Sunday, March 2nd, 2014

Mayapur, India

Remind Yourself

Today was the first day of some illness.  Nothing major.  Some tummy problems.  I hear some residents of India call it “the Delhi belly”

Like anything in the mundane world it is just temporary.  This is the consolation.  By mid-day, operations were back to normal.

I have written before how tough it is to move from one building to the next without being greeted by admirers of monks.  In Indian culture people adore their swamis, even if you are not born in this mother land.  At least in this Mayapur setting where the Vaishnav culture is in full swing, anyone wearing that saffron with the pleat-free-in-the-back dhoti and perhaps carry that staff (danda) - regardless of your skin colour - will attract attention.

The usual routine is that when a pilgrim spots a sannyasi he/she may halt walking, slip out of the shoes and offer dandavats (where you flatten yourself on the ground or bow with head to ground), all out of reverence.  Some pilgrims while cycling will stop and do the same.

Personally I feel these gestures, sincere as they are, are a little bit overkill.  They are whole-heartedly executed but at least from my side there is an inconvenience when crowds require a flow of movement.  It is one of several austerities that a monastic person has to undertake.  You can't avoid the celebrity stature.

The question is, "How do you deal with all the attention and not let it all go to your head?"  What comes to mind is the early morning conscientious internal effort made to remind yourself that, "I am a tiny spark of life with a dimension of one ten-thousandth the tip of a hair.  There are trillions of such sparks existing in the world and I am just one of them.  I am small.  I am humble."  Sometimes a little illness is the best reminder.

May the Source be with you!

4 KM

Saturday, March 1st, 2014

Mayapur, India

You Can Get Bitten

I do anticipate that anything can happen at any time.  Down any trail, danger can lurk.  What if along the trail of dust, a cobra confronts me and he strikes?  I might have an hour to live.

The last few evenings, just to get away from the crowds, I've taken to the path.  I premeditate as to what to do should a fateful event like a snake injecting his venom ever occur.

As I embarked on what’s now a brick-lain trail before it turns to raw soil, I perceived a towering figure who stepped into my shadow.  I turned around to see who it was.  A stranger to me, but in traditional attire, dhoti and kurta - was this tall blonde-haired stocky Russian.

I beckoned him to join.  His English is poor.  My Russian is awful.  We decided to penetrate through the dark together and not talk but chant japa.  I had the trail chalked out. He trusted my turns when they came.

We walked on and on in the quiet of the night.  Only in the distance could we hear a little pop music from across the Jalanghi river.  We weren't bitten by a cobra, only by that sound which is not congruous to the local spiritual atmosphere.  "Never mind!"  I thought.  Change what you can, not what you can't.  Focus on the sound that falls off your tongue and your lips.  "Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare".

The Russian-walking comrade goes by the name of Vedaguhya.  It turns out he's an expert massage therapist.  He offered to massage my legs, feeling an obligation I suppose.  In returning the favour, I offered a newly-acquired lota (a container for water).

In the dham (spiritual abode) everyone tries to resign to exchanges of giving.  It heals.

May the Source be with you!

4 KM

Friday, Febuary 28th, 2014

Mayapur, India

They Snarled

They snarled and growled.  I'm referring to dogs.  Then they, only two or three, would have a biting fight which would last as long as you could say, "Lassi!"

Stray dogs do enter the dham (sacred space), particularly when they have more freedom, at night.  This is regular routine.

On a dusty trail where I walk daily, a man fell from a tree and broke his wrist.  This is the time when sap is collected from date trees.  Like in Canada where we tap our maple trees to collect its juices in late winter, in India this local tree is tapped and its liquid is gathered in terra cotta pots.  Local men climb these rather smaller trees which are cut in sections for their easy access.  One man who's been at the tapping for years had slipped and fallen the tree's height, doing serious enough damage to his arm.

Such things happen even at the dham.

A young boy from our community was walking just outside our Mayapur retreat when a man on a motor-bike hit him.  It was another one of those injurious accidents that could have been avoided.  Such mishaps do occur.

Also, every year it is announced that everyone be cautious about bathing in the Ganges because almost every year some pilgrims whose intent is to cleanse in her holy waters, actually get swept away by her current, never to be seen again.  

Why I bring up these unfortunate incidents is because we are all living in the mundane world where bad luck is likely to occur, regardless of how strong your devotion is.  In fact, such testing times are ideal opportunities for faith to expand and grow.  The world is full of calamities.  These can be favourable in the execution of spiritual life, provided you take advantage of the wholesome attitude that goes along with it

May the Source be with you!

7 KM

Thursday, February 27th, 2014

Mayapur, India

I Was Dozing

I was dozing during a meeting.  It’s not that the topic was boring, in fact, it was a discussion group that went up to the front of our conference room to address the milk controversy – ahimsa milk, which is milk from a non violent source, versus store bought milk.  The topic should be interesting.

Physically, psychologically, I struggle with long sit down sessions.  I need to move.  I get antsy.  One of my monastic brothers came to save me from the embarrassment of being noticed in my drowsiness.

Lokanath Swami needed someone to join him in a ceremony honouring an anniversary of 25 years of padayatra pilgrimage throughout India involving bullock cart, deities, and people on foot.  He got the permission, green light, for me to have an hour leave of absence granted by the conveners of the meeting.  It’s nice to know that the cause of kirtan (chanting) in procession with pilgrims is so much supported by the powers that be.  Once I descended down the stairs, I got my feet to the ground and to the starting point of a chanting session.  Traffic was halted, some of which were buses, cars, scooters, and even tractors.  Finally, our procession moved on and traffic was freed up.  It was a one kilometre long procession, and it was given priority.  I took the lead on singing while eager young men danced and pranced to the sound of mantra.   It was a resounding sound.  Sound speakers were plenty.  Drums, mridangas and djembes, were in full force.  Karatalas (hand cymbals) were clanging in full volume.

I was awake, very much so.  I took a dose of the ultimate panacea, chanting and walking, and it did the trick once again.  The dose got me out of the doze. 

May the Source be with you!

5 KM

Wednesday, February 26th, 2014

Mayapur, India

Bizarre Dream

One of my female students came up to me and said, “Guru Maharaja, I had a strange dream last night.  It was about you and I was in it.”

“What did you dream?” 

“Well, in the dream, you asked me to be a sacrifice for a dragon, so I was offered to the fiery mouth of the beast.”

I was humoured by this ethereal scenario, and I guess, touched by the fact that she, the dreamer, would be so candid to tell me about this.  She did not ask for an interpretation of the dream or an inner meaning, yet I decided I would offer some comment. 

We both agreed it was rather a silly conjuration.  First of all, I had expressed that we are of the passive kind.  I would in real life never suggest the gesture of human sacrifice.  And entering into the flames of a dragon’s mouth?  That would be out of the question.  As devotional people, we offer ourselves into the fire of devotional service. 

In general, you can’t take dreams too seriously as they are merely a conglomerate of impressions that may not normally be related to one another.  Life is but a dream, and I would say most emphatically, “The only reality is service.”  I can say what isn’t reality, and that is the world in which we live.  This world is dream like, but we mistake it for truth. 

When I became a monk back in the spring of ’73, I cut myself off from gross sense gratification.  I made a commitment, I’ll not go back to that illusion.  I will confess to some day dreaming at times, and those dreams can be outrageously nonsensical.  So I reiterate, “Reality lies in service to others.”  And this is when our hearts are the softest, when our brain is sharpest, and mind is cleanest. 

The big reality for me today was service to Krishna in the form of uttering his name on that quiet trail running along the Jalungi River.  It was absolutely relishable. 

May the Source be with you!

6 KM