The weekly bhoga run (temple shopping trip) into town started off as fairly usual as I am accustomed to. The list was, however, especially long, so i knew it would be a long afternoon. I got sick in the beginning of the week so I thought, it being spring and all, perfect time to start a liver cleanse. Basically this entails ghee and your favorite bitter herbal infusion in the morning then nothing but vegetables the rest of the day. Every day, the amount of ghee gradually increases along with the strength of the tea. When fasting, it is always recommended to keep your activity to a minimum. I figured an afternoon of shopping wasn't such a big deal.
Flower distributor warehouse, Indian grocery store, post office, bank, Sam's Club, supermarket, Walmart, dollar store...my agenda. Somewhere between the bank and Sam's Club, the van I was driving started stalling. By the time I parked in front of Walmart, the van was done for the day so I made a call to the temple to have someone pick me up. Luckily someone picked up the phone and arrangements were made. I finished my shopping in the meantime and waited out front for the arrival of my chariot. One hour later, I called back. No answer. Two hours later, another call. No answer. At this point I was getting antsy. I went from chanting to ballet footwork to using the front wall in jump improv to pop n' lock to full out break dancing, a basic 6-step, nothing fancy but definitely foreign to St. Clairsville, West Virgina.
I met some great folks. A nice pair of hipsters. A car full of chillers who let me borrow their phone (the tragedy being my cell phone was dead thus having no access to alternate numbers for a different ride). The store manager came out and offered to look at the van for me and told me I could use the store phone to make as many calls as I needed. The final and most distinguished visitor was the nice police officer who said, "ma'am, we can't have you just boppin' around up here." I respectfully followed his instructions and went to wait in the van. It was around 10:30pm, three hours had gone by since my first call. At 10:45 it was getting cold, so I figured I should buy a cheap sweatshirt and prepare for a night.
It was not my first all-nighter in a Walmart parking lot. Any road tripper knows that Walmart actually welcomes travellers to park in their lots overnight and use their bathrooms, buy supplies, load up, etc. Many a cross-country trip, even a few nights when I was living out of my truck in Ithaca, last summer in a school bus driving back to New Mexico, I guess a handful of nights here and there. Yet, two important provisions set this night apart from the rest. First off, I had a fully charged Ipod with 100s of hours of Prabhupada lectures. Second, my japa beads.
For some reason I wasn't tired. This cleanse has been particularly awesome in that I seem to be getting more energy as the week progresses. Vision is enhanced, sound, mental clarity. Now I'm listening to Prabhupada and going in and out of chanting. My thoughts went full circle throughout the night. Early evening, I was primarily concerned with the potential spoilage of the 30lbs of ricotta cheese, sour cream, and cottage cheese for Monday's lasagna. Later, I was thinking about all my night responsibilities at the temple, primarily Tulasi puja and closing up her greenhouse. Once I realized nobody was coming, I started to get mad. Good ol' mode of ignorance, placing blame, criticizing, questioning other's intentions, ISKCON as an institution, principles, etc. That didn't last so long though, because I began to think that maybe something tragic had happened to my pick-up driver along the way.
The next phase was survival, mode of passion. Buying some basic provisions for the night, getting comfortable. Now it was raining. Fasting all day and chanting throughout that night is recommended for spiritual advancement, especially on Ekadasi or other auspicious days. I figured I was gifted a neat opportunity. One extra hoodie later, I was perfectly content chanting, Sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. Sometimes I felt like a liberated soul, sometimes like a caged bird stuck in a Walmart parking lot in West Virginia. I reviewed my entire 6-month stay at the temple. What got me to this stupid parking lot in the first place? Actually my first service at the temple was running an errand at Walmart. Years of political organizing and campaigning against the encroachment of corporate institutions due to their devastating impact on local economy and ecology, global justice and human welfare, all thrown, literally, in front of my face (more like sideways because the van coasted into the space at an angle).
As the night grew colder and much longer, I took more and more shelter of Krsna. I didn't have much of a choice. Eatin' Park across the street, late-night stroll through Walmart aisle ways of imported, sweatshop-manufactured goods? My life's choices and directions were summed up in a single moment. Due to my offenses, Krishna arranged this immobile situation of separation. Sometimes decisions are easier than others. This one, no sweat. I chose to embrace Tulasi with all my heart and listen carefully to every single one of Prabupad's words. Looking back, I choose to never forget this moment.
The rest of the night I faded in and out of consciousness. Curled up, sitting backwards on the driver's seat, I was awoken by Aindra kirtan at 4am, my alarm set for the temple. I smiled at my humorous situation. I figured it was only a matter of time before someone noticed I was missing. Amazingly enough, my Ipod lasted until 8 or so and my heroes arrived around 9.
Driving back, I sat in the back seat with a full plate of prasad and a bag full of warm clothes. But, I wasn't hungry nor cold, rather quite satisfied and pleased with the night's events. The closer we got to New Vrindaban the more ecstatic I became.
The familiar rain was falling steadily and my mind carried me back to a similar feeling in similar weather several years ago. Alone and in the rain, huddled under a small tarp in the middle of the woods in northeast Vermont, I was on vision quest (a purification ceremony practiced by many Native American traditions). After several weeks of preparation involving a series of meditations and activities intending to train one to actively listen to her internal, intuitive guide, I was directed by my teacher to find a secluded spot, sit, and fast for four days and four nights. As I sat completely vulnerable to the whim of nature, I experienced my first lessons in voluntary surrender, but unto whom or what? I had no understanding of Krsna as Bhagavan, the Absolute Supreme Being, simultaneously one and different with the entire cosmic manifestation. However, I did know that my well-being was ultimately protected and that I was immersed in absolute compassion and mercy, Brahman.
The beauty of Krsna consciousness and the sankirtana movement is that the externals become extraneous and unimportant. The potency of the Holy Name is so powerful, that even in a well lit shopping mall parking lot, one can experience transcendental liberation.
Why didn't I call a taxi? I don't know, it never crossed my mind. I suppose I wanted to be stranded in some way. Just when I started to take the temple for granted, its shelter, my service, the disciplined routine, Krsna arranges a most humorous reminder in the form of mercy to be received from a Walmart parking lot.
"Here is the remedy for eliminating all inauspicious things within the heart...
...which are considered to be obstacles in the path of self-realization. The remedy is the association of the Bhagavatas." -Srimad Bhagavatam (1.1.18)
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
The drums will sound. The battle has begun.
Yesterday was an ecstatic day. Balaram Candra came back from India and delivered me my very own mrdanga! A mrdanga is an Indian drum with two heads, one large and one small, traditionally used in the temple during kirtan. Like an organ is to catholicism, a mrdanga is to Vaisnavism.
Because it was questionable whether or not the mrdanga would actually come, I tried not to have any expectations. Regardless, I daydreamed about all the wonderful service I could do if accompanied by a mrdanga. The kartals (Indian hand cymbals) just weren't doing it for me.
It wasn't until last Thursday, on Ekadasi, that I was even able to get a decent sound out of a mrdanga. Something drew me to pick the temple mrdanga up and a soft boom boom rang with the touch of my hand. I was amazed. I knew my mrdanga was coming.
I haven't been the caretaker of a drum since i had dreadlocks. At that point, I would carry a beautiful little djembe around with me everywhere. I traveled with her throughout Mexico and made so many wonderful friends and connections due to her companionship. For awhile, la banda and myself had a regular working route going from one market to another. The three of us would drum and I would sing devotional Afro-Cuban folk songs then pass around a hat. All the senoras were extremely generous. Sometimes folks would buy us fresh-squeezed orange juice in a bag with a straw, Mexican style, or a pepsi bottle full of mezcal. That's when everything fell apart. At night, if we were really hungry and there was a bunch of us, we would play at some of the familiar comedores and then get invited for dinner. A culture that appreciates music and musicians is a beautiful thing.
So the temple will have no rest, mark my words! A new era of musical exploration has been reawakened in my life. May transcendental sound vibrations surround my every movement and fill the void within this empty, materialized world!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Whirling Dervishes meet Krishna Consciousness
This week I celebrated six months residence at New Vrindaban. Six months! What's even better is that I'm ready for six more. I never thought I would be content to reside in one place so long, what to speak of Bethlehem, West Virginia, but I'm happy. I now understand what my mom meant by saying, "There is no such thing as geographical cures." Spiritual disease, spiritual remedy.
Every hospital should have dancing and live music early in the morning and throughout the entire day. Yesterday I was spinning, Rumi style, and I had an incredible realization. My formal Latin dance training has taught me to always keep one focus or pivot point when spinning in order to keep balanced. But, everything and everyone in the temple is so beautiful that i decided to ditch the pivot point and keep my eyes wide open. I began to feel an incredible sensation. My composure was supreme. My eyes were fixed on everything and the faster I went, the sharper the scenery. I realized I was completely centered. In the larger picture, I was thinking how incredible it is that my life is becoming centered and focused despite the whirlwind of material and mundane energy completely surrounding me, aka life and society as we know it, moving at warp speed...faster, faster, and faster, bombarding me with relentless images of so-called successful lives. At that moment I knew I could have spun forever. Whirling dervishes meet Krishna consciousness ki jaya!
In other news, I'm proud to announce that the local Family Dollar store sells enema kits at a buck fifty a piece. And I thought West Virginia was uncivilized!
Every hospital should have dancing and live music early in the morning and throughout the entire day. Yesterday I was spinning, Rumi style, and I had an incredible realization. My formal Latin dance training has taught me to always keep one focus or pivot point when spinning in order to keep balanced. But, everything and everyone in the temple is so beautiful that i decided to ditch the pivot point and keep my eyes wide open. I began to feel an incredible sensation. My composure was supreme. My eyes were fixed on everything and the faster I went, the sharper the scenery. I realized I was completely centered. In the larger picture, I was thinking how incredible it is that my life is becoming centered and focused despite the whirlwind of material and mundane energy completely surrounding me, aka life and society as we know it, moving at warp speed...faster, faster, and faster, bombarding me with relentless images of so-called successful lives. At that moment I knew I could have spun forever. Whirling dervishes meet Krishna consciousness ki jaya!
In other news, I'm proud to announce that the local Family Dollar store sells enema kits at a buck fifty a piece. And I thought West Virginia was uncivilized!
Monday, March 12, 2007
UDDER-ly hopeful
A nice break in the weather affords a most auspicious opportunity to bathe the cows. Three months of severe winter has resulted in three months of accumulated dung cake on the thighs of Mother Tulasi. I properly applied full hose pressure and nothing happened. What now? One hour later, arms sore from brushing out layer by layer, Tulasi is far from clean but tomorrow is another day.
Working in the barn has been such a pleasure for me. Yesterday, I took in a good hour nap, literally, on top of our baby bull Madhava. Every once in awhile, DROP! Madhava's head would slip off my knee and briefly startle his slumber. Might this be the perfection of life?
Over the last month I've been fortunate to have had the opportunity to give several short workshops to visiting college students on cow protection and environmental sustainability. Last week was a group of 60 or so good-lookin' folks from Ohio. Two months of cow seva with supplemental research is solidifying in my heart the absolute importance to campaign for cow protection throughout the world. As a fading political activist for indigenous people's rights and environmental justice, I never fully realized how the livestock industry, and its eternal meat-eating consumer consorts, are the original source of these injustices. Agricultural peoples destroyed by meat-eating peoples, generating byproducts (children), desperately needing more land to raise more grain for feed, more animals for slaughter, more houses for their meat-eating children, etc. The magnitude of the livestock industry continues to annihilate the world's rainforest reserves, contaminate the fresh water supply, deplete the ozone layer, devour natural habitat, displace peoples and destroy native cultures. The torchlight of knowledge has made this so clear, so obvious. My former ignorance disgusts me.
Onward, as I was preparing for the most recent workshop, I came across a fascinating statement stating that the first principle of cow protection is ox employment, with milk coming secondary as a byproduct. Cows need to give birth in order to lactate. Male calves suffer the impending doom of the slaughter house. Do organic standards take this in account? No. Organic has gone corporate and is far from cruelty-free or ethical. A quick Internet search will reinforce in pictures the malpractice of so-called organic dairy companies such as Horizon. The way I see it, even if a family or community is milking their own cows, unless the oxen can be properly trained and utilized, it is more conscious to be vegan than support this monstrous cycle of the dairy/beef industry, the former feeding the later and vice versa (evident if you've read a newspaper in the last two years or even the bulletin board in the prasad hall).
As I care for these calves, I wonder what their fate will be. I close my eyes and I see a zoomed in version of calf mouth liking my face. Who will engage them in Krishna's service? Who will take on this great responsibility?
Working in the barn has been such a pleasure for me. Yesterday, I took in a good hour nap, literally, on top of our baby bull Madhava. Every once in awhile, DROP! Madhava's head would slip off my knee and briefly startle his slumber. Might this be the perfection of life?
Over the last month I've been fortunate to have had the opportunity to give several short workshops to visiting college students on cow protection and environmental sustainability. Last week was a group of 60 or so good-lookin' folks from Ohio. Two months of cow seva with supplemental research is solidifying in my heart the absolute importance to campaign for cow protection throughout the world. As a fading political activist for indigenous people's rights and environmental justice, I never fully realized how the livestock industry, and its eternal meat-eating consumer consorts, are the original source of these injustices. Agricultural peoples destroyed by meat-eating peoples, generating byproducts (children), desperately needing more land to raise more grain for feed, more animals for slaughter, more houses for their meat-eating children, etc. The magnitude of the livestock industry continues to annihilate the world's rainforest reserves, contaminate the fresh water supply, deplete the ozone layer, devour natural habitat, displace peoples and destroy native cultures. The torchlight of knowledge has made this so clear, so obvious. My former ignorance disgusts me.
Onward, as I was preparing for the most recent workshop, I came across a fascinating statement stating that the first principle of cow protection is ox employment, with milk coming secondary as a byproduct. Cows need to give birth in order to lactate. Male calves suffer the impending doom of the slaughter house. Do organic standards take this in account? No. Organic has gone corporate and is far from cruelty-free or ethical. A quick Internet search will reinforce in pictures the malpractice of so-called organic dairy companies such as Horizon. The way I see it, even if a family or community is milking their own cows, unless the oxen can be properly trained and utilized, it is more conscious to be vegan than support this monstrous cycle of the dairy/beef industry, the former feeding the later and vice versa (evident if you've read a newspaper in the last two years or even the bulletin board in the prasad hall).
As I care for these calves, I wonder what their fate will be. I close my eyes and I see a zoomed in version of calf mouth liking my face. Who will engage them in Krishna's service? Who will take on this great responsibility?
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Serve God, community, or myself?
Its late but there's so much yet to be done. I'm trying to pick out the best music for a dance piece I will be performing on Saturday. It has to have tablas and it has to be fast (might Muslimgauze be appropriate?). After two years of dreaming and plotting a shadow espectacular, I have been given the go ahead from within and carrying it to fruition. It's gonna be awesome.
Moving to New Vrindaban has been so good for me. These past two years had been frustrating because I felt from the bottom of my heart, a yearning to find good work, meaningful work, yet to no avail. Finding a focus point or project that would engage all of my God-given gifts to the best of their ability was my meditation. New Vrindaban has slowly given me this very opportunity. Now it is up to me to take this mercy and run with it.
Last weekend I went to a sister farm community in Pennsylvania for a celebration festival in remembrance of a beloved guru in the ISKCON community. Bhakti Tirtha Swami was one of the first black-bodied gurus, maybe even the first, within the Gaudiya Vaisnava tradition. His disciples are some of the coolest folks I have ever met. The mood was BBQ tofu marinated in dance fever. Soul sister #1 Mother Jagannath ki jaya!
Krsna consciousness can be summed up by three activities: chanting, dancing, and eating. My every day revolves around these three activities. And as I was reminded this weekend by the Vice President of the Brooklyn ISKCON temple, bring me home!, "The secret to Krsna consciousness is enjoying it!" And I thought I was moving to the ashram to renounce, HA!
The days are packed. Yesterday I was cleaning the cabin of one of the senior-most devotees in the ISKCON movement. Her name is Madre Malati and she is somethin' else. I went to clean her cabin as a favor. I wasn't really stoked to do it. Who really likes to clean anyway? But as I was dusting and organizing, I was finding things like, the original slide negative of Srila Prabhupada and Allen Ginsberg deep in conversation (circa late 1960s, I would guess), Srila Prabhupada's slippers, and old vintage video footage of the early ISKCON days. Malati and her husband personally introduced George Harrison to Krishna consciousness when they moved to London to open a temple in the late 60's. The story goes something like Malati and her husband flew to London, arrived with nothing but a bag full of Prabhupada's books, slept in a cardboard box in some alley, and, one week later, found themselves living and preaching in the home of George Harrison and John Lennon. This saintly woman has totally dedicated her life to Srila Prabhupada's mission, saving the world from godlessness. Doing favors for saintly people who need more time to fully immerse themselves in transcendental projects and initiatives, is a nice place to start practicing devotional service, bhakti yoga. This is an example of the beauty of service and how I met someone I admired. By offering her some service , I have extended myself and opened the doors to a inspirational friendship. With any luck, her good qualities might just rub off on me. Heh, transcendental vacuuming, who would have thought it could be so ecstatic?
Anywho, I picked up Madre Malati from the airport today. She had been flying for two days straight from India and didn't even stop to eat when we got back to New Vrindaban. What other person has such dedication? I am beginning to understand what it means to be empowered by guru.
Serve God, community, or myself? If serving the former fulfills the desires of the latter, why not water the roots and satisfy the needs of the entire tree?
Moving to New Vrindaban has been so good for me. These past two years had been frustrating because I felt from the bottom of my heart, a yearning to find good work, meaningful work, yet to no avail. Finding a focus point or project that would engage all of my God-given gifts to the best of their ability was my meditation. New Vrindaban has slowly given me this very opportunity. Now it is up to me to take this mercy and run with it.
Last weekend I went to a sister farm community in Pennsylvania for a celebration festival in remembrance of a beloved guru in the ISKCON community. Bhakti Tirtha Swami was one of the first black-bodied gurus, maybe even the first, within the Gaudiya Vaisnava tradition. His disciples are some of the coolest folks I have ever met. The mood was BBQ tofu marinated in dance fever. Soul sister #1 Mother Jagannath ki jaya!
Krsna consciousness can be summed up by three activities: chanting, dancing, and eating. My every day revolves around these three activities. And as I was reminded this weekend by the Vice President of the Brooklyn ISKCON temple, bring me home!, "The secret to Krsna consciousness is enjoying it!" And I thought I was moving to the ashram to renounce, HA!
The days are packed. Yesterday I was cleaning the cabin of one of the senior-most devotees in the ISKCON movement. Her name is Madre Malati and she is somethin' else. I went to clean her cabin as a favor. I wasn't really stoked to do it. Who really likes to clean anyway? But as I was dusting and organizing, I was finding things like, the original slide negative of Srila Prabhupada and Allen Ginsberg deep in conversation (circa late 1960s, I would guess), Srila Prabhupada's slippers, and old vintage video footage of the early ISKCON days. Malati and her husband personally introduced George Harrison to Krishna consciousness when they moved to London to open a temple in the late 60's. The story goes something like Malati and her husband flew to London, arrived with nothing but a bag full of Prabhupada's books, slept in a cardboard box in some alley, and, one week later, found themselves living and preaching in the home of George Harrison and John Lennon. This saintly woman has totally dedicated her life to Srila Prabhupada's mission, saving the world from godlessness. Doing favors for saintly people who need more time to fully immerse themselves in transcendental projects and initiatives, is a nice place to start practicing devotional service, bhakti yoga. This is an example of the beauty of service and how I met someone I admired. By offering her some service , I have extended myself and opened the doors to a inspirational friendship. With any luck, her good qualities might just rub off on me. Heh, transcendental vacuuming, who would have thought it could be so ecstatic?
Anywho, I picked up Madre Malati from the airport today. She had been flying for two days straight from India and didn't even stop to eat when we got back to New Vrindaban. What other person has such dedication? I am beginning to understand what it means to be empowered by guru.
Serve God, community, or myself? If serving the former fulfills the desires of the latter, why not water the roots and satisfy the needs of the entire tree?
