Self-disclosure

Yesterday I did what I never thought was possible-- the most challenging human function for me-- I opened up to someone about an incriminating and embarrassing indiscretion. Nobody as yet knows about it except for him. I can't imagine telling anyone in my personal circle of friends because I feel that it would change their opinion of me. What if they turn on me or gossip about me? Do I care about what they think? 

I can open up to casual acquaintances on the rare occasion but I never tell them any pertinent information about myself because I know that that information may inevitably leak out. When I do share information, I find that its usually more embarrassing in my mind than it is in real life. What should I do? Just open up to anyone and be up front? No! That's ridiculous. So solution is to find someone that I can talk to who doesn't have anything to gain from the information.

Last night I slept through the night without much interruption, which is unusual for me. I don't know if it had something to do with getting it all of my chest of if I just had a good night. I don't recall sleeping that soundly in a long time. I do recall one occasion when I felt absolute dread upon lying in bed and it wasn't until hours later that I finally succumbed to slumber. That was about a year ago. I don't know what has happened in the past year or exactly what keeps me up at night but something is bothering me and I just can't express it or I refuse to divulge it because I'm terrified of the implications. 

What else? I'm not sure that I can take this information to the grave anymore. When I finally spoke to someone, it felt like an enormous weight lifted off me and I could breathe. I don't know if he sensed it, or if he even cares but I realize now that I would have been better off talking to someone who really cared personally or knew me well in order to advise me further or give me more insight. Then again, of what use is it. 

The more I talk, the more open I feel. I feel like I'm turning into a different person with more openness and awareness than I could manage before. It's complicated and sometimes messy but I wouldn't trade this newfound self-disclosure for anything in the world. 

Anonymous Notes: The Last Time I Saw You

The last time I saw you, I felt anxious. I felt that you wanted to talk to me and it appeared you waited around in the hall in hopes of seeing me. I don't blame you; I've attempted the same before myself. There was no reason for you to stick around; the more I mingled, the more I realized that you probably were trying to reach out. I don't know whether you think I'm stupid enough to engage you or if your intentions are completely innocent. I don't know whether you think I'm a flirt or just friendly or that perhaps you have a chance in hell at striking up a fling off the cuff. What does it all matter now? As long as you persist, I'll resist. I'll keep you at a distance. Your demeanor is deceptively relaxed but I can see beneath that nonchalant veneer, my darling. 

The last time I saw you, I felt the happiest in my life. We were both absorbed and entranced in a delightful conversation and I didn't even care who else was around or eavesdropping because I simply couldn't have enough time with you. There was a palpable sense of urgency and desperation in the air that evening that drove me. Where shall we meet again, if ever, and when? I don't know if I'll ever see you again, or if I'll even have the courage to express to you how much you've touched my soul. I love you. I love you so much it just fucking hurts.

The last time I saw you, I felt we were both painfully awkward. I couldn't really find words to fill the empty void. I gave you a gift and without any reservation, you expressed how surprised you were but we didn't really speak again after that. I wonder how you are sometimes but honestly, I can't even be around you anymore. Sometimes I think you're deliberately trying to hurt my feelings and I can't wrap my head around you. Are we okay or not? I don't understand how you have so much power over me. Why do I care what you think about me? Is it because I still care about you? I can't stand you sometimes.

The last time I saw you, you told me I was beautiful and that you regretted the past. I accepted your apology because you seemed sincere and it was such a long time ago. I think you wanted me to feel sorry for you, your situation, your circumstances, and your hard times. I don't really give a shit. I don't care about your hard times because they were your own doing. You've manipulated and deceived plenty of people in your life and that is why you suffer. I don't know if you'll ever read this, but if you do, I hope you know I helped you because I cared for you, not because I felt pity. I wanted us to be friends and move forward but you crossed me in the worst possible way. How could you do it? 

The last time I saw you, I knew it would be the last time. I knew in my heart that I would have to live with this longing for the rest of my life and that every so often, that pang of separation would crop up, I'd stab it down, and forget it for a few years. And so on... it's been almost fifteen years and I don't think you'd recognize me anymore. I don't know if you would even speak to me in my present state and consciousness. Would you even find me interesting anymore or would I bore you? I wonder where you are, if you're all right, whom you're with and how you're doing periodically. I stab at the possibilities. I stab, stab, stab. 

The last time I saw you, my heart jumped. I couldn't believe it was you, but I don't know why I was so shocked. I don't know why I thought that I could avoid you and that it was improbable that I'd ever see you again. It was foolish to think so. It was foolish to hope I could put you behind me as an embarrassing phase and move forward without batting an eyelash. When I saw you, I had some ice cream or popsicle and you were headed to an exam. Where the hell were you all year? I didn't have to see you until finals week and it scared me shitless. I wanted to say, "Hi." but I also wanted to run the other way. I'm still terrified and titillated by you.

The Violin Story

This story takes place during my fourth grade year at H. S. Thompson Learning Center. I'm excited that I get to tell you this story because I've only shared this story with one person.... and I don't think it counts because that person was my therapist. So, this is the first time I've ever shared this story and its profound significance with anyone. Wow.
Alright, let me set the scene because this story takes place in an old, smelly portable behind our school. The floors squeaked and creaked and the air conditioning never worked and you had sweaty bodies smelling up the poor place and it always seemed bewilderingly fragile like a really strong gust of wind could bring it all crashing down. Well, you should know that this particular portable was no ordinary place, despite the health and hazardous code violations; it transported us to a magical realm.
I should also introduce you to Ms. Waites, who is the protagonist of this tale; though it's my story, she's the real heroine. Ms. Waites was my violin teacher, Strings director, a talented violinist, an inspirational teacher and all around well-rounded, colorful human being full of love and light.
I met Ms. Waites in Art class with Ms. Packard; she was going around signing up students for strings classes. As you may know, I sprung from the womb with my life's missions etched into my soul so I knew from the moment I saw Ms. Waites that this woman would change my life. I leaped at the opportunity to sign up and asked her a dozen questions on the spot. She went for it.
Okay, here's where things travel into a gray area in my character. When I asked my mother if I could play an instrument, she didn't want to be bothered either because I was generally a very demanding child and asked too damn many questions (nagged the hell out of her) or she didn't understand that the course and material was free. Instead of bothering myself with trying to convince my mother to sign the form, I decided to take an expedited route. Also, I knew that I probably lacked the innate persuasive abilities as a young child so I didn't even try. Who understands the reasoning and logic of a child? Who cares?
After assessing the risk involved, I decided that no life force on the face of this planet was capable of stealing this opportunity from me so I went ahead and forged my mom's signature, filled in all the necessary paper work and returned the forms to my new favorite teacher, Ms. Waites. How in the world Ms. Waites accepted it at face value is beyond me but I imagine she looked the other way due to my zeal. Maybe she was desperate for students? Who cares?
This is the best part of the story..
The day comes to get our instrument assignments and, of course, I draw the short straw of the lot. Everyone else had taken Strings before so they knew which instruments were in disrepair and they called dibs on the good ones. I was too slow, naive, and inexperienced to understand the ways of humans so I took the instrument handed to me with wide eyes and a smile. The other kids took it upon themselves to inform me of my violin's condition. I mean, they made damn sure that I knew it was a pile of junk. I was upset and Ms. Waites could tell somehow. Maybe it was my fanciful display of a temper tantrum that tipped her off... I don't know. Who cares?
Ms. Waites instinctively knew, as all great instructors do, what to tell me in order to inspire me. She appealed to my sense of work ethic, pride, and ego with just a phrase. Intuitively she said, "Melissa, if you can make this instrument sing, you can make anything sing." and with that I was pacified and determined in my mission. I told myself that day, "If anyone can make this instrument sing, it will be me." and that's been my motto since childhood. I rely strongly on my own skill and ability, not the instruments, and from that day forward that expression has been like a mantra that I whisper to myself daily.
Its important for us to remember that our tools will only take us so far in life. We must rely on our talents, skills and technical ability to carry us through the task at hand.
 :)

Winter Adventure

Lonely Plains

There is nothing but lonesome empty plains as far as the eyes can see as we enter the Texas landscape. Gone are the regal red rock mountains and rugged terrain of Arizona and New Mexico. Why, the very sight of the gentle slopes and fields signal my imminent arrival back home. I am relaxed and poised as I arrive in my home state. It isn’t as if I was unwelcome elsewhere, but something about Texas welcomes me, soothes me, and lulls me into a restful state.

Last night I had a strange dream that broke me from my sleep. When I awoke, I realized that I had the same dream before, except this time I couldn’t recall the exact details. While I wanted to disclose the entire dream, I could only recall a few things and those caused me shame so I didn’t tell my husband. At last, I told him that I was startled awake but that I couldn’t remember why.  Interestingly enough, he told me that he had a strange dream that was also identical to a previous dream, almost a year old.

My dream went something like this: we were traveling en masse throughout India on pilgrimage; this isn’t unusual as we have plans to travel to India soon. Around that time, a young handsome man seduced me and to atone for my sinful thoughts I resolved to shave my head and give up any semblance aisvarya or opulence. This detail is also striking because for years, I contemplated monasticism and a few years ago I grew obsessed with shaving my head much to Chandaneswar’s protest. A few days ago, Chandaneswar mentioned that we were going to visit Thirupati Balaji and I could shave my head there if I still wanted to do it. Anyhow…

In the dream,  I removed my precious gems and metals and dressed myself only in simple cloth. Thereafter, I decorated myself with tilak, sacred clay markings upon my upper body and asked my husband’s blessings to perform penance. He indicated that he would not give me his blessings because he felt that it was unnecessary for me to atone for a mere mental lapse in chastity. After lecturing me on the nature of Kali Yuga, the age of quarrel and hypocrisy, he advised me to forgive myself and move forward with my spirituality with greater enthusiasm but not to remove myself from society or take to asceticism or renunciation.

At this point, I argued that if I remained in society and continued to associate freely with materialistic society, it was possible or very likely that the quality and sincerity of my spiritual endeavors would slowly deteriorate over time.

I added that if one man had so easily tempted me after only a passing encounter, it was highly probable that I would be weaker in more trying circumstances. To that, he countered that everyone in Kali Yuga commits sins by mind and we should neglect them. After some discussion, we both decided to take to renunciation and travel together.  Strange dream, no?

What Shall I Do?

The other day I looked into your eyes and wondered if they had any end. Where do you come from, dear one, and how were you created? From which materials did the Creator fashion you that rendered you immensely and intensely sweet and tender?

How can I understand your mind? Have you anything else in your heart besides inherent saintliness and compassion for fallen souls such as me? My Liege, bestow your warm embrace and poised grace upon me!

Intimate Notes

Yesterday I performed the Bach Violin Concerto in A minor, Allegro movement for recital. It was the best performance I've done of the Bach so far, and I'm not finished polishing it yet, so I have good reason to believe it could be even better next month. I'm really satisfied with it because I put my best foot forward and gave it my best effort. What more can I ask for? The Lord has been merciful and blessed me with ample gifts; I am only now starting to fully understand and appreciate them.
Sometimes I write things I intend for the whole world to read, and other times I write things I never intend for anyone to read. I don't know why I felt compelled to share these notes today because I've held on to them closely with every intention of keeping them hidden and taking them to the grave. In reality they are notes written only for my own eyes but I'm sharing them in hopes that someone can appreciate them.

A Love Note to the Heart:
Babe, I know you feel alone, down, and worried. I know you want things that you can't have and have received what you never wanted, but just live with it! Tolerate the desire and hang on, girl. I know it feels like you're lost and on the wrong path, but there's a reason the Lord has taken it all away and given all this to you instead! This is your path; you walk alone but always, forever, and eternally in the company and presence of the Lord.


An Apology in Earnest:
I want to first thank you for your attention and compliment.  I also want to acknowledge, respect and appreciate you for taking a moment of your time to acknowledge me. I should also apologize, however, because I did not acknowledge, respect, appreciate, or reciprocate in that moment. I even ignored and avoided you out of fear of being discovered. I don't want you to think I'm callous, self-involved, and vain (though it is so) because I failed to acknowledge your presence. I need you to know that I intentionally ignored and avoided you because I was afraid that others would see just how much I truly relish your attention. For that I am truly sorry. Please know that I don't want anyone to know where my heart lies. Like a precious treasure, I keep my heart heavily guarded so that others may not plunder it. Please understand.
Apnar kinkar~

Eternal Identity

The moon was high and the kirtan loud,

In that moment, I stood still in time

And recognized you for who you truly were.

I couldn't accept the past and reconcile my identities

But now, here we were, alone in eternal stillness.

I understood myself, I understood you,

And, for a moment, I understood the Almighty.

Suddenly, I knew all that needed knowing.

Then, I felt lost again. The moment didn't last.

I was thrust violently back into materia

Back into my subtle and gross bodies,

Back into my bodily consciousness.

When will I see you again?

Finding Heart

Sri Sri Guru-Gauranga Jayatah!

Dandavat pranam. Jay Srila Prabhupad!

I hope this letter finds you in good health and sound mind.

Lately I feel like I have fallen slack in my devotional service and spiritual practice. Truly, I normally ignore my exhaustion and try my best to re-commit myself each morning, each moment of every day. Over a decade ago, HH Rtadhvaja Swami advised me that the best strategy was to take Krishna Consciousness a day at a time. I realized immediately that if I thought about the long-term goal, at some point, the goal might seem unattainable. For my fickle and immature mind, it would be easier to endeavor only in baby steps. Everyday I followed those wise instructions and maintained my vows to the best of my ability. I endeavored patiently, slowly chiseling away at a lifelong vow of loyalty to Krishna, Guru, and Gauranga in hopes of attaining the highest goal-- prema-bhakti. 

I loved my god-siblings, served them, followed their wisdom, asked their advice and so on. At times, I felt pressured to accept first initiation but I resisted the temptation to rush such an important commitment until I was certain. After years of contemplating, I accepted first initiation in the company of sweet vaishnavs and celebrated my spiritual birth. I remember that day clearly. I tearfully circumambulated the sacrificial fire in ecstasy knowing I had found spiritual shelter. That was seven years ago this Balaram Purnima. Over these past seven years, I have realized that I am a fraud. I have lost sight of my eternal self, service, name, identity, and mood. I followed the rules and regulations with unyielding zeal. I only cared about following protocol. I learned to sit properly, dress properly, behave properly, speak properly, and think properly but I did not learn to love properly. I did not love anyone or anything properly. I did not even love myself properly because I was too busy contorting myself to fit into a box properly. More recently, I found a sanga where I feel accepted, welcomed, and loved. I found a wonderful place where I do not have to contort myself to fit in. I found vaishnavs with kindness and acceptance at the core of their hearts, with warmth and affection I did not find at temple. One day, as I was reciting my pranams to the acharya sampraday and my ishtha-devatas, I realized I was never going to fit in. Indeed, it is impossible to push a square cog into a round hole. As I slowly uttered, “ananta koti vaishnava vrinda ki” I felt hollow inside and realized though I may offer my prostrate obeisance to hundreds, thousands, even millions of vaishnavs, I will never quite be up to par. I will never be counted among them. What's more, I do not want to fit in. I know I will never be good enough. No matter how hard I contort, distort, repress and suppress myself, I will never feel good enough. I want to be myself and be accepted. I want to feel loved. I do not want to be part of a society where I feel pressured to fake it and go through the motions. I do not want to be part of a community in which appearances means more than sincerity and intention. I do not want to be part of a society wherein one is reprimanded for speaking frankly and honestly and gloried for being delusional and duplicitous. I ask myself if there is something wrong with me for feeling this way but each time I do so, I hear a resounding and overwhelming, "No!" 

I want a heart because I lost mine somewhere along the way. 

Apnar kinkar

Bleeding Out

Today we went for our usual walk after dinner. Krishna Chandra caught up with Rasa Lila Devi. Chandaneswar and I chanted around the block. We went for darshan in the evening and I saw Indulekha Devi at the temple making garlands. I haven't seen her in a while so we caught up for a few minutes. I asked her if I could assist her in her service, and she kindly obliged. She then told me about her recent trip to India; she said she became gravely ill there and almost died due to lack of treatment facilities and prompt care. Where there were devotees, they lacked proper resources and treatment; where treatments were available, the staff refused to treat her without payment up front!
I couldn't believe my ears, but then again I could believe my ears, having spent an extended period in India previously myself and becoming ill there. I honestly felt alone and hopeless there; at times I even contemplated the worst-- "Just give up, go drown yourself in the Ganga. It's hopeless. Nobody care anyway."
I hope to spend more time with Indulekha. Recently I re-evalutated my priorities during my travels and realized that our community needs serious help. There are many things that, like Indulekha's gut, are hemorrhaging even though there are solutions, none are implemented due to lack of resources, training, or sheer indifference. What would become of us if we neglected the care of even one Vaishnav? What would our community lose? Can we afford to lose even one?
Not only are we hemorrhaging, but we need to replace the lost blood, and treat the source of infection. The problem is multifaceted, therefore, treatment should be approached with many perspectives... not just one view. I apologize for the series of medical metaphors. Maybe Indulekha's story shocked me deeply, or maybe I'm just impressionable, or maybe I watch too much Grey's Anatomy. I don't know. We have a problem and it needs addressing.
The other day I remembered several devotees that I was close to, and remembered that they are all gone. They have left the movement, moved or away or passed away. I don't know if you remember Lalita-Krishna prabhu, but he was always very kind and instructive to me. Lavanga-Latika told me the other day that he left his body, and I was completely oblivious that he was ill again. Another devotee was Ramachandra prabhu; both left the community about eight years ago. Some devotees passed away, like Urjeswat prabhu, Bharat prabhu, and Lalita Krishna prabhu, and sometimes I cry because I feel I can't connect with the new generation. My ashram leaders, instructors, and mentors have moved on or passed away. What will become of me and our movement as we have to face the inevitable truth that all things must pass?
I don't know what would have happened if Indulekha had left us, but surely it would have left such a gaping void in our community that we would struggle to recover for years. Could I personally be capable of facing another death? I don't think so. I don't know if I can handle it anymore. On average, I'm losing a loved one about every two years, and the clock is ticking. I can't afford to waste any time.
Here I've been happily enjoying my summer with friends and family, partying my youthful energy away. 

Secret Admirer

I’m sure you know that I’m completely infatuated with you. I feel I have to tell you this. I’m not sure why, but I feel an overwhelming fear that I’ll hold on to this and that it will crush me. The other day you made excessive eye contact (for me) and this made me highly uncomfortable. I enjoyed it, I wanted more but the longer I stared into your expansive, deep, loving eyes, I felt myself falling into that ocean of infatuated madness yet again. I felt as if you cast a spell on me and I remained transfixed within your wonderfully refreshing gaze willfully. I lost myself within your eyes and I couldn't find my way out. I avoided you recently; I wanted to avoid drowning in that ocean yet again. I avoided conversation though all I ever wanted was your attention. I captured your attention and then neglected you again.

Can we start over? This time I promise to play by the rules and reciprocate every gesture of interest. I woke up several nights in a row restless, anxious, and thinking of you. Typically, I’m only anxious when I face a stressful challenge, which begs the question: are you my latest hurdle and how? I believe I want to seduce you, but I’m also deeply troubled by our mutual lack of time and opportunity. Indeed, this is only a fraction of the obstacles involved. The implications and ramifications are of even greater risk to you for obvious reasons. I have to remind myself frequently that you’re my instructor, a respectable person, and a public figure. Can I have you? How? Is my age an issue? Do you have expectations of me? What nature relationship can we have without negatively impacting your career, life and family? Is there one?

Dream motifs

After carefully analyzing my dreams, and interpreting them by incorporating the intuitive feelings and sensations I felt during the dream, I have come to the conclusion that my last dream about my emergency Cesarean section, hysterectomy, and extending recovery means that I am undergoing a painful, intensive purge in my life. Significant are the two fathers, one appears to be of a Latino/Asian ethnicity, while the second is African or African American, both of which bear strong resemblances to romantic partners from my past. Both are invested into a future with me, and fight to verify paternity to my child. I wonder if my subconscious is trying to draw attention to my romantic or sexual life, especially with all the symbolism of losing my femininity, power, or sexuality (female reproductive organs, tissue, and c-section). Throughout the dream I seem more anxious about recovery, healing, and completing my procedure. I repeat this to everyone I encounter, my doctor, nurses, lovers, rapist, and strangers in the hospital. I am disgusted by the sanitary conditions within the hospital, but fail to notice it during the initial surgery (Cesarean section, and partial hysterectomy). After encountering the hospital the second time, when my medication wears off, I realise how dirty, dilapidated, and unhygienic the hospital rooms are. Baby is alive but I don't seem concerned about my offspring's well being. I am more concerned about myself. Is my unconscious trying to tell me I spend too much time worrying about others, and place no priority on my own health and well being? Am I overly worried and preoccupied with trivial issues, or the other way around? Some questions are still unclear.Some of the imagery during the dream reminds me of the graphic self-portraiture of Frida Kahlo, perhaps I should explore those feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, powerlessness, and loss more thoroughly.

Rescuing the Lord

Last night, I had a dream about a local devotee turned drama player. She has previously acted in temple dramas, and in my dream she had become a famous stage player. I was excited to see her on stage at a local university campus. As I approached the campus I heard a loud, nagging cry in my mind. I could hear the voice, but it seemed no one else could perceive it. I wondered, "Who is that?" and the voice clearly replied, "Who do you think?"
It was the Lord's voice, and He had specific demands. First, He informed me that he was being neglected by the young devotee actress. He complained that since she had become popular and successful, she had started to neglect Him. He was in the form of a small marble stone statue and traveled alongside her as she toured. He mentioned, "She has a lover who gives her gifts of flowers, jewelry, and sweets, but she does not share any of it with Me. She could at least offer something to Me, anything. She does not bathe, dress, feed, or put me to rest. I am just a statute to her. I am cold, hungry, sleepy, and lonely. I am so exhausted and have not slept for days. Come get me and take me to your home."
Hearing of this regrettable behaviour, I wondered to myself if it was possible to express my concern to her in person. I reasoned that being an educated and cultured young woman, she would admit some shortcomings and rectify her negligence. I set off in search for her, and found her in the arms of her lover, desperately embracing, kissing passionately, and still in full costume backstage. Both were stage players, and apparently fell violently in love during their tour. On closer inspection, I noticed that her lover was not a man, but an actress dressed as the male protagonist. My first impression was that she so desperately sought immediate gratification that she had not bothered to remove her elaborate makeup and costume, feed her Krishna Deity, or even check on Him in the dressing room first. I heard Sri Krishna speak once more, "You see? I told you, she is only concerned for herself; she is selfish! Come get me, quickly, before she comes back!" I finally relented and followed His directions toward the dressing rooms. After winding my way through the halls, I found her dressing room, there behind the unlocked door stood a small Krishna deity-- naked, alone, hungry, and dirty, very, very dirty. I snatched Him and instructed Him to hide in my handmade bag, and keep very quiet. He laughed at me and said, "You're the only one who can hear me, fool!" I woke up shortly after kidnapping Krishna, and escaping through the halls.
After analyzing the dream more carefully, I wonder how often I think of the Lord's well-being. The Lord does not need me to bath, feed, dress, or worship Him. He does not need my fruits, flowers, jewelry, or sweet offerings. He does not need my incense, ghee lamps, water, or ornate fans. He wants my love, devotion, affection, and attention. He cries out for me to look after Him. He mercifully gives me the opportunity to serve Him, without regard to my caste, creed, background, or social status.
He is never concerned with our bodies, but intends to pervade our minds, hearts, and souls. I wonder, regrettably, how negligent I am of Him in my daily worship. I wonder if the devotee actress is rather a representation of me. Having plenty of admirers and sensual pleasures abound, have I forgotten the Lord? Am I neglecting Him? Is he begging me to rescue Him from a lonely existence?

Spiritual Intonation

Lately I have been contemplating my life more carefully, and sometimes it feels like Krishna has different plans for me entirely. I have been very social lately; I have forged new friendships and cultivated those relationships. Unfortunately, I have noticed a pattern that remains constant throughout. Whenever I attempt to forge closer relationships, the Lord, ever the expert arranger, shatters my expectations and hope.

I know that Srila Rupa Goswamipad says in Sri Upadeshamrita that we should cultivate loving relationships, reciprocate affection, and confide in other Vaishnavas. However, I have experienced that typically, they are the ones that break my heart and hurt me the most. I can only liken it to fine-tuning an instrument, or adjusting a signal or radio frequency. Usually, you can hear a slight dissonance when your instrument is out of tune. You attempt to fine-tune your instrument, or focus the signal, and usually, after a few attempts, you can have a clear, focused, and strong sound or signal.

When I first met devotees, I thought they were amazing individuals; they were impressive personalities: charming, loving, and wise. Some of them even struck me as perfected souls, enlightened representatives of the Lord sent to show compassion and love.I saw flickering images of their personality and character. As I tried to focus or strengthen relationships with with them, however, I have only received heartache and pain. I notice that they are flawed, hurtful, and selfish individuals just like ordinary materialistic men.

Perhaps I simply picked up the wrong frequency, but I fear that I set my expectations too high. I misconstrued the flickers and glimpses. I saw glimpses of a life, persona, or character that were just a farce. Just as an actor in a drama plays a romanticized and idealized hero based on fantasy and loft, they were fictional roles. The closer I move in, I feel, the more distorted, depraved, and grotesque the image. The more I am frightened, repulsed, and appalled. The more I retreat, or feel pushed away. Am I simply picking up interference? Adjusting the wrong frequency?  

One realization is comforting, although it does not alleviate my emotional anguish. I know He is the only constant, loyal, and loving friend. Everything and everyone else crumbles beneath His lotus feet. Everything erodes, dissolves, and dissipates-- only Krishna remains.

Offensive Woman

Last night I had a funny dream about an offensive woman who wanted to kidnap my Gour-Nitai by force, because I refused to trade Them with her like common currency. Initially, she introduced herself briefly as a friend of an acquaintance during a large festival in my community.

It was the first time we celebrated this particular festival in our community, so we publicized it largely in magazines, television advertisements, radio commercials, and so on. Consequentially, many people turned up, even devotees from other regions and countries. I personally set up a large tent, or pandal, on my landlord's empty plot of land. We decorated it with beautiful, fragrant flower garlands, banana trees, mango leaves, and fumigated it with aromatic, purifying herbs, cowdung, and incense. Inside the pandal, I drew an auspicious mandala of bright white alpona, atop which I installed a simple throne for Their Lordships, Sri Avadhuta Shiromani and Sri Mayapur Chandra. Dressed, ornamented, and adored, Their Lordships stood majestically on Their throne when suddenly the lone troublemaker appeared.
Before she could open her mouth, I already anticipated that she wanted me to give her something for nothing. Their Lordships laughed and teased me, repeatedly asking, "She wants something, will you give it to her? Will you give her whatever she asks? Such is the character of brahmins and sadhus; they give up even their most coveted treasure!" I grew irate with Gour Nitai and wondered why They were interacting with me in this way. They very rarely speak to me, even after constantly badgering Them, what to speak of dialogue and banter.
"Hare Krishna, Mataji. You don't know me but I'm friends with so-and-so." she said.
"So what?" I thought, "everyone knows each other around here, it won't earn you any favor."
"Our friend told me you have very large, beautiful deities, and she told me where you lived. I want to do parikrama during the festival with Gour Nitai. My deities are too small, though, and I want some big ones that way everyone can see. I'll trade you my little Gour Nitai for your big ones. You see, I'm doing pilgrimage so you should help me out, or I'll just take Them anyway."
She spoke with such audacity, as if she would get her way without any trouble at all. Assumptions do a great many things, and among those things, arousing my anger is really dangerous. I was more infuriated with her attitude about Their Lordships. She spoke as if they were some cheap commodity to be traded or borrowed like the neighbor's garden trowel.
"How dare you, you filthy whore! Who the hell do you think you are? You strut in here, like a dog in heat, peddling your wares like you own the damn place, and demand my Deities? I wouldn't dream of it! Do you think They are toys? Clothes? Huh? Or a knapsack you can throw away when you get tired of it? They are not your soiled undergarments, you two-legged beast! You don't deserve the arca-vigraha presence of the Lord, damned aparadhi! You should give up your Gour-Nitai to me before you make more offenses!"
I shouted all kinds of obscenities at her in English, Bengali, and Spanish, until I was red in the face and my rage was satiated. Meanwhile, the two munificent brothers, Gouranga and Nityananda, laughed, rolled on the ground, cried tears in hysteria, and spoke sarcastically, "That's a good one! I never heard that one before, Devi. Some virtuous saint you are indeed!"
I have the feeling that Their Lordships arranged the encounter with that filthy dog, disguised in Vaishnava attire, in order to pique my rage and wrath. Otherwise, rarely do we encounter these types of personalities, full of pride and offensive ideas.

Fear

There are a few things I wanted to share. I need to share. I know there are people in my life who might listen to it, even care about it. As of this very moment, however, I don't feel like anyone has got my back, or cares. That is why I write here. There are few people who read my blog, participate, even ask questions for me to write about, and I appreciate them very much. Typically, though, not too many people read my blog; it affords me the ability to write "anonymously", have the sensation, or hold to the belief, that someone will read, understand, and empathize with it. Possibly. Well, maybe this will not get a single hit, who knows? It doesn't matter.... this is my healing session.

On Saturday morning, we all set out for the doctor's office to pick up Chandaneswar prabhu's blood report. His liver function and blood sugar were back to normal, so I was very pleased by that news. His cholesterol level was lower, but it was not a very significant drop. Initially, I did not think much of the results, but something did bother me tremendously. Our doctor mentioned that his cholesterol could be genetic, meaning, there is very little in the way of reducing it without medication. Meaning, we're screwed (but I want to say something else). In the car, I kept thinking about it, something was not letting me just shake it, brush it off, sweep it under the rug, or forget about it. I suddenly felt the onslaught of every stress, worry, anxiety, and fear. Just fear. Fear coursed through my body, I was terrified. It suddenly charged my consciousness, and there I felt utterly helpless. 

You see, we've been eating right, exercising, taking the right medications. When I say 'we', I mean the entire family. I have been there in solidarity with my husband the entire way. I never let him go the journey alone. I took on all the austerities, diets, exercise regimes myself. We've been battling Chandaneswar prabhu's health issues together for the past eight years. His blood results can fluctuate and vary greatly, even within a three months' span. Over the years, I've learned to manage my stress, and frequently bad news has a way of being deflected off me, because I know it's a roller coaster ride. Certainly, it is some type of feat. I worked really hard to stay the course, regulate our diet, and maintain an exercise routine together. This past month, I pretty much stopped working out because I was losing enough weight from our uber raw, vegan diet. As in, I eat boiled, steamed, or sauteed food occasionally. Rarely do we eat anything fried. I snack a lot, mostly on fruit and nuts. It's insane, but not nearly as insane as the juice fast I did one caturmas. 

I finally broke down. I sobbed in the car. It seemed as if all the tears in the world would not satiate my pain. The overwhelming anguish. Everything. I couldn't take it anymore. I was just tired of being strong, supportive, and optimistic. It felt as if all my work was for naught. I had nothing to show for any of it. I have nothing to show for it. I'm tired, exhausted, failing, and want to die. I want to give up. I want to face reality. I don't know what this all means. I just know it's the tip of the iceberg. There is just so much left inside, building up underneath. And there is nobody who will listen.

I still want to die. I still want to leave everything behind. 

The Elder

Last night I had a disturbing dream about lust, power, greed, and rivalry. In the dream, I was a young, powerful vampire vixen with plenty of handsome suitors at my beck and call. Naturally, many of them were bewitched by my beauty, and  others by my ability to control others. They all fought desperately for my attention, and tried to impress me in different ways. Yet, I was not satisfied by any of these young men, or their grand gestures. I lusted insatiably for only one thing-- power. I did not care what I had to do or to whom in order to secure my position as leader within the social hierarchy. I learned of a method to attain unheard-of powers by entering into a pact with the Great Grandfather, or The Elder, as he was known among the vampire race. He sired many thousands of vampire sons, and many enchanting women were betrothed to him in an attempt to attain mystic abilities. The ritual had to be conducted on a certain lunar day, and it required a sexual union which consummated our pact. Upon completion, the ritual would spontaneously produce a male child, and I would be instilled with immortal youth and supernatural abilities. The Elder was an incredibly charming, enchanting, and handsome young man, or he appeared so. Being the most sexually captivating man on Earth, he easily conquered young women throughout the centuries, and I was now among them. I was unaware, however, that I would not be making love to that same captivating man during the ritual. There was a specific condition to the ceremony: I had to perform the act while The Elder revealed his true form-- an aged, withering, ancient demon beneath the spells and illusions of dark magic. I was adamant, as The Elder transformed into a decrepit, corpse-like man with pale, empty eyes, and sunken features, I only had my goal in mind. I was so determined to attain immortal youth and supernatural powers beyond my imagination. I was the only woman who ever saw his true face and the ritual to completion. No woman ever had the determined greed for more power as I had, enough to override her disgust, repulsion, fear, or terror of The Elder's true form. 

Inner Guide

I am not intentionally avoiding writing but when I looked at the last post date, I was stunned. I couldn't believe that I would let my blog sit for over a week without any kind of update or at least a draft for something. I would like to write more but lately there is not much to write about. I'm in school, I'm doing well, and that is about it. The only downside to doing well is that it leaves little room for tangible improvement. I'm improving damn it but I have nothing to show for it except a more formalized instruction of things that I had to figure out for myself many years ago. I was talking to my adviser about this a few weeks ago and mentioned that I felt one of my classes was just a reassurance of theories and philosophies I had come up with through the years and realizations I had from past experiences. He said that was a good thing and I knew immediately that it was. There is nothing more rewarding that the feeling of confirmation especially when you have to figure out everything by yourself and without a support system. It is taxing, on the mind and on the body as well, to have to think your way out of everything. Alone. I was relieved to know that my course was like a huge pat on the back telling me I was headed in the right direction all along. There was no need to ever doubt myself but that is what happens when you feel alone or lack a network of support. You feel lost and estranged, you think you're probably screwing everything up and your mind will play dirty tricks on you. I just have to say that if you are in doubt it's helpful to ask someone who has been there or done that. Sometimes, however, it is not so easy to find someone knowledgeable or understanding enough to confide in-- that is, except for the Lord. Krishna is always there, the Adi-Guru is always present in our hearts, whatever you may address Him as, Sri Guru, The Holy Spirit, Paramatma, or inner conscience, it is there. Listen to your "Inner Guide".

Slight Realizations

I'm trying to write things down as I understand or realise them but it is not so easy as I'm not eternally attached to a laptop or journal. Yes, I've been slacking on my diary entries too so I'm trying to concentrate on expressing my thoughts as they manifest.
I have a couple things that occurred to me recently. I was praying for someone in need when I thought, "Why don't I ask the same for myself?" and I immediately replied, "But, I feel blessed and selfless when I practice prayer for others." Continuing on that same thread of thought, I wanted to share a few things that have been etched in my consciousness for a while but just too shy to express fully.

Blessed are those who pray on others' behalf.

Blessed are those who submit their flaws before the Lord.

Blessed are those who bless others wholeheartedly.

Typically, we pray for ourselves and actively practice selfishness before the Lord. We submit our dilemmas to the Lord, hoping He will resolve them for us, and ignore our own faults and shortcomings. We hold back our blessings on others, thinking perhaps that they will succeed where we have failed and wish ill on them out of envy instead. This is the way of immature aspirants and the path to disgrace. I ask the supremely sweet Lord Krishna to please reveal and remove my flaws.

What?

I know I said I'd make a commitment to write once a week if all possible. I didn't blog this week because I was too excited to start studying. I am really proud of myself, instead of slacking off the first week and taking it easy, I decided to review introductory chapters and reviews to get a head start. The objective being that if I hit a stumbling block, at least I won't fall behind, rather, I can take my time and absorb information without having to rush or feel pressured to catch up with the rest of my peers. I know I thought Learning Framework was going to be a decidedly easy class, however, I found that I'm looking forward to sitting in my Algebra and Writing classes instead. I already finished Chapter 0 and I have to say that the introduction to Bloom's Taxonomy and Stage Theory made my head spin. What the hell does "thinking about thinking" or "thinking about your way of thinking" mean? I already think too much and over-analyze everything. Does that mean that perhaps this class will teach me how to manipulate those thinking processes to my learning advantage? Or does it mean that I will overwhelm myself, yet again? And yes, I almost forgot 'intellectual humility'.

Feel free to cuss me out. I'll try to get back on topic during my next post. Strictly DIY sewing and crafting. Maybe a recipe or two. Has anyone tried the homemade sugar wax? If so let me know how it's working by commenting on that post here. I know it's a trial and error process so everyone will develop a wax of varying consistency and efficacy. I'll answer relevant questions so don't feel shy to ask!

Resolve

This blog post is directed mainly at  +Chandra Das but I'm posting it publicly because I want others to know what is going on lately and what I am thinking. I'm not really satisfied with the way I have been managing my time. I was exposed to extremely different lifestyles lately and got first hand experience, however; and I realized that in comparison to others, I was doing relatively well as far as productive activity goes.

There are a lot of people in this part of the world that believe "Time is money." As a youngster I very much disliked the phrase, feeling that only greedy and self-involved personalities were inclined to think this way. As I grew older and matured, I realised that Time, quite literally, is money and prevention is 90% of the cure and that the early bird really does get the worm and there is plenty of time to heal wounds but not to sit around doing nothing all day. So, I want to say that it's better to be be a little bit uptight about how you manage your time rather that sit around as if Time itself were waiting on you or complain about all the terrible things that happen to us in life, lamenting things that are out of one's control and thinking too much about solutions that will not manifest if we don't take matters into our own hands. Matters which could be easily resolved if one had some of his own resolve. As Srila BV Madhava Swami Maharaj would say, "You should have done yesterday."

Things that I want completed this year: I guess asking that my return to school go by effortlessly and without any struggle would be too much realistically but due to my naive and ideal mind I desire it even more.

I'm looking forward to re-dedicating ourselves to our health, education and general well-being. It may involve spiritual, emotional and other therapuetic methods and so bet it because that's better that sitting around and worrying about a tomorrow that may or may not come to pass. Particularly if it was something
we should have tackled yesterday. :P

Spiritual and ontological gaps and pitfalls are innately present within ISKCON and  present a  future danger to us and other devotees as well. We need to change our perspective in many ways and it may require us to do deeper research within our scriptural evidences to provide alternate avenues of action within Krishna Consciousness. We need more broad perspective and depth into Gaudiya philosophy rather that blindly accepting ISKCON idiom and mindset. Sometimes the advice to just chant Hare Krishna is not enough, what ever happened to the method of acquiring and accessing adhikaar? And advising or seeking advise accordingly? Why did Krishna ask Arjun to take direct action? Why did he bother instructing Arjun as to the many courses of action and their respective consequences or reactions? Maybe these are a few issues that are better directed at our spiritual masters but some are managerial. I'd like to take steps into analyzing these inherently structural problems and brainstorming for solutions that can be adapted by the general body of Vaishnavas.
I feel like I've held all this inside my brain, mind and heart for so many years and it has finally come bursting forth much like a gushing river mouth. I simply can not hold it any longer and, much like a river, I feel it is best to let her run with minimal interference. If my thoughts have overwhelmed you, please don't mind. I myself realise that like a baby calf learning to use her legs, I may not yet know how to walk but I have a good idea of where I'm headed and what I will do once I arrive. Once I get a running start, I will be unstoppable!

Hare Krishna.

No Apologies

I just had the most beautiful dream about forgiveness, Vaishnava humility, jealousy and false pride. It involved many devotees from the temple here in Dallas so I won't name everyone. Simply said, they were persons who I felt were responsible for making me feel unwelcome or excluded from temple festivals and the exclusive clique within the social hierarchy.

It all started when a sannyasi came to Dallas and we all traveled to a place near the ocean for a special festival. Many of us were playing water sports on sandbars and small islands where the water was shallow and placid. Most of the girls kept on their saris in the water so a devotee (in charge of the festival) let them borrow her skirts, saris and petticoats during the games. She approached me last to retrieve her clothing but I declined to return anything as she hadn't let me borrow anything in the first place. She insisted that I took her petticoat and a garment and I became increasingly frustrated with her.

I had invited my close friend, Ramon, to the colorful and vibrant celebration but did't expect him to attend. It was late in the festival hours and in his typical and usual fashion, he arrived unexpectedly and stole the ball. The devotee guests didn't expect to see a non-devotee within their midst and they were taken in by his cultured charm. He played games with everyone and chess with the sannyasi guest-of-honor and spoke at length with many doe-eyed gopi youth. At some point, the girls fought each other off for an opportunity to converse with Ramon. I wondered if they knew he was already taken, and gay. All the while, I stood nonchalantly and watched the big fuss from a distance. Though he was my invited guest and closest friend, I hardly had a chance to speak with him because all our movements were highly coordinated and controlled by the director of the festival. My assignment was to look beautifully poised in an incredibly gaudy and tacky sari, outside and far away from the real party.  

Breaking with accepted decorum, I took my friend by the hand away and excused ourselves from his company. "Listen, Ramon, I'm not going to beat around the bush with you because we're close friends. I'll be straight forward with you in hopes you'll be understanding." I asked him to no longer speak to any of those girls and spend the entire evening with me. If he could not agree to abstain from socializing at the party, I requested him to leave. The other devotee guests became disturbed after overhearing my proposition. Though Ramon and I had left the room, a few of them were eavesdropping on our conversation at the doorway. I was painfully aware of that situation, however, I was not aware that our sannyasi guest was resting quietly in his private room, assigned solely to him by our ever-competent festival director. 

Maharaj, hearing my selfish plea and perplexed by my actions, asked, "What's going on? You invited him to the festival and now you're asking him to leave?" I said to the sannyasi, "Please understand my reasons and do not judge me without hearing my side of the situation. I will humbly submit my case before you and after hearing carefully, you can judge me with a fair and balanced mind." Maharaj made a grand gesture and beckoned inside to hear 'Madri's side of the story'. I calmly retreated into my mind and quickly made my case.

"I know my friend is talented, charming, and social-able  I was so myself in my youth. That is why I admired him and we became instant friends. Though I'm  young, I feel old and worn out now. Nobody seeks out my company at parties anymore; no, in fact, no one even invites me to their parties. The fact that I'm standing here is testament to this: I was assigned to mingle outside near the ocean and add to the spectacular view." I looked down at my hideous sari and posed mockingly. Maharaj laughed hysterically and some guests snickered under their breath.

 "Maybe there was a hint of jealousy in my actions, I admit, but honestly who wouldn't feel the same? My friend suddenly shows up after years of not seeing him and they snatch him away from me. Then, I have to fight everyone off just to spend a moment alone with him! Wouldn't you be upset? The same people that treat me like I don't even exist! Everyone here has been mean and hurtful to me in the past and when I offer my sincere apologies and try to mend relationships with them, they turn up their noses at me.."  as I began to open up my heart, I  felt tears begin to form and I was becoming more emotional. "Excuse me, Maharaj."  I stopped in the middle of my speech, sat down in padmasana and performed a pranayam to calm the breath as Maharaj watched. 

I slowed down my heart and breath before I continued, "While apologizing, I usually become extremely upset to tears.  Seeing my vulnerability, or weakness, they harvest upon that opportunity to become more aggressive and accusational toward me instead of offering their forgiveness. So, if you expect me to apologize to these people, you'll be sadly disappointed because I believe in apologies." Maharaj there shocked and dismayed at my statements. Every one in the room remained silent and no one dared move an inch. The room was frozen in time and some individuals were touched by my words.

 "Rather than apologize to someone, Vaishnava or otherwise, I humbly submit myself before the Lord and beg His forgiveness as He knows the whole situation." I knelt down and prayed with folded hands, 'Kshama koro, Prabhu. Amar khama koro! I know I am full of fault but I rather stake my head with You. Please forgive me for being obstinate ' tears flowed freely from my eyes as I felt uninhibited even within a crowd. 

"While we call ourselves Vaishnavas, our behaviour is far from it. If you think I'm being too harsh, you have to only know my mistreatment in the past to understand why. An intelligent person doesn't repeat his mistakes after reaping the consequences. With that realization in mind, I respectfully decline to apologize and submit that my position is correct."

After hearing those words, many devotees appeared somberly aware of their wrongdoings to each other and apologized sincerely to one another. Many had tears in their eyes as they embraced and others just stood quietly, unable to render their thoughts to one another. After breaking up the gathering, Maharaj spoke with me and Ramon in private. We had a good laugh and discussed our many talents and interests: music, theatre, crafts, chess, culture and foreign language. Toward the evening, I received many thanks and apologies from devotees including--gasp-- our dictator, the festival director herself. She wanted to personally select and buy me a nice sari as a token of her appreciation.