly, he suggests, we refer to a self through a body. The terms which describe a particular being like a man or a god primarily denote the embodied self which is supports the body of the man, god, etc. If I say “she is a good person” while pointing to the woman in my office, Ramanuja would suggest that I am ultimately referring to the self which is the truest essence of the woman, by pointing to her body. In short, references to the self often take place by referring to the body. Ramanuja concludes that in the same way, the primary referent of all denotative language is God, whose existence supports and informs the existence of both matter and the individual selves which populate it. This conception of denotative language provides a powerful tool to understand and contemplate the Upanishadic teachings which indicate the presence of Brahman by indicating a feature of the world which participates in Brahman. As it is a kind of ignorance which allows us to think of and refer to bodies without considering the indwelling individual self, it is a similar kind of ignorance which allows us to refer to anything without cognizance of its dependence on the universal self.

MD

Related Posts: The Yoga Chikitsa of Krishna’s Names

The song is sung by the bhajana group Spiritual Skyliner, which was a traveling group of Vaishnava brahmacaris from Germany. The angelic lead singing is by Gadadhara Das. Musically this song is unique in that each verse is sung in a different melody. Mama Mana Mandire appeared on the cd Spiritual Skyliner: Sacred Mantras. More of their music can be found here and here.

Kaustubha das

Mam Mana Mandire
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Mama Mana Mandire

by Srila Bhaktivinoda Thakura

(1) mama mana mandire raha nisi-din
krsna murari sri krsna murari

Please abide in the temple of my heart
both day and night, O Krsna Murari, O Sri Krsna Murari!

(2) bhakti priti mala candan
tumi nio he nio krsna-nandan

Devotion, love, flower garlands, and sandalwood- please accept them,
Delighter of the Heart!

(3) jivana marana tava puja nivedan
sundara he mana-hari

In life or in death I worship You with these offerings,
Beautiful One, O Enchanter of the Heart!

(4) eso nanda-kumar ar nanda-kumar
habe prema-pradipe arati tomar

Come, son of Nanda, and then, O Son of Nanda
I will offer Your arati ceremony with the lamplight of my love.

(5) nayana jamuna jhare anibar
tomara virahe giridhari

The waters of the Yamuna river cascade incessantly from my eyes
in your separation, O Holder of Govordhana Hill!

(6) bandana gane tava bajuk jivana
krsna murari sri krsna murari

May I pass my life absorbed only in songs of Your praise, O Krsna Murari, Sri Krsna Murari!

Related Posts: Kirtan Podcast: As Kindred Spirits / Kirtan Podcast 2: Aindra Das

suddha-sattva-viseshatma
prema-suryamsu-samya-bhak
rucibhis citta-masrinya-
krid asau bhava ucyate

“‘When bhakti is executed on the transcendental platform of pure goodness (suddha-sattva), it is like a sun-ray of love for Krishna. At such a time, bhakti causes the heart to be softened by various tastes, and one is then situated in bhava (ecstatic emotion).” Bhakti-rasamrita-sindhu (1.3.1)

kshantir avyartha-kalatvam
viraktir mana-sunyata
asa-bandhah samutkantha
nama-gane sada rucih
asaktis tad-gunakhyane
pritis tad-vasati-sthale
ity-adayo ‘nubhavah syur
jata-bhavankure jane

“When the seed of ecstatic emotion for Krishna fructifies, the following nine symptoms manifest in one’s behavior: forbearance, concern that time should not be wasted, detachment, absence of false prestige, hope, eagerness, a taste for chanting the holy name of the Lord, attachment to descriptions of the transcendental qualities of the Lord, and affection for those places where the Lord resides — that is, a temple or a holy place like Vrindavana. These are all called anubhava (subordinate signs of ecstatic emotion). They are visible in a person in whose heart the seed of love of God has begun to fructify.” Bhakti-rasamrita-sindhu (1.3.25-26)

Rupa Goswami’s Bhakti-rasamrita-sindhu is one of the foundational texts in the Chaitanya-vaishnava lineage of bhakti-yoga. It is an assimilation of the teachings that Rupa Goswami received from Sri Chaitanya in a ten day discussion held on the bank of the Ganga at Dasasvamedha-ghata in Pryaga. Bhakti-rasamrita-sindhu elaborates on the nature, practices and gradations of bhakti as well as the components of bhakti-rasa (the experience of pure devotion).

The above verses discuss bhava (devotional ecstacy), the eighth of nine stages of advancement in bhakti, culminating in prema (pure love of God). Bhava is seen as the preliminary, budding stage or sprout of prema. Verse 1.3.1 reveals both the primary and secondary characteristics of bhava. The primary characteristic is suddha-sattva-viseshatma, one’s heart, or one could say one’s consciousness, becomes influenced by the touch of suddha-sattva (pure goodness), which is the direct influence of the Lord’s potency. This implies that one is no longer held under the sway of the gunas (sattva, rajas, and tamas). The secondary characteristic of bhava is the softening of the heart which gives rise to various devotional tastes or experiences. One who is situated on the stage of bhava will be easily moved by devotional stimulus such as kirtan, hearing the recitation of devotional texts, ect.

Verses 1.3.25-26 reveal nine symptoms which can been seen in the character of one who has achieved the stage of bhava. These symptoms are seen as excellent criterion for determining advancement in bhakti, as opposed to other types of displays which may be easily imitated.

Kshanti: perseverance. Remaining tolerant and patient, even amid disturbance.
Avyartha-kalatvam: utilization of time. Refers to constant engagement in devotional seva (service).
Virakti: detachment. Completely indifference to the objects of sense gratification.
Mana-shunyata: absence of false prestige or pridelessness. To feel humble, free from the longing for being shown respect.
Asha-bandha: hope. To be always certain that Krishna will bestow His mercy on oneself.
Samutkanta: An intense eagerness to achieve or ardent desire for attaining one’s desired supreme object (prema).
Nama-gane sada ruci: Thirst arising out of affection for constantly chanting the Lord’s holy names.
Asaktis tad-gunakhyane: A natural attachment to describe the Lord’s most sweet qualities, pastimes and so on.
Pritis tad-vasati-sthale: The desire to reside in the places of the Lord’s pastimes such as Vrindavana.

Kaustubha das

Rupa Goswami (1489-1564 CE) is a teacher, poet, and philosopher from the Gaudiya Vaishnava tradition of Bhakti-yoga. Along with his brother Sanatana Goswami he was considered the leader of the Six Goswamis of Vrindavan - a highly influential group of acetic disciples of the Vaishnava saint/avatar, Sri Chaitanya. Rupa Goswami wrote a number of important books in Sanskrit on bhakti philosophy, poetics, drama and dramaturgy. He is also credited with uncovering various holy places associated with the life of Krishna in Vrindavan.

The heroes of my youth were the great healers of humanity. While it’s true that in those days I could be seen with other American boys paying homage to the likes of Elvis Presley and Joe DiMaggio, I rendered them only lip service. My real—if somewhat secret—devotion was reserved for a pantheon of great medical pioneers like Edward Jenner, discoverer of the smallpox vaccination; Robert Koch, who identified the tuberculosis bacillus; and Ignaz Philipp Semmelweise, who crusaded to save women from childbirth infection by teaching doctors to disinfect their hands. I avidly studied the life stories of these saviors and dreamed of becoming like them by slaying some modern scourge—leukemia, say, or coronary thrombosis. In my eyes there was no higher calling than to wage war on behalf of humanity against disease and death.

I entered college intent on medical studies, but a little over a year later abandoned that aim. I had not been fatally disheartened by my encounter with other pre-med students, profiteers eager to mint gold from disease. A book, rather, had destroyed my vocation and my faith.

Mirage of Health: Utopia, Progress and Biological Change is a pioneering study of medical history written in the late fifties by a physician named Rene Dubos. His conclusion devastated me: Progress toward some utopia of health is an illusion. Disease will never be “conquered.” Disease is so inescapable a part of our human condition that today’s remedies inevitably become the agents of tomorrow’s ills.

Using an abundance of historical evidence, Dubos shows how the diseases we suffer from arise out of the complex social, political, and economic dynamics of our particular society; as society changes, our ills change with it. Some diseases fade away, and others, out of the inexhaustible bounty of material nature, rise to take their place.

In modern industrial societies, as Dr. Dubos points out, we no longer suffer and die from smallpox, typhus, typhoid, diphtheria, and the other microbial plagues of the past. We have made “progress”: We suffer and die instead from cancer, coronary heart disease, emphysema, and mental disorders (with their attendant drug abuse and suicide).

According to Dubos’ analysis, even my boyhood heroes, those unswerving foes of deadly microbes, had little to do with the disappearance of infectious diseases. These afflictions were retired mainly by the social and economic reforms that followed industrialization. At the same time, that same process was ushering in a whole new set of scourges. And even those old diseases are by no means “conquered,” Dubos warns. They are merely held at bay (at a high price), and they can reenter human history any time the conditions are right.

I was undone by Dr. Dubos’ lesson. Medicine at once underwent a catastrophic devaluation in my eyes. I wondered why that should be. Dubos, of course, never claimed that medicine was useless, a waste of time. True, it may not save humanity, but it can save humans. That ought to be enough, I argued with myself. I could still live by ideals, modest though those ideals might be. Surely, real heroism lies in doing humbly what little good one can, without some fantasy of wide-screen, Hollywood heroics, soundtrack booming in the background. Be realistic: There are no saviors of humanity, because humanity will not be saved, and that’s that.

Still, I could revive no enthusiasm for medicine. The truth of the matter was that at heart I badly wanted to be saved from disease and death altogether, and I had possessed a real faith that scientific progress would, at the end of its struggle, win just that for all of us. To me it had been a foregone conclusion that through science and technology nature would be eventually conquered and tamed, made entirely serviceable to us, and we would live without worries in a man-made paradise on earth. Although I had never spelled out this conviction to myself, it had insensibly become my true faith, my religion.

How was it a religion? Religion and science—like faith and knowledge—are supposed to be opposites. Yet somehow science itself had become a religion—call it “scientism”—an ardent faith that progress in science and technology will so improve upon man and nature as to rid earthly life of all ills. This religion was—and still is—the true faith of America, the spiritual motor that drives its enterprises.

Where had I absorbed this religion? I had bowed before no altar, recited no creed, sung no hymns, enacted no rites. However, this religion does not need special buildings or ceremonies. As the true religion of America, it is woven completely into the fabric of life. I had absorbed it all along from my parents and teachers and friends, from the Cub Scouts and the Boy Scouts, from museums and theme parks, from My Weekly Reader and Reader’s Digest and Life and Post and Popular Mechanics. I had soaked it in from “Meet Mr. Wizard” and the unending iteration of corporate commercial slogans (”Progress is Our Most Important Product” and “Better Things For Better Living Through Chemistry“), from the biographies of my medical heroes, not the least from my hoard of science fiction paperbacks.

The faith that formed America was a creation of the so-called Enlightenment of the eighteenth century. Eager to extend Newton’s success in describing nature in rational, mathematical form, a coterie of European thinkers battled to dethrone traditional religion and morality and replace them with empirical science and natural reason as the valid guides for human activity.

Unenlightened and superstitious Christians believed in a future millennium, a thousand-year kingdom of God on earth that would start with the prophesied second coming of Christ. That belief had to go. Yet the savants of the Enlightenment replaced it with their own secularized faith, their man-made millennium: Steady progress in science and enlightened reason would gradually bring the natural and human world totally under rational scientific control. Nature and society will be consummately engineered. Free from drought and flood, poverty and crime, disease and even death, man will have established on earth the kingdom of God—without God.

This was my faith, and I had lost it. Science would not save us; there was no “progress.” That explained my strong reaction to Mirage of Health.

In the years since I read that book I have come to recognize the striving for release from material nature, the struggle against disease and death, as profoundly and essentially human. It’s a struggle we cannot avoid. Even though we may be unwaware of it, it drives and shapes our lives. For this reason, even popular culture is about serious things. It is not mere whimsy that leads people to describe Joe DiMaggio as a baseball “Immortal,” or makes them believe that Elvis Presley could not possibly have died. Operating with more sophistication, Enlightenment thinkers set themselves against religion, but they merely replaced salvation through Christ with salvation through science. They could not free themselves from the desire for transcendence, the urge to go beyond the limits of nature into everlasting life.

We are all transcendentalists at heart. The problem is that most of us are foolish ones, whose various schemes for liberation are doomed from the outset. We persist in worshipping idols and gods that fail. We engineer projects for salvation that only increase our bondage. Nature can send mile-high sheets of ice flowing over continents and level cities with a twitch, yet we embark on a quixotic war to conquer her. An anthill has as good a shot at it as “advanced civilization.” Or consider this: Survival is the primal urge of life, and for millions of years all organisms have struggled for survival, just as we now struggle. Now, look at the record. Where are the winners? In all of history, has anyone survived? The death rate is one hundred percent. It is a foredoomed attempt, but we cannot help ourselves.

We must be transcendentalists, but what makes us invest and reinvest in foolish, impractical schemes? Let me suggest the reason. At the root of our foolishness lies a dumb insistence in trying to actuate a self-contradiction, make real an absurdity: We want to transcend material nature, become free from her control, while at the same time we want to continue to enjoy and exploit her.

This was the answer I discovered. After my crisis of faith, I studied philosophy and religion for years; it was, in effect, a quest for successful transcendentalists. And I thought that I had finally discovered them at the vital center of the great spiritual traditions of the world. In spite of their differences in culture and style, they seemed unanimous in this: They agreed that to succeed in transcendence we must become free from the mentality of enjoyment and exploitation. All of them recognized the systematic endeavor to gain mastery over the mind and senses, to extinguish material desires, as necessary for real salvation or liberation of the spirit. These successful transcendentalists understand very well that material nature binds and controls us precisely through our desire to enjoy and exploit her. That desire is, therefore, our ultimate disease. Cure that disease, we shall become free from disease and death altogether.

Eight years after Dr. Dubos destroyed my faith in material progress, Srila Prabhupada initiated me into the path of bhakti-yoga, transcendental devotional service. I was attracted by the magisterial way Srila Prabhupada exposed what he called “the illusory advancement of civilization.” On the street a Krishna devotee had handed me a tract containing these simple but impressive words of Srila Prabhupada:

We are trying to exploit the resources of material nature, but actually we are becoming more and more entangled in her complexities. Therefore, although we are engaged in a hard struggle to conquer nature, we are ever more dependent on her. This illusory struggle against material nature can be stopped at once by revival of our eternal Krishna consciousness.

Srila Prabhupada hadn’t done the research of a Dr. Dubos, but somehow he understood it all. His clarity astonished me.

Attacking the idols of scientific progress and other ersatz religions, Srila Prabhupada did not compromise in presenting the truth—if we want transcendence, we must become free from material desires. He was the only contemporary transcendentalist I’d encountered who did not offer any cheating religion, an accommodation with material ambitions for cheap popularity among the foolish.

My heroes still are those saviors who wage war on behalf of humanity against disease and death: Srila Prabhupada, Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura, Srila Rupa Goswami, Thakura Haridasa, Madhvacarya, Narada Muni and many others form my pantheon. These heroes have won the war against death because they have mastered the actual science of transcendence and delivered it to humanity.

In the meantime I credit Dr. Dubos with a good deal of prescience. Events have proven him uncannily accurate. Even as researchers in high-tech laboratories feverishly sought the “magic bullet” to destroy cancer, a brand-new plague erupted, surprising almost everyone. Studies predict that Acquired Immunity Deficiency Syndrome will have claimed about 400 million lives by the middle of the next century. Like horror films that spawn even more ghastly sequels, some old-fashioned diseases have begun staging spectacular revivals: A new, drug-resistant version of Koch’s bacillus threatens a tuberculosis epidemic in North America, where a remake of the scarlet fever microbe is implicated in a run of deadly cases of sudden, massive septicemia. Pediatricians report a steady rise in children with chronic bronchitis and asthma, apparently the result of pollution. Indeed, a family of new afflictions of the immune system, all apparently related to man-made chemicals in the environment, has led to the establishment of a new medical specialty called clinical ecology. Some studies show that in the industrial nations up to forty percent of all diseases are “iatrogenetic.” That means “caused by physicians.”

In Pittsburgh recently, a man survived seventy-one days on an implanted baboon’s liver, which was still in good shape at autopsy. Transplant technicians are planning farms where genetically engineered animals will grow crops of organs for use in humans; biomedical engineers are machining body parts out of space-age plastics and microchips. They’re promising immortality by the end of the next century.

This article was originally published in Back to Godhead magazine in 1993. Edifying hyperlinks added.

(This article has been previously published on Ravindra Svarupa Dasa’s weblog So It Happens, and has been used here with his kind permission.)

Whenever I stay in Vrindavan, I make a point of spending every evening in the Krishna Balaram Temple with hundreds of bhaktas singing in kirtan led by Aindra Das. An American who moved to Vrindavan in the early 8o’s, Aindra das leads a group of kirtaniyas who maintain kirtan 24 hours a day, everyday in the temple. He lives simply, he’s learned in the teachings of bhakti and he is deeply devoted to kirtan. One can always witness and experience the most amazing things at his kirtans, not just occasionally, but every evening. Here’s one example. It’s a fifteen minute recording that starts slow and gradually builds. The rhythms may feel unfamiliar at first, but if you relax and give it a little time I think you’ll find a special treasure here.

Kaustubha das

Aindra Das Kirtan
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A realization I recently gained from astrology about the importance of motherhood increased this appreciation more. In jyotisha (vedic astrology) different planets and different houses are the karakas, or main indicators, for the different prominent aspects of one’s life. For example, we can look to the position of the sun and the strength of the ninth house for the nature of one’s relationship with the father. The tenth house deals with one’s occupation, and Jupiter one’s wisdom, guru or religiosity. In the same way, the moon and fourth house indicate one’s mother.

What struck me is that the moon and the fourth house are also the indicators of the mind. As the mother and the mind have the same karaka, astrology shows that the strength of one’s relationship with one’s mother, the nurturing aspect of one’s life, is also the main determining factor for one’s strength of mind.

When we say “mind” in this context, we are also referring simultaneously to what we call the heart. A strong mind thus means that one can both freely express one’s feelings and, when needed, control them. In other words, people that have good minds are open-hearted and secure, but not overwhelmed by mood swings. They can thus control their mind, make decisions, and think clearly. So a good mind (heart) is the foundation of properly relating, communicating, and learning, and these are the emblems of culture.

An interesting incident last year reinforced this realization about the correlation between the mother and the mind. His Holiness Radhanatha Swami asked me to accompany him to place his mother’s ashes in the Yamuna. From the soberness and attentiveness he gave to this task, I could sense his gratitude and strong relationship with his mother, although he had left his family to become a monk and is certainly a detached person. I was also told later about the positive influence his mother had on his life. As I reflected on the nature of his good heart, his ability to be open hearted and loving, the strength of his mind, and his ability to remain fixed and undisturbed, I further saw the strong connection between the nature of one’s mind and the quality of the nurturing influences in one’s early life.

Observing those lacking in formative nurturing influences has further confirmed this understanding. Years ago I was dealing with a person in Vrindaban who had all the signs of serious clinical depression. He was gradually losing touch with reality and needed serious mental health care. It took me months of pushing to finally get the ashram authorities to seek professional consultation. Afterwards, I spoke to one of the leaders, a very cultured Indian, and told him frankly that he could never understand the need for psychiatric care because he had a loving mother at home who fed him. I also knew his mother and how close they were. He was startled by my statement, and told me I was absolutely right. He related to me that when he would sometimes read in the newspaper how the rich and famous had clinical depression, he would say to himself “What is this depression?” because he had no personal frame of reference through which to understand it. We then discussed how much the sense of being loved in a family is transferred through the serving and taking of meals affectionately prepared by a loving mother, and especially how children are inoculated against insecurity and depression by the love and security impressed within them by this loving exchange. Since a person’s real success draws from strength of mind, there is, in a sense, a mother behind every successful man. As the strength of a society lies in the character of its people—the nature of their hearts and minds—we can also gauge how essential motherhood is to the proper development of society. Thank you, mothers!

Note: Although the nurturing influences in one’s life is the most significant factor in the development of ones mind (heart), even if this is lacking it can be compensated for, or rectified, by other factors, like training and other forms of personal development, especially by cultivating a loving relationship with God and His devotees. Similarly, even if those nurturing influences are there, the mind can be disturbed by other factors such as sinful reactions from bad karma or traumatic experiences. However, the effect of the appropriate nurturing in childhood on the development of one’s mind cannot be underestimated. Also there is a difference between proper nurturing and co-dependence and other forms of over-indulgence.

Dhanurdhara Swami

The column Greetings From Vrindavan is Dhanurdhara Swami’s journal regarding the joys and challenges of the devotional path. A book of his journal entries, spanning the years 2000-2003, has been published with the same title and is available here.

Related Posts: Windows to the Material World / Kirtan and Humility or: Scrambled Thoughts on Grass / Japa Thoughts I

The Art of “Retreating”

In this retreat I would like to go deep into myself, leaving all the different layers behind. I know that deep down in the very bottom of my heart a treasure is waiting for me. I can find it by the process of “spiritual archaeology.” I feel that this treasure will give me the strength required to deal with the compromises I make in my life that keep me in the so-called comfort zone. It is a dangerous zone that gets darker each time I act in a way contrary to what I know to be true.

Spiritual Archaeology

Once a boy only sixteen years old went to his two brothers. He said to them: “It is my desire to take you to a mysterious place, a place where you shall learn the truth about yourself.”

But his brothers were afraid. “Please, let´s stay home. We already have had enough adventures with you.”

But the young boy told them: “Either you come with me or I will never speak to you again.” In this way he forced them to come along. They walked for a long time and arrived later the same day. They found themselves at the side of a deep well.

The boy told his oldest brother: “I want to put a rope around your waist and lower you into the well. Look carefully at what you find at the bottom.” When the oldest brother was only one-third down the well he began to scream and cry. Fear to face the darkness and loneliness inside the well attacked him from all sides: “I’m dying! I’m dying!” Hearing his cries, the young boy pulled him out because he saw what kind of person his oldest brother was.

Next the middle brother was hoisted down into the well. He went halfway down and then he also began to scream, “Help! Help! Save me! Bring me up!” The youngest brother, seeing what kind of person his middle brother was, pulled him up. When the youngest brother’s turn came he said, “Listen. Even though I may cry and scream, don´t pull me up. Lower me down into the well until you feel there is no weight on the end of the rope— then you will know that I have reached the bottom.” His brothers pleaded with him: “You are our youngest brother. Why do you want to leave us?” But the boy was firm, and they lowered him by the rope until he reached the bottom of the well.

I first heard this story from my grandfather when I was a young boy of sixteen years, and I remember that I became intrigued. I wanted to know how the story would end. But my grandfather surprised me. He looked deep into my eyes and said,“It’s not just a nice story about someone else. It should become your story. What will you find, when you go down that well to the bottom of your heart?” Shortly afterward, I decided to move into a temple to seriously start my spiritual journey.

We have become expert at filling our lives with the noise of ten thousand little things. We are always surrounded by a hum of activity coming from our fast lives. Even if there is nothing going on around us, our psyche continues to vibrate from the joys and frustrations we experience. The modern person finds it very difficult, therefore, to be alone with himself. He always needs some diversion; some TV, some music, some talk, etc.

The French mathematician Blaise Pascal once wrote: “All man´s miseries derive from not being able to sit quietly in a room alone.” That was the problem of the two brothers. They felt scared when they had to go deeper and separate themselves from the usual noise of their busy lives.

Our spiritual journey will bring us through lonely places—places we have never been to before. Sometimes these inner regions are so lonely that we may not immediately find recognizable sign posts to tell us which way to go. At that time, we have to struggle to orient ourselves and sometimes, even when we think we finally have found the sign posts, we might find that we can’t read them. When that happens, we have to turn to the Lord in all seriousness.

The Cave of the Heart

About ten years ago I went on a pilgrimage accompanied by three other devotees into the solitude of the Himalayas. We visited a place near Badrinatha and went to the historic cave in which King Muchukunda, after being awakened from his long sleep, met Lord Krishna. This cave is high in the mountains and we could only find it with the help of an experienced guide. When we arrived I immediately wanted to go inside but the guide warned us, “Don’t go there, there are dangerous snakes at the bottom of the cave.” This intrigued me even more (smile). So I told him we would find our way back to Badrinatha alone, gave him his money and sent him on his way. My temptation was hightened because I remembered the story of my grandfather and how he said, “Go deep and you will find your treasure.”

In Sanskrit the heart is sometimes metaphorically referred to as ´guha´, meaning a cavern, cave or a deep and secret place. With this in mind we turned to the cave and began our descent. One of us waited outside. King Muchukunda physically went into a cave in the Himalayas where he rested his battle-tired body and waited for the Lord to appear. After a long sleep he finally awoke to find Lord Krishna standing before him, illuminating the cave with His effulgence. Overwhelmed with gratitude Muchukunda prayed: “With your effulgence you dispel the darkness of this mountain cave, and with your jewel like knowledge you destroy the darkness of ignorance in my heart.” (Sharartha-darshini 10.51.29).

In much the same way, anyone who goes to the bottom of the heart-cave will meet the Lord there. He is described as “sitting unseen within the cave of the heart like the fire dormant within kindling wood” (Shrimad-Bhagavatam 11.37.10–11).

Although Krishna did not appear to us in his transcendental form in that Himalaya cave, we still felt we had been rewarded. At that holy place we held kirtana and read the pastime of Muchakunda from the Krishna Book. Also as we carefully directed the beam of our torchlight into that enormous cave we found Krishna’s footprints sculpted in marble. They had been installed there in the distant past.)

Krishna is the Supersoul who dwells within the heart of all living beings. Even though we cannot always see Him with our covered eyes and conditioned mind, He is there, hidden just like the fire within wood. And just like there is an ancient process for kindling fire from within wood there is an ancient process by which we can discover the Lord and experience His presence more and more in our hearts. The Brihad-aranyaka Upanishad tells us: atma va are drashtavyah shrotavyo mantavyo nididhyasitavyah

“One must see the Lord, hear about Him, think about Him and meditate upon Him with fixed concentration.” (Brihad-aranyaka Upanishad 4.5.6).

Shrila Vishvantha Chakravarti Thakur explains how we can see the Lord. “The idea here is that one should directly see the Supreme Personality of Godhead.” The means for achieving this are then explained by him. “One must first hear (shrutavyo) from a bona-fide guru and take the words of such a spiritual master into one´s heart by offering him humble service and striving in all ways to please him.

One should then continuously ponder (mantavyo) the divine message of the spiritual master with the aim of dispelling all one´s doubts and misconceptions.

Then one can proceed to meditate (nididhyasitavyah) on Sri Krishna´s lotus feet with total conviction and determination.” (Sharartha-darshini).

Sacinandana Swami

Under the Banyan Tree is a regular column featuring the writing of Sacinandana Swami.

An excerpt from Steven Rosen’s new book The Yoga of Kirtan - Conversations on the Sacred Art of Chanting.

Steven Rosen: In our remaining time, can you talk a little more about kirtan? I know this is actually the center of your current practice and also the main theme of your recent temple, opened in Ujjain.

Bhakti Charu Swami: The way I understand it, kirtan is actually a prayer to the Lord. Originally, those prayers were very personal, when initially composed. And then they take on more general expression, and anyone can chant it. But, early on, these were confidential prayers, like the mantras in the Vedas, where they are not open to the general public. Those mantras – like Gayatri, for example – were meant for meditative chanting, but they were circumscribed, only for special clientele, so to speak..

Now, Chaitanya Mahaprabhu came to give a different idea. He gave the maha-mantra openly, saying it was for everyone and anyone. So, for the first time, such mantras became public. And it was presented as both for personal meditation and for loud chanting, which enabled practitioners to share it with others. The loud chanting is generally known as Nama-sankirtana. This refers to congregational chanting, many people getting together – the more the merrier – to glorify the name of God. This makes it even more effective, more powerful. That is the yuga-dharma, the method of spiritual practice for this current time period, called Kali-yuga, as taught by Chaitanya Mahaprabhu.

He explained that people in this age are not qualified for any other yogic process. They won’t be able to meditate; they won’t be able to perform sacrifice; they won’t even be able to worship the deity of the Lord in the temple. What to speak of worshipping the deity, they won’t even be inclined to go to the temple. That’s the state of this age, the condition of this age. Therefore, Chaitanya Mahaprabhu inaugurated this Nama-sankirtana – a simple process – allowing everyone to get involved in this chanting of the holy name of the Lord.

So that is the origin of kirtan in our present age. After that, Mahaprabhu and his followers spread it throughout India. For example, in the following generation, great teachers, like Shrinivas Acharaya, Narottama Das Thakur, Syamananda Prabhu, and others took this movement further with newly developed chanting styles and traveling Sankirtan parties. They were preaching through music and story telling. People in those days were a bit more refined, in a sense, than people today. They could sit together day and night, just hearing descriptions of Chaitanya Mahaprabhu’s pastimes, the descriptions of Krishna’s pastimes. They were cultured, able to relish transcendental topics through drama, music, and so on.

Steven Rosen: Yes, this was the age of Padavali kirtan, spiritual song and narrative melded as one.

Bhakti Charu Swami: This is how it started, and as a result, Mahaprabhu’s movement spread like wildfire. Great devotees traveled throughout the countryside, expressing the Lords pastimes with sophisticated forms of song and dance, with dramatic performance and other developed artistic presentations. Because it was a cultural presentation, it was patronized by powerful kings and other influential individuals. Therefore, this is seen as a golden age of the Sankiritan movement.

***

Bhakti Charu Swami: You see, kirtan ultimately means glorifying the Lord. How we glorify him is up to us. And this glorification is an expression of our love for him. First through words: Chanting – “Hare Krsna, Hare Krsna, Krsna Krsna, Hare Hare” – is actually a prayer to Krsna. It means, “ Oh all attractive Supreme Personality of Godhead, Please allow me to love you, allow me to serve you.” Or, as George Harrison sang, “I really want to see you, I really want to be with you, my Lord….” This is the maha mantra – to pray to the Lord, to humbly asked to be engaged in his service. And then we do kirtan through action. But first comes chanting. And when we chant or sing this kirtan, whether by ourselves or collectively, it should be done as a prayer. We must offer all our love to him, fully recognizing his love for us. He has given us so much. He is taking care of us in so many wonderful ways. He is going with us wherever we go, in all forms of life. He is always with us as the supersoul, in our hearts of hearts. And as we become aware of this fact, as spontaneious love for him grows in our hearts, and we, just as naturally, want to express that love through all our words, through all our prayers, and through all our actions. That is the real kirtan. That is sankirtana.

(Bhakti Charu Swami, a native Bengali, was born in 1945 and spent most of his early life in urban Calcutta, where kirtan is a way of life. A Vaishnava scholar and Sanyasin, he was initiated into the Gaudiya Sampradaya by Sri A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada in 1976. Along side his official responsibilities as a leader and ecclesiastical authority within the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, Bhakti Charu Swami has translated all of Srila Prabhupada’s works, consisting of more than fifty volumes of books, into Bengali, as Srila Prabhupada had instructed in their very first meeting. At present he is developing projects in Ujjain, India.)

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People with an interest in Indian philosophical and religious traditions will find it noteworthy that many of classical Hinduism’s greatest thinkers subscribe to a notion of intelligent design. To my knowledge, one of the earliest instances of the term intelligent designer is found in Sanskrit philosophical literature. Hindus of various schools put forth arguments meant to establish a sentient being who fashions the world of common experience. The being was described by terms like buddhimat-karta (creator possessed of intellect), cetana (conscious being) or prashasita (director).

India’s Nyaya school was a leading proponent of such arguments. Among the orthodox Hindu schools, Nyaya is known for its influence in the development of logic and the theory of knowledge. It claimed that the existence of a creator divinity could be established by logic alone. One of the early arguments for the existence of God is found in the work of Uddyotakara (550 CE), a Nyaya pioneer. The gist of his argument, which influences many later thinkers, is that the operation of insentient materials or instruments to produce some effect is only possible when they are guided by a sentient being. Since primal matter (pradhana), atoms, and karma are insentient, they require the guidance of a conscious agent (buddhimat-karta).

“Pradhana, atoms and karma act as guided by an intelligent agent which precedes their action. This is because they are insentient, like an axe. As something like an axe, being insentient, acts only under the guidance of an intelligent carpenter, so too do pradhana, atoms and karma. Therefore, they too are guided by an intelligent agent.” (Commentary on Nyaya-sutra 4.2.21)

Classical Indian argument relies heavily on vyapti, (invariable relation). The idea is that we can legitimately infer the existence of something if we have evidence of the existence of something else which we know to be invariably related to it. For example, where there is smoke, there is fire.

The Nyaya claim is that organized effects whose building blocks are insentient are invariably related to intelligent agency. In common experience, we do not find that things like chairs or houses just come together without intelligent agency behind them. Nyaya argues that the same