Letter to Sri Hari Nama Prabhu, November 2011

My dear Sri Hari Nama Prabhu,

I am writing to you now, because today was just one of those days where I looked back at the last few weeks of my life. I looked especially at my chanting. And I am honestly feeling that I am not putting so much effort into it. I complete my rounds every day and some times I chant extra rounds, but I am not very good at pulling my mind back to You when it wanders off. That is what I call lazy chanting. Chanting just for the sake of getting my rounds done. Not with attachment or love for You. And this makes me quite sad, because basically this shows that I am not really a devotee, I’m just a pretender. And I really want to be a devotee. I have come to a point in my life where I have nothing else. I have no big material aspirations. There are some, but they are only on the edges, not really situated in the core of me.

A problem I have is indeed with lazyness. To keep a continuous schedule. Like Srila Prabhupada, who would always be so steady. When will the time come, when  I will inherit just a fraction of this potency? That vast ocean which is Your mercy, seems to be so far away, like a mirage in the desert. At least I believe That You are real, in contrast with the mirage. Still You are beyond my grasp. My chanting is too poor.

Please find some way to bring me to You. I long for this, because I believe it to be the best thing in the world for me. All the Acharyas agree that there is nothing else in all the tree worlds. So why should I strive for anything else, but your mercy? Please let me understand the importance of You. Please let me surrender. Please grant me access to just a tiny spark of Your splendor. I really need some inspiration.

My greatest wish is to become a really fixed up devotee, who would preach Your glories and give You freely to others without discrimination. Is this too much to askfor someone like me? If so, please excuse  me, but I don’t know anything valuable, so I must just try.

Your aspiring bhakta,

Yudhisthira dasa

Then and now, December of 2011

Alas,

I desired to come to

The material world.

Question:

“Would I have chosen differently

Now?”

With all my heart:

“YES!”

But,

I can observe

My current position

And disposition,

And I realize that

That this may not be

The immediate fact

Of the matter.

Truthfully,

I cannot proclaim

The abovementioned

Initial, heartfelt

Reply.

Because,

If my immediate answer was to be

Yes,

Then I would already

Be back home,

With Krishna.

The fact that my consciousness remains

Attached to this material world,

Is itself proof of the real answer:

“I would still have come.. “

And

This is why

I do not break my back on the streets

With books;

This is why

I have no control over my habits of

Sleeping and eating;

This is why

My mind is restless,

My heart is morose,

My senses are agitated.

However,

On the bright side,

That is what this world is made for.

To realize this fact.

To turn “I will come”

Into “I am done”.

This is the blessing

Of the process given

By our ever well wishers.

So,

Embrace this process,

Utilize this place.

This chance of the human birth.

Gradually,

Alright,

But with the heart,

With the faith that

                This is it!

                Now just keep it up,

                Through thick and thin.

                Arise after falling,

Bruised knees will heal

With time.

Take it on,

More and more,

And all blessings will come.

All blessings

Will come.

Letter to Gaura Nitai, 1st. of December, 2011

My dear Gaura Nitai,

This is a written attempt at approaching you in a prayerful mood. But I am hesitant, because I feel so very unqualified. Today was the first day of the annual Prabhupada Marathon. I had an errand in town for my wife, so wanting to somehow take part I also packed a few books in my bag as  I went out. I had some idea in my mind, that if I had the books with me, I would become inspired and spend at least maybe an hour or so on the streets, approaching people. Now You see, here is a problem. I find it very difficult to approach people. I don’t  know if it is shyness or just a degraded mentality, but honestly I find it almost impossible. As I walked back from my errand, the main walking street was packed with busy Christmas shoppers. My initial observation was that this place must be ideal for sankirtan. However, unfortunately, I just kept walking toward my buss stop leaving the battlefield behind. And immediately I felt ashamed of my cowardice. I though that by holding back in this way, I will never attain the lotus feet of Your devotees, a reward You supposedly keep to give only to those surrendered souls, persons willing to take on a responsibility  for Your mission, willing to take a chance on Your mercy. I could understand that I am no such person. Being selfish and attached to egocentricities of body and situations, I am a disgrace to take on the outward dress of a devotee.

This may be so. Only You, my dear Lords, know the truth. And by Your kindness You may transfer this knowledge to Your devotees.

By Your grace, I happened to find a small piece of treasure this evening, a small spark of Your mercy. I had taken my meal and spent some time just spacing out really. A devotee had posted on Facebook how she entertained many of my similar feelings of difficulty towards book distribution, but how she through the medium of sincerely praying to Your Lordships, had found unexpected inspiration and opportunities for book distribution, manifested solely by Your grace, she confessed. I found this statement very inspiring. In fact, I though I could catch a fleeting glimpse of a tiny ray of courage on the horizon of my stone like heart. But the moment passed. Still, I have faith in the shastric descriptions of Your miracles. I have faith in the stories recounted by Your devotees. I must, for there is nothing else, no other railing on this sinking ship of the material world, for me. This shred of faith is my sole refuge.

Therefore, my dear Lords, I am writing these words, hoping beyond hope, that You may find my request agreeable with Your plans. Please help me.

I am always awaiting Your mercy.

Your aspiring servant of Your servant's servant,

Yudhisthira dasa

Vengeful stab at false ego's heart

Marathon time.

”You can feel it”,

A devotee said today.

“Lord Chaitanya is here.”

And so it begins..

For me

This means digging deep.

My mind has been storing

Excuses

Since spring

Or so it feels like.

(No, honestly

It has!)

Fermenting them,

In this way brewing some of the year’s

Most potent

Aversions.

“Going out with books?

Eww..

What a senseless piece of

Self-fladgulating

Waste of time?!”

Of course,

This static grating of the mind

Is pure

Nonsense.

All bogus.

Marathon time is

Nectar time!

Srila Prabhupada inaugurated it,

And to partake is seen as

A serious

Annual

Recommitment

To his cause,

Param vijayate

Sri Krishna sankirtanam!

Of course,

I don’t get so worked up

With the whole

Competitive spirit.

I’m not in shape for

Any medals,

I don’t aim for

The podium.

The stadium is for

The celebrated athletes,

Who work hard throughout

The whole year,

Who stay in shape.

I’m like the bloke

Watching footie on the tellie,

Comfortably seated at home,

Coaching from the couch.

However,

I do have my own ball.

(No, honestly,

I do!)

And

I take it out sometimes,

At least

Now and then,

I must,

So when I cheer

For my team,

From a stadium folding chair,

(not front row, in the back)

Mustering all my

Artificial

Affiliation,

Wearing the colors,

(but lacking the heart),

People will think

“Ah, he knows this game.

AND he is  humble!”

Lonely planet, 16.11.2011

Omg,

The mind is so

Uncultured!

It goes on and on.

Like a taxi driver

In a country

Where you so clearly

Are a tourist.

He wants to show you the sites,

Take you places only he knows.

He has a friend on every corner

Who can supply

Your every need.

Although seemingly

Friendly,

The meter is ticking in the background

The whole way.

And although seemingly

Locally streetwise,

He does every possible detour,

Purposely,

All the time saying:

“It’s ok, my friend.

This way is faster.”

“Nono,

You cannot go there

This time of year,

I know someone.”

Give me a break!

Hit the breaks!

I want off!

I am seeing through

Your schemes,

Your hustling,

Your routine.

I want off

And out.

But it is not so easy.

For now,

You two are as one.

Stuck in the

Awkward taxi

Of a material body

You must live with the mind.

Engage him rather in

Errands of the soul.

Tip him if you must.

Crawl out from the back

And sit in front.

Give directions.

Acquire a map

To keep your heading.

The Bhagavad Gita, as it is,

Comes recommended

By experienced travelers.

And if you find yourself

In a predicament,

Arrange a

Rendezvous

With such persons!

Then there is that Hare Krishna

Mahamantra,

Which is said to

Cleanse the sliding mirrors

Of all similar

Traffic bound vehicles,

Which you may find yourself

Occupying,

From time to time.

In this way

Your see things more clearly.

U get perspective.

Bon voyage.

Voices, dogs and inhospitable habitats

But it all feels so real!

The tastes,

The sights,

That yearning,

Burning on the inside.

The voices

Speak,

Sort of like

 A spoken interaction

With the world around me,

Unheared and breathless,

Yet ceaselessly,

Constantly

Commenting, evaluating,

Deciding, guessing and

Stimulating

Anticipated action.

Some voices are more

Aggressive

Then others,

Some more subtle.

Then there is

“The ogre”,

Always harassing,

Always insisting

That he is owed something,

Like an eternal

Self-sustaining debt.

Sometimes patting the back,

As if suspiciously friendly,

Other times belching curses,

Demanding with threats.

In all honesty,

I feed this dog.

Yes,

I do.

I throw him a bone.

Even at times

When he comes crawling home

After a fight, defeated,

Practically on the verge of death,

I go to the lengths of

CPR, or even

Administering any kind of

Life prolonging medicine

At my disposal.

(Even sometimes

Silently

Praying for his recovery… )

God,

How pathetic!

The dog to emerge victorious

Is the dog that is fed the most.

It is a simple fact.

Common sense, really.

Why then seek out to explore

Those foggy landscapes

Of the mind and senses?

The damp mist of speculation

And contemplation of sense objects.

The ogrelike dog

Broken away from his leash,

Has you stumbling around, chasing him,

In this marchland habitat.

Waving arms in front,

You trip over every root

As he taunts you with barking

In the distance.

Here there is every chance

Of again falling into

That material pool,

Reeking of decay.

Feed the good dog.

He is ever faithful

To the master.

Like a blind dog

Trained to be that

Trusty, dependable companion,

He will not lead u astray.

He stays on his leash,

He can sniff out the path

Leading out.

Out of the fog.

Passed the pools.

But he must be fed

To survive.

And what is his favorite treat?

                Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna,

                Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare,

                Hare Rama, Hare Rama,

                Rama Rama, Hare Hare.

Note to mind, 21.10.2011

Death is

For certain.

This world,

Our beloved so called

Blue Planet,

The home of our ancestors,

Our family,

Those near and dear ones,

The place of our current existence,

Those places where we go

To recover,

To gather strength,

That place where you first felt loved,

Where we first held hands,

The soothing woods,

The pure lakes,

These places,

The universe,

This world

Has a hundred percent

Kill rate.

No one survives,

No one makes it out alive.

Never forget this.

And please remember,

Do not trust their words.

Do not become depressed.

Science claims lordship

Over true knowledge,

Defining and

Analyzing

With their instruments,

With their brains.

They have the arguments,

Of this there is no doubt.

Their number is great.

Their grip

Around the hearts of

The silent, wayward  people

Is very strong.

Do not trust their words.

Do not become depressed.

Take to heart.

Take to heart

And surrender to saints,

To prophets,

To the holy scriptures,

To the Kingdom

Beyond their grasp,

Beyond our petty sight.

That Kingdom of the pure heart,

The Kingdom

Of unlimited insight.

That Kingdom beyond

Death,

Ruled by a benevolent King,

A King who truly cares

For the destination

Of you

And all your loved ones and even

Strangers in the streets.

Take to heart,

Have faith.

My life's comedy, 19.10.2011

”Kama esa, kroda esa.”

These words of Lord Krishna

Resound in my mind.       

I was

Working on my bicycle.

Although it is already

Mid October

I still see

Ample opportunity

For biking around.

Leaf trees are now bare.

Rising in the morning,

Several times

I have found temperatures

Below zero.

But with my

Norwegian conditioning and

Viking heritage,

I find this climate stimulating.

Nature calls,

As a distant echo

In my heart.

However,

Today

I get a taste of

That other side,

That home of Gremlings,

Moldy corner

Of a dark cave,

Where no pure light

Shines.

I am changing tires

And it’s not working.                                                         

I am adjusting the break

And it’s not working.

In the beginning

I am only building up

Some small frustration.

I sigh, and speak to my mind:

“Oh, so you are making some trouble today?

I am not surprised.”

But it evolves,

Taking on other,

More condensed forms.

I speak again, voice deeper,

In anger:

“Why do you thwart my efforts so?

What is the lesson to be learned here?”

No reply.

An so it comes to that,

O’ so infamous point

Of no return.

The breaking point

Of all righteous,

Common sense.

I glare at the bike,

Mind reeling,

All I see is destruction.

Hate!

I hate the bike!

The tools!

My incompetentness!

The pure enjoyment of nature

Evaporates,

And in its place

Arises

Fury!

And so all practical skills

Become handicapped.

No progress is made.

Only speculations

On depressing possibilities,

Out of reach.

Blood boiling,

Crying dry tears of frustration,

I pace the cellar floor,

Seeing only

My lonely, brittle form

In the darkness…

After some time,

Graced by some invisible

Good fortune,

I again speak to my mind,

But it is not my regular voice.

It is as if I speak

From a far corner,

Softly, but

With firmness.

Words looking me in the eyes

With compassion,

Not judgement:

“This path leads to nothingness.

No gain. Why endeavor, why invest

In profitless currency?

Why indulge in insanity?”

As water poured on fire,

My mind hisses,

Curling up

As if to counter attack,

Only to remain

It that springboard position, making comments like:

“Well, so you may say..”, or

“Pff, so you think you are so smart?”

However,

Gradually,

As the seething hiss subsides,

And that enveloping, choking smoke

Thins,

I again look down on my bike,

The scattered tools,

The concrete cellar floor.

I get this feeling of

Arriving home from abroad

Seeing old things anew.

"It is lust only, Arjuna.."

I sow the seeds every day

In the garden of my daily routines.

These sprouts and creepers

Do not grow

Without

Cultivation.

Diligence is required.

Diligence and a surrender

To the understanding

For the need of diligence

In devotional life.

In the service

Of Guru and Krishna.

It is not a cheap thing...