May 17
I had a pretty good night. I woke up only once and didn’t get a headache. I got up at 2:30 A.M. and began chanting at 3:00 A.M. with a clear head.
Early-morning japa log
Japa went pretty well. I wasn’t drowsy but alert. I kept a good speed—six minutes a round. My mind stayed fixed on the syllables of the holy name. I’ve been in a slump lately, so I didn’t pull out all the way to thoughts of Radha and Krishna, but I did have a feeling for the japa beyond mere accumulation of rounds. Auspicious.
- Japa essay
It’s such a good thing when you chant your japa decently. It brightens your day. You feel hope for the ultimate goal. After all, chanting is the prime necessity, the easiest way to achieve love of God. In fact, it’s the only way in Kali Yuga. I was happy this morning to do a decent job. Now I’ll go on to chant another eight rounds at the parking lot. I hope I don’t fall asleep. Keep your determination, your prayers. Keep clicking away at a rapid pace, and stay alert. Chanting may not seem like a big celebration, like eating pizza or having a festival, in its quiet way, it is actually the happiest time. The greatest self-satisfaction, you feel at peace.
- Japa japa japa,
- The repeating mantras roll.
- When you’re awake, you’re happy,
- your heart feels warm with joy.
- Japa japa japa,
- repetition without boredom
- the repetition of the heartbeat
- without which you will die.
- Japa japa japa,
- may I chant until my last breath.
- Japa japa japa,
- you put me to rest
- but never resting, always more,
- moving on to another life with
- japa japa japa.
6:28 A.M.
There are three of us in the car. Narayana-kavaca and I are chanting and Baladeva is snoring in the back of the car. We just went out for a walk but were besieged by a plague of little biting bugs. This is the first time they have appeared. Bala says if we go out for our walk later, when there’s a breeze, the bugs will be gone, but I wanted to avoid Baladeva’s snoring. It is good to have Narayana here. Today he will be cramming caretaking lessons from Baladeva, who leaves tomorrow.
The sky is overcast with just a little lining of sunlight high in the clouds.
Yesterday I read a book by the poet Stanley Kunitz that Haridasa sent me. It contains poems and essays about his lifelong dedication to keeping gardens. He was a hundred years old. In his essays, he compared gardens to poems and wrote about the beauty of words and poems. He wrote free verse. He said the job of making a poem is cutting away the extra words and yet retaining the essence. I was excited about his insight about words and his love for them. It encourages me to try to write as he says in my prose poems. It was also encouraging in demonstrating how contemporary writing can be used in Krishna consciousness. The English translations of the Six Goswamis’ poetry touches the heart and soul. But I don’t think we can imitate those translations nowadays. We need new forms for new times. Our contemporaries would like to hear Krishna consciousness expressed in the actual voices we use nowadays, but with the spiritual heart intact.
I am looking forward to discussing poetry with Narayana-kavaca and discussing his poems. I’m also gaining confidence in my prose poems through the responses I have been getting.
It’s still too early to go back to the house at our normal time. We have to choose between waking Baladeva or tolerating the loud snoring. I think I will let him sleep more. He was up most of the night making phone calls and talking and preparing for his trip. So we will go back early.
“Guess I’ll Hang My Tears Out to Dry.” This has a sentimental title, unless you’re willing to go with it. The man or woman is sad because they have lost their lover. Of course, there are other reasons to cry also. Sometimes one cries hot tears joy. Cold tears are tears of pain and sorrow. This is a ballad played by the Keith Jarrett Trio. They’re playing it very softly and in a sorrowful mood, or “hanging the tears out to dry.” You can’t just cry forever. You have to let it calm down eventually, return to some normalcy. But the gopis couldn’t stop crying. Neither could Mother Yasoda. She cried until she became blind. When Krishna left them, they were in such sorrow out of separation that they couldn’t “dry.”
What about ourselves? We rarely have tears. Sometimes we cry tears of self-pity or tears that we’re just sorry we’re not better devotees. That’s rare, and that’s good. Those tears dry eventually also. Tears are good. It’s good to cry for Krishna. The singer of this song is resigning himself or herself to the absence of reconciliation but just coming down to earth without their lover. Better that we “soak our couch with tears,” as Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura said. You can’t actually do it, but that should be the mood. Gaura Govinda Maharaja used to say that Krishna consciousness was a school for crying. Our heart should be crying for the Lord. Crying out, as in crying out in kirtana, is another way to cry. Cry like the child cries for its mother. That’s the recommended method for chanting Hare Krishna. So Krishna consciousness is not a staid thing. It’s a yoga of emotion. We want to reach Krishna and Radha, and for now, we can’t. Nothing to do about it but let the tears dry and hope they’ll come back again. Don’t resign yourself to just forgetting the whole thing and saying that you’re not capable of crying to Krishna and there’s no use entering that emotion. Some people fake crying just to get a reputation. We’re not talking about that. We’re not talking about crocodile tears. Tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears to Radha and Krishna. Jarrett plays it very softly and calmly, not with an hysterical kind of crying. He’s quietly sad, thinking he’d better let his tears just hang out and dry. This is a particular stage he’s in right now. He’s already been crying monsoon-like, uncontrollably, and now he’s saying, “Better to just let them dry.” He’s calmed down. But I advise you to never let them dry, to always hope you can cry, if not constantly, then from time to time, when the mood comes upon you in a particular kirtana, during a particular lecture, during a particular meeting, during a particular darsana. Let the tears come out again. And remember your heart’s desire, be it cold or hot.
“On Green Dolphin Street.” This is a well-known jazz piece I already wrote about. But here’s a new rendition by Keith Jarrett. It’s nifty. It’s elegant. It’s real jazz. It’s upbeat. They’re going to meet on Green Dolphin Street and go out to dinner. That’s one guess. Or it’s the place where there’s an apartment where friends used to live the best days of their life. They always remember. “The best years of my life were spent with you on Green Dolphin street.” That’s why it’s upbeat. Those were the best years. He used to bring her flowers, and she hugged him. In Krishna Loka, Green Dolphin Street is located in the kunja. Krishna sends messages to the gopis during breakfast time that tonight, the rendevous shall be at such-and-such kunja. Radha is ecstatic to receive the news and gets Herself ready, decorated by Her sakhis. On a full-moon night she wears white, and in a new-moon night She wears dark so She won’t be detected. Sometimes She’s left brokenhearted when Krishna doesn’t show up at “Green Dolphin Street.” But He does not just to increase Her maha-bhava. They have Their secret rendevous, and it’s a place of joy. It’s the greatest joy that ever was and ever will be. The place where They meet. That’s why he plays it so sweetly and upbeat. His fingers are nimble, even though he’s old. There’s no slowing down this musician. His hair is cut short and he grimaces with a kind of joy as he presses down on the keys, surrounded by his fellows. Wonderful how he can play so fast and melodic. He tinkles down a whole row of keys, and then comes back again. The gopis surround Krishna and Radha with similar music, played on all kinds of merry instruments. It gives Krishna pleasure. It’s not easy to give Krishna pleasure. You may think you’d like to, but that doesn’t mean you can. You have to have the adhikar, the qualification. You’re very fortunate if you can go to the rendevous and be allowed to take part and try to increase the pleasure of the Divine Couple. You can do it by serving Them delicious food, like sweet rice. And if it’s very hot, you can fan Them and suggest to Them which foods might be Their favorites. Do everything in your power to encourage Them to have fun. That’s the job of a gopi manjari and a sakhi, to meet in the kunja and help the Divine Couple until such time as They want to be alone. Then you come back again and assist Them some more.
Did you ever have a Green Dolphin Street? Was there ever a place in your life that you met someone and it was sweet? Was it the first temple you went to, 26 2nd. Ave., when you sang with the Swami with just a few boys? You’ll never forget that place. You assisted in the kirtana, and you actually cried tears. You asked Prabhupada if it was all righ to cry. He said yes. Sometimes we don’t do it in public, but it’s all right. Go ahead and cry for Krishna. So we remember that rendevous spot and hope to return to it or a new spot with all the essence of the original.
“Only the Lonely.” Only the lonely know what it’s like. They say that Frank Sinatra’s exclusive art was loneliness He sang. “Saturday night is the loneliest night of the week.” Lonely people have had lovers, and now they’ve lost them. They’re not confident they can get it again. Maybe it will never happen again. Loneliness is a sad state. All you’ve got is memories, burnt-out memories. There’s a popular song, “The way you wear your hat, the way you sip your tea, oh no, they can’t take that way from me.” There are some memories that they can’t take away even if you are lonely and without the person.
The residence of Vraja were lonely. Only they knew the viraha, separation from Krishna. Only they knew the core of loneliness because they loved Krishna so much. It’s a great mystery in Krishna consciousness how this loneliness is actually a great treasure to them, because when they weren’t with Krishna, they were actually with Him in a more intense way. As Lord Caitanya, He told His mother that He used to go and visit her every day and take lunch from her, and so she should be confident of it and not cry. But she was lonely without her Nimai. Krishna asked Sudama to wait for him and that he would come back to Vraja. Sudama stood there and waited and waited for many years, but Krishna never returned. His heart broke with loneliness. But it’s that viraha, a gem of joy within the lonely heart because he recalls, and in that way he’s actually present more intensely with his Beloved. Yet only the lonely feel such pain. They have no more times with their beloved. He’s gone. Life is not worth living. That’s how they feel. It’s hard to understand. You have to be a lover.
“A Night in Tunisia.” This is hard bop by Art Blakey. The composition is by Dizzy Gillespie. During the ten years when jazz musicians sold out—even Miles Davis—and went over to play Fusion, Art Blakey remained true to hard bop. His drums are like thunder. His groups were like school groups. I mean he would have one band, and then they would graduate and form their own bands. In the introduction to one piece, he said, “I’m playing with some of the greatest jazz musicians in America,” and he introduced them. They were all young men, like Horace Silver and Lee Morgan. He said, “I like to play with the young ones, and when these wear out, I’m going to get me a new set. It keeps the mind active.” The soloists are terrific. The saxophone is playing hard. Wayne Shorter. Then young Lee Morgan, who was later shot by his mistress at Slugs nightclub, playing brash and saucy. What is this mideastern Tunisia? It’s got an exotic mood to it. Jimmy Merritt plays the bass, low and rhythmic. Nothing fancy, keeping on the straight beat. More exotic. Art Blakey hits a stick behind him and keeps that pedal, always that pedal, that Art Blakey pedal, as consistent as a metronome. And then his thunder. He used to instruct others, “Don’t play the drum, hit the drum.”
Krishna had mad celebrations like this, too, deep in the forest of Vrndavana when His parents weren’t around. He’d play with the gopis, and sometimes they’d get intoxicated. The sakhis would play the rhythm of many mrdangas and whompers and karatalas, and Radha played Her exquisite stringed instrument, and they would dance like wild people, spinning around and around, more exotic than any mideastern city. The drums thunder together, many pairs of gopis’ hands on the left- and right-hand side of the mrdanga, making a suitable rhythmic storm for all the other gopis to dance for Krishna. Bobby Timmons plays piano. Lee Morgan finishes it out with a wonderful flourish, and everyone else stops and listens and is enchanted, like the Vrajavasis who hear Krishna’s flute. He carries it out, He improvises, He swirls it. All nonmoving living entities start to move, and the moving living entities stand still. The calves stop chewing the grass and stop drinking the milk from their mothers’ udders. Siva and Brahma, who are expert in music, become puzzled by this music, and they can’t understand it. Can you? Can you understand Krishna’s flute? If you can, you’re the most fortunate person in the world. If you can understand Krishna’s flute, you’re in more than heaven. You’re in Goloka, the epitome of existence. Just by hearing.
- My Dear Lord Krishna...
I’m sitting here thinking of what to write to You. I’ve written many prayers, and there has been repetition. The poet Stanley Kunitz states, “I wonder if those birds ever tire of their song? I wonder if they ever think, ‘Today, I’ll try a new song’?” The poet wonders, but I would guess his conclusion would be that the bird doesn’t think, “Today I will try a new song.” The birds are not humans. They are given their songs by God, and they are content to repeat it.
But I feel a pressure to write something new to You. Often, however, I think of the same things. I ask for Your mercy, I ask for You to make me strong. When I do think of something with a new angle, it always pleases me. But I wonder if it is a stylistic change of the same message?
Is it wrong to say the same thing to You every day? The Jesus Prayer repeats the same words: “My dear Lord Jesus, please have mercy on me, a sinner.” And the Hare Krishna mantra is pure repetition, at least externally. I don’t think it’s wrong to write the same thing—my dear Radha, my dear Krishna, please let me serve You—provided the feeling is sincere and newly offered with each breath. If we repeat a prayer mechanically without thinking, then that is not a real prayer. But calling again and again, like a man trapped in a well calling for help, is not monotonous.
We are creative beings, and for the pleasure of ourselves and for the pleasure and entertainment of others, we like to create new expressions. Srila Rupa Goswami wrote Vidaghda-madhava, a beautiful drama, but then Krishna told him that he should write another (Lalita-madhava). Krishna promised that it would come out wonderfully. Variety is the mother of enjoyment. Therefore, varied prayers to You also please You, and simple repetitious prayer may also please You when it is done from the heart.
My writings to You are not highly varied, and I fear a repetitious cry may not come from a deep enough place in my soul. But I do desire to write to You regularly. What can I do? How can I please You? I know my writing must be accompanied by action in Your service, and that is one way to solve my dilemma. I can remember the many orders You have given and try to carry them out. Then I can write how I fared in my attempt. I can write a kind of diary to You, telling You of my adventures in Your service.
I can also vary my writing by telling varoius pastimes I have read in books like Srimad-Bhagavatam. In the end, however, I think it is not novel and new ways of experience that You want me to make but honesty and consistency and devotion. Let me be like the forest wood thrush who repeats his beautiful notes to You with hearty enthusiasm. Let me not ever grow silent out of tiredness or lack of desire. “Jaya Radhe! Jaya Krishna! Jaya Srila Prabhupada!” Let these cries sincerely come from me regularly with appreciation and ardor for Your qualities.
Have I made myself clear? And is it all right to with to be a creative poet/writer and scholar, to praise You with new forms of writing? The topics about You are so numerous that the thousand-headed Ananta Sesa could not complete them even if he tried to do so for thousands of years with his thousands of mouths. So I cannot complain of a shortage of subjects. My complaint is dullness and lack of intelligence. But in the absence of my being able to write many wonderful new odes to You or to tell of my many endeavors to reach You, I pray that You give me the sincerity to repeat my desire to serve You in this world and the next. The Hare Krishna mantra wil be sufficient. A simple cry—Oh Radha, oh Krishna, please let me serve You.”
the yellow submarine, my bhajana kutir #74→
By Ila devi dasi
Gauranga prabhu idén februártól elkezdett blogolni. Ennek apropója az indiai jóga-tábor volt. Rendszeresen szokott írni benne. Róla annyit lehet tudni, hogy a Krisna-tudatot 1990 óta gyakorolja és Sivarama Maharaja egyik komoly tanítványa. Nagyon tanult bhakta. Írt már könyvet a védikus asztrológiáról, a vaszturól, de emellett a vaisnava etikettről is, de tudok a Prema Bhakti Candrikáról készült jegyzeteiről is. Emellett rendszeresen szoktott áldozati szertartásokat (yajna vagy ezt írhatom jagjának is) is tartani mind esküvőknél, mind avatásoknál. 
Emellett az 
A felesége Manini mataji, aki az egyik legjobb szakács Magyarországon (különösen szeretem a cheese-cake-jét 
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