March 20, 3:15 A.M.
- Early-morning japa log
My evening was peaceful. I don’t remember my dreams nowadays. They don’t seem to be an important part of my life, so bizarre and quick-fading. I don’t attempt to capture them by writing them down or tape recording them. I’m serious about my spiritual life, and they don’t seem to be much connected to it. I prefer a dreamless, restful sleep.
Today I got up at 3:15. My head was clear. I like the idea of being vigilant to catch myself so I don’t wake depressed or thinking that my life isn’t going in the right direction. I hold a kind of “energy shield” at a distance from my body to keep the bad thoughts from coming in. Keep steady and assure yourself you’re doing all right. In the shower, I was a little distressed that I was up late and wasn’t going to start my rounds early. The part of the Bhagavad-gita recitation that caught my attention was the statement that the transcendentalist lives within and is peaceful within himself. He doesn’t have to go out and have contact with the senses for pleasure because he’s happy within. Prabhupada also wrote that Krishna consciousness is the greatest welfare for humanity, because everyone is suffering from loss of remembrance of Krishna as the best friend, the greatest protector and the object of all sacrifice. My response to both of those statements was that they should apply to me. I should live within, but I should also help in the preaching mission.
I began chanting at 4:00 A.M. I chanted at a low whisper, wide awake. I finished eight rounds by 5:05 A.M.
Monk’s Temptation
- Moving quickly a jazz band
- emulates the circus clown
- trombone, but the others
- are busy with their
- varied work.
- The trombone is a hard bone,
- a ripping tone with blasts
- of air out the horn he
- keeps his time with melody too,
- a clown nevertheless.
- Their head is a jump tuner.
- Ernest Dawkins squawks on
- alto sax reminiscent of Ornette
- Coleman, zig-zag his fingers
- work up and down the keys.
- He cries like a seagull. He
- chops short lines and moves
- jerkily, you like it
- very comfortable jivey stuff.
- He blows his head off,
- goes up high and goes
- back and forth. Meanwhile
- his drummer is kicking him on.
- Yes, that’s Ernest Dawkins
- with his men in their music theme.
- We’ve got a smooth guitar, pressing
- the notes electric, he wears a
- “Charlie Parker” T-shirt, a young kid
- who really knows his way through the
- frets, picking then grabbing a handful
- of chords and dragging them down the
- neck of the electric guitar.
- The head again, joshing...
- this trumpeter is really a joker
- out for amusement, whip-whip
- he neighs like a horse, talks like a
- man, trebles-shouts and growls.
- Finish with the head smoothly
- as a group, you’ve been taken
- on a ride.
We Could Make Beautiful Music Together
- Romance tenor and alto
- two veterans of jazz
- Griffin and Woods
- mixing together in
- somnolent bond.
- Two people say they could
- make love together, take it as
- music. Johnny Griffin is
- gentle macho, slower than
- Woods, gruff, kind man.
- Woods more excitable climbing
- up the range.
- Griffin is bear hugs and a
- piano bridges the tune with
- polite melodies held up by
- a rhythm section of bass and drums.
- The bassist takes a solo and keeps rhythmic
- but with a tune from
- his own strong fingers.
- Then they trade fours with the drummer.
- a little Woods, and then the drummer,
- a little Griffin, and then the drummer.
- This is the neatest stuff
- a kind of loving contest
- between the horns.
- The main tune closes out
- with more heady romance
- how we two could make
- beautiful music together
- which they just did.
8:43 A.M.
The poems need no defense; at least I’m not going to defend them. We’d just as soon need to defend the seagulls, the beach and the ocean. Say they’re not Krishna consciousness.
I don’t need to defend my aloneness. Bhagavad-gita recommends it, and so does the Tao. I’m preaching through the journal. A flurry of guests is coming to see me at the house.
I can’t defend my headaches. They come of their own accord and seem like they’re here to stay. But I don’t complain.
You can’t defend the failures of ISKCON, its breaking into schisms. Prabhupada told me, “There are no schisms. Just insincerity.”
I don’t defend my artwork. I put it forward as childish simplicity.
I don’t defend my lack of travel. I claim I can get as much done staying in one place.
I don’t defend my writing. This is how I do it, and you can take it or leave it.
I can’t defend against death; I pray to accept it.
I can’t defend an ISKCON temple by staying there and living in the asrama because I need a bhajana kutir.
I can defend against depression and constant uncertainty. Take your stand and live for it.
10:19 A.M.
Free writing is putting down whatever comes without thinking about it. I went downstairs to get Baladeva and ask him to take me shopping. But he was lying on his back under his cover, fast asleep. I stayed and watched him for five minutes, thinking he might wake up. He twitched his arms, straightened his legs, but did not wake. So I left him alone. I wanted to write something. I drew a picture of a man and a cow. I began this free write. You can make it religious by quoting from the scriptures. There is the song chanted by Lord Siva to the Pracetas. I read it months ago but don’t remember any of it now. We’re reading in Bhajana-rahasya about Radha dasya. I will start reading from another section in Prabhupada’s books, maybe continue The Nectar of Devotion. It is good to regularly be reading something from Prabhupada’s books. The Major League baseball season starts in a few weeks, but I probably won’t be watching much of it because I go to bed at 8:00 P.M. now. Chanting from 5:00 P.M. to 6:30 P.M. is important, but I’ve fallen off from doing it fulltime since we’ve started the relaxation meditation. I’ll have to adjust that schedule. Fill your day with as much Krishna consciousness as you can.
11:45 A.M.
- My dear Lord Krishna...
I am writing to You in the late morning. You are locked up in all the scriptures. Devotees who know the sastras have unlocked the books. They are familiar with Your pastimes and teachings. They can see You in their mind’s eye and they relish hearing about you anew. I like the examples given in The Nectar of Devotion. An example of ecstasy by perspiration was present when Garuda, situated above the clouds, saw Indra throwing torrential rains upon the residents of Vrndavana. Garuda became so angry that he began to perspire. A gopi addressed Radharani thus: “My dear Radharani, You are rebuking the sunshine unnecessarily, but I can understand that You are perspiring only because of Your becoming too lusty at seeing Krishna” (NOD, p. 225). That is an example of perspiration caused by jubilation. The Nectar of Devotion is chockful of such nectarean examples.
My Lord, You perform so many pastimes that Ananta Sesa could not recite them with His thousands of hoods if He tried for millions of years. I want to hear those pastimes and one day live in them. Is it possible? I would have to show such greed that You would allow me. I would have to qualify by showing compassion for other living beings and try to bring them to You. Thus I have to partake in the sankirtana mission.
You want me to preach on Your behalf. Helping fellow souls by reviving their Krishna consciousness is the most potent welfare activity that a person can do in this universe. It pleases You to see devotees attempt it, and You bring them to You. Let me not cast my eyes down in shame before You but look in Your eyes and cry that I have tried to bring people to Krishna consciousness.
I ask You to take up this work again. Let me be part of the ongoing devotional service movement that will never stop. I cannot act in a helpful spirit unless You give me the power to do it. I can ask for Your mercy, but I must really be sincere. I must not ask for it and yet never act, claiming, “I guess I wasn’t a devotee.” We must work for it together. As the commercial for Home Depot says, “You can do it. We can help.” You can help if I come forward.
Please give me daring, please give me faith. Make me Your bhakta. I don’t want to fail. See some good in me and push me to the sticking point. These words are strong, and my will is not really up to it. But I must speak boldly, despite my timid nature. It is not hypocritical. It is begging. Even a beggar can be rewarded and become something he is not. Do I dare to speak the words I long for? “Please make this Satsvarupa dasa a strong devotee.”
read more sdgonline.org: the yellow submarine, my bhajana kutir #16 →
