Befriending the mind, part 2 (25.4.16).

“Entering the

metro:

The bright lights

of the car

burns

at the fabric of

crouching nights

veil,

slanted eyes.”

A sparse

crowd

huddled before

phones,

ears plugged

with mundane

vibrations, or

games.

I become shy,

even before this

oblivious

gathering of

covered souls.

Ignore

mental conditions,

just write

for the pleasure of

guru and Gauranga!

This, then,

are my crow's signs,

recorded secluded

in the grove of

a backpack's shade.

There is a topic

on my mind,

and has been,

lately.

How to reinvest in

devotional service?

I feel that

in many ways

this is the essence.

This is the

positive mood

of the devotees.

To grasp the

moment,

and take a chance

on mercy,

and contribute something from the heart into the assocoation of the assembled Vaishnavas; to make them feel at home; to relieve them in times of distress or burden; to voulanteer, in service, an effort to help facilitate for the ongoing sankirtan mission of

chanting,

speaking,

and more than

anything,

living

the lifestyle of

inspiring others in

commitment on behalf

of Srila Prabhupada.

He has empowered

any sincere follower

to become

a spiritual master,

and lead fellow souls

to the lotus feet

of Sri Krishna.

This investement

then,

is worth considering,

is worth engagment

of energy and

soft consideration.

Challanges?

Are you kidding?!

Take a look at

the situation of

material life.

To fight the

right cause

you need courage,

and a benevolent

support structure,

the Vaishnavas.

I am again

reminded:

“Do not

take for granted

their association.

Lessons are to

be learned

in sadhu's sanga.”

It is a fact

of life.

The destiny of

any given person

is known by

Lord Gauranga alone,

with His associates.

This truth,

for sure,

commands

an emense power

of rock solid

welcoming

honesty.

That thing,

known as

love,

is a truely

rare gift,

in the specturm

of time,

and to pass up

such an opertunity

is certainly

bedazzingly foolish,

if not

heart rendering cruelty,

against Persons of

mind blowing

generousity.

Observing the natural scenery of a place of childhood past times.

I have come

here,

the summer house,

a property

of some pride,

an heirloom

from my fathers side,

to do some

practical errands.

By the grace

of my dear aunt,

the property's proprietor,

some devotees

have been staying

here

to attend

a handful of programs

in the local

village.

Now,

come Sunday evening,

I am here

to lock up the house,

to see that

the place

is once again

presentable

to my dear aunt.

(She is particular

about these things.)

After climbing

a rocky pathway

a few times

to load the car,

I take the time

to relish a

moment,

taking in the

beauty of the

natural scenery.

It

is

spectacular.

I must have

spent

at least

twenty summers here.

Now I rarely

visit,

being preoccupied

with the activities of

family life.

The late

autumn evening

envelops all

in darkness.

Some crickets

play

in the dew moistened

grass,

a small creek

gurgles

in solitude.

I am standing

on the veranda,

dark though

it may be,

the familiarity

of this place

enables me

to discern

details.

Fruit trees.

The vast fjord,

surprisingly calm,

as if itself

relishes

the last leg

of warm season's

end.

Scattered islands,

where seagulls

nest.

The marina

in the distance,

a few boats only

at this time,

belonging either

to sturdy enthusiasts,

or lazy peons.

At the end of the pier,

a lone

docking light

shines brightly,

extending

a cubic aura

of pale light

over the water.

I feel sometimes

like that

lonely light;

a soul,

wayward and restless,

desperate to

regain my

composure and

inherent

nature of

devotion to Krishna;

trying to light up

the darkness.

The crickets,

grossly embodied,

may be more

unconscious of

their true nature,

busy with

the urges of

body and instinct.

By the mercy

of Srila Prabhupada

I have a small role

in the sankirtan mission

of Lord Caitanya.

This will be

my saving

grace.

There are

a thousand

excuses

and difficulties

on this path,

yet in

essence,

the philosophy and

practice

is so clear,

that despite

a mental disposition

and many a

material condition,

I persevere

and

continue,

again and

again realizing

the urgent need

for this

wonderful and

very profound

movement,

this ISKCON.

As I walk

back to the car

in the dark,

I pray

to remain

always

in the association

of the devotees,

and to be made

able

to reach out,

if in only a

simple and kindhearted way,

to other

wayward souls,

so that many more

might be given

the opportunity

to go home

back to Godhead.

This is the kind

gift of

the Pancha Tattva,

empowering all small lights

to shine and guide

in the darkness of

this world.

The hermit and his cave

I am a hermit

living in the cave

of my own

mind.

Such a secluded

existence

has it's

advantages.

You become quite

articulate

from listening

all day long

to that voice,

always speaking,

speculating,

contemplating.

However,

it is a lonely

reality.

Why?

Because Krishna

is not

manifest

there.

Why would He

go there?

There is no room

for Him.

I take up too much

space

in my narrow mindedness.

I need to

get out more.

Harinama is

nice.

The cave lights up,

and there are

people, devotees.

From the platform

of engagement

for the spreading of

the holy names of

Krishna,

any dwelling can

be utilized.

Kings can embrace

the peoples

of this world.

Sadhus can

change the hearts

of the wayward.

A hermit

can leave his

cave

and venture into

the villages of

simple folk,

and maybe,

by interacting

with a few souls,

by sharing something,

a longing for Krishna,

his life may be granted

value,

purpose.

And although

the world outside

the cave

is a strange one,

in which a hermit

may feel misplaced,

much because of his

awkward appearance,

speaking in riddles, or

broken sentences,

having spent all those years

in that remote cave,

his heart always dwelling

on the secluded comfort

of the rocky floor

and the moldy walls,

he can even dare

to go beyond,

and leave the cave behind

altogether.

This prospect,

to die and part,

far, far away

from the solace

of the cave,

certainly seems

truly unnatural

for a hermit,

but if it pleases

Krishna and

the spiritual master,

this hermit

hereby pledges his life

to that service.

Raw and unedited from the notebook, Warsaw 3rd January, 2015

"Observing a festival in an unfamiliar environment, gives the realisation of own conditionings, as like from a distance."


Suddenly,
I wake up
to a
heart.

Taken
aback,
I don't know
what to do.

I am so
used to
living in
the mind.

The warmth
of a
heart's desire
is a surprise.

I want to
immediately engage,
but I
can't.

I want to
immediately confess,
but there is
no one in
the moment.

All I can do
is to register
and record,
hoping that
future revelations
find me stronger,
more aware,
more surrendered.

And so
the broken heart
leaves the
experience aside,
to continue.

But although
a broken heart,
the continuation
heralds will
and purpose.

What remains
is a broken hope
of reinstatement,
purpose fulfilled,
will dovetailed.

Vrindavan, 20.08.2012

Monsoon humidity.

Rehydrate and 

Ventilate. 

The fan, 

Always the fan 

Is going 

In the background. 

You don’t notice it 

Anymore, 

Until you switch it off. 

Amazing silence. 

For that Krishna conscious 

Perspective, 

Srila Prabhupada

Would sometimes use 

The fan analogy: 

(In my own words) 

“When you switch 

Off the fan, 

Still it will 

Rotate some time, 

Even when 

Unplugged 

From the electricity. 

Similarly, 

We may take up this 

Krishna consciousness 

Process, 

We may unplug the 

Fan. 

Still, material desires 

And conditionings 

Will linger for 

Some time, 

Due only to the 

Power of the rotation 

In the cycle of 

Birth and death.” 

The silence 

Of the fan 

Gives the realization 

Of the real 

Noise 

Of the fan in 

Motion, 

Which you never 

Seem to notice 

While under the 

So called 

Ventilated state 

Of being forced 

Between 

Perspiration and 

Rehydration 

In the humidity 

Of this monsoon like

Reality 

Of material relativity. 

NOTE:

After a time of absence, I desire now to again become active on this blog. Thank you for you patience.

Seated amongst the reeds of coastline Denmark, mid september, 2013

A last sip

of freedom,

in the eyes

of a friend.

Feint whisper

of past pledges,

by coastline view

is seated

windowed you.

Trembling reeds

bent as bows,

who's invisible arrows

make war on

the surging forces

of the almighty wind.

Resolve remains firm.

(“Not on all levels”,

whispers someone,

an observing spectator.)

Still,

resolve based on hope,

hope based on faith,

faith based

on taste.

Seemingly endless rows

of reeds,

flailing their bodies

against the surging forces

of almighty wind.

I have no such

courage.

Risking life and

limb is

not my level.

However,

I can serve

as a mere tool

at the practical end

of the specter

of life.

To loose hope

gives no

meaning,

in our philosophy.

Let the mind have

past and future

for selfish

indulgence.

In the now,

there is always

activity.