98: Time I Am

My phone rang. I rolled over in the dark and fumbled around until I answered the call, "Hello?"  

"Hey Charles, a nurse in the Emergency Room is requesting a chaplain. A patient may be on his way out, and there's no family,"

"Anything else I should know?"

"The patient was mugged and shot. The bullet has been removed, but he's in critical condition,"

"I'll be there," I managed. My bleary eyes focused on the glowing alarm clock: 2:15am. I left the bedroom light off and swung my feet around to the cold wooden floor, pausing to ensure there was no movement or sound from my wife. We were expecting our first child, a son, in a few months, and my wife had been sleeping fitfully for weeks, usually made worse by the nights I was on call. I glanced at her face, took a breath, and crept out of the room. 

I brushed my teeth, shrugged on some clothes and a coat and made my way out into the streets of New York City. Dirty snow piled up along the sidewalks, and I breathed in icy air. If I wasn't awake before, I sure was by the time I flashed my ID at the security guard. 

Shot? No family? What had happened with this man? Questions kicked my mind. I reminded myself that finding out answers to my questions was not my job. My job was to be there for others in their suffering, to offer spiritual care in time of need through prayer, guidance, and above all, listening.  

When I listened, the questions would get answered. 

Or they would dissolve into the night.

I made my way through the dimly lit emergency room; I passed a woman with a mangled, swollen face, a man with bloodied jeans and an elevated leg wrapped in bandages, and other men and women with obvious and not-so-obvious pain. 

A few beds had curtains drawn around them. When I reached bed 88, I paused. I folded my palms. Help me God, I prayed. Help me, Krishna.  

I parted the curtain.  

A young man lay on the bed wearing a pale blue hospital gown, but I could see the edges of a white bandage that covered his upper right chest. His round, youthful face surprised me. Brow furrowed and eyes closed, his chest rose and fell somewhat unevenly. The beep of his heart rate monitor mingled with the monitors of others in nearby beds.

I approached the young man. Not wanting to wake him, I sat in one of the chairs next to the bed and folded my palms and prayed. 

Time passed by in strange, thick waves that night. At one point a nurse came in to fill me in on some more details and confirmed that the doctors had done all that they could. Although they had stabilized him as much as possible, the young man was declining - his heart had been irrevocably damaged.    

I stayed in the room, a coldness creeping into my limbs. Would this young man die alone here in Bed 88 of the Emergency Room? I mean, I was here. I resolved in those moments to stay until the end, even if I was no longer on my shift. But he had no family? Friends? 

"Who are you?" 

I started in my chair and turned to look at the curtains that had parted. A middle-aged woman stood there, her face drawn, her hair in ragged gray wisps. 

I stood. "I'm Charles Rossman, I'm with the spiritual care department," 

The woman regarded me warily. "Are you Christian?"

"Actually, I'm a Hindu chaplain,"

She frowned. "You don't look Hindu," 

I was quiet.

"But... thank you for coming. I'm Mrs. Graham," The woman's eyes landed on the young man and her face sagged. She stepped forward to his bed and wrapped her hands around his hand. "Matthew," she murmured. 

"I'll step out until you need me," I said.

"No," she turned to me, her face fierce. "Don't go, please,"

I bowed my head. "Sure, ma'am, I'll stay,"

She turned back to the patient and said, "My Matthew loved people. He would've wanted to have been surrounded by people at... this time." Tears began to pour down her face, her body wracked with gentle sobs. "Chaplain," she said, "I just got this news a few hours ago. I've been driving in the dark to get here, blinded by tears. I've had to pull over a few times to cry." The woman turned to me, her eyes bloodshot. "I can't even process that my son is dying. He is such a bright young man. You're spiritual care. Tell me something, anything," 

"The first step," he said gently, "Is to just be with your grief, even though your mind is so overwhelmed with grief*,"

"Grief is drying up my senses**, chaplain, it's hard to even see or hear you, or my son. I can't think straight,"

"For now, just be with your grief,"

"If I give in to grief, though, it seems like an ocean with no shore and I'll drown. I can't drown right now. I have to be here for my son. But I'm drowning. Please help me." The woman collapsed into a chair, her head in her hands. 

I had learned to stay afloat, to not drown in other people's grief. I had been a chaplain for over a decade - I had seen death come to babies, teenagers, middle-aged men and women, the elderly, and everyone in-between. Death could be heart-wrenching, confusing, terrifying, beautiful, profound - sometimes all those things at once. I had learned to be there for others with a gentle presence of compassion, and I had learned to let the emotions of death and suffering wash over me and away. I would not be able to function or live my life if I let each stroke of suffering and each death consume me. 

Unbidden, though, came the image of my wife resting in our bed, the light from the streetlamps filtering in to touch her face. Within her body, she carried our son. 

What if one day she received a call in the middle of the night like this? Decades of love poured into raising a good, strong man, our lives revolving around caring for him. The bonds of our hearts as strong as a thousand silk ropes.

Then with the shot of a gun, ripped away from us. Forever.

I began to sweat. My throat became dry. Silence smothered the room. 

"Chaplain?" Mrs. Graham said. She observed me, her face streaked with tears. 

The deaths I had witnessed or been a part of over the past ten years flooded my brain with images and sensations. So much pain. So much suffering. So much loss. I sucked in a breath. 

Now who's drowning? I thought. Trying to help a drowning man could mean drowning myself.

"Mrs. Graham, may I be excused?" 

She looked at me, wary and concerned. She nodded. 

I stepped outside of the curtained partition and took deep breaths. I walked away, down the emergency room past broken bodies and took a seat on the edge of the room. The deaths rushed at me, wave after wave. Not only the deaths of those I had experienced as a chaplain, but the death of my grandmother, the death of my cousin at the ocean one day, the death of a friend in college in a car accident, the deaths I had heard about in the news - school shootings, terrorist bombings, wars, earthquakes in Nepal... the deaths of entire species from overhunting and blazing fires that were overtaking the world more and more and the deaths of this choking earth.

My breaths became ragged again. My face was hot, I could feel wetness on my cheeks. I sipped air. 

In the midst of the flames of what I was seeing, the words I had been saying for so many years before I entered a room to help a patient or a patient's family surfaced: Krishna, help me.  

I grabbed onto those words. Krishna, I pleaded. How can this be? You are all good. You are supposed to be. 

A verse from the Bhagavad-gita spoke to me: Time I am, great destroyer of the worlds.*** 

Time. By dint of time, everyone was rushing into the mouth of death. Every single last one of us. No one would be spared - not me, my wife, or unborn child. We would all be destroyed. Not only living beings, but worlds. 

My chest began to shudder each time I drew breath, my hands trembled. The truth of death may be real, but the pain, the overwhelming pain of it all twisted me up. That young man did not deserve to die. Not like this. I buried my head in my hands. 

Krishna, help me. Soothe my heart. 

After seeing this form of yours as Time, my mind is disturbed with fear, Arjuna had spoken in the Gita. Please bestow Your grace upon me and reveal Your form as the Personality of Godhead, Krishna. ****

Behind my closed eyes came the image of Krishna - this Krishna was a deity who resided in a temple in the Lower East Side. He was made of white marble, about three feet tall. He held a flute to his lips, and a smile played on his face. His eyes soft. Luminous. Others might say He was a statue. To me, God had come in a form that I could see and exchange a glance with. 

The mahamantra, the prayer composed to Krishna and the divine feminine, Radha, flowed over my fever in cool waves, over and over again. 

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare,

Hare Rama Hare Rama, Rama Rama Hare Hare. 

I don't know how long I sat there, murmuring the mahamantra, my mind fixed on Krishna's beautiful form.

Still, the pull of my duty commanded me to stand up, do my job. Be there for others. Care for others.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I rose to my feet. I went to the restroom to wash my face, and then set my feet back to Bed 88. 

"Hello," I said from the other side of the curtain. 

"Yes?" Mrs. Graham responded.

"May I come in?"

"Yes," she said. 

I parted the curtain. Mrs. Graham was gazing at the face of her son, a hungry expression turning her features raw. "He's going to leave soon," she said, "I can feel it." She turned to me. "What can we do?"

She did not mean what could the two of us do to save him. What could we do to... to care for him in the deepest sense. 

"We can pray," 

The woman scoffed, but tears softened the harsh sound. "I don't believe in prayer," but a look of desperation fell over her when she turned to the face of her son. "But I have to try something. We. We have to try something to..." 

"I can pray in silence, if you prefer," I said, coming closer and taking a seat next to her. My inner tempest had calmed to the stillness of a lake. 

"No, no, Matthew should hear your prayer," she paused, then looked over at me. "You said you were a Hindu chaplain. What kind of prayers do Hindus do?" 

"The foremost prayer we make is one of love, a kind of calling out to God, to Krishna, with all of our hearts,"

The woman's eyes softened for the first time, and silence fell around us, only punctuated by the erratic beeps of the heart monitor. 

"Whatever it is you do in your tradition," she said, "I give you permission to do it with all of your heart," 

I hesitated. Whatever we do in our tradition? Would it be... improper at this time? Unsuitable?

But Mrs. Graham was looking at me expectantly. Now was not the time to debate propriety and details. 

So I looked over at Matthew, whose brows were furrowed, and sang the mahamantra. I sang in a soft tone, a gentle, simple melody. I circled to Matthew's right side and held his hand while his mother held the other. I brought to mind the image of Krishna and sang and sang. Tears poured down Mrs. Graham's face in silence and stillness.   

Matthew's heart rate became irregular and slowed. The furrow smoothed on his face, the tension I could feel in his fingers dissolved. I sang, my voice becoming hoarse, but I continued on. 

Then, the young man took a breath and exhaled. He did not inhale again. The heart monitor flatlined. Mrs. Graham closed her eyes. "Take care of him, take care of him," she murmured. 

I sang one last mahamantra and then fell quiet, holding Matthew's still-warm hand. 

*1.46

**2.7

***11.32

****11.45

Note: This story was inspired by my husband's line of work as a hospital and hospice chaplain, as well as Arjuna's experience of viewing Krishna's universal form in chapter 11. In this section, Arjuna views the flaming rivers of death and is utterly terrified, and Krishna tells him that He is time, destroyer of the worlds. Arjuna asks to be pacified, and Krishna eventually reveals to His friend his beautiful, two-armed form as Krishna once again. 

96: Reflections on Austerity

 Creative Expression: Sharing realizations spontaneously 

Bhagavad-gita, Chapter 16, Texts 1-3

Full text here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/16/1-3/

93: Happiness - Poison -> Nectar

  

CHAPTER 18, TEXT 37: That which in the beginning may be just like poison but at the end is just like nectar and which awakens one to self-realization is said to be happiness in the mode of goodness.

Full purport here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/18/37/

92: Happiness - Poison -> Poison

 

CHAPTER 18, TEXT 39: And that happiness which is blind to self-realization, which is delusion from beginning to end and which arises from sleep, laziness and illusion is said to be of the nature of ignorance.

Full Purport here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/18/39/

91: Happiness - Nectar -> Poison

 

CHAPTER 18, TEXT 38: That happiness which is derived from contact of the senses with their objects and which appears like nectar at first but poison at the end is said to be of the nature of passion.

Full purport here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/18/38/

86: I Am Here

Creative Expression: Found Short Story/Pem (fiction)

This post is in the format of a Found Short Story/Poem; the words in italics are words taken directly from the verse and/or purport. The words in standard font are my own words. 

CHAPTER 7, TEXT 9 

Alone on a Saturday night in the city, a woman sits upon her velvet couch with a book in her hands. She used to fold her palms on Saturday nights like these to talk to God, but the years of silence in return ate away at her palms and she stopped folding them. 

The silence has eaten away at her neck and shoulders and now her face and her tongue. The silence of her apartment squeezes her chest like a vice. Years of chatter with coworkers, years of business proposals with clients, years of laughter at sitcoms on Netflix.

But the silence keeps growing.

No one speaks to her. She speaks to no one. 

Tonight she stares into space. Tonight gravity pulls at her bones. Tonight - away from the subway, away from her office, away from her clients - raw yearning eats away at her gut. She is surrounded by people above, below, and on all sides, and yet she is alone, 

alone, 

alone.

Where are you? she asks into space. She hears a clock tick in the kitchen. 

The woman sips her tea. She flips open the book a man in the subway sold to her - The Bhagavad-gita As It Is.

She pushes the pages through her fingers, the pages flipping by in a cool whisper. She stops the page, somewhere in Chapter 7. 

I am the original fragrance of the earth, the text says. 

Like a whisper in her ear. 

Everything in the material world 

has a certain flavor 

or fragrance, 

as the flavor 

and fragrance 

in a flower, 

or in the earth, 

in water, 

in fire, 

in air.

The uncontaminated flavor,

the original flavor, 

which permeates everything, 

is Kṛṣṇa.

The woman tastes the tea that lingers on the roof of her mouth. Rose. Jasmine. Something else. 

Rose. 

Jasmine. 

I am

Fragrance

in a flower

The whispers fill the air around her like so many hummingbirds. The silence. The silence that had been gnawing at her body for so many years dissipates in the gusts of whispers from the book on her lap. 

I am 

here. 

I am the original flavor, the fragrance in a flower. 

I am here in your tea.  

I am the life of all that lives. 

I am here in your heart. 

Your pulse thrums in your veins, your throat. That is Me. 

I am here. 

The woman, tingling, closes the book, the palms of her hands closing around the front and back cover. She stares at her lap. She notes that her palms are folded, and the book lay between them. 

85: The Rising Sun of Faith

Creative Expression: Personal Narrative

When I was 12 years old, I developed a chronic and painful physical condition. 

Three years later at the age of 15, I Googled symptoms. I saw that there was a high chance that my condition was cancer. (Note to self: never Google symptoms.) 

Six months to a year to live. 

My mind went numb. At fifteen, I had planned to travel to literally every single country in the world, establish schools, produce albums, write books, etc. etc. But when I read this potential death sentence, all of those plans imploded in my brain. 

I walked around in a daze for weeks. Food tasted like sawdust. I didn't talk to anyone - I didn't want the pity of friends, the worry of my parents, the skepticism or interrogation or healing suggestions from adults.

What I wanted was solace. I wanted peace. I wanted to know my purpose in this short life, where I would go when I died, and if I would even go anywhere. 

Who was I?

On our bookshelf at home sat this large book, which had been given as a gift: 

Regardless of this being a "children's book," all the illuminations are taken directly from The Bhagavad-gita As It Is, translations by Bhaktivedanta Swami. One would think scripture is reserved only for scholars or adults, but this book defied that notion. 

One day, I read this illumination: 

Never was there a time when I did not exist, nor you, nor all these kings; nor in the future shall any of us cease to be. (2.12)

These words rung within my being as the truest words I had ever heard in my entire life. My body filled with the solace and peace I had been yearning for. I remember sitting there and gazing at this illumination, gazing at Krishna's beautiful face, the ornate lettering, the drawings. I felt illuminated from within.

At the time of my greatest need, I felt as though someone had reached out to hold me in warm, gentle hands. 

My physical condition lasted for many painful years, and even with many doctors and tests, we never figured out what it was. One day, the symptoms began to fade and they never returned. 

What has remained with me until this day, 18 years later, is the unshakeable faith that I am an eternal spirit soul. Whether I die tomorrow in a car accident, ten years from now from cancer, or fifty years from now from an old and broken body, my soul will go on. The souls of my loved ones will always go on. Our souls shall exist forever.  

Now, there are 700 verses in this ancient scripture, and maybe I don't understand or have faith in them all. 

But I have faith in this one. No one and nothing can take away my faith in this verse, not even death. 

Like the sun that is rising over the horizon of the ocean that starts out just as a little dot of bright orange, as time goes on that dot becomes a slice, and the slice becomes a semicircle, and on and on until the sun is rising in brilliant rays that light up the world. 

This is how I feel about my faith in only one verse of the Bhagavad-gita. 

The light of faith from one verse has been lighting up the other verses in this text, lighting up other texts in the bhakti tradition, lighting up the words and teachings of spiritual teachers in my own tradition, lighting up the teachers and scriptures and traditions of other spiritual paths of the world, and ultimately 

lighting up my own heart and mind to love and serve God and God's devotees. 

Just one verse. 

So I am grateful to my painful condition for coming into my life at such a young age. I am grateful for Google's morbid (and inaccurate!) diagnosis. 

I am grateful for the book, Illuminations from the Bhagavad-gita, by Kim and Chris Murray, for granting me the most priceless diamond of my existence: faith in my eternal soul. 

(A link for the book: https://www.amazon.com/Illuminations-Bhagavad-Gita-Kim-Waters/dp/1886069212/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2XJYOEGEPCZ9O&dchild=1&keywords=illuminations+from+the+bhagavad+gita&qid=1608771223&sprefix=illuminations+from+the+bh%2Caps%2C308&sr=8-1)

83: Arjuna's Dilemma

Creative Expression: Graphic Novel / Comic Book Strip

Chapter 1 of the Bhagavad-gita is entitled Arjuna Vishaad Yoga, which translates as "The Yoga of Despair as Displayed by Arjuna." This means that being in despair is actually a way to unite (yoga) with God. We need to get to a place of rock bottom despair, sometimes, in order to turn to God for guidance and shelter. 

(Pssst - I had a lot of fun with this one.) 

Chapter 1.31, 45-46. 

79: Levels of Happiness

CHAPTER 18, TEXT 38: That happiness which is derived from contact of the senses with their objects and which appears like nectar at first but poison at the end is said to be of the nature of passion. 

Krishna is describing the different kinds of  happiness within the modes of nature. I created the below chart as a map to understanding the patterns of how things begin and how things end. 

	Goodness (sattva)	Passion (rajas)	Ignorance (tamas)
Beginning	poison	nectar	poison
End	nectar	poison	poison

An example of happiness in the mode of goodness (sattva) is a college education. Working for a college degree means paying a lot of money for years and years without any income - this often means living in a simple place with simple food, going to class at sometimes early times of the day or late at night after work, hours upon hours of homework, grueling projects and exams, [often] unpaid internships, and more. 

This is like poison. 

But in the end, the nectar of knowledge, a degree, and improved job prospects is what makes college worth it for most people. People with college degrees have been shown to earn more income not only for themselves but for society at large (aplu.org), they have a greater chance of staying married (pewresearch.com), and they are even less likely to be obese and to just have greater health overall (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/). This is the "nectar" of happiness in the mode of goodness.

Happiness in the mode of passion is nectar at first and poison in the end. The classic example that Prabhupad gives is - you guessed it - falling in "love." He writes, "A young man and a young woman meet, and the senses drive the young man to see her, to touch her and to have sexual intercourse." This is considered to be "nectar," a source of pleasure, excitement, and all-consuming absorption. Some dating apps exist solely to facilitate this kind of happiness in the mode of passion - meeting and having sex. Prabhupad continues, "In the beginning this may be very pleasing to the senses, but at the end, or after some time, it becomes just like poison. They are separated or there is divorce, there is lamentation, there is sorrow, etc." I once read an article about a woman who had just had sex with a man through using the dating app Tinder and as she was getting dressed he was already swiping through his phone again, looking for the next meet-up. She was appalled, but what could she say? What right did she have to be appalled? The sorrow of this woman and women and men who have used the app or engaged in this pattern is pervasive. 

This is poison. 

While Tinder is a crude example, it is also very relevant to Prabhupad's purport and today's reality.

Something about the fact that happiness in the mode of passion starts off as nectar makes it addictive. We HAD an experience of that pleasure, that high, but we lost it. So if only I would try again, and again, and again... maybe the nectar will last. 

But it never lasts. 

Prabhupad writes, "Happiness derived from a combination of the senses and the sense objects is always a cause of distress and should be avoided by all means." This means that enjoying the objects of my senses with my eyes and ears and hands and tongue is temporary and always fades. 

And quickly. 

How long does the act of sex last? How long can one eat an ice cream cone? How long can one watch Game of Thrones or how many new phones or houses or cars can one buy? The temporary nature of this happiness is what causes distress. The pleasure is there, it's there! And then poof - gone. So this happiness is nectar in the beginning and poison in the end. 

And finally, happiness in the mode of ignorance is poison in the beginning and poison in the end. 

One may wonder how on earth one could experience happiness by tasting poison in the beginning. Wouldn't you just stop even trying for that kind of happiness if it's so poisonous, even from the first taste?

This is the mode of ignorance, though. As I have come to think of ignorance, it is not just "not knowing" something. Ignorance means ignoring something. This implies an active turning away from knowledge, understanding, and growth. 

So in this context, one ignores the poison - the pain, the discomfort, the burn - of that first sip of alcohol, first puff of cigarette, or first taste of meat as a child (https://family-medicine.ca/). With enough ignoring, one even begins to enjoy that poison. The word used in verse 39 is the word sukham, or happiness. 

An example of this kind of happiness is alcohol. I have only ever tasted one drop of alcohol. When I was about thirteen years old, I went to a party with middle school friends and there was beer. I tried a drop and then kind of spit it back out. I never tried it again.  

Alcohol is always some kind of fermented grain or fruit or vegetable, which means that it's rotting. This process of decomposing is in the mode of ignorance - the mode of goodness means maintenance and the mode of passion means creation, but destruction is the mode of ignorance. This is why, traditionally, fermented foods are prohibited in Vaishnava tradition, or they are not recommended or offerable to Krishna.  

Of course, alcohol has been enjoyed around the world for millennia. Still, according to this definition of happiness in the mode of ignorance, alcohol fits the bill. It is poison in the beginning, and while one may still experience happiness from this poison (loosening up inhibitions, relaxing etc), it is still poison in the end - throwing up, headaches, and lack of consciousness or awareness of one's words or actions. In more severe cases if alcohol or any drug use becomes an addiction, one's body can begin to sour, or one's character can even rot through abusive language or behavior. Addiction can lead one to feeling trapped into using the substance to function or numb the pain or maybe to even feel alive. 

Krishna describes happiness in these three modes of nature, but ultimately, we are meant to transcend happiness in any of these modes, we're meant to come to a kind of happiness to "which [we] sometimes come to the end of all distress" (18.36). We're meant to experience happiness that is nectar in the beginning and nectar in the end. This kind of happiness can only be experienced by transcending the modes of nature and this world and coming to God, to Krishna. We're meant to end our distress by loving and serving God. 

Of course, if we're not there yet, we can at least look at these verses to get a sense of "Okay, what mode of happiness am I primarily in right now? How can I elevate my approach to happiness?" 

If I'm in the mode of ignorance, how can I elevate to the mode of passion?   

If I'm in the mode of passion, how can I elevate to the mode of goodness?

If I'm in the mode of goodness, how do I elevate to suddha-sattva (pure goodness) by serving and loving Krishna? 

Full purport here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/18/38/

76: Bodily Discomfort

CHAPTER 18, TEXT 8: Anyone who gives up prescribed duties as troublesome or out of fear of bodily discomfort is said to have renounced in the mode of passion. Such action never leads to the elevation of renunciation.

Waking up early in the morning - before the sun rises - to engage in spiritual habits like mantra meditation and devotional singing is considered a foundation for building a strong spiritual practice and consequently a strong spiritual life. 

Let's be honest: waking up early can make for a lot of "bodily discomfort." 

That moment when the alarm rights at 5am? Man. I used to wake up at 5am for years when I taught in New York City, and I kind of got used to it... but not really. Most mornings coming to consciousness was like rising out of molasses, and climbing out of a warm bed into a cold room was as good as scaling Mount Rainier. 

Despite the bodily discomfort, did I do my duty? Yes sir. I woke up. I did mantra meditation. I took a shower and got ready for work and left the apartment often before the sun had even risen. 

But now that I am taking time off from work, right now the prospect of rising early is as palatable and practical as scaling Mount Rainier... in my pajamas. 

That said, Krishna emphasizes in this verse that prescribed duties should not be given up. Prabhupad expands on this point by saying that, "If by ... rising early in the morning one can advance his transcendental Kṛṣṇa consciousness, one should not desist out of fear or because such activities are considered troublesome. Such renunciation is in the mode of passion." Right now I could probably say that I have renounced the activity of rising early in the morning in order to advance my Krsna consciousness. Without work to speed me on, I find no need to swim through molasses and climb a mountain just to do mantra meditation that I end up falling asleep trying to do. That said, renouncing this activity out of bodily discomfort is in the mode of passion, and Prabhupad says that, "The result of passionate work is always miserable." 

I can feel that. I can feel that waking up later, at around 7:30am, is a kind of meek and mundane way to trod through life. Even miserable.  

Forcing myself to follow my prescribed duties or what I know I "should" do has just lead me down a lot of Heartbreak Highways and Dutiful Dead-ends. I am striving to be more compassionate with myself, but it's hard.

I know the highest standard. This verse and Prabhupad say it all quite clearly.  

I'm just not there.

For now. 

And that's all I can do right now. No forcing, just accepting. 

Full purport here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/18/8/

73: The Heat of Speaking (and not speaking!)

CHAPTER 17, TEXT 15: Austerity of speech consists in speaking words that are truthful, pleasing, beneficial, and not agitating to others, and also in regularly reciting Vedic literature.

"Austerity" is one of those arcane words that kind of has the average person going, "Huh?"

Either "austerity" is a foreign word or concept, or there are some vague connections to being rigid, extreme simplicity, or, as Oxford Languages puts it, "conditions characterized by severity, sternness, or asceticism." This last definition comes the closest to the original meaning of austerity. 

But none of these point to why on earth anyone would undergo extreme simplicity, sternness or asceticism. No one in their right mind really wants to be an ascetic. In fact, austerity seems rather like self-harm (masochism)!

The Sanskrit word used in this verse is "tapa" which translates literally as "heat." This is because doing austerity generates a kind of heat, a personal power (or shakti) that ripples out into one's life. 

This is the phenomenon of performing voluntary suffering - we are empowered to achieve a result.

In this way, most of us have all performed austerity for some reason or other - attending school and completing all that homework in order to receive a diploma, putting in overtime hours at a job to make extra money, working out at the gym in order to get a shapely body.   

This is a law of the material world, just like the law of karma. Anyone who undergoes voluntary suffering generates power. This law can be applied in dark ways in order to gain power over others and to reach some exploitative goal, or this law can be applied in auspicious ways in order to be empowered to serve and love others with a clean and open heart. 

For text 15 of chapter 17, we see that Krishna is describing austerity of speech in the mode of goodness. What's fascinating about the wording of this verse is that to be truthful, pleasing, and beneficial in one's speech is austerity - voluntary suffering.

How could be speaking in a truthful and pleasing way be voluntary suffering? 

Because speaking in a deceitful and unpleasant and purposeless way is the default in this world. It's so easy. 

Too easy. 

To speak in a truthful, pleasing, and beneficial way takes hard work. It's depriving us of the delicious and easy tendency to gossip, complain, vent anger, blame, and criticize others. Prabhupad emphasizes that "One should not speak in such a way as to agitate the minds of others." But it's so easy to speak in such a way to agitate the minds of others! So easy! 

Especially loved ones. We know their soft and vulnerable spots - with a well-aimed word we could incite agitation and pain in their minds and hearts. Just a word.

In this verse, Krishna does not give any advice about how to speak; He simply shares the nature of austerity of speech and what it looks like. In a way, He leaves it up to us to decide what we wish to create with our personal power. 

To refrain from speaking words that agitates others is actually voluntary suffering and generates power. 

By being austere in our speech, our hearts become powerful and strong, the heat of austerity coming back to nourish us and strengthen us to love and be loved at our highest potential. 

Full purport here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/17/15/

71: The Function of the Soul

CHAPTER 16, TEXT 21: There are three gates leading to this hell – lust, anger and greed. Every sane man should give these up, for they lead to the degradation of the soul.

One evening many years ago, I was traveling on a bus. The driver of the bus, an elderly, spiritual man, was having a conversation with another traveler, and I eavesdropped on their conversation. 

The man asked, "What is the function of the soul?"

The traveler was silent. My ears perked up and I leaned in to hear the man answer his own question:

"To desire. The function of the soul is to desire," 

Those simple words rang with an eternal truth, and they have echoed in my mind in the many years since. Interesting, no? I can still remember the deep blue evening light, the headlights from oncoming vehicles, the silhouettes of spiky trees as they rushed by. Those words anchor me to that time and space: The function of the soul is to desire. 

I have seen this eternal truth play out in my life and in the world.

When the soul is in touch with material energy, that eternal propensity to desire transforms into lust. Trying to satisfy the soul's eternal, spiritual desires with temporary, material things is a recipe for frustration, drama, and pain. I speak from experience, here, and I'm sure anyone reading this post would say the same. 

In this verse of the Gita, Krishna is saying that there are three gates leading to hell - lust, anger, and greed. Prabhupad emphasizes, though, that lust is the origin: "One tries to satisfy his lust, and when he cannot, anger and greed arise." Note that Prabhupad writes that one "tries" to satisfy lust, but he "cannot" - it is simply impossible to satisfy lust, like trying to put out a raging fire by feeding it logs soaked with gasoline. It is eventual that one will get to the point of anger and an even more inflamed greed. In verse 12 of this chapter, Krishna describes that an ungodly person is "bound by a network of hundreds of thousands of desires" which is not an exaggeration. Hundreds of thousands of desires may even be an understatement. Those desires lead to the degradation of the soul, as Krishna says in this verse. 

Why? Where does lust come from, this raging fire of desire?

The soul. 

The function of the soul is to desire. 

To quench this fire of desire IS impossible, because to do so would snuff out our very existence. 

The key, then, is to understand that this nature to desire something and someone, always, is divine. Originally, the soul desires to love and be loved, and ultimately to love God and be loved by God. 

The whole process of bhakti yoga is about taking those tendencies of the soul offering them to Krishna. In this way the soul is not degraded, but uplifted.  

Desire Krishna. Desire to serve, desire to connect, desire to love. 

Full purport here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/16/21/

66: Reality Always Wins

CHAPTER 15, TEXT 5: Those who are free from false prestige, illusion and false association, who understand the eternal, who are done with material lust, who are freed from the dualities of happiness and distress, and who, unbewildered, know how to surrender unto the Supreme Person attain to that eternal kingdom.

Scientists are the usual go-to people to find out the data, the facts, the reality of this world. Scientists break down the functions of the body, calculate the patterns of weather, and discover new ways to combine elements. They rely on cold hard facts to conduct experiments, and they use the scientific method to ensure that their process is legitimate. 

Scientists are who we, as a human society, rely upon to make sense of the world. 

So much of the Gita, though, emphasizes that human society cannot distinguish reality from illusion. This verse of the Gita uses the words "false", "illusion", and "being free" and "unbewildered" multiple times. Material scientists are minimized as a source for understanding reality; if we want to understand reality, we must approach a spiritual teacher, we must approach scripture to understand what is false and how to be free. 

A basic principle of reality that human beings cannot seem to grasp is that we will all die. All of us. Every single one of us. Believing that we shall live forever, we build a life thinking it will last forever and thus feel a sense of pride in self, family, and country. Prabhupad writes, "Pride is due to illusion, for although one comes here, stays for a brief time and then goes away, he has the foolish notion that he is the lord of the world." The phrase here "lord of the world" is significant - even men and women who are leaders of great countries or have vast amounts of wealth will die one day and be forgotten in the sands of time. What to speak of all of us non-royal, non-wealthy, non-talented little people down here - you know, 99.999% of the world. We will all just vanish into thin air when death claims us. BUT STILL - even us little people believe we are lords of the world. 

Even us. 

This is illusion. 

But because we believe we're lords of the world, "[T]hus [we] makes all things complicated, and [we are] always in trouble. The whole world moves under this impression." For example, modern human society invents complicated machines to speed up the process of doing laundry, cooking, and transportation. But then we create so many other problems, namely air pollution, landfills, and waterway contamination. In this way we're always in trouble - one material solution creates a hundred problems. 

Ultimately, "People are considering the land, this earth, to belong to human society, and they have divided the land under the false impression that they are the proprietors. One has to get out of this false notion that human society is the proprietor of this world." Prabhupad says the word "false" twice here - false means that the understanding is incorrect and not based on reality. In this world we operate under this principle, that human society is the pinnacle of existence, and that we own all the land and animals and plants on the planet. But how is that? How do humans have the absolute say? Prabhupad asserts that we must "get out" of this false notion. We are not the proprietors of anyone. 

Prabhupad writes that "One has to cultivate knowledge of what is actually his own and what is actually not his own." So then what IS our own? Do I even own anything? Honestly, after reading this verse and purport, I'm not even sure. Is it possible for a spirit soul to own anything? Well, I guess I own my choices. That's the only reality I can be sure of. 

"When one has an understanding of things as they are, he becomes free from all dual conceptions such as happiness and distress, pleasure and pain." The goal of scientists is to solve the world's problems, to increase happiness and decrease distress, to increase pleasure and decrease pain. But the goal of the transcendentalist is to rise above these dualities, understanding that they will ebb and flow like the tide for eternity. This is reality. 

Full purport here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/15/5/

34: Make A Choice: IGNORE-ance or KNOW-ledge

CHAPTER 7, TEXT 15: Those miscreants who are grossly foolish, who are lowest among mankind, whose knowledge is stolen by illusion, and who partake of the atheistic nature of demons do not surrender unto Me.

CHAPTER 7, TEXT 16: O best among the Bhāratas, four kinds of pious men begin to render devotional service unto Me – the distressed, the desirer of wealth, the inquisitive, and he who is searching for knowledge of the Absolute.

One evening when I was thirteen years old in Hawaii, I smoked marijuana with a few of my friends at an abandoned hotel. We then went to the beach and laughed and played in the shimmering blue water in the setting sun.

The night set in fast. My friends went home and somehow I ended up at the beach alone. This was an age before cell phones, so I couldn't call my parents. I had no money for a payphone. Besides, I thought nervously, I didn't want my parents to catch whiff of anything I had been doing.

So... I walked home.

In the dark, along roads where headlights blinded me and whizzed by, through quiet streets up the mountain towards my house, I walked. I was coming off the high from the marijuana, and one side effect is to become paranoid. So walking in the dark my mind conjured monsters, ax-murderers, and ferocious beasts. You're just coming down from your high, Bhakti, get a grip, I told myself. But fear flooded my veins.

By the time I got home, the high (and the fear) had worn off. I walked through my front door exhausted to the core of my being - not only by the fear, but by my attempt to have fun. What a shallow, unreliable, and futile method to experience happiness. I had simply become miserable.

That night, I vowed to never smoke marijuana again, or take any other mind-altering substance.

The next morning, I opened up an old songbook, filled with prayers by the saints in the Vaishnava tradition. I wanted to know - what is real happiness? Surely these people had it figured out, and maybe their songs would show me the way.

That fateful evening when I was thirteen was so miserable for me that I decided to turn to God. I could  have just as easily shrugged off the miserable experience as a one-off event and kept on smoking marijuana and stumbling in the metaphorical dark. But somehow, I made a choice.

There must be more to life than this. 

Show me. 

Please. 

That choice set me on a lifelong path for the pursuit of truth and love.

These two verses from the Bhagavad-gita, verses 15 and 16 of Chapter 7, highlight in such piercingly clear ways the types of people who refuse to turn to Krishna and those who do turn to Krishna.

Below I arrayed my analysis of these two verses and the analogous types of people, which is based on the commentary by Baladev Vidyabhusan; I wove in Prabhupad's translation and commentary as well.

Ultimately, the greatest distinction between these types of people is those people who choose to ignore Krishna (and cultivate ignorance) and those who choose to know God (and cultivate true knowledge). I did  not only make the choice to know God when I was thirteen - my relationship with God and the way I turn to Him continues to evolve over time. I am called to choose on a regular basis: turn towards or turn away?

These verses are not meant to condemn, but are meant to give us the clarity to understand our own relationship with God and to ask the question: Which one of these am I?

And then - make a choice.

Full Purports by Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupad here for Verse 15: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/7/15/
and here for Verse 16: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/7/16/

27: From Enemy to Friend

CHAPTER 6, TEXT 6: For him who has conquered the mind, the mind is the best of friends; but for one who has failed to do so, his mind will remain the greatest enemy.

Even in America, Land of the Free, everyone has a boss.

That boss may be my manager. Or professor. My parents. Maybe my husband, or wife. Maybe my boss is simply time, which tells me when to wake up and go to sleep. Or maybe my boss is my stomach, because I need to eat. There will always be someone "superior" giving me orders, whether I like it or not.

Prabhupad writes, "The constitutional position of the living entity is to carry out the order of the superior." So in this sense, there is no getting around having a boss and carrying out the orders of that boss - it is our very nature to serve.

Freedom does not mean having no boss and no one to answer to.

Freedom means I get to choose my boss.

Have you ever had a bad boss? I have. I remember dreading waking up in the morning because I had to go to work. No matter that I liked my coworkers and even the work itself. The negative, doubtful, nitpicky, over-controlling, and discouraging attitude of my boss cast a shadow over my work and life. But I was bound to serve my superior, whether I liked him/her or not.

In this analogy, the mind is not the highest boss, like the CEO or company owner, but it's the manager. The function of the mind is to accept and reject.

What do I like? What do I dislike?

What comes to me  is the image of a child who rejects broccoli with screams of disgust and accepts ice cream with screams of delight.

That's the mind.

That's our manager.

Great.

In this verse, Krishna says that the mind can be either the greatest friend or the greatest enemy, and without self-control the mind is the greatest enemy: "One who cannot control his mind lives always with the greatest enemy, and thus his life and its mission are spoiled." I need to become the boss of my mind, or my mind will take over my life and spoil it.

The good news is that my mind is only the manager, not the CEO.

The CEO is the intelligence. This means that my intelligence is capable of controlling my mind. I need to use my intelligence to control my impulses to accept and reject. Ultimately, though, "As long as one’s mind remains an unconquered enemy, one has to serve the dictations of lust, anger, avarice, illusion, etc." This is like living with a bad boss, day in and day out, a manager who is doubtful, nitpicky, temperamental, and negative. Living under the tyranny of lust, anger, hatred, and more is a life of hell.

The greatest choice to make in order to transform the mind from an enemy to a friend is to control it - to learn self-control, self-discipline, and self-knowledge. This is what it means to conquer the mind. A powerful and practical way to ways to cultivate self-discipline is to delay gratification. Viktor Frankl writes, "Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom." This is about expanding our free will and our ability to control our choices and ultimately our minds.

Delay, don't deny.

Delay the ice cream.

Delay the new clothes.

Delay the new gadget.

Delay the hurtful words.

Just the process of delaying is an act of self-control. We increase the size of that space between stimulus and response. And in the process of delaying, in that window of time, I can use my intelligence to accept what is healthy for me (the "broccoli") and reject what is unhealthy for me (the "ice cream").

Cultivating self-control makes the mind one's friend. Interestingly, the word "friend" comes from "Indo-European root meaning ‘to love’, shared by free" (britannica.com). To love is the root of both friend and free - which is the underlying message of this verse by Krishna. Our mind is our friend when we are free, and freedom is the very core of what it means to love.

We cannot love if we are not free.

So ultimately, if we conquer our minds, this does not mean that we are "free" of any superior. Our intelligence is the CEO of our company, but there's still the company owner - and the owner is Paramatma - the Lord in our heart.

Our owner is quiet, unobtrusive. He never raises his voice, so in the racket that our mind gives when it's our enemy, it's hard to hear him. But when we quiet down and control the mind, we can hear the Supersoul. He knows what's best. In this regard, "When the mind is conquered, one voluntarily agrees to abide by the dictation of the Personality of Godhead, who is situated within the heart of everyone as Paramātmā." If I can learn to control my mind, make it my friend, I can hear the quiet, beautiful voice of the Lord in my heart. Carrying out the orders of such a superior can only lead to peace, love, and true freedom. He is my truest friend.

Full purport for Chapter 6, Text 6 by Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupad here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/6/6/

22: Open Heart Surgery

CHAPTER 4, TEXT 34: Just try to learn the truth by approaching a spiritual master. Inquire from him submissively and render service unto him. The self-realized souls can impart knowledge unto you because they have seen the truth.

My husband works at a hospital as a chaplain, or a spiritual caregiver; the other day, he mentioned how one of the patients he has been visiting for a year and a half, Paul (pseudonym), received news that he will be receiving a heart transplant. Finally.

Paul was on the road to death but is now being given the opportunity to leave the hospital to continue living his life as a wonderful husband and father of two boys.

When I heard this, several thoughts passed through my mind: 1) someone had just died unexpectedly - someone young - who had been willing to donate their organs, 2) that person's heart was going to be cut out of his/her chest, 3) Paul's current heart was going to be cut out of his chest, 4) the other person's heart was going to be placed in Paul's chest. This sounds rather gory and graphic, but really, think about it. An old heart for a new heart.

And then my mind went to 5) who is the person who would complete this surgery?

???

A heart transplant surgery seems to be the equivalent of a modern miracle, and I have not the slightest idea how one would even begin to go about such a task. What I know for sure, though, is that the surgeon who will perform this "miracle" has studied for years and years and years and has practiced medicine in a residency with other advanced surgeons for years and years and years.

Similarly, spiritual life is a complex science that requires daily, challenging application.

How does one respond to the sudden loss of a loved one?

How does one respond to betrayal?

Humiliation?

Failure?

How does one respond to crisis? Hardship? Suffering?

Being able to respond with integrity in each of these situations is as complex and intense as conducting heart surgery. If mastery of a material science, such as medicine, requires years and years of study and supervised practice, why would mastery of spiritual life be any different?

Srila Prabhupad writes in his purport to this verse that mental speculation, dry arguments, independent study of books of knowledge, and/or manufacturing one's own process do not lead to spiritual realization or progress. Imagine if a surgeon simply studied books of medicine, or theorized about the function of the heart, or maybe even invented his own heart surgery transplant procedure - this would be ludicrous! Dangerous! Similarly, spiritual life is meant to be be studied and practiced under the supervision of those who know much more than we do. Spiritual life is meant to come from an authorized source with an authorized practice.

Deciding to approach a teacher for guidance is a great hallmark of material AND spiritual progress, and the mood to do so is laid out here: 1) inquire submissively, and 2) render service.

Inquiry does not always mean asking questions - true inquiry means to be vulnerable and to open the heart to truth.

Rendering service to a teacher demonstrates that "yes, I am ready to receive the truth from you and put these principles into practice." Service shows sincerity.

With these two elements, submissive inquiry and sincere service, the teacher is satisfied, and when a teacher is satisfied, blessings flow. Sometimes I wonder how certain people can go through life with such resilience, blossoming and glowing with growth on the spiritual path even when faced with so many hardships. Prabhupad writes, "Satisfaction of the self-realized spiritual master is the secret of advancement in spiritual life." So, this is their secret: satisfying the spiritual teacher through inquiry and service. In fact, "Unless there is submission and service, inquiries from the learned spiritual master will not be effective."  This shows that the student must be responsible for preparing his or her heart to receive the truth, like having fertile ground for the seed of devotion to unfurl.

That said, inquiry should not be combative or forceful or speculative, and service should not be rendered to just anyone. This makes the soil of the heart rocky, dry, and acidic. Inquiry needs to be humble and thoughtful, and service rendered should be carefully done within one's means. Prabhupad writes, "In this verse, both blind following and absurd inquiries are condemned." Striking this sincere and mature balance of inquiry and service is all a part of our own "spiritual residency."

* 

Ultimately, you could say that the spiritual path is about replacing our old and diseased and failing material heart with a fresh and healthy and vibrant spiritual heart. We are in the process of our own heart surgery - and we are the surgeons. This is what's at stake - our hearts. Our lives.

In order to undergo such a precarious transformation, we need to take shelter of knowledge that is far beyond our own understanding. We need to be guided by those whose hands are much more capable and experienced than ours.

And when the hardships come, because they will come, we can respond with that spiritual heart, the glowing, vibrant heart that is resilient beyond anything in this world.

Image by Jakobbelbin Tattoo Artist

Full purport by A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupad for Chapter 4, Verse 34 here: https://vedabase.io/en/library/bg/4/34/