Intention, Attention, and Affection…in the Coming Year
December 31, 2018
Where would I like to be at this time next year? In my mind, in my heart, in my practice, in my relationships, in my daily life?As one year fades into the next, we see patterns that are often so difficult to change.
Gandhi has said…
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]"Your beliefs become your thoughts, Your thoughts become your words, Your words become your actions, Your actions become your habits, Your habits become your values, Your values become your destiny."[/perfectpullquote]If I want to place an intention, I need to focus my attention. But then, where is my heart? Where do I place my affection?Who do you love? Is there a way to access a greater love, a deeper love, an authentic, lasting love? Mystics of all traditions sing of this, seemingly elusive, Love Supreme.We may try to love those around us, or aspire to love more or better, but so often we fail.If we can begin to focus the light of our affection on the Source of all light, then our love can begin to expand the way a beam of light expands. A beam of love, from the Source of all love to include the earth and all living things.Here is an offering of intention, a focus of attention, to kindle some affection, as 2019 approaches…My dear Lord Krsna, although I have forgotten You for so many long years in this material world, from today, I am remembering You. Please accept me as Your own, and please engage me in Your loving service. Krsna, I am Yours. What do you ask of me today?Blessings to you in the coming year!All the best,Rukmini Walker
A Beautiful Soul's Departure: Farewell Janavi Held
by Krishna Kanta Dasi
"Death is not extinguishing the light;it is putting out the lampbecause the dawn has come.”
~Rabindranath Tagore~
Last Saturday, a most beautiful artist, poet, writer and vaishnavi sadly departed. Sri Jahnavi Dasi, (aka Janavi Held) was a dear spiritual sister of mine, and she left this world peacefully after struggling with a relentless and incurable illness for over 6 years. Janavi’s condition caused her to become bedridden and suffer a great deal of pain on a daily basis. Although she was only in her 50’s, I can only imagine that being freed from her body must have felt like a great relief to her beautiful soul.
Janavi first encountered devotees of Krishna in Denver when she was only 19. She lived in the ashrama there and was mentored by Mother Nidra, who became a most loving and supportive presence in Janavi’s life, right up to the end. Having come from a family of publishers and writers, Janavi dedicated herself to the distribution of vaishnava literature then, joining the “sankirtana movement”.Later, Janavi graduated with honors from Goddard College where she studied poetry, photography, dance and media. At the age of 46, just as her bourgeoning career as a writer and professional photographer was taking off, she unexpectedly and suddenly fell ill.[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]Despite enduring intense pain, Janavi’s strong faith enabled her to be most prolific in her writing, expressing her heart through hundreds of poems.[/perfectpullquote]Janavi also managed to create a moving series of artistic self-portraits and photographic collages. These beautiful creations depict the poignant irony Janavi lived; of experiencing her body’s progression toward death, while simultaneously illuminating the vibrant life she felt within her soul.
I knew Janavi to be a very gentle person, sensitive to beautiful music, good literature, nature, the shifting seasons. She was extraordinarily creative, of quick mind, sharp intelligence and a sweet demeanor. She was a talented writer, not only of poetry, but of short stories and essays. Janavi was deeply thoughtful, artistic and skilled at multimedia creations, demonstrated in her Youtube channel, where she features voice narrations of her own poetry delightfully paired with her artwork. Mostly though, I experienced Janavi as a very vibrant, youthful spirit with an endearing childlike innocence that just asked to be loved, and love in return. And lovable she was!Earlier this year two of Janavi Held’s devotional poems were shortlisted for the prestigious Hamilton House International Poetry Prize. Awarded by the University Centre Grimsby, this annual competition receives thousands of entries from writers around the world. Janavi is one of 25 writers whose poems were chosen for worldwide publication in the annual Hammond House poetry anthology, appropriately titled Eternal.Throughout her illness, Janavi took shelter of the Bhakti tradition she had dedicated her life to, receiving constant inspiration from her spiritual guide, Hridayananda Das Goswami. She also drew from the love and support of other devotee friends and family, especially her loving sister, Sue, who was Janavi’s primary caretaker.In 2017, some of Janavi’s poems were published in Bhakti Blossoms: A Collection of Contemporary Vaishnavi Poetry. The same year—with the blessings of her guru—she published her first collection of devotional poetry and photography, entitled Letters to My Oldest Friend. This “oldest friend” of whom Janavi speaks is Lord Krishna, and, in the end, she made him (and his divine older brother, Balarama) her whole meditation.Over the last year, Janavi engaged sweet butterfly metaphors to describe herself in her poems and artwork. Last weekend, she finally emerged from her cocoon, so that she may fly high with her beautiful wings.As words fail me at this time—for I am grieving my dear friend—I thought I would let Janavi speak for herself instead, and share this poem of hers with all of you: one of the last she penned—along with an artistic self-portrait she created.
Life, Death & What’s In-between
by Sri Jahnavi Dasi (Janavi Held)I’ve nearly departed this bodyso many times, I can’t rememberif I am living within the same lifeI was yesterday or if I have beentransferred to yet another existence…Tonight I will go to bed again andgrasp for You in that dark flesh prison;I will wrap what’s left of my bodyaround the thought of you andshed as many tears as it takesto find You where you stand in myheart, loving, waiting.I find that I belong to You, so please,take me where you will, send myshattered body over the land, intothe sea, dismantled atoms scatteredto the elements blending withfog and endless time, so my soulwill breathe without the burden ofcrushing bone and restless thoughts.I am Yours now, so please, take mewhere you will, teach me abouteternity and other things ofconsequence, carry me over theremnants of a life I can barelyremember, over the homes of friendsI can’t recognize, and relatives long lostto the river of time, show me howhallow this bound world is withoutthe idea of loving You forever.You’ve begun to replace all thoughtswith the vision of Your smile, you’veswitched out the tragedies of temporaryaffection with that red spark in Your eyes,You’ve held onto to me so tightly I havelost the will to fight You, You havedrenched my eyes with blessings,You’ve drenched me with the thoughtthat all that’s left is eternity when thiscanister of blood is shattered andthe soul fly’s free…Andsuddenly,as if awar had ended,we cameface to faceand withinthe sweetradianceof YourbeautyI droppedthe shadowsof my old toysand grabbed Youinto my armsimaging that Icould holdYou there…I am Yours nowand I am waiting.~(You may read more of Janavi's poems and view her artwork on her website here, Facebook page here, Youtube channel here and her published poems at the Journey of the Heart women's spiritual poetry journal here.)
If you'd like to offer a donation to help cover cremation expenses for Janavi, as well as help her sister Sue take care of the gargantuan medical bills she was left with as a result of her sister's prolonged illness, you may click here for her Gofundme campaign. Thank you! ??
Movable Kitchens, Puri, Odissa, India
November 12th, 2018
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Today I am in Puri, in the Indian state of Orissa on “yatra” (pilgrimage) with a group of 6,000 other pilgrims from India and around the world.
This is the place of Lord Caitanya, Sri Krsna, coming in the mood of a devotee, the founder of the Sankirtan movement, which sparked the Bhakti renaissance in sixteenth century India.
Sri Caitanya appeared in Mayapur, Navadwip, West Bengal, but after his renunciation called “sannyas”, he moved here to Jagannath Puri.
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]When he came to Puri he began to fully exhibit His ecstasy as Krsna in the mood of Sri Radha, His divine feminine counterpart.[/perfectpullquote]
Yesterday, these pilgrims cooked 2600 preparations of food to be offered to Krsna in devotion. The occasion was the Disappearance Day of our guru, Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. Yesterday was the 41st anniversary of the day he left this world, to return to the spiritual world from the holy Sri Vrndavan Dham.
These devoted pilgrims have devised a most amazing moveable kitchen that transports a daily feast to wherever this yatra takes place each year in different holy places of India. Ten people could stand in each one of the cooking pots. They have railroad style tracks for moving the pots from the cooking area to the serving area.
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]When the British came to India they couldn’t understand why these bhaktas are always in the kitchen. They dubbed it, the “Kitchen Religion”. It was inscrutable to them, but it’s all about pleasing the senses of the Supreme Lord of the senses, a personal way of loving and serving God, or Sri Krsna.[/perfectpullquote]
This amazing movable kitchen was featured on the National Geographic Channel called ISKCON’s Mega Kitchens. You can watch the show by following this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5exabSuKhQ&fbclid=IwAR2ozF8K--4lWxIZafD2fYmXzMN3b7P0UPSsBAy2ZaHKkiuPQm-0i-TSDb4
Incredible India!
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
Into the Arms of an Old Friend
by Krishna Kanta Dasi
Every once in a while a person may enter our lives with whom we feel an almost instantaneous, special connection. Although meeting for the first time, it feels as if we are being reunited with a long lost friend.This happened to me nearly three years ago, when Janavi entered my life. At the time, I was slowly piecing together an anthology of poems by contemporary women in the Bhakti tradition, titled Bhakti Blossoms.The poems, however, were not forthcoming: flowing into the project only in occasional trickles.Then Janavi’s e-mails arrived, generously delivering poem after poem—many moving me to the core. In some of them I even recognized parts of my own heart. Where did this kavirani—this poet—come from? I’d often asked myself while reading through Janavi's voluminous work.
As a result of our mutual love for writing, poetry and art, Janavi and I grew a deep and meaningful friendship through e-mails. Over the course of our exchanges I familiarized myself with some of Janavi’s multiple facets: as a talented artist, a sensitive poet, a filmmaker, a dancer, an author, a heartfelt vaishnavi. Sadly, I also discovered that my beautiful, new friend was bedridden and struggling just to stay alive, in a body that gave her unbearable pain.This sobering news took my dialogue with Janavi to a whole other level—perhaps even an otherworldly one—where we teetered on the edge of eternity, and did our best to share from our cores: from those parts of us we knew were inextinguishable and undying. It was a kind of rare, soulful sharing.
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]“The soul does not take birth, nor does it ever die. Such a being has never come into being, nor shall it ever come to be. It is unborn, eternal everlasting and primeval. It is not slain when the body is slain.”[/perfectpullquote]
(Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 2, verse 20, Graham M. Schweig translation)
Like Maharaja Pariksit—a great king of ancient India who was told he only had seven days to live—Janavi and I dedicated our exchanges to examining the meaning of life according to the ancient Bhakti teachers before us, and asking ourselves poignant questions like:
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]Have we loved much in our lives, have we loved well, and have we let ourselves be loved?[/perfectpullquote]
When prose failed us, we wrote each other poems. When the poems were not enough, Janavi and I spoke through photographs and art. At times, we left periods of silence between us. For me, the silences were often louder than anything else, as I coped with anticipatory grief: inevitably moving closer to her, while simultaneously letting her go. This kind of relationship exercised my heart in new ways.
Today—nearly three years and 225 e-mails later—Janavi’s e-mails (which she now dictates) have nearly stopped arriving. She can no longer move her hands without them hurting, and her speech is barely audible. Janavi’s delicate body has withered down to only 80 pounds, and her focus has shifted to whom she calls her “oldest friend”.Janavi's "oldest friend" is Lord Krishna. And she now appears to be patiently waiting to meet him, on the other side of what separates us from eternity.A little over a year ago, Janavi put together her letters to Krishna in a beautiful book, (found here), illustrated by her own black and white photographs. As occurred with Arjuna at the start of the Bhagavad Gita, Janavi’s helplessness at the situation before her is filling her with the courage to ride her chariot forward, surrender her heart, and return the embrace of an "old friend" who appears to be already holding his arms out to her.[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]To me, my dear friend Janavi is brave. She is beautiful. And her story echoes our own stories, if we listen carefully enough.[/perfectpullquote]So, I leave you today with one of Janavi’s award wining poems, which was originally published in the 2017 Hammond House anthology, titled Eternal (Republished with permission) May it inspire us to ask ourselves the deeper questions, to introspect, to cultivate a rich inner dialogue of our own with our "oldest friend", and do so within the conversations we share with our loving friends here, in this world.[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]For love, the great sage Narada tells us, "is of the nature of immortality".[/perfectpullquote]
(For more of Janavi’s story, please click here)
AFTERby Janavi Held After faint hopesand long vigils.After eternal lossand protected ashes.After woodand dead shipsin the night.After testimonyto affirm worship.After oblivionand quantity.After enduring daysand impossible nights.After times funeraland fugitive shadows,science and weaponsand weeping.After glorious twilightsand perfume.After wavering children.After the edge of resistance.After loud destruction.After the silver of ceremony.After bedroomsand the uniforms of trees,tranquility, and thirsty lips,and complicated substanceand human beingsand nowadaysand clothesand arms and legs.After smoke and sand.After lamentationsand degraded doubts.After deathwhat? After constant victoryand perpetual failure.After the increase and decreaseof populationsand the circulation of darkness.After propagandaand human armies.After accumulatingand rotating and solitude.After witness and executionand night returning.After fusiona portraita sunken facea cold wind.After expansionsand extensions.After the depthsof desertion.After faithful widowsand mudand overturned intentions.After deathwhat? After the rotation of the multitudesand bodies and chaos.After cruelty and punishment.After pomegranate morningsand harvest nightsand the buildings like mountains.After today what? After residenceand passageand deciphered nothings.After geography and empty isolation.After ancestors and religions.After violent mourning.After the dust.After the unspoken sings.After the fire.After awakening lovewhat? After the drunken bones of intoxication.After repetition, repetition, after repetitionwhat? After desecrating the deadand celebrationsand enlightenmentand clear waterand the slaves of time.After farewellsand tearsand engraved gunsand the bloody altars of time.After invasionsand humbled nations.After slaves and murdersand the eyelids of blindness.After mirrorsand mortality.After pity.After martyrdomand serpents,and the demolished ashes of the rose.After the immortality of starsand the fire of avarice, the corpse,the spared day, the sterile seconds,dampness and tools.After the city,and the fearful weight of naked time.After vanity and wine.After laughterand dyingWhat? After the immunity of innocence.After the determination of greed.After lust.After the dance is done.After healing.After shaking loose.After karma.After eternitywhat?~ (For more of Janavi’s story, please click here. To write to Janavi, you may visit her website, here.)
(Artistic digital photographic artwork by Janavi Held)
We Light A Candle
Oct. 30, 2018
Have you ever noticed that happy events in life seem to arrive coupled with tragic or unhappy ones? Last Saturday, a dear friend of ours was married, yesterday was the funeral of another friend.
I remember on the day of my sister’s wedding, a beloved grandfather on the other side of the family passed away. Sometimes the birth of a child is celebrated, and that day someone else announces a divorce.
These days, tragic events come in a close volley of repetition, themselves like shots from a semi-automatic weapon- our everyday world itself has become a killing field.
The tragic killings at the Tree of Life Synagogue (how cruel and absurd- to come with an ax of hate to try to cut down the Tree of Life!) , and then, only days afterward, another merciless killing of African Americans in Kentucky.
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]We seem live in a world of duality. But this duality is our illusion. When we turn away from the sun, we face our shadow. When we turn away from God, our original Source, we see ourselves as separate, and fear arises. When we forget our commonality- that all living beings share the same divine Origin, and are eternal souls- beloved to God and sacred just like me.[/perfectpullquote]
At the Presbyterian church where the funeral was held yesterday, there was a banner hanging on the wall behind the altar. It said: We are one body, though we are many. I was deeply struck by the beauty and depth of that message.
In a few days we will celebrate Diwali, the New Year, the Festival of Lights. The victorious Lord Ram returns to His kingdom, and we celebrate the triumph of good over evil. The holy month of Kartik has already begun, and already we are offering our candles, our lights, our little “dipas” each day.
In this bittersweet year, as we celebrate the joy of Diwali, let us also offer up a prayer for peace and reconciliation, like this one, offered by Sri Prahlada Maharaj:
"May the entire universe be blessed with peace and good hope. May everyone driven by envy and enmity become pacified and reconciled. May all living beings develop abiding concern for the welfare of others. May our own hearts and minds be filled with purity and serenity. May all these blessings flow naturally from this supreme benediction: May our attention become spontaneously absorbed in the rapture of pure love unto the transcendent Lord." (inspired by Srimad Bhagavatam 5.18.9)
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
The Seen and the Unseen: The Young and the Elderly
Oct. 17th, 2018
South Florida is an interesting place. Like all places, I suppose, each has it’s own mood, it’s own ambience.
Last weekend I led a workshop in a vibrant youthful yoga community in Del Ray Beach. These last few days, I’ve been spending with my 91 year-old mother, Edith, in Boca Raton.
I keep thinking of the story of the Prince Gautama Buddha, and how it was predicted that he would renounce his father’s kingdom and the world.
His father, the king, took precaution to shelter his son from any possible stray introspection. The prince grew up surrounded by beautiful young people, pleasure gardens and all possible enjoyments of life. He was never to see suffering, or disease, old age or death.
But one day the inquisitive young prince scaled the wall and began to observe and inquire:
“What is this I see?”
“Dear boy, this is suffering- this is disease- this is old age- and this is death. And after death- again, there will be rebirth!”
Our culture also seems to have created such a veneer of an ever-youthful pleasure garden: in the media, on the billboards, the internet, in film… Beautiful people, an endless summer, with questions of why? sidelined to the fringe. With cancer wards tucked away behind corporate walls. Just a little more acquisition should fill the emptiness in my heart- with no alert to my time… to my youth- slipping away each day.
I see an elderly couple walking out of an elevator, clutching each other for support, for dear life…
What is our purpose in this temporary place? Aren’t we meant to begin to awaken- before our next death- some inkling of who we are and why we are here?
But the voices of the sadhus are there, in every place, in every generation, calling to us:
“But then a voice, how deep and soft,
Within ourselves is left,
Soul! Soul! Thou art immortal soul!
Thee death can never melt.”
Bhaktivinode Thakur
Cloud Banks of Nectar
Oct. 15th, 2018
I am in South Florida today after completing a weekend of workshops at Casa Mannabliss in Del Ray Beach.
Each morning this past weekend, I would go to watch the sunrise on the beach. Each sunrise a light show play of pink sun rays transforming moment to moment the cloud banks sitting on the horizon.
Never having been there before, I watched the play of illusion: Are they a forest of trees? Are they clouds sitting there waiting to rise up to the sky?
There is an ocean of spiritual knowledge that is deep and inaccessible to us. Without the intercession of saints, that mystery remains beyond our reach.
Munificent clouds evaporate water from the ocean then float above us to bless and shower it onto dry land. Holy saints, sadhus and great teachers bless our dry and parched hearts with a shower of nectarine wisdom that can begin to awaken us from the dry isolation of desert-like hearts disconnected from our Source.
I long for that ocean spray of insight, of sweet connectivity where I will regain my long lost life, my long lost love for Sri Krsna, the One Who stands behind the sun. The Supreme Beloved, elusive to our understanding, but always there, waiting, watching for us to turn to Him in love.
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
The Eye of the Needle
About a month ago, I posted a blog called The Thread of Life, about a chain of islands off the coast of Maine. I’d been in Maine visiting my sister, Susan and her family there.
Susan’s husband, my brother-in-law, George has the intuitions of a native about the coast of Maine, having spent his childhoods there swimming, sailing, canoeing and kayaking the coastal waters.
After George read my blog, he pointed out to me that I had forgotten to mention the Eye of the Needle. The Eye of the Needle is the only place in the middle of those islands where it’s possible for a boat or ship to navigate passage through safely.
Only someone who knows where the safe passages are can help us navigate the treacherous waters of this world, which is compared to an ocean of birth and death.
There are so many mysteries in the depths of the ocean! There are so many mysteries in learning how to cross this vast ocean of repeated birth and death, that, inevitably, we require an able captain, favorable winds, and a seaworthy vessel in order to cross to the other side.
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]In the Bhakti tradition, great holy teachers are compared to able captains; the wisdom books of the Vedas are compared to favorable winds; and a rare human birth is compared to a vessel capable of crossing such a dangerous ocean.[/perfectpullquote]
But then sometimes God’s Holy Names (which are innumerable, and given in holy books of every culture!) are also compared to such worthy ships. And the mystery of those ships is that although so many saints in the past, throughout history have used them to cross over the ocean of nescience, still they have left them on this side of the shore for us to use as well.
Those who are immersed in deep waters of wisdom can help us navigate our way to finding the eye of the needle in this long thread of our lives.
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
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A Tiny Seed Planted in One Heart
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""] Out of many millions of wandering living beings, by the mercy of both Krishna and the guru, one who is very fortunate receives the seed of the creeper of devotional service: Bhakti. (Chaitanya Charitamrita, Madhya Lila, verse 19.151) [/perfectpullquote]
I am in Moscow right now. Over the last few days here we celebrated Sri Krsna Janmastami, or the Appearance Day of Lord Sri Krishna. The following day, which is called the Nandotsava—the day when Krsna’s appearance festival is celebrated—is the Appearance Day of my guru, Srila Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada.
Prabhupada spent five days in Moscow in 1971. During that time he met a young Russian boy and taught him some basic principles from the Bhagavad Gita of Bhakti Yoga.
This year, for Krishna Janmastami, Prabhupada’s devotees booked the largest stadium in Moscow for the festivities. It was a Monday, a workday, and the first day of school for the children here. The temple president was apologizing to me that, because of the circumstance, only eight thousand people showed up to attend the festival. To me, eight thousand people is a miracle of grace! After only forty-seven years, there are thousands of devotees of Krishna living and serving throughout Russia.
Each year in honor of the Appearance Day of Srila Prabhupada, I write an offering of gratitude to him for his pleasure. Here is my remembrance of being with him: my offering for 2018:
The rainy season
In Sri Vrindavan:
To hear from you
We had such fortune.
As Narada heard
From the Bhaktivedantas
In the rainy season,
But in rapt attention.
I pray to hear as young Narada heard,
As Parikshit heard those last few words,
As Arjuna heard with attentive mind,
His bow again lifted, with arrows aligned.
To chant as a child who cried for her mother,
To drink your words as a calf to the udder,
To be simple, sincere, no other motivation,
To hear in this way brings deep realization.
To sit near you again, and again to hear,
With longing heart and open ear,
To carry Vrindavan as you have done,
My heart ignited through sacred sound.
When oh when will that day be mine?
All seasons, all places, become sublime!
Such fortune still mine in this very moment,
To hear your dictation and words most potent.
The rainy season
In Sri Vrindavan:
To hear from you
We have such fortune!
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
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To Live in Exile
I’ve been thinking that trying to walk a spiritual path is like taking on a kind of conscious exile from the world.
I may be caring very much, engaging with compassion in my work and with the world, but yet, with a kind of dispassion also. A kind of cloister wall, a firewall against innumerable onslaughts of tweets and tragedies that can shake us to the core, like a windblown, leafless tree in autumn.
To take a moment to pause, in the city, when we hear a siren, to pray for the unknown one who is suffering...but not to enter the heated fray of opinions flying back and forth… a self-imposed exile to exist in humility: I don’t have all the answers. And to dwell in a realm of prayer for the upliftment of all…
The child saint, Prahlada Maharaj offers us a beacon of light as to how that might look:
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""] “May the entire universe be blessed with peace and good hope. May everyone driven by envy and enmity become pacified and reconciled. May all living beings develop abiding concern for the welfare of others. May our own hearts and minds be filled with purity and serenity. May all these blessings flow naturally from this supreme benediction: May our attention become spontaneously absorbed in the rapture of pure love unto the transcendent Lord.” [/perfectpullquote]
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
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Removing Our Masks
A dear friend of mine, who works for the US Agency for International Development (USAID), is currently residing in Prishtina, Kosovo, and she invited me to join her. So, here I am writing you from lovely Kosovo, which is in the Balkan region, in what was once the Socialist state of Yugoslavia.
Formerly, Yugoslavia consisted of six constituent republics: Bosnia, Herzegovina, Croatia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, and Slovenia. Serbia had two autonomous provinces: Kosovo and Vojvodina. So now you may have some idea where I am, if you can pull up Google Maps.
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]Winston Churchill once said that the Balkans produce more history than they can consume![/perfectpullquote]
USAID had a guide take us around the city to give us the lay of the land, and a bit of history. Kosovo is 90% Muslim, our guide is a Muslim, but he said that he knows that his family was once Catholic and then Orthodox Christian over different periods of time.
Most of the Muslim majority of the two million people of Kosovo consider themselves Albanian first, and Muslim second. But they are Kosovar Albanians. Albania is another country altogether, west of Macedonia, and east of Greece. (Not to be confused with the Macedonia that’s a region in Greece.) The history is very complex.
They are very fond of Americans here because in 1999 President Bill Clinton convinced NATO to intervene with bombings after the civil war and “ethnic cleansing” killed 10,000 of their people. They actually have a statue of Bill Clinton in downtown Prishtina that he came here to inaugurate.
So what does all this have to do with a blog about Bhakti Yoga?
Since I’ve been here, I’ve been thinking about designations. The masks, the layers of identities we wear that cover our real selves. In particular, I’ve been thinking of this verse from the Caitanya Caritamrita:
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""] “Bhakti, or devotional service, means engaging all our senses in the service of the Lord, the master of all the senses. When the spirit soul renders service unto the Supreme, there are two side effects. One is freed from all material designations, and one’s senses are purified simply by being employed in the service of the Lord." (Caitanya Caritamrita, Madhya Lila 19. 170) [/perfectpullquote]
In Kosovo—or wherever we’re from—after innumerable births and deaths in this material world, we all have more layers, more masks, more designations than we’re able to consume. In fact, we are ourselves consumed by these masks that cover our true identities as eternal pure spirit, having the intrinsic qualities of joy and full knowledge. By nature, we’re meant to be loving servants of God, or Krishna.
So one of the first functions of serving in Bhakti, or devotional service, is that these masks start being removed, for they are only designations that block the flow of attraction to Krishna.
We have been tricked, duped by the false ego, that these masks, these layers upon layers of designations are me: this is my country, this is my family, this is my race, this is my gender, even, this is my species. And if I’m this, than I must mistrust “the Other”, who is “that”.
We—and our tribes over the centuries—invent images of who we are, and then we begin to serve those images, instead of seeing that we are all of the same spiritual nature, all tiny parts of the same original Source of all life, Krishna, or God.
It’s a kind of idolatry, and we worship the idol that we ourselves create.
I pray, that by serving and seeing in Bhakti, that the masks that cover my vision be removed. I pray to see the interconnectedness of all beings, by comparison to my own self, in our mutual connectedness to the Supreme Whole, Sri Krishna.
I leave you with this poem I wrote last night just before bed:
Prishtina's Moon
[/perfectpullquote]
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
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A Gift from the Sea
Last week we took our three grandchildren to the beach; something we try to do at least once in a year. The three children are each growing into their own lives.
We, as grandparents—whose childhoods were in another century—try to act as tender shepherds to them. We attempt to guide them lightly, to honor their needs for fun, and hugs, and individual growth, alongside sharing our own spiritual perspectives with them, on the world as we see it, as much as we’re able to.
My husband is more up for fun: throwing around a ball on the beach, sharing rides at Funland, and having his own unlimited capacity for ice cream.
I try to be fun as well, I guess, in my own ways. But meanwhile, I found a dear old friend, from many years ago. There at the one lone bookstore, amidst the dozens of tee shirt and candy shops at the beach, the familiar book caught my eye.
Have you ever read, Gift from the Sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh? It’s a treasure of a summer read, a journal written by a deep and thoughtful woman, for herself first of all.
Initially, she was surprised how it resonated with other women. And this, as the 50th Anniversary Edition, still speaks with wisdom so needed today.
She compares the different stages of a woman’s life to different shells she finds during her solitary walks on the beach. She writes of simplicity, and of the art of shedding: how little one can get along with…
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]“I shall not need much. I shall ask into my shell only those friends with whom I can be completely honest. I find I am shedding hypocrisy in human relationships. What a rest that will be! The most exhausting thing in life, I have discovered, is being insincere. That is why so much of social life is exhausting; one is wearing a mask. I have shed my mask.”[/perfectpullquote]
She writes about living “in grace”, to her, meaning, “an inner harmony, essentially spiritual, which can be translated into outward harmony”. Quoting Socrates when he said, “May the outward and inward man be at one.”
I will leave the rest to your exploration. Whether you find yourself this summer at the beach, the mountains, or, for now, surviving the city heat.
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
You are a Sacred Spark of the One Supreme Whole
Rukmini Walker
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[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""] "Comparison is the thief of joy." Theodore Roosevelt [/perfectpullquote]
Most of us spend at least some of our waking energy comparing ourselves to others: our work output, our capabilities of various sorts, our intelligence, our beauty, our education, our agility in yoga, our financial stability, even our detachment from all of these things. Sometimes after comparing ourselves to another we feel appreciation for them, but at other times we feel jealousy.
When we can pause and appreciate someone’s good qualities we become enriched by them. When enviousness or jealousy rears their ugly faces, a door can open to the dark side, leading, perhaps, we know not where.
I love this quote from Mother Teresa, who worked so selflessly, along with her sisters, for so many years caring for the needs of the poor in the mean streets of Kolkata. She said:
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""] “We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean.
But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.”
~Mother Teresa~ [/perfectpullquote]
In other words, we are tiny as innumerable, infinitesimal jiva souls: we are insignificant. But yet, as a sacred spark of the Supreme Whole we can tell ourselves: “I am sacred, I am worthy, and my contribution, however small, is seen, is recognized, and is accepted by the One Supreme Whole, Sri Krishna.” He is the One who sits in our hearts, the One who sees all things, and hears every word that’s spoken, even in a whisper.
Each one of us possesses an original constellation of qualities—each of us unique like a snowflake. How can one be compared to another?!?
Each offering I make—each offering you make—is unprecedented in its uniqueness. No other person can, or will do it (whatever that may be), exactly the same way you or I will do it. And that’s our beauty, given to us by Krishna, that’s the beauty given to us to offer back to Lord Krishna.
And when each of us from each of our unique perspectives can appreciate that beauty, then we all become enriched.
An Aristocratic Lady
Dear Friends,I was recently at Bhakti Center in New York where we have our monthly Urban Devi group. We are working with Visakha Dasi's book, Five Years, Eleven Months, and a Lifetime of Unexpected Love. We discussed Chapter Seven, An Aristocratic Lady: Her metaphor for the awakening of faith in her heart.Visakha wrote:"The faith I had in the unbelief, skepticism and suspicion I'd inherited from my parents was becoming a noxious squatter who lived in my heart as if it owned me. Spiritual faith, I discovered, could not be trifled with. She was like an aristocratic guest in my home. If I was hospitable, if I made her feel welcome, if I respected her, she'd gladly stay and offer me a life so filled with varieties of loving relationships it was beyond my imaginings. But neglected or taken for granted or in the company of unpleasant people, she was gone- along with a sense of how small things depend on great things and how I cannot comprehend much in this world. When faith left, my sense of the mystical left with her.Yet, faith was more than a house guest- she was a permanent resident within me who'd long ago receded to an inner room. As she slowly emerged, doubt was edged out along with his tasteless and flagrant decor. Faith began decorating with tenderness and beauty, warmth and impeccable good taste. A child's candor and wonder began to return to me- the unspoiled vulnerability and verve of innocence."(Excerpt from Five Years, Eleven Months, and a Lifetime of Unexpected Love, Our Spiritual Journey Press, February 2017)
Find more books written by women in the Bhakti tradition, by clicking here!All the best,Rukmini Walker
Appreciation
I attended a talk a few nights ago at Bhakti Center (bhakticenter.org) given by Vaisiseka Das. An exemplary, happy devotee of Krsna. It seems that his effusive happiness springs from an overflowing well of gratitude in his heart. Gratitude for what he's received, gratitude for what he's been gifted to share. I think this is a great key to happiness, to transformation.
I have a personal practice of collecting quotes about gratitude. Living it, dwelling in a childlike sense of wonder is quite another thing. A realized thing. I think we overlook the simple, looking always over its head for the abstract or complex. To remember Krsna as the taste of water each time we drink; to see Him in the light of the sun and moon. What did William Blake say about seeing infinity in a grain of sand?
Vaisiseka Prabhu quoted Voltaire who said that appreciation is a wonderful thing. It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well. He quoted Srila Prabhupada's purport to a verse in Srimad Bhagavatam where he says that gratitude becomes more developed in the human form of life. What does that mean, really? Animals are just going on, eating grass, eating other animals, standing or pouncing on others in a field. When my consciousness becomes awakened that all that I have has come to me as a gift, that's the beginning of my awakening, the beginning of human life. Taking everything for granted, living as though on automatic pilot, as though it will always be there, as though I will always be here, this is an unexamined life, a life that has not yet evolved to being an awakened human.
UPCOMING EVENTS
July
August
September
October
November
January 2019 - India Adventure
Building Beloved Bhakti Community
- To align the internal community of voices within myself.
- To honor the immediate community that exists between ourselves and others.
- And finally, our world view, and actions as Global Citizens.
[/perfectpullquote]
As I've been pondering this topic for the last few weeks while preparing for our retreat, I had an interesting exchange with a mechanic. I drive a 2006 Toyota Prius with 135,000 miles on it. At this point it needs some work, it needs parts. A friend of ours who sells used cars gave us the name of a mechanic. The mechanic said, "You're not going to use those old junk parts that your friend uses in the cars he sells, are you?"As I thought about it, this became a metaphor for community building for me. If I'm trying to become a component of an authentic, vibrant community, how well will that community function if its components are, well, junk? In all humility, I need to cultivate a daily personal practice in order to become my best self, if I'm even a tiny cog in the mechanism of a community of trust. Connecting with Krsna, with Divinity through my chanting, my meditation before running out each day is essential for me, but it also uplifts the quality of my interactions with others in the world in equally essential ways.What are my responsibilities to that immediate community that exists between myself and others? Recently, I read this interpretive translation of a text from the Talmud:
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.[/perfectpullquote]
And finally, what is the vision of a Global Citizen? Bhagavad Gita instructs us in samadarshan, or equal vision: "The humble sages, by virtue of true knowledge, see with equal vision a learned and gentle wise person, a cow, an elephant, a dog, or even one who likes to eat a dog." (Bg 5.18)Beyond the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights, or all declarations of human rights, is this inclusive vision of every living being as a sacred part of the One Supreme Whole.And also iccha, that in our actions, we always have a choice how we may choose to respond. During WWII, Victor Frankl was a psychiatrist imprisoned in a concentration camp. He observed some people who, although starving themselves, were willing to give their last crust of bread to another person. He writes:"They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." Man's Search for Meaning[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""] Three aspects of Building a Beloved Bhakti Community:
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- To align the many voices within myself into a community of one, conscious loving person
- To see and act in dharma, or right action, between myself and the immediate others I meet in my day
- And, ultimately, to see myself as a true Global Citizen who holds a sacred vision of the connectivity of the earth, and all the lives she holds.
[/perfectpullquote]
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If you're of the feminine gender, please join us at Bhakti Center on Sunday, June 17th for our next Urban Devi Sanga from 2-4 PM. We'll be working with Visakha Dasi's book, Five Years, Eleven Months, and a Lifetime of Unexpected Love, Chapter Seven, An Aristocratic Lady.In September, please join us at Supersoul Farm in Chatham, New York for our second annual Urban Devi Retreat, September 28-30.And January 14-27, please join my son, Gaura Vani and I on our second annual India Kirtan Adventure in Puri, Odissa; the UNESCO green travel destination, Govardhan Eco Village, and the ecstatic Flower Festival at Radha Gopinath Temple in Mumbai. Click here for more details.[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]⭐️ SIGN UP BEFORE SEPTEMBER 30TH AND GET AN EARLY BIRD DISCOUNT OF $200! ⭐️ [/perfectpullquote]Last year was magical... Please join us!
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
My Mother Wants a New Body by Rukmini Walker
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Rukmini Walker (May 2018)
Spring
Dear Friends,It's Spring here in DC-still cold, but the cherries are flowering in pink; white flowering pears are columns of dignity lining the roads and hills; cheery yellow forsythia; my favorite, the star magnolia, our American lotus; and the wispy redbuds are all blooming in chorus.
Last weekend we had our twenty-first annual Vaisnava Christian Dialogue, held for the first time at our temple in Potomac. Last year it was held at St. Anselm's, a Benedictine Monastery in Northeast DC, where two of our dialogue partners live, Abbot James Wiseman and Father Philip Simo.Each year we choose a topic to discuss and a participant from each tradition agrees to present a paper on the topic the following year. This year the topic was a comparison of monasticism in each of our traditions. Brahmacari Vrajvihari Sharan, who is the Director of Hindu Life at Georgetown University, and Abbot James each presented papers about their monastic traditions.Each tradition's developments and challenges throughout history were fascinating. The tension each community faces in different phases of time; what becomes assimilated, and what rejected, what it means to live in solitude within community was quite a lesson and a journey.
A new member of our dialogue, Patrick Beldio, is a scholar and a sculptor. His Reunion Studios is located in the Franciscan Monastery, also in Northeast DC. He shared with me a link to his magnificent piece that's housed in the New Sanctuary and Center for Sufism Reoriented in Walnut Creek, California. Please view it at:www.reunionstudios.com/work#/thenewbeing/Graham Hetrick, who traveled with Gaura Vani and I this past January on our India Kirtan Adventure, attended the dialogue for the first time. Graham is a profoundly practicing Christian and the county coroner for Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. He also has an internationally syndicated reality television show on Discovery, called, The Coroner: I Speak for the Dead (grahamhetrick.com).At one point during the dialogue, Graham leaned over to me and said, "Did you know that we are all made of stardust?" I was amazed. I've learned that we're all sacred sparks of spirit, eternal sparks of Krsna's divine energy, but stardust?Graham told me that a new study surveyed 150,000 stars and claims that humans and our galaxies have about 97% of the same kind of atoms within us.So long ago, Joni Mitchell wrote it; Crosby, Stills and Nash sang it:
Well, I came upon a child of God...We are stardust, we are golden,We are billion year old carbon,And we got to get ourselves back to the garden.
And one last poem called,
SpringOn the edge of flightWaiting for You,The ocean withinWith the treesI moveThrough every seasonAncient pillars of patience:Witnesses of Your every wishRooted in your energies,I gain the skies, at lastFreeI fly to what is meIn the fresh spring breeze,Awake to the calling withinYour seeds ofLoveGently sprouting in all that be.
by Gauri Gopika Devi Dasi, Originally published in Bhakti Blossoms: A Collection of Contemporary Vaishnavi Poetry (Golden Dragonfly Press, 2017)I wish you a joyous Spring!All the best,Rukmini Walker
Photos of Rukmini by Krishna Kanta. Flower tree photo by TOMOKO UJI.
Watching Snow from an Upstairs Window
Dear Friends,