In 1977 Das and I joined a large group of devotees from America for our first trip to India. We were to spend three months in Baba Muktananda’s ashram, Gurudev Siddha Peeth. After a long drive through the rural landscape of small dusty villages and parched country, the bus from the airport pulled up outside the ashram.
I had seen pictures and videos of the ashram, but I was unprepared for its beauty—a small palace, it gleamed shakti from every corner. We walked through the gates to a small marble courtyard and it took my breath away. ‘Leave your ego with your shoes’ demanded the sign above the shoe rack. Amused I took that as my first Ganeshpuri command.
Immediately, I felt an acceptance, a familiar welcome that was Baba. He was sitting on his perch at the front of the courtyard waiting to greet us. The atmosphere was exotic and inviting. There were date palm, mango and banana trees planted throughout. We all sat down. After a short while he told us to take rest. We were shown to our rooms and I collapsed on the bed for almost twenty-four hours. The next morning I awoke to clanging bells and a loud chant blaring over the loudspeakers. Nityananda Mahan rang out as I made my way to the program. I was cold from the early morning damp and not used to walking on the marble floors, which sent shivers up my spine.
The Ann Arbor ashram was a small world compared to this one. Life was big here. Hundreds of Westerners and Indians worked together, meditated together, ate together, and lived together. More devotees came on the weekend often bringing delicious sweets and curries.
I became aware that I had been carrying a burden of some sort, and that I now felt much lighter. A subtle weight had been lifted. It was easy to settle into ashram life. There was little discomfort or friction.
We were asked to report for ashram seva, service to the Guru. I was given a mop and a bucket and told to scrub the floor of the outer courtyard where everyone entered. The ‘ego’ sign was visible as I washed and scrubbed.
Every morning for the next three days I went to the seva desk for my bucket and brush. I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed each marble tile with great thoroughness and inner joy. My acceptance was so deep that when they told me to scrub the cracks with a toothbrush, I was still ecstatic, such was the exalted condition of my spirit.
The outer courtyard comprised the entrance to the large courtyard where Baba sat, and to the temple that held the murti of Bhagavan Nityananda. Bhagavan sat at the front of what used to be the meditation hall; he was life-size, dark brown, and beautiful. Baba went to see him each morning as the priests bathed him. I sometimes got up early to watch him garland Bhagavan and participate silently in his devotion. As Baba greeted him, a tangible sweet feeling permeated the atmosphere. It was intimate, affectionate and moving. Bhagavan seemed to light up as Baba silently moved around him while reverently chanting mantras.
After breakfast I raced back to the hall, where a small group chanted the Rudram, an ancient Vedic prayer to Shiva. The Sanskrit words were long and difficult to pronounce but I was soon able to follow along. The Shakti responded to this prayer with a mysterious power and vibrated throughout my whole being. The Rudram and the Shiva Mahimnah Stotram that we chanted in the evening both have a mysterious effect and uplift my soul every time I chant them.
In the mornings after seva I sat in the inner courtyard where Baba conducted ashram business. I watched him work as various managers and secretaries came to him with questions and reports. He was more approachable here than when he was traveling in the West. He sat out there sometimes for a few hours. Many brave ashramites asked him questions about spiritual and worldly life. Although I could not hear his answers, most walked away beaming. I wanted to approach him, but I didn’t have a question. I was in deep communion with him on the subtle plane where the Shakti was dancing and no words were necessary.
Baba was always at ease, in control and yet not in control, active and yet not active. He participated in life and yet was detached. There was an enigma in his presence. I treasured this time. He was beautiful to watch, his self-mastery apparent. There were few people and I was able to sit close and bask in the loving energy that flowed from him. My mind was quiet and I meditated even though I was watching everything. There was stillness at the centre of my being. For the first time I meditated with my eyes open. As my awareness moved around the courtyard, the Self was tangible. I watched, I listened, I saw, I observed and I remained connected to the Self. Sitting there is etched in my memory.
Some weeks after we arrived, Baba organized a four-day yatra, a pilgrimage to some of the local holy sites. I looked forward to Alandi, the samadhi shrine of Jnaneshwar, one of India’s greatest saints; to Dehu, the birthplace of another saint, the poet Tukaram (one of Swamiji’s favorites); to Shirdi, the village where the famous Sai Baba had lived and to Poona for a rest.
Baba warned us not to give money to the beggars. Wise advice, for at the first stop we were assaulted by a mob of children pleading for money. My heart went out to them but I heeded Baba’s warning. He was generous to a fault when it was appropriate. He built homes, hospitals and schools around Ganeshpuri. He fed and clothed the locals and gave them jobs. He did not, however, want us to give money to street beggars.
Once, when I walked the streets of Bombay alone, I made the mistake of ignoring Baba’s advice and gave some money to a child that had no hands. I was immediately assaulted by a crowd of children. They grabbed at my purse. Fortunately, a taxi driver intervened and chased them away with a big stick.
Alandi was the first stop. Jnaneshwar was a born siddha, who translated the Bhagavad Gita into Marathi at the age of fifteen, for the local people. When he was twenty-two he told his devotees that he was going to take live samadhi. He asked them to dig a hole in the ground. He told them that he would sit and enter meditation and then they were to cover him with dirt. And so they did. This is a kind of samadhi where the consciousness of the saint stays with the body and continues to give blessings to devotees.
Several hundred years after his burial another holy man, Eknath Maharaj, had a dream in which Jnaneshwar told him that he was being choked by the root of a tree. Eknath dug up the grave to find the body warm and alive, although in a trance state. He removed the root that was around his neck and again covered him over. It is believed that he is still alive. I considered this to be an unbelievable story. I cannot think of a worse death than being buried alive.
Old photo of Jnaneshwar Samadhi
Rendition of Jnaneshwar teaching.
The temple was crowded with pilgrims from all over India. The line was long as we waited single file. The Brahmin priests ushered us one by one into a small room no bigger than a closet. The floor was dark grey stone polished to a shine from the millions of bare feet that had made their way there. It was hot and the only light came from a small window carved in the stone walls. Two priests chanted mantras as we passed by. In the centre of the floor in line with his head was a square with a black lingam, an esoteric symbol of Shiva, covered in flowers. I looked down and offered some flowers. As my hand came close to the top of it I could feel waves of energy and heat pouring out of it. In my mind I heard a rushing sound like the wind and I fell to my knees. I heard myself muttering, ‘Oh my God, he is alive; he is alive!’
I looked up into the face of the Brahmin priest across from me as he reached out to stop me from falling on top of Jnaneshwar’s head. He was smiling in amused agreement. I unsteadily rose to my feet with his help. I was completely intoxicated. I couldn’t believe it. There was no doubt that his presence was fully there. I consider that one of the most wonderful moments of my spiritual life. Now it is impossible to get that close to Jnaneshwar. I feel fortunate to have had his blessing and darshan.
The next stop was Shirdi, the home of the 20th-century mystic Sai Baba. No one really knows his personal history except that he arrived in Shirdi and took up residence in an abandoned mosque. It soon became obvious that he was a great siddha yogi and devotees gathered around him. Many were cured of illness and attained deep states of meditation. Since then Sai Baba has become a legend and his picture is found in almost every taxi and shop in India. He is renowned for miracles. Women pray to him for sons, fathers for dowries for their daughters, mothers for their sick children, and executives for wealth and power. No wish is too petty or worldly for Sai Baba. He once said, ‘I give them what they want, until they come to want what I have to give them.’
I was astounded by the unabashed voicing of wants and needs in the Indian culture. It used to be difficult for me to articulate what I want and then to ask for it. It somehow never felt quite right, as if my true needs are always being met. Worrying about myself caused an anxiety I avoided. I prefer to pray for others while and hope that if my prayer reaches others, it will touch me also.
We were to spend the night there and were settled in large open rooms with straw mattresses on the floor. The accommodation was rudimentary but the atmosphere wonderfully joyful. We went to evening Arati, prayer, which was held in a small hall that contains a life-size marble statue of Sai Baba. There was energy, enthusiasm and excitement as devotees sang out the Arati, and danced in ecstasy. They were uninhibited and unselfconscious in their expression of love. I watched in admiration at the ease with which they showered their praise and adoration.
After it was over I wandered out to find a toilet. Shirdi was not particularly clean and so I was uncomfortable. I walked into a smelly, damp mud hut with three stalls that had holes dug in the ground. I had become used to squatting and was even beginning to prefer it, but I was not prepared for the filth. I headed for the last stall thinking that maybe it would be the cleanest because it was the furthest away. I walked in and was horrified to discover a dog at the hole eating faeces. I was disgusted and repulsed. He looked up at me. His bright yellow eyes bored into me. Our eyes locked and I heard a voice in my mind, ‘I am ashamed, please don’t hurt me.’
Horrified, I turned and ran out to find another toilet. That night my sleep was restless. I could not free my mind from the image of the dog’s despair and suffering. The next day as we headed for Dehu I felt sick. I got worse as the day wore on and by the time we got there I was so sick I had to be driven back to the ashram. Once back in the ashram I quickly recovered but it was not over. Our first night back Das had a dream in which the dog came to him and attacked him. Das told me that he battled with him in his dream state for what seemed all night and, in the early hours of dawn, was finally able to fight him off.
Baba sometimes spoke about fallen yogis who can get trapped in the body of animals. The next day we agreed that the dog was probably a fallen yogi, trapped in the body of the dog. The dog was experiencing intolerable shame and suffering. To this day I remember the pain in his eyes. It was as if there was a person in there. I will never forget the degradation I felt in that soul. I had experienced the best and worst of India.
Even though Baba’s physical presence is gone, his shakti resonates everywhere. I once heard him say that when he leaves his body he would remain in the hearts of his devotees. I am grateful that he has taken residence in my heart. I have noticed that the disciples who hold to his feet and teachings are radiant with his blessings; their lives are fuller and richer for having him as their Guru.
Just as camphor is consumed by the flames of fire, so also, the mind must be consumed by soul-fire. Bhagavan Nityananda
It’s after 10:00pm before Anjali and I are on our way to Ganeshpuri. Moti, Yusuf and Vinayak, Rosy’s husband, (they own a B&B on the main street) met us at the airport after an easy flight and too much to eat.
Vinayak drives to Ganeshpuri at a speeding pace, with high beams blaring, a new night signal, ‘move over, I want to pass’. There is less horn and more blinking. Oncoming traffic also signals with high beams. We are blinded by the flashing as a river of cars, four lanes across, head into Mumbai.
We make great time and after an hour we turn onto the road to Ganeshpuri. Worst road in the valley, constantly needing repair. What was repaired a while ago has now been washed away in the monsoon. The road is in constant dispute between SYDA and the villagers, so the villagers say. Vinayak slows to a tortoise pace. (But good news! The road is now under a partial repair.)
I feel a sigh of relief as we near Bhagavan’s Samadhi shrine. Bright colourful lights are decorating every corner of Kailas and the temple. Green, orange, blue shimmer together in a kaleidoscope of vibrancy. Ganeshpuri is alive with Shakti.
We are staying at Kothavala. The atmosphere is beautiful, the food delicious and it is close to the temple. The natural hot spring baths are a luxury. Rarely does the clamour of village life reach here. It is meditative and restorative. The gardens are a haven for Satsang when the big group comes. But now, even though it is 12.30am, Anu, our host, greets us with a hug and a garland. This is our Ganeshpuri home.
I woke up early on my first morning and went to the temple. The new blond curtains were still closed. Apparently Bhagavan needed some repair and is being lovingly restored. Some say that the fertilizer from the garlands has caused a little erosion and tiny holes on his body. Others say it was from the milk, honey and sugar used for the pujas. Nonetheless, restoration was necessary. The priests tell me that Bhagavan will be revealed in a few hours.
Later Anjali and I are walking down the main road when we see Maharaj, Swami Nityananda coming toward us. He greets us with a lot of love and humour. We briefly chat and go with him as he heads for the temple. We walk up the back steps. Maharaj walks through the silver gate into the Samadhi. We sit down just behind.
A yagna, a fire ceremony with many priests, a dancing saptah, and other festivities have been going on all week. The unveiling of Bhagavan includes a pranapratishta, an enlivening ceremony. The Brahmins chant mantras that breathe life into Bhagavan, just in case he has lost some during the restoration. To me the Shakti in the temple is as strong as it always has been.
We chant for a while and then Bhagavan is revealed. It is a surprise. His body is now dark brown, perhaps it is more like he was when he was in his body. But under the orange lights he glows with a beautiful reddish hue. The gold has been relegated to the past. I imagine Bhagavan is happier without the metal covering him. I like this new image. More the avadhut, and less the sultan. He seems more intimate, warmer, friendlier and approachable.
An exquisite happiness descends in me. It is not the happiness of a desire being fulfilled or a task accomplished or for some other mundane reason. In this moment I am fulfilled, joyful, content, peaceful and happy. I wish the whole world could share in the experience of Bhagavan’s Shakti. What a blessing to have found this yoga! What a blessing to have the Guru! What a blessing to be sitting here now in his presence communing with God’s grace!
I wish that his power to awaken spreads around the world. I wish everyone could do his divine work. I wish that his blessings find all who are grieving and uplift them. I wish that he turns everyone to God and all suffering ends.
The chanting continued for about an hour and ended with Sri Kanth (a temple priest) and Swami Nityananda, waving lights to the Nityananda Arati. Then we were ushered into the Samadhi and allowed to take darshan. We are not allowed to touch Bhagavan, but we can see his smiling radiance as we pass and do a standing pranam.
Anjali and I were not supposed to be here for the enlivening. We were meant to be in Varanasi for a few days before coming to Ganeshpuri. Oddly, the dates for our accommodation did not work out, so here we are. We found ourselves in the middle of this amazing ceremony with a front row view, while hundreds are outside waiting for a mere glimpse. I am grateful for the blessings moving within me.
Guruji is not with us on this trip. Next year we will be coming back sometime in January with a big group. The villagers ask about him, send him love and acknowledge the impact he has had on the village since we first began making these trips. They miss him and are eager to have his Darshan. Anjali and I make sure to give him daily telephone reports of village life, people’s greetings and events. These conversations add a lot of joy to our visit.
Guruji has an intuitive sensitivity to the pulse of the village and its people. He is a genius at making relationship with everyone and sustaining relationship. These relationships are genuine, spiritual and loving. Although some began in the act of commerce, over the years they have deepened. Ganeshpuri has become our second ashram and the villagers our spiritual family.
Gurudev Siddha Peeth, Baba’s ashram, is abuzz with activity. Not only is there a retreat going on, but I have heard that there is painting, cleaning and a general upgrade. When we get to Guru Gita on Sunday morning I see that Baba’s perch is now a beautiful polished white marble. The courtyard is peaceful and I remember that this was my favourite place to sit with Baba.
As I walk through the village bits of gossip reach my ears. A rumour is whispered that Gurumayi will visit in March (the gossip says this every year) and that she may open the doors of the ashram for longer periods. I notice that her devotees are in the shops, smiling and making contact. This is new. Usually they keep to themselves and are unlikely to say hello. But the next day I find three on my doorstep waiting to meet me.
After introductions, two are from Switzerland, and one from Germany, they ask how I met Baba. I tell my story. They tell how they met Gurumayi. Their devotion is contagious and I feel affection toward her. In Baba’s day, I felt close to her, admired her and loved her. Her devotion to Baba was inspirational. Some painful things happened and those feelings faded into the background as a subtle distrust overshadowed them. Love was not lost, just put on the back burner. Now it glimmers as a flickering flame of possibility.
One of my guests mentions that Gurumayi’s New Year’s message for 2018 was “Satsang”. They tell me that she has asked her devotees to be in Satsang wherever they find themselves. It seems that meeting me is part of their mission to fulfil her wish. I am pleased. We have loving Satsang as we speak about the Guru and at the end of our shares they leave. I am left with a feeling of hope that somehow reconciliation between all of the Siddha families could happen.
After they leave I go to the temple to meditate. As I become familiar with the new Bhagavan it feels as though this could be the beginning of a new era. Bhagavan is dressed simply with only a few flowers and decorative puja items. Gone is the pomp of his glory as emperor. Now he is more the simple sadhu. The great yogi who arrived in Ganeshpuri with nothing but a loin cloth has re-emerged.
The Shakti pours out of him as usual, and he smiles at me as I sit with him. Of course, if anyone can dissolve separation and restore oneness, Bhagavan can. Maybe this era will include a coming together of all of Baba’s devotees and disciples. For everyone to meet under the umbrella of Baba’s grace would be a miracle of love.
Every Saturday evening in Satsang Swamiji gives teachings from his favourite great beings. These great beings have much in common even though their paths vary. Some focus on the wisdom aspect of yoga, some on devotion, some on meditation, some on service and some on intense practice. But, they all have one thing in common. They emphasise knowing the Self and loving and accepting ourselves.
During these programs the devotees come up to greet both of us. Traditionally this is called darshan. I think of it as saying hello and if blessings or shakti is transmitted it is by the miracle of Guru’s grace. I receive something too–lots of love and joy. No small thing in a world beset by desires that cannot be assuaged by love.
Often I meet people who haven’t come to Satsang in a while and I ask, ‘where have you been’. Very often they answer ‘I have been in a bad space. I have been hating myself. I have felt unworthy.’
Surprising answers and ones that give me pause and tear at my heart. I encourage them to come when they feel that way knowing that Satsang will put them in touch with the Shakti which will ease their suffering.
Self-hatred is a poison, it is our worst enemy spiritually and personally. It is the most debilitating thinking the mind creates.
The other day an ashramite came to see me and said, ‘I hate myself, I never feel good enough.’ I immediately thought of Swamiji’s story about an answer to a question he asked Baba during his time in Ganeshpuri in the seventies. His ego was troubling him. He was having thoughts that depleted his shakti and hurt him. Baba said, ‘Do not think you are a king or a beggar. Think, “I am Shiva; I am the Self.”
Swamiji’s demand is that we hold to the space of the Self. As he says, ‘the clear space of good feeling.’ Or, as Bhagavan says, bhavano rakho, maintain the good feeling. Swamiji encourages us to forgive every slight, every hurt, every pain, in every moment. Inwardly we let go of the temptation to blame and attack others for what they didn’t say to us, or give us, didn’t treat us well enough or honour us enough. When we cannot let go of this thinking love turns to poison within. And, in this state the mind creates good reasons to escalate enmity.
To watch someone in the grip of hatred, whether of themselves or another is painful, hurtful and frustrating. When people turn away from the Guru, from the Self, from Satsang it is as painful for the ones who are left as it is for the one leaving.
The heartbreak is especially poignant when that person has been a loving and close companion for many years. How is it that a mind can turn negative so quickly and without warning? How is it that someone who said they love you suddenly becomes an enemy? How is it that love suddenly turns to judgment? This is a great mystery.
To maintain good feeling sounds simple, but after all these years of sadhana I see that it is always possible to fall prey to a sense of unworthiness. Just because we have been meditating and doing practices for years we can still be vulnerable to destructive behaviour and negative thinking.
Bhagavan Nityananda once said, ‘it’s all dust!’ In time the material world, including our bodies become dust. I think he is reminding us that nothing is worth fighting about. To focus on that which is peaceful and loving and not on dissatisfaction requires a commitment to our own loving heart. Instead of venting anger we hold to a higher value like compassion and wisdom. I have always held the Guru as a beacon of love that never fades, never withdraws, and never wavers.
We will confront events that seem unforgivable, or that do not bring peace. These events destabilise our life and relationships. If we succumb to the pain and do not dissolve it into Consciousness then we get stuck in the moment the pain happened, forever frozen in a memory of suffering.
The great beings forgive the unforgivable. It is their power of unconditional love that attracts weary and broken hearted seekers. They hold to that which is eternal, loving and wise. Their interests are not of this world but the world of Consciousness. They are not concerned whether a person is high born or not, whether a person is rich or poor, whether a person is sick or well, whether a person is the ‘right type.’ They are only interested in the spiritual well-being of each individual that comes before them. To see, hear and watch how the great beings love, teaches us to love the same way.
Swami Muktananda writes poetically on love:
Just as the earth remains the same no matter who comes and goes on it, so true love remains unchanging and independent. Love penetrates your entire being. Love is Consciousness.
Western sages are few and far between. One of Guruji’s favourites from the last century, is the mystic master GI Gurdjieff. His teachings dovetail beautifully with meditation and yoga. Gurdjieff has many yogic practices but one unique articulation is, ‘think from the work, and not from life‘. To keep your spiritual values alive means to keep a ‘truthful focus.’ When we think from life then we live in fear of loss–our possessions, our relationships, our security. We are anxious all the time.
Gurdjieff encourages us to avoid letting the mind become absorbed in mundane matters that bring up ego–likes and dislikes, jealousy, tearing thoughts, anger, self-preservation, pride, and other emotions. Most sages agree that it is our negative reactions to outer events that create our experience of life. Our painful reactions are ego, manifesting as negative emotion. Ego separates us from the heart, from love and from the Self. The first step in shifting the mind from the mundane to the mystical is to look within.
Gurdjieff called on his students to ‘work’ on themselves. He encourages them to evaluate all choices and decisions against the highest choice, Self-remembering. If we can hold to the highest we make choices for love, for peace, for kindness and wisdom. When we work against ego we are less likely to be led astray into painful encounters and situations. Gurdjieff has said:
“I will tell you one thing that will make you rich for life. There are two struggles: an Inner-world struggle and an Outer-world struggle…you must make an intentional contact between these two worlds; then you can create a new world.
The Greek Stoic philosopher Epictetus, born a slave, had a uniquely surrendered attitude to the outer world. Epictetus gave teachings similar to Patanjali in that he encourages his students to avoid negative thinking and habits. He said that there is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will.
Perhaps this is why so many great sages and saints guide us toward compassion. We all, at times, ignore, disregard and reject the most wise counsel when we shouldn’t. Epictetus said that every difficult event has two handles. For example, say your brother betrays you. If you hold onto one handle you walk down the path of betrayal, anger and vengeance. If you choose the other handle you walk toward peace, forgiveness and love. Which one are you going to hold?
Guruji places great importance on Satsang and has often said, ‘if you can hold a Satsang then create one, if you cannot create one, then join one’. In Satsang seekers unite in a common goal to know the Self, to contemplate the Self, to meditate on the Self. The energy created by a united spiritual purpose is a dynamic power that is loving and wise.
The other night in Satsang Guruji drew on the aphorisms and teaching of Epictetus. Epictetus also talked about the value of keeping good company, or keeping the company of the highest truth. Guruji has often said, ‘the great beings are humanity’s greatest treasure’. Epictetus agrees when he says:
The key is to keep company only with people who uplift you, whose presence calls forth your best. Other people’s views and troubles can be contagious. Don’t sabotage yourself by unwittingly adopting negative, unproductive attitudes through your associations with others.
Attach yourself to what is spiritually superior, regardless of what other people think or do. Hold to your true aspirations no matter what is going on around you.
The teachings of Epictetus are pure jnan, a breath of fresh air. I felt my mind enter a wide space of mental clarity. I was surprised to discover that I preferred them to Patanjali, who often seems like hard work. Epictetus sweeps away useless thoughts and leaves behind a sweet peace.
Guruji summarised his teaching by saying ‘Think in such a way as to promote your own happiness’. To live fearlessly is to live in the Shakti. No matter where we live or what we do, creativity, inspiration and dynamism arise from a state of remembering the Self not forgetting it, not sacrificing it for the sake of the material world. To remember our highest values is to live in the state of oneness and peace. This is what sages both East and West want for us.
The wise counsel of Epictetus
The universe is but one great city, full of beloved ones, divine and human by nature, endeared to each other.
In our power: our opinions, impulses, desires and aversions. Not in our power: bodies, possessions glory, and power.
Be not swept off your feet by the vividness of an impression, but say, ‘Impression, wait for me a little. Leet me see what you are and what you represent. Let me try you.’
It is not death or pain that is to be feared, but it is the fear of death and the fear of pain.
When you close your doors and make darkness within, remember never to say that you are alone for you are not alone; nay, God is within, and your genius is within. And what need have they of light to see what you are doing?
The heart of Mira is entangled in the beauty of her Guru’s feet; Nothing else causes her delight! He made her happy in the drama of the world; His knowledge dried up the Ocean of being and becoming. Mira says: My whole world is Shri Krishna; Now that my gaze is turned inward, I see it clearly.
When I was around eight a friend that I often played with on the weekends asked me if I believed in God, and I told her that I didn’t know because I wasn’t sure what God was. She told me that God was love and that He loved everyone. Her conviction awoke a curiosity in me.
I asked her where He lived and she said that He was in heaven and pointed to the above sky. I looked up trying to imagine where exactly in the sky God lived and what he looked like. As young as I was it seemed unlikely that he lived up there, but on the other hand it was likely there was a place where he did live. She said that God was also in her church and that if I wanted to meet Him I could come to church with her and her family but that I had to ask my parents.
One Sunday morning I crept into my parents’ bedroom and woke my mother. I asked her if I could go to church with my friend and she groggily mumbled yes.
There was a subtle current of anticipation as I thought about meeting God. When we arrived at the church all the children were ushered into a classroom very much like a school room. My friend told me that children were not allowed to hear the sermon by the minister.
We sat at children’s desks while a young woman talked to us about Jesus, sinners, evil and saving lost souls. I could not grasp how children could be sinful or evil. I felt myself recoil as my mind drifted away from her voice. I fantasised a God that was different from her version, different from the ordinary. When I thought about how God might be for me, I imagined Him to be bright and loving, but mostly magical.
When I got home I asked my mother what religion we were and she told me that we were Presbyterian. I asked her why we did not go to church. She said that she did not go to church when she was a child either.
‘Your grandmother was an Orange woman and hated Catholics’.
I was not sure what this meant, but I realised I was not going to get an understanding about God from my parents. I thought they knew less about God than my young friend and so I put aside my questions. When I went to play with my friend the next time her mother came to the door and told me she could not play with me again. I only saw her from a distance and I felt sad for her.
From then on I would occasionally wonder about God’s existence. I asked my girlfriends if they went to church but none of them did, nor did their parents. I wondered why some families believed in God and some did not. And then one of them told me that people who did not believe in God were called ‘atheists’ and people who did not know whether God existed or not were called ‘agnostics’. I put myself in the category of agnostic because I was aware that some part of me wanted to believe that God existed.
The first time I felt God was the first time I met Baba Muktananda. In his company I had my first meditation experience, a profound and deep knowing of the Self. In hindsight I realised that I had had a God experience. As I meditated over the years, love for God grew in me, as did love of mankind, love for the Guru and love of Self.
The other night in the Mother’s day Satsang Guruji was teaching from Anandamayi Ma. As he was speaking I felt myself sinking into meditation. Then I vaguely heard him say my name. He was calling on me because I was supposed to lead the meditation by reading from Mirabai’s poems.
‘Oh my God,’ I said as I returned to consciousness, ‘I was so deep’. I was aware all eyes were on me but was unselfconscious because I was still in meditation. If the person sitting behind me hadn’t poked me I would not have come out of it. Forty-five minutes had passed and I had missed Guruji’s whole talk.
It is difficult to describe the state I had been in. Yes, it was nirvikalpa samadhi, but deeper than I had ever felt. Yes, it was like deep sleep, but somehow deeper and darker and more peaceful. I didn’t know that was even possible. Yes, it was like a death experience, but comforting and warm, safe and indescribably delicious. It was the deepest state of samadhi I had ever experienced. It was total absorption in the depth of my being.
God had embraced me, held me, rocked me, loved me, healed me, and He then threw me back to the world with a deeper connection to myself. I knew that it was nirvikalpa samadhi but it was extraordinary samadhi.
I was wondering where my consciousness had gone. I found a Wikipedia article on nirvikalpa samadhi as described in Raja Yoga:
Nirvikalpa samadhi, on the other hand, absorption without self-consciousness, is a mergence of the mental activity in the Self, to such a degree, or in such a way, that the distinction of knower, act of knowing, and object known becomes dissolved — as waves vanish in water, and as foam vanishes into the sea.
This probably comes closest to what I experienced. Then another definition by Swami Shivananda:
All the seeds or impressions are burnt by the fire of knowledge. All thought forms which bring on rebirth are totally freed up.
All mental modifications that arise from the mind-lake come under restraint. The five afflictions: ignorance, egoism, love, hatred and clinging to life are destroyed and the bonds of Karma are annihilated.
It gives deliverance from the wheel of births and deaths.
I was free from all thoughts and afflictions but I am not sure about ‘deliverance from rebirth’. Nor is that an issue for me; I am not averse to rebirth. An astrologer told me some years ago that my chart indicated that I had made a vow to come back.
I would not know how to achieve that deep state again. It was not by any effort I made in the moment that caused it. It was God’s grace. As the experience fades the memory lingers in my mind as a possibility, a potential that is within me. A part of me is still connected to that space, like an anchor that holds a ship steady in the rocky ocean. I am left in awe of that small miracle that brought me the magic of such deep meditation and peace.
One Christmas when I was around fifteen I was watching a movie about the life of Jesus. I was terrified and shocked by the crucifixion and the horror people could perpetrate. But I was also in awe of the disciples. As I watched a scene in which a disciple spoke of his devotion to Christ I was moved to tears. ‘Too bad,’ I thought, ‘that a relationship like that isn’t possible today. I would like to have that experience. I would like to be a disciple.’
Many years later when I met my Guru I was overjoyed to discover that discipleship was still available. I understood that Jesus was a Guru and that Gurus exist now and will exist always.
The love of a disciple for the master is beautiful, vulnerable and poignant. A disciple who has surrendered to the Guru is naked. A disciple offers their ego to the Guru to banish individuality and to lay bare the darkest secrets of his or her psyche. The desires to remain an individual, to do well, to have approval, to be loved and accepted, to be first among many, must die.
Once before God, before the Guru, I was riding the bus downtown. As I sat there, I was aware of an ache in my heart. I looked around at the passengers wondering if their hearts also ached. As I watched them the veil between me and them faded. I could see suffering etched on their faces, masks of ugly pain. It was as though every hurtful event had left deep emotional scars. The past somehow doomed them to misery.
The vision scared me. I wondered, ‘is there a way to escape the pain of life? Is there a way to be happy? Is that going to happen to me? Is suffering going to scar me? What is the purpose of all this? What does life mean?’
Some kind of discipleship is necessary if we are going to learn anything. As children we disciple ourselves to our parents, to our teachers, and to our friends. I loved horseback riding and became a kind of disciple to my teacher, whom I loved very much. I could not find that same love or feeling in school.
By the time I could read and write I had lost what little enjoyment I found in school. My mind rebelled against using my intellect. Language was the only subject I liked because it came easily. Nothing the teachers said gave me a sense of purpose, love or self-knowledge. I was bored and the teachers seemed as uninspired as I was.
My mind wandered into gloomy feelings of doubt, disappointment and frustration. If a subject had interested me then I would have applied myself. But none did. Instead my mind dwelt on the psychic discomfort in my inner world. And, there was no subject to address it.
Disciples, on the other hand, mostly learn by osmosis, by watching and observing the Guru, by being in the Guru’s company and by soaking up the spiritual energy, the Shakti.
I love to learn at the feet of the Guru. To sit with fellow devotees in Satsang and hear the teachings on the Self, the Shakti, the Guru, and other spiritual matters is sublime. Satsang is the best company. Satsang never fails to uplift, is never dull, and always inspirational.
Studying and learning with Guruji however, is joyful, especially if the subject is Kashmir Shaivism. There is an inherent aliveness in Shaivite texts. But even Patanjali and Vedanta are pleasurable. Guruji has always taught from esoteric yogic texts with humour and warmth. He had the capacity to make clear the hidden meaning in the aphorisms. He fields questions with sensitivity and wisdom; he invites discussion, objections and skepticism.
When I first started studying these texts with him I was surprised that I could understand even the most mysterious ones. Naturally I have my own quirky way of relating to them. But that is the greatness of learning with the Guru. A wise teacher will encourage a student to take what makes sense, and discard what doesn’t. When learning with the Guru I feel the presence of God and the meaning becomes clear.
In his book Satsang with Baba, Baba said:
The Guru’s feet refer to the Being in whom the Guru stands rooted, and that Being is the Supreme Being, and that Being is the highest truth. The source of worship is the state of the inner centre in which the mind completely merges in meditation. The water of the Guru’s feet flows from the Guru to the disciple. When one attains the state beyond the distinction of you and me, beyond the distinction of mine and thine, outer and inner, Guru and disciple, then one can drink this nectar, the water of Guru’s feet.
Baba goes on to say that when a disciple merges with the Guru principle he or she becomes one with the source of stability, where the Guru’s Consciousness is anchored. That is worship, that is the source of love, that is oneness with the divine.
A disciple of a Hassidic master said:
‘I don’t come to listen to him speak, I come to watch him tie his shoe laces.’
I go to soak up Guru’s grace.
Sitting with the Guru is darshan. In darshan an alchemical synergy flows between the Guru and the disciple. It is a more intimate experience of Satsang. Like Satsang, it ignites the experience of God, the Self, and divine love. Shakti moves between guru and disciple in a Tantric flow of blissful energy. The Guru transmits grace and the disciple receives grace. This is the experience available to us when we sit with a true Guru.
Once in Baba’s Ganeshpuri ashram in the early morning I was working in the courtyard. My shift finished and I sat to meditate. Baba was sitting on his perch. His perch was like a shelf, with room only for him, some precious photos, his peacock feathers, some statues and other gifts to give away. He routinely sat here. Managers, devotees and ashramites would come and speak to him.
As soon as I sat the electric current of the Shakti moved between us. No words were necessary. I was one with him; he was my very own Self. People approached, spoke to him and walked away. These movements did not disturb the divinity that connected us. We were one being. The intimacy, love and acceptance was beautiful. I thought only about God and the present moment. I relished the love for about half an hour. Slowly as more people came my mind became distracted and I lost the thread. I still felt the connection but it was less intimate.
Sometimes darshan is divine but sometimes it can bring up the most painful and fearful thoughts and feelings. The Shakti moves to wash away negativity, blocks, all of the obstacles to the divine experience of darshan. It is painful if we let fear or desire get in the way.
Discipleship is not a career choice, it is a calling. To surrender to discipleship is a kind of self-acceptance, an acknowledgment of the yearning to know God. To deny the calling can cause unbearable pain. This yearning may make no sense from a worldly point of view. It only makes sense from an inner point of view.
Baba once said that a worthy disciple is one who becomes absorbed in the Guru. A good disciple merges with the Guru’s highest state of Consciousness, and eventually attains permanent oneness with the Self. This is my goal in life–to know God, to be close to God and to serve God.
I haven’t always been the most compliant disciple, or the best disciple or perhaps the most worthy. But, I am a disciple and, God willing, I shall always remain one.
This is adapted from a talk I gave the National Gallery of Victoria.
We meditate upon that transcendent reality from
Whom the universe springs, in whom it abides
And into whom it returns,
Because He is present in all existing things…
We meditate upon Him who is self-conscious and self-effulgent…
On account of whom the creation shines as a reality and
Who excludes illusion by his own Self-effulgent glory. (Bhagavatam page xiv)
Thus begins the Bhagavatam, the Book of God, one of Hinduism’s most holy texts, the story of the birth, life and death of Lord Krishna. Sages have gathered in a holy city to perform a yagna, a fire ritual and to hear spiritual discourse. They invite Sūta, who they call ‘the master of all the scriptures’ to give a summary on ‘how man will instantly be delivered from this ever-whirling cycle of birth and death.’
Sūta replies saying:
‘Man should constantly endeavor to do that which generates devotion to Lord Krishna—devotion which is motiveless, which knows no obstruction, and as a result of which one realizes the all-blissful God.’(2nd January page I.2)
Many Hindu texts take the form of conversations between a Guru and a disciple. The disciple is in a state of apathy, weighed down by sorrow, and the Guru works diligently to teach the disciple by anecdote, story and example in order to free him or her from suffering.
In the customary style of teaching Sūta narrates a conversation between King Parikshit, who is destined to die in seven days, and Shukadev, a great sage, who has agreed to impart his wisdom to the dying king.
Their conversation goes on uninterrupted for seven days prior to the king’s death, during which the king does not eat, drink or sleep. Shuka tells the king that the true goal in life is to give up sensual enjoyment and embrace the supreme absolute truth, embodied in the teachings and life of Shri Krishna.
Hindu theology differs from Western in that it says the sages, saints, great beings and Gurus, the ‘son of God’ take birth now, and always. There is never a time when a great being does not exist.
The Bhagavatam says there are three types of people incarnating at all times: human beings, wicked people and those inclined toward divinity, or gods, who are known as Avatars, Gurus, sages and seers.
The difference between Gurus, sages and Avatars is that an Avatar is born self-realized, with full knowledge and experience of their divinity and oneness with the Lord. They are souls who ‘descend into the lower realm,’ into the world, for a special purpose. Avatars incarnate when the suffering of mankind is overpowering joy; evil is rising over good; or by the intense yearning of devotees for their beloved Lord to manifest in human form.
Gurus, seers and sages are born with an inclination to know the Self. They are conscious of their separation from the Lord and but must do sadhana, spiritual practice and austerity in order to realize the Self and connect with the Divine.
An Avatar’s life, is a ‘lila’, a play or sport of the Lord and is never ordinary, it is epic. As their lives unfold there are dramatic incidences of violence, unconditional love, confusion, self-realization, knowledge, apathy, sorrow, anger, despair, greed, fear, jealousy, desire, lust and finally, moksha¸ freedom from suffering for there devotees.
‘Whenever there is decline of righteousness here and an increase of sin, then the lord manifests himself.’ (3rd August page IX.24)
Krishna’s life is typical of an Avatar’s, which is full of tests and miracles. As he overcomes the obstacles he teaches those witnessing them and those who are eager to hear the truth. The outcome of each challenge shows how right understanding leads to right action and right action leads to freedom.
The energy of an Avatar represent different aspects of God’s power: Brahma, the creative energy, Shiva, the energy of dissolution and change and Vishnu, the sustaining energy or “that which abides”. Each has a feminine counterpart or Goddess as a consort. She is known as Shakti, the Holy Mother, Maya, or the great Goddess. She is also called Kali, Durga, Devi, Saraswati, Lakshmi, Radha and Parvati; her names are many and represent the female aspect of God. Her responsibility is to manifest the material world, the mission and work of the Lord, the avatar and the Guru. She gives outer form to the Lord’s highest attainment and spiritual goals. She embodies power and energy, compassion and wisdom.
The masculine energy is still, quiet, peaceful, tranquil and calm; the feminine energy is dynamic, powerful, creative. He is a canvas; She is the artist who gives shape, colour and texture. He is a screen; She is the image on the screen. He is a lake; She is the rippling wave on the lake. He is the invisible; She is the visible.
The scriptures say that the masculine and feminine energies unite in cosmic ecstasy to create the whole universe. Although they appear separate they are one and never apart. Shakti is the inner potency of the Lord manifested as the world and is His spiritual inspiration.
The Lord and Shakti incarnate in order to experience themselves as ‘other’ and to play out the dance of separation and oneness. They mirror the positive and negative, the dark and the light, the possibility of liberation and the temptation of destruction. In this cosmic joining the masculine and feminine reflect and manifest the highest spiritual potential, the personal and divine Self of a human being.
Krishna was accompanied by two main Shaktis, Radha, head Gopi, and her friends the cowgirls, who he bewitched and beguiled in his youth and Rukmini, the wife of his elder years.
The exact date of Krishna’s birth was not recorded, however most scholars agree that it coincided with the advent of the Kali Yuga, the age of darkness which began at least 3000 years before the birth of Christ. Some scholars think that Krishna was a folk hero whose valor became legend over generations, and he took on God-like attributes. Some say that he may not have been one person and that his story is a series of fables of different men from different eras morphed into one man. Regardless of whether he was one person or many, today Krishna is worshipped by millions of Hindus as an incarnation of the God Vishnu and is regarded as the “Lord of Love”.
Love inspires everyone. Artists, writers, poets, and actors search for inspiration to give voice to their craft out of love. Others seek love in order to give a focus to life and anchor it. Love settles us and gives us a purpose for living.
Love is the sustaining power of our lives. We create works of art, build a career and a family and sustain life by love, by giving it our attention, energy and good heart. Our lives are reflections of loving thoughts and feelings. When we withdraw love, we stop sustaining what we have created and our life begins to fall apart. When we again turn to our life with love, it flourishes.
Love is the reason and purpose of Krishna’s birth. His mission is to reflect God’s love and to show his devotees how to attain it and hold onto it.
Avatars never take birth alone, not only do they have a Shakti; they are accompanied by a host of companions. Each has a spiritual attitude, a bhav toward the Lord. Some are friends, lovers, wife or husband, colleagues, servants, advisors, gurus, demigods, saints and enemies. They are a mandala, a circle of wholeness and completion, each with a particular role to play in the Avatar’s drama. And so Krishna is accompanied by a retinue of associates who help him fulfill his destiny.
The Radha bhav, the attitude of the Gopis toward Krishna, is said to be the highest spiritual feeling that a person can hold toward God. The Gopis consider Krishna to be husband and lover for Krishna embodies everything that is holy and sacred. They are pulled toward him in order to reach ‘Supreme Love’.
Their love has some of the qualities of personal romantic love, the love we look for when we search for a partner. However, it is much more than the personal love most of us know. Personal love can be contaminated by desire for pleasure and possessiveness. Inevitably, when romance and Eros fade it falls under the influence of fear, desire, anger and attachment.
Radha bhav is complex, mysterious, and contains the bittersweet experience called ‘the bliss of the pain of separation’. The relationship is more piquant from the dance of union and separation, the longing to merge with the Lord or Guru, the pain of separation from Him and finally permanent union with Him.
The Gopis feel an intense attraction, a yearning to be close to their object of love, Krishna. This is partially due to Krishna’s mission, which is to draw them close to him so that they can realise unconditional love and become an inspiration for others. However their love must be free of selfishness or any negative emotion that separates them from Krishna. Their spiritual task is to hold to devotion, the highest understanding and love for Krishna without attachment, without wanting anything in return.
Krishna energy is charming, fickle and playful. Krishna types are usually the naughty boys that girls adore and mothers fear. Mothers have a sixth sense about the Krishna energy and encourage their daughters to avoid it. Of course, they don’t and heartbreak is usually inevitable. In the contemporary novel ‘The Hindi Bindi Club’ one mother’s advice to her daughter is, ‘play around with Krishna but marry Shiva.’ Shiva is loyal, faithful and steady.
The Krishna of the Bhagavatam is much more than a charming young man; he is the Lord of the universe and has a serious purpose. His mission is to return righteousness, divine love and prosperity to the people of the land of Vraja.
As our story begins, at the onset of the age of darkness, violence, greed, dishonesty and jealousy are on the rise. There is great fear and confusion in the land where Krishna is about to take birth. Kamsa, a wicked king whose addiction to pleasure has destroyed his wisdom and compassion, rules the kingdom of Vraja.
Kamsa arranges the marriage of his sister, Devaki, to a local king, Vasudev. On their wedding day Kamsa hears a voice in his mind that tells him that Devaki’s eighth child will slay him. He decides to kill Devaki and her future husband. Upon hearing their fate, Vasudev convinces Kamsa to imprison them both instead of murdering Devaki. Kamsa agrees with a promise that he will slay every child born to them and so he does.
Years pass and evil has risen. It is time for the Lord to incarnate. He speaks to his Shakti and asks Her to incarnate with him saying that:
‘You will earn a place of glory in the heart of humanity. People will erect temples for you and worship you in your various aspects….’(5th August, page X.2)
The night of the birth of the eighth child Krishna, the gates of the prison mysteriously open. Vasudev recognizes the hand of the Lord in this magic. He carries Krishna to Vrindavan, where he exchanges him for the girl child, the newborn daughter of Yashoda, wife of King Nanda, ruler of Vraja who will foster Krishna into manhood.
When Kamsa hears of the birth, he comes to kill the newborn baby girl. She manifests as the Supreme Goddess, the holy mother Mahamaya, and scares him off. Laughing at his folly she says:
‘What is the use of trying to kill me, O fool! Your death has taken birth somewhere else. Therefore, do not harm the innocent.’ (8th August, page X.4)
Since then the divine mother has been worshipped everywhere under many different names. Unable to slay her, Kamsa vows to destroy all babies under the age of ten months.
As the story of Krishna’s birth and Kamsa’s failure becomes known, the people of the valley herald the birth of an incarnation of Vishnu, sent to release them from Kamsa’s tyranny.
As Kamsa’s wickedness grows so too does the divine power of Lord Krishna. From the moment of his birth it is obvious he is not an ordinary person. Miracles happen around him. As a young child he is shepherd to the village cows; he defends them against wild animals and thieves, thereby safeguarding the villagers’ income, food and wellbeing. Krishna’s sweet nature attracts the villagers to him and they share in the ecstasy of his spiritual joy. He plays various roles. He is the magical child who teases the village mothers, steals their butter and hides things from them.
When Kamsa sends a host of demons to slay Krishna and others, he easily wins every battle, even as a young boy. His reputation grows and the whole valley celebrates him as an incarnation of the Lord. He is constantly demonstrating his mystical power that confirms their belief that he is none other than the supreme Lord Vishnu.
Krishna’s older brother, Balaram, who avoided death at the hands of Kamsa by mystical means, always accompanies Krishna. Krishna and his brother enchant the villagers, for a radiant light seems to follow them wherever they go.
‘Here comes Krishna, the protector of Vraja and the cows, with elders bowing to him. He appears fatigued, but even so he is beautiful and delightful to look at, with his garland covered with the dust of the hooves of the cows—his dear ones. As he strolls in, like a little elephant, he removes the distress in our hearts caused by our separation from him during the day.’ (10th September page X.35)
Later in his life he is a great King and wise Guru but for now he is the sustainer of lives and playmate of the Gopis. As Krishna grows up he becomes the enchanter, the playful seducer of tender hearts. He is flirtatious and teases the cowgirls without mercy. He calls them to him and then runs away, thereby increasing their yearning to be in his company. His romantic play of oneness and separation intensifies as he leaves his childhood behind and enters manhood.
‘It was summer. But in Vrndavan, it was forever springtime. The blazing sun shone pleasantly over the valley, bringing warmth but not heat. The air was constantly cooled by the numerous ponds and was laden with the fragrance and the pollen of flowers. The earth was thickly carpeted with many-hued flowers for the Lord to sport on; and the birds and beasts entertained him with their sweet notes. He loved them. He was love.’ (23rd August, X.18/19)
Then autumn followed:
‘As the moon is surrounded by stars, so Krishna, surrounded by his friends, brought delight to the hearts of all. The temperate climate brought relief to the hearts of all except the women of Vrndavan whose hearts had been stolen by Krishna.’
And so the scene is set for Krishna to show the Gopis their spiritual destiny. They had already lost their hearts to him. During the months of December and January they rose early every day and bathed in the river. Afterward they worshipped the goddess Katyayani and prayed:
‘Oh Goddess Katyayani, please make Krishna my husband’. (26th August, X.22)
Upon hearing their prayer Krishna replies:
‘I know your hearts’ desire, O chaste girls, and it shall be fulfilled. Desire directed towards me is no desire at all, even as seed roasted in fire is no seed. You will soon realize the fruit of your worship of the Goddess.’ (26th August, page X.22)
In other words the yearning directed toward the Lord is free of negative consequence. Because their prayer is full of devotion for the Lord, it is only a matter of time before Krishna grants their wishes.
The Gopis are either married or betrothed. Certainly no husband, betrothed or parent would allow his or her daughters to sport unattended with a man, even if he is the Lord. So then, what of their attitude?
The Gopis fear their husbands and parents might disown them for visiting Krishna un-chaperoned and tell Krishna of their doubt. Krishna assures them that there is nothing to fear, and there is not.
Their husbands, parents and betrothed are sporting with Krishna also, in order to know the love of the Self. Aware of his great spiritual power and radiance they curse themselves. They are guilty and embarrassed in front of the knowing eye of Krishna. They admit that many of their religious rites and sacrifices have only worked to make them selfish and greedy. Praying to Krishna they plea:
‘Surely we are blessed to have had these ladies as our partners in life, for through them we too can develop devotion to the Lord’. (28th August, page X.23)
Already the Gopis are fulfilling their spiritual destiny by example of pure devotion that has moved their husbands to self-examination. Krishna counsels all of the villagers to be like a tree saying:
‘Blessed is the life of a tree. They afford food and shelter to all beings, and they never turn anyone away without sharing what they have. By their fruits, leaves, flowers, roots, bark and firewood they serve all. This indeed is the greatest duty—that one serves another and works out one’s salvation with the life, wealth, intelligence and speech that one has.’ (26th August, page X.22)
Krishna takes every opportunity to teach and encourage the villagers.
One autumn day there is a special sweetness in the air. The Gopis are constantly meditating on Krishna, yearning to become one with him, the villagers are pining to catch a glimpse of him, and the whole valley is alive and glowing from his radiance. The atmosphere is intoxicating.
The story goes on:
‘It was autumn and in the clear blue sky the lovely full moon rose. The setting was ideal, thought Krishna, for enacting a divine drama. Krishna was seated in the forest and, wishing to shower his grace upon the gopis, he played a few notes on his flute. The music fanned the flame of love that constantly burned in their hearts of these women.
‘Spell-bound they began to arrive where Krishna was seated. At the moment they heard the flute of Krishna they dropped whatever they were doing and turned their steps towards him. Not one could restrain them. It did not matter if they were not properly dressed and adorned. At the first sound of the music, their hearts, their soul, their very life and already reached the feet of Krishna; the body followed without argument.
‘Some, however, found that all the exits from their house had been bolted and locked. Contemplating Krishna in their hearts they sat with their eyes closed. Intense longing burned in them—and it burned the residue of ignorance and bad deeds. In deep meditation they embraced the Krishna of their soul, and the bliss they enjoyed worked more deeply on the residue of past good karma in them. Thus rid of the consequences of both good and bad karma, and resorting to Krishna, though as a lover, they attained so: one who loves or hates; fears or befriends the Lord is united with him. This is the very purpose of his incarnation: to make himself easily accessible to everyone.’ (2nd September, page X.29)
The Bhagavatam says that any thought, whether positive or negative, when turned toward the Lord, invites the Lord into the heart. And so, even the wicked can attain liberation, even though they meditate upon Krishna with grievance or evil. The Gopis’ work is the opposite, to meditate on Krishna without attachment or grievance.
When they arrive Krishna speaks:
‘Welcome blessed ladies! What shall we do? But, why have you come away from your homes at night? Your parents and husbands will be worried. It may be that you are attached to me, for I am the Self of all in which everyone finds delight. But it is the duty of a married woman to be devoted to her husband, regarding him as a god, even if he is wicked, unlucky, aged, sick or poor. It is not necessary that my devotee should by physically close to me, but should hear and sing my glories and meditate upon me. Hence, return to your homes soon!’ (2nd September, page X.29)
The Gopis reply:
‘Do not spurn us Lord. We have completely renounced all the objects of this world and have resorted to your feet. Kindly accept us as your servants. For even so does the Lord of the universe treat the seekers after liberation. You have taught us that service to our husbands is our foremost duty. Let that be so. But are you not the very self of all beings—hence the very self of our husbands? So, by serving you we are serving them. Even they who perform their duties and scriptural rituals are only worshipping you….
‘Since we touched your lotus feet, our hearts do not wish to hold anyone else dear. The goddess of wealth vies with the sacred basil leaf for the dust of your feet. All the world seeks the blessings of that goddess; but we seek the dust of your feet. Listening to the music of your flute even birds and beasts are entranced. So how could concern for respectability restrain us from being magnetically drawn to you by that music? You have taken birth to save us from all fears and sufferings; hence, we beseech you, place your divine hands on our hearts and on our breasts.’ (3rd September, page X.29)
Krishna, moved by their plea spends time in their company. They sing, and run about in the garden. He leads them to the river bank and plays in the water. As they soak up his loving attention, the mood shifts. Each thinks they are the chosen one, superior to all other women. Krishna the indweller of all, knows their thoughts and in order to destroy their pride he vanishes. They are immediately stricken with grief. One moment their hearts are filled with love and the next overwhelming grief.
‘In the loneliness and silence of the forest they could ask no human being about Krishna’s whereabouts, but they asked the flowers, the shrubs and the vines.’ (4th September, page X.30)
When one Gopi (perhaps Radha) thinks, ‘Krishna loves me best; I am His favorite; or I am the most beautiful’; they lose touch with divinity, their egos expand and the divine vision leaves them. They again find themselves in separation.
Even though Krishna plays with them as an equal, he is their Guru and insists they renounce possessiveness. They must understand that love and oneness is sustained only in the awareness—we are one; Love is one; Krishna belongs to everyone.
For hours they search for Krishna to no avail. He is not to be found while they are in the state of attachment. Eventually realizing their folly they stop searching and sit to pray:
‘Because you were born there, Vraja is even more prosperous. Indeed, the goddess of wealth dwells there permanently now. Beloved, see how your devotees are wandering about in search of you. By the shafts of your love-laden eyes you have robbed us of our very lives. Yet you have indeed saved us, the people of Vraja, time and again from diverse calamities. We know that you are not the playmate of the Gopis, and that you are the indwelling witness of all beings. You have taken birth among the satvata [the pure] at the specific prayer of the creator.’ (6th September, page X.31)
While they are absorbed in meditation Krishna appears, ‘looking like the enchanter Cupid’. He again leads them to the bank of the river where they find a sandy beach that is illumined by a flood of moonlight. There the Gopis prepare a seat for him with their scarves. Krishna sits, surrounded by the beautiful Gopis, a heavenly sight. Sitting close to him they question him:
‘Some love those who love them, others love even those who do not love them, and yet others do not love even those who love them! Can you tell us why?’
‘Friends love one another actuated by selfish interests; there is no true friendliness there, but only self-interest. Others love even those who do not love them—this is like paternal affection; here the love is actuated by duty and friendliness, and it is blameless. Yet others do not love even those that love them: they are either sages who delight in their own self, or those whose desires have all been fulfilled, ungrateful people, or they who hate their own benefactors and elders.’
‘As for me, I do not love even those who love me, so that they may never forget me nor take me for granted, but remain forever immersed in quest of me—like a poor man who found a pearl which he lost and is, therefore, forever looking for it.
‘I disappeared from your midst for awhile but I tell you, even if I am born again and again for many millennia, I will not be able to repay the debt I owe you nor to recompense your pure love for me.’
Enthralled by the loving words of Krishna, the Gopis form a circle around him. By his own divine power he appears between every two and he commences the rasa dance. Sensing this divine play the Celestials gathers in heaven to watch this rare scene. Krishna and the Gopis dance, their bodies sway, rock and whirl. Their dresses and tresses fly around. Some are overcome by fatigue and cling to Krishna’s shoulder; some fondly kiss his arm and swoon in ecstasy; some press his hands to their bosom. Thus they play and sport with the Lord in this magical atmosphere:
‘Embracing them, touching them, looking at them, smiling at them, the Lord sported as a child would play with its own reflection.’
‘It is said that the moon, the stars, the planets and the constellations, stood still, witness this wondrous play of the Lord who was in truth reveling in his own self all the time.
‘Then, surrounded by the Gopis, he entered the waters of the river. There again he played with the gopis who sprinkled him with water as the celestials watched and rejoiced. Afterwards Krishna roamed the groves and gardens on the bank of the river surrounded by the Gopis.’ (8th September, page X.33)
Again the question of propriety arises. King Parikshit who has been listening with deep interest asks:
‘How was it that the Lord, who incarnated as Krishna to establish righteousness, thus sported with others’ wives?’ (8th September, page X.33)
‘What appears to be transgression of duty is noticed in the conduct of the great, but it does not taint them. A wise man would accept their precepts as authoritative and emulate only those actions of theirs, which are in accord with the highest teachings, not others.
‘Non-volitional, spontaneous actions of those who have transcended ego are totally unselfish and are beyond the realm of virtue and vice.’ (8th September, page X.33)
Krishna lives fearlessly without ego. And so the villagers’ spiritual task is to see Krishna with a divine eye, and not with an ordinary ‘human’ eye. He is not an interloper, who has come to tear apart lives, but he is a healer of broken hearts and a destroyer of the negative karma evil brings.
Krishna as an incarnation of the Lord, is the indweller all, of the Gopis and of their husbands. Even though he appears to be a person, a separate human being, he is not. He is not a worldly threat, but a spiritual call to see the world through the eyes of the Lord. Hence the Gopis’ husbands are accepting. Krishna’s love is not carnal and even though the Gopis’ husbands suspect there is physical affection, they are drawn into the spiritual ecstasy resulting from the dance. This was the moment of testing for the Gopis and their dear ones, to see Krishna as the inner Self of all, not as another. This was their opportunity to embrace the Lord in pure love and so be united with him.
Shortly after the dance Krishna was called to Mathura to take up his kingly responsibilities. And so, even though the Gopis personified true and pure devotion to him alas, he left them.
They pined and yearned for him. The yearning to hold the experience of him burned within them. They embraced their destiny by becoming one with him spiritually.
Later concerned about their welfare, Krishna sends his disciple Uddhava to give them a message. Upon seeing he has come from Krishna they ask:
Why have you come here and what will you gain by singing the glory of Krishna to us? Having stolen our hearts once, he has deserted us. What need of our friendship has he? For his sake we have fully controlled our inborn tendencies, likes and dislikes, and are leading the life of mendicants. The very mention of his name fills us with distress and despair. Can you take us back to Krishna?’ (22nd September, page X.47)
‘You have with your own lives laid a unique path to god-realisation—that of supreme love. Hear now Krishna’s special message to you:
‘You can never be separated from me, for I am the life and very self of all. I create, sustain and withdraw the universe, by myself, within myself. The self is ever-pure, it is consciousness itself and should be sought in and through the waking, dream and deep sleep states. At all times remember that this world is not different from an object in a dream. It is not necessary that you should be physically near me as away from me you will be spiritually closer to me.’ (22nd September, page X.47)’
The gopis are delighted to hear Krishna’s message. Moved by their profound understanding and seeing their love for Krishna Uddhava spends many months learning the art of devotion.
‘These village girls have fulfilled the purpose of human life, thought Uddhava. I salute the dust of the feet of the gopis, who uplift the three worlds by remembering and singing Krishna’s name.’ (23rd September, page X.47)
When it is time to leave, Uddhava praises their spiritual attainment saying:
‘May our minds and all our thoughts rest forever in the lotus feet of Krishna. May our speech always glorify him. May our bodies bow to him who is all-pervading, and may we ever serve him. Whatever be our destiny, may we ever be devoted to Lord Krishna.’ (23rd September, page X.47)
This ends the story of Krishna and the Gopis who to this day, remain the shining light of the Bhakti movement, the path of love.
I am not sure if the story of Krishna and the Gopis dispels the confusion and mystery of love or not. One thing is clear, however, that the ultimate test of our commitment to wanting our hearts to be full of love is, paradoxically, according to Krishna and the Gopis, to keep giving our love to God and the Guru in every situation, especially when our hearts break and it is the last thing we want to do.