Srimad Bhagavatam - SB 08.06.13 : Lecture at ISKCON Vrindavan Temple
I gave this lecture earlier this week in Vrindavan. I hope you enjoy it. -- Rukmini
https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=wPsFgLSp5Ys&fbclid=IwAR1nTIRPr4_CuafizwhKxuopW65IHJyYTqh3eQ3aIeZruNCbrUGFM5edjrQ
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
And Who am I to Think?
By Ananda Vrindavan Devi Dasi
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And who am I to think
that this life is all there is?
That the beating heart that stops
is me?
Do I go out the window that is
Opened by a kind witness
to my last breath?
Though a window I do not need in the
Grand scheme of things, yet am grateful
For the warm-hearted gesture of love.
And is this life all that is?
I look at the stars and
Wonder who is looking at me
Wondering the same.
We live with thoughts and
Possibilities that stretch
far beyond the boundaries
Of our body because we are
that possibility.
We are that energy of life
that makes us live
We are the soul
that is free and longs for
The love and connection that
links it all, us all.
I think there’s more to life
than meets the eye
It’s an invitation for you, me,
everyone
to meet that more.
Ananda Vrindavan is one of my dearest friends. In addition to being a beautiful poet, she is the community president of ISKCON of DC. Please visit their website at iskconofdc.org Please watch for her poems to be regularly appearing on our Urban Devi website. -- Rukmini
Waiting
by ELAINE MANSFIELD
I watch as green jewels with gold flecks wait to become butterflies. Two Monarchs pause in their chrysalises. I check them many times a day, hoping to see darkening, hoping for orange wings to show through the chrysalis skin, hoping they’ll make it out of here in warmth and sunshine, hoping they’ll fly all the way to Mexico to join their tribe. Two others emerged, but I can’t release them. We wait together. It’s 50 degrees with thick fog between periods of hard rain. A Monarch needs 60 degrees and a partly sunny day to warm its wings, sip a little nectar, and head south. We’ll wait for a warmer day. Until then, I’ll feed them organic fruit jam. Then, I’ll wait for the last two stragglers to emerge.I waited for the right man to appear when I was 20 and in love with love. I didn’t know who I was waiting for. I hoped I’d know love when it appeared. I got lucky.[perfectpullquote align="right" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]
[/perfectpullquote][perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]My husband Vic hovered over me as though I was a darkened chrysalis and our baby was a butterfly.[/perfectpullquote] I waited for signs of birth when there wasn’t enough room in my skin to hold two bodies. I waited for the first weak contractions to become strong and fast so that we could go to the hospital for a natural delivery. “You’re only three centimeters dilated,” the nurse said when we got there. We waited all night as my body worked on its own schedule. My husband Vic hovered over me as though I was a darkened chrysalis and our baby was a butterfly.[perfectpullquote align="left" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]
[/perfectpullquote]I lay awake waiting for my teenage sons to arrive home when they were late. I watched at the window for Vic’s headlights when the roads were slippery on a snowy night.I waited for Vic’s death, hoping it would never come, wishing it would come faster. I waited for his release, and my mother’s, my brother’s, and mother-in-law’s. I hoped the transitions would be smooth and gentle, hoped the dying one would let go like a butterfly and move toward a destiny I could only imagine.It was never up to me.I learned more about waiting when Vic and I spent six weeks in Switzerland with Paul Brunton, a philosopher, writer, and wise human being. In his 80s then, I was honored to prepare food he enjoyed, help him organize his office, and cut his hair. I loved sitting with him in silence in a church in Lausanne after eating at a vegan restaurant where the soup had to be sent back to the kitchen for heating. PB, as we called him, waited patiently. The onion-scented soup wasn’t steaming when it arrived, so PB settled for lukewarm.PB, in his 80s, struggled with French vocabulary although he’d once been fluent. Vic and I didn’t speak French, so we misread the train schedule and missed our train back to Montreux.[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]“Don’t be sorry,” PB said. “Waiting is an opportunity to turn inward, to find a moment’s silence, to meditate.”[/perfectpullquote]“We’ll have to wait a few hours,” Vic said. “I’m sorry, PB.” We knew he was tired.“Don’t be sorry,” PB said. “Waiting is an opportunity to turn inward, to find a moment’s silence, to meditate. Let’s be quiet and enjoy our wait.”[perfectpullquote align="right" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]
[/perfectpullquote]I remembered that moment later when life forced more pauses. Don’t get agitated when the machine breaks down during Vic’s CAT scan. Don’t be impatient while waiting for his white blood cells to soar after a stem cell transplant. Don’t expect to be in charge of life and deatWatch and observe. Take a deep breath. Pause.Be still. Have faith.Notice that ray of light breaking through the clouds. Notice the Monarch’s wings flutter as it tastes the jam.I wait for political transformation. I wait for human beings to face climate change and our unhealthy romance with fear and cruelty. I wait for sane and moral politicians with high ideals. I wait with no idea what will happen next or if it’s even possible to redeem ourselves.I wait, grateful for my small kingdom of butterflies and wildflowers. I take the last gladiola of the season to Vic’s gravesite. I admire the quiet Monarch waiting for its time to fly.
Elaine Mansfield’s book Leaning into Love: A Spiritual Journey through Grief won the 2015 Independent Publishers Book Award Gold Medal for Aging, Death, and Dying. Her TEDx talk is “Good Grief! What I Learned from Loss.” Elaine facilitates workshops, volunteers with hospice, spends time in the forest, and writes a blog at her website elainemansfield.com.
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)
Living in the Season: Fall
By Susan Weiser Mason
(Rukmini Walker's sister)
Here in Damariscotta Mills, there have been a few big blows that have shaken down the deadwood, and the lawn is now strewn with kindling. I see muted colors melding all around me, creating a warm-toned blanket on the landscape of Fall. I admire the poise of this season as it goes about the task of letting go, squarely facing the inevitable, secure in the appropriateness of surrender.Sunlight angles more sharply and with great articulation. The architecture of trees is increasingly evident. In this season the fundamentals are revealed. What warmth remains is appreciated, in part because this could be the last gentle day before Winter sets in. We receive these final offerings with a degree of reverence distinct to this time of year.The harvest is in. Has there been one for you; real or metaphoric? Is the garden put to bed? Is the wood in? Are you ready?The season is patient but precise. Our intellect may wish to negotiate, to extend, but the Fall is not really negotiable. If it were there would be no renewal.It is easy to become rigid in this season, focusing on what’s been left undone, the many ways we are unprepared, and how the impending season is not secure. We may feel we have not put our house in order, and it is hard to let go. We may ache for the health of the planet and insist on remaining ever vigilant.Yet the wisdom of the in-flight attendant rings true; ‘Place the mask over your own face and then help place the mask over the face of your loved one’. We must care for ourselves if we are to care for those we love. The unattended tasks will not be resolved over the weekend. This is, after all, a marathon and not a sprint. Conserve for the work ahead. Prepare by taking into account the need for rest and renewal. The season’s message is to let go, and to trust that letting go is not giving up. We are part of the cycle of the seasons, and that includes the great shake down of Fall. And decline and stillness are the mothers of Spring.Think seasons, not news cycles. The brittle, anxious, fearful, ungrounded quality of the time can leave us vulnerable to manipulation. This cacophony lives alongside the steady flow of our rivers, the breathing of the tides, and the supple swaying of trees. The natural world is a prayer and we belong to it. Our drama can obscure the reality of how the planet functions with a unitary wisdom. We are not exempt from natures logic or consequences. We are no different than the leaves that settle in a halo of warm-tones on the ground. The challenge for us is to follow the lead of the tree, noting how it’s leaves let go at the right time, effortlessly. Can we struggle less with what is inevitable, and accept there is a time to release and let ourselves fall, trusting, into the arms of the unknown.
__________
Susan Weiser Mason has been practicing Traditional Acupuncture in Midcoast Maine for twenty seven years. Susan earned a Master’s of Acupuncture degree from the Traditional Acupuncture Institute (now called Maryland University of Integrative Health). In 1986, she opened her Traditional Acupuncture private practice in Bath, Maine and moved to Nobleboro in 1989. She earned an advanced degree from the College for Traditional Acupuncture in England in 1989. Susan served on the board of the Maine Association for Acupuncture and Oriental Medicine for many years and was involved in drafting the Maine Acupuncture Law in 1990. Since 1998, she has served on the teaching faculty of the Academy for Five Element Acupuncture in Gainsville, Florida. Learn more about her on her website here, or call #207-563-1571.
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
Entering Kartika
It’s that time of year again in which the sun moves away from the Earth, temperatures drop and darker days start moving in. For many of the world’s major religious traditions, these darker autumn and winter months become an impetus to connect with our own inner light sources: our spiritual sparks. This is often represented through the ritualistic lighting of little candles, or lamps.[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]Beginning with this month’s Vaishnava offerings of ghee lamps for Damodar, to the flickering Diwali lamps, to the lighting of menorahs, we are entering a special time of year marked by people all over the world as a celebration of spiritual light.[/perfectpullquote]If we pay close enough attention, we’ll notice that our individual experiences of spiritual light and darkness increase and decrease with a rhythm that mimics the seasonal changes in nature around us. The yogis of the past—like Buddha and Patanjali—were incredibly attuned to this, and worked within these natural forces to support swift, spiritual development.Long, dark nights of the soul—to borrow a phrase from John of the Cross—have an amazing ability to cause us to reach toward divine light with the most fervor, like Arjuna did at the beginning of the Gita. As such, autumn is meant to prepare us for a spiritual hibernation of sorts, in which we take inventory of all those places and people that we find the most spiritually nourishing in our lives, and keep them very close to us.In this context, darkness paradoxically becomes a servant of the light, fueling its brightness. After all, the light of a candle shines the brightest in a dark room.
The brightest light in the Bhakti tradition is the supreme Goddess, Radha: Krishna’s dearest beloved. Radha and the Gopis—her cowherd girlfriends—spend the entire autumn season in the forests of Vraja, playing with Krishna, in what is called the Rasa Lila.During the Rasa Lila, the Gopis express the sweet sentiments of devotional love that are at the very heart of the Bhakti tradition. Today, we find these beautiful, poetic words in the tenth book of the Bhagavat Purana: the ancient Sanskrit text so dear to practitioners of Bhakti.This month, devotees of Radha and Krishna, meditate on the stories of the Bhagavat Purana that describe Krishna as an adorable toddler: Damodar. In one of the stories, Krishna’s mother, Yashoda, binds him up with her love—represented by ropes. Baby Krishna eventually frees himself of these ropes and crawls off. But Krishna never frees himself of the “ropes” of Radha’s love.[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]Radha’s love has more power over Krishna than anything else. During the month of Kartika, we especially celebrate and serve this love.[/perfectpullquote]In fact, the special spiritual power, or shakti, that flows forth to us this month mercifully comes to us from Radha: for she grants us direct access to him. For this reason, Radha is called Urjesvari: the empress of all power. Her love is so powerful, in fact, that the Bhakti tradition describes it as stopping the sun and the moon in their orbits.It is said that during this whole month of Kartika the moon remained full—its bright light shining upon Radha Krishna and the Gopis during the Rasa Lila. Kartika begins with the last full moon (sharad purnima), and lasts until the next (rasa yatra purnima).
We light the candles every morning and evening this time of year to remind us that our spiritual enthusiasm has the potential of never waning, just like the full moon of autumn during the Rasa Lila. The external lights are a beautiful reminder of the spiritual sparks we each have burning within us all the time.Kartika is considered the holiest month of the Bhakti tradition because—despite the darkness all around us—Radha’s love is always shinning brightly, and this is the month we feel it the most, as she shines her special mercy upon us.(Written by Krishna Kanta Dasi)
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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Sri Radha: The Original Rural Devi
Yesterday was Radhastami, the holy Appearance Day of Sri Radha, the original feminine goddess- you might say, the “better half”, of Lord Sri Krishna, the original Supreme masculine Person.
Today I’m writing to you from the beautiful and magnificent city of St. Petersburg in Russia. The Russians say that the people here are more cultured and refined than people in other parts of Russia.
Yesterday, on Radhasthami, I remembered how Lord Krishna lived in the magnificent city of Dwaraka, after leaving the simple village of Vrndavan. Amidst the opulence of Dwaraka, He was longing for the simple village life, and the love of the unsophisticated residents there, especially Sri Radha and her cowherd friends, the Gopis.
Radha’s love is considered the pinnacle of selfless love. Saints beg for her compassionate sidelong glance. Lord Krishna is her property. By her mercy, she has the power to give Him to you.
When Srila Prabhupada first arrived in the Boston Harbor in 1965, as he stood on the dock, he remembered Sri Radha in a poem he wrote there:
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]“O Friends! The Supreme Lord Krishna will bestow virtue upon you—but He will only do this when Srimati Radharani first becomes pleased with you. This I declare to you!”[/perfectpullquote]
On Radhasthami each year, and every day, place your prayer in Radha's hand and ask her to recommend you to Lord Krishna. We are all unqualified in a myriad of ways, but she will ask Him to accept you. She will tell Him that you are better than she is, and ask Him to please accept you. This is her causeless grace.
Jai Sri Radha!
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
Magnificent Trees
by Ananda Vrindavan Devi Dasi
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In autumn you are the teachers
Of how to grow old and shine
You stand tall and blast
Your colors against the blue sky
Your leaves are fearless in their
Journey of change, smiling upon us all
As they fall and kiss the earth
Your soul emerges, vulnerable
As core trunk and branches
Holding it all together, standing tall
And strong and good and beautiful
The trees are leading and teaching
How to live and love and let go
Listen, for our journey is the same.
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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The Thread of Life
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""] “We were the people who knew how to say thank you” Robin Wall Kimmerer [/perfectpullquote]For the last few days my husband and I have been visiting my sister Susan and her husband, George, who live in Damariscotta, Maine. There is a reverence for nature here as they live very close to the earth and the seasons. There’s water in every direction: the ocean, Great Salt Bay, many ponds, or the nearby Damariscotta Lake with the neighborhood swimming hole.Nature is at her source divine. Sri Radha is the pleasure-giving energy of Lord Krsna. She expands as the Goddess of the Earth, Bhumidevi, and as holy rivers like the Ganges, the Yamuna, and all life-sustaining bodies of water. In remembering our Source, there is reciprocity and nature regains her luminous divine dimension.When we forget that divine connectivity and try to harness nature for our separate and selfish purposes, she sometimes unleashes her divine fury.[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]The gifts we’ve been offered for our abundance—the bounty of the earth, the water, the pure air we breathe—are meant to be offered back to their Source, in gratitude.[/perfectpullquote]Every living being has the same divine quality as our Source, but in a tiny quantity, as a tiny salty drop of ocean water has the same wetness and saltiness as the great ocean. If we can recall that connection, and say thank you, then Nature regains the luminosity it always had. The luminosity we did not see, because we were under the illusion of possessiveness.Every gift we give is a gift that had been given to us before. Like a child who picks a flower from her mother’s garden to give her mother a gift in love.Offering Nature’s gifts back to her Source connects the Thread of Life circle and blesses the giver, recipient, and the gifts. By acting in generosity and reciprocity all parts of the cycle are both blessed and become themselves a blessing.The string of islands I observed today is called the Thread of Life. These islands are a refuge for seals, cormorants, osprey, and gulls. None of us are islands unto ourselves; we are all knowingly or unknowingly somehow connected to the thread of life.
Once I heard a story about Srila Prabhupada’s guru, Srila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakur. A man came to him and audaciously declared, “I have seen God! I have seen Krsna!”The Thakur replied, in seeming innocence and humility, yet in deep wisdom: “Oh, and did you also see His energy?”His point was that Krsna is always accompanied by His energy. To see Him in truth would be to see Him also accompanied by His energy.[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""]For example, did you know that when we say OM, or AUM, we are addressing in the “A”: Supreme Source of us all, Sri Krsna; in the :”U”: His beloved divine feminine energy, Sri Radha; and in the “M”: all living beings, ourselves, the animal world, the trees and plant world, and the earth. [/perfectpullquote]In reciprocity, we can complete the circle of the Thread of Life by offering the gifts we receive each day back to our Source in conscious remembrance.
All the best,
Rukmini Walker
Revisiting the Still Point
Sacinandana Swami is one of my favorite teachers. He is specially focused on deepening the practice of chanting the Holy Name. Although his is not the voice of a woman, he is one of those men who has a highly evolved spiritually feminine side, being a devout worshiper of the divine feminine, Sri Radha.
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~From a lecture by Sacinandana Swami in Goloka Dhäma, Germany, April 1st, 2018~
Today I would like to describe what has to happen for a normal conditioned soul to become a devotee. I would like to present the dynamics of transformation – how they are explained in the Vedas.It is not an easy transformation. Someone who wants to keep things the way they are cannot really enter into spiritual life and undergo transformation. Sometimes spiritual life is seen as an addition to ordinary life, but if we take it seriously it becomes our life and the ordinary one dissolves itself.We have to start with a new sense of self: “I am a spiritual soul,a servant of Krishna or Srimati Radharani. I am not the labels I carry”. This new sense of self brings much with it: new thoughts, feelings, values, desires, actions and even dreams.Usually transformation begins from a low-point in life when you feel limited and dissatisfied. From this low-point we cross a threshold leading us out of our old life into a liminal space – a situation or phase in life that is full of uncertainty, since we have left the old but don’t have a clear picture of the new yet. It is a space of not-knowing where we take a risk by leaving behind the known and becoming free for new things to happen. The liminal space is a still point full of new opportunities but can also be scary because we are in-between the old and new and walking forward on the basis of faith. Then, with the power of spiritual practices a new life emerges from this liminal space.However, it is crucial that we revisit this liminal space again and again in order to keep on advancing. Again and again, we have to leave the old, enter the still point and discover new opportunities. The art of transformation should continue until we have reached perfection. If we are not willing to do this, we end up leading a compromised spiritual life; we will not wake up to our eternal identity as a devotee of Krishna. We will cheat ourselves and in the hour of death realize that we have not used the opportunities Krishna has given us. Advancement means you are on the move, you are moving forward. We are pilgrims in this world, and we shouldn’t build houses on a bridge. Life is a bridge to eternity and you can cross it by constantly purifying yourself.
Living in the Season: Summer!
by Susan Weiser Mason
(Rukmini Walker's sister)
Here in Damariscotta Mills the Summer is full on. Flowers are blooming profusely and veggies are exploding out of what once were neat rows. Life is abundant, and a bit over the top! This is the season when I walk to the swimming hole to get refreshed and to hang out with neighbors and new found friends. What I find there is an ease and informality that’s satisfying and fun. The free flowing and relaxed communal atmosphere of the swimming hole is, in fact, a great example of what Summer is all about.
Using the lessons and practice of Five Element Acupuncture, I am following what is a seamless flow of change throughout the year, and I am hoping you will follow along with me. By drawing attention to how every season has an energetic texture that presents opportunities and tasks, we may be reminded how we can live in harmony with this, our very own Summer, unfolding right here, right now.
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""] Summer is the time of maximum expansion and fullness. We see it in the garden, and we feel it under the luxuriant shade of trees. There is energy and there is appetite. The days are long, and we have capacity, and we want to embrace it all.[/perfectpullquote]
I decided to wait until August to write this letter because the promise of Summer and the way we actually end up navigating through Summer, are often at variance with one another.
Summer has us opening our doors and entertaining what makes us happy. Joy is ephemeral and radiant. It excites us, and encourages laughter. We may even gather some of the magic andhold it close into the depths of Winter. But as we play, as we visit, and as we throw ourselves into the bright pageant of Summer, weoften overextend ourselves, and there is exhaustion.
An interesting question might be, is this really the problem of Summer, or have we just come to live the whole year as though it were Summer? If we run just as hard in February with no allowance for Winter’s requirement to rest and rejuvenate, we may simply not have the reserves to successfully get through August. Summer madness counts on the rest of the year for preparation.
Many forgo Summer in order to work as much as possible when there is economic opportunity in Maine. We can leverage the energy of summer to help support our demanding work requirements, however. If we can still find some time to hang out and experience the fullness of the season and feel included by it, we can manage, as there is a lot of energy to spare, in principle. But there needs to be a season to replenish the reservoir. Going non-stop all year long in not a realistic picture, if health is a consideration.
And there are those who find the wonderful prospect of hanging out with friends and family overtaken by the reality of hosting too many guests, and being worn out facilitating another’s summer experience, while feeling conflicted as host and caregiver, rather than being a fellow adventurer. The Nurture Model is worthy of esteem, but it’s not actually the invitation of Summer. That’s the core energy of another season, and we will talk about it in the next letter.
We need to align with every season in some meaningful way, so that the opportunities and tasks of that season are met. We cannot, and our bodies will not simply absent themselves. Energetically, we’re now in Summer, like it or not. It’s not discretionary, regardless of whether the intellect is paying attention.
[perfectpullquote align="full" cite="" link="" color="" class="" size=""] Nature is the perfect companion and antidote for both the delights and challenges of Summer. To be out in it, to be awed by the proliferation of life, the fullness of green, the ocean’s expanse, is to be held by it’s quiet authority. The natural world perfectly moderates and integrates the lessons of Summer, including us as a part of it.[/perfectpullquote]
Increased social interaction just goes along with Summer. While this is good, it can be relentless. Finding balance in this time of excess is essential. For example, instead being a skipping stone, just sit down and let the party come to you. Meet and really talk with one person. Surrender to the spacious feeling of having an authentic connection. Get nourished, rather than feeling swept along and dissipated by the busyness of an event.
Summer makes us have to face how our ‘wanting’ is almost unquenchable.If we watch the trees, their poise and patience areevidentand instructive, even as they give themselves away. We too, deserve to feel rooted, which gives rise to generosity.We all belong! That is really Summers’ deep refrain! Live and let live. It’s not sentimental, and it’s not always safe, as all things relational come without guarantees.
In this the most expansive time of the year, many feel a bit too exposed. There’s a quiet voice wishing for a little less wildness, please. A little more containment, please. For some, its like staying too long at the fair, and they will not regret that Summer isbrief. Longing for its return in the middle of Winter is another matter, of course.
So to finish up, eat fresh while you can! Meet your farmer and your baker. Lighter fare is well suited for summer. The water beckons. The trail invites, but so does a book, or a nap. Enjoy!
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Susan Weiser Mason has been practicing Traditional Acupuncture in Midcoast Maine for twenty seven years. Susan earned a Master’s of Acupuncture degree from the Traditional Acupuncture Institute (now called Maryland University of Integrative Health). In 1986, she opened her Traditional Acupuncture private practice in Bath, Maine and moved to Nobleboro in 1989. She earned an advanced degree from the College for Traditional Acupuncture in England in 1989. Susan served on the board of the Maine Association for Acupuncture and Oriental Medicine for many years and was involved in drafting the Maine Acupuncture Law in 1990. Since 1998, she has served on the teaching faculty of the Academy for Five Element Acupuncture in Gainsville, Florida. Learn more about her on her website here.
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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Storm
by Ananda Vrindavan Devi Dasi
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There was a storm just now
the thunder was galloping
across the grey sky
and I sat outside and
loved the wildness of it all
and thought, maybe that's
what the mantra does to my soul
crashes in and makes me
full of life and energy
and maybe that's what K is
a wild man full of love
and adventure and energies
of beauty and
then the rain crashed down
and swept me away in rivers
of meeting and being together
and I thought
it has to be there somewhere
this wild, free, glorious love