Behind The Mask

Yesterday I was frustrated and on the precipice of a heart-wrenching and conflicting realization. I desperately wanted to burst open and pour out all my thoughts, feelings and anxieties but I resisted. I resisted even in the presence of someone with no personal connection to my past or present circumstances or any personal bias. I resisted because I was afraid that someone would finally see me for who I really am rather than the mask I flash before them. Someone could unearth the interred remains of an identity I desperately tried to suppress and stifle ages long ago. For what more terrifying monsters lie in wait for us than the visage of our most repulsive and impulsive selves? Am I subhuman? A monster? Selfish? Greedy? Lusty? Unabashed? Impetuous? Immoral? Deceptive?

Later, I began an uncomfortable conversation with myself in hopes of alleviating some of the internal strife only to unravel further the tangled, mangled mess and catch fleeting glimpses of a new identity with complex and apparently contradictory beliefs and values. Who am I? Who have I become? Why do I continue to resist knowing full well the repercussions of isolation?

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.
 :)

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

Sacred Moments

The other day I smiled. I sat and smiled for no reason at all. I sat and smiled for the first time in what seems like an era. I could not help but gaze over at you and notice that you were also glancing at me. We smiled together. I felt immense joy and my heart was alight. We both conserved our joy within, but I saw it. I saw it! You tried to hold it in but the faintest glimmer of an ecstatic holler painted your beautiful face. I thank you. I thank you repeatedly. You have sent me plummeting through the darkest depths of the ether. You have sent me bounding into the brightest light of the moon. I cannot look back. I shall not look back. Every moment is sacred.

Akshay Tritiya Vrata

On Sunday evening, exhausted and dehydrated, I collapsed in my dining room and hit the floor. I knew I was going to lose consciousness. I felt that my mind was unfocused. I was not sharp. I felt dull, slow, and foggy. I sat at the dining table, pushed my textbooks away, and began sipping homemade lemonade. It was too sweet for my taste, though, and in a sad attempt to adjust it, I stumbled toward the kitchen area. I felt dizzy, nauseous, and began to tremble. I quickly diluted the lemonade and gulped it down as quickly as possible. As I reached my seat again, I sensed there was no way to delay the inevitable. I was going to pass out soon, so I made another sad attempt to protect myself. I turned away from my dining table, and leaned out toward the floor in hopes of laying down before I collapsed. I could tell there was not enough time, so with my last ounce of strength I folded my palms, half praying, half defensive position, and tucked my face into my hands. I knew my body would naturally assume a fetal position in order to protect my face and internal organs, so I surrendered, and trembling in fear, began to pray and weep before my brain shut down.

Krishna Krishna Krishna 

Krishna Krishna, help me!

Nitai please protect me!

 My body trembled and quaked; my brain shut down, and I felt like I was being electrocuted. When I woke up, I was lying on the floor with my hands under my cheeks. My face hurt, my lips and nose were swollen and throbbing, and my face was wet. "Am I bleeding?" Two solitary tears streamed down my cheek, and I slowly regained consciousness. I pushed myself up from the floor and reached for my drink. I sat there, bewildered, terrified, and alone. I didn't bother calling my husband, son, godbrother, sister, or neighbors for help. I just sat there on the dining room floor chanting the Lord's names, and thanking Him for manifesting Himself in my mind and heart. 

After raising my blood pressure and replacing my fluids, I sat in the dining room in total shock and disbelief: I was completely terrified and panicked, but somehow I remembered to chant the Lord's names. Today is Akshay Tritiya and I want to re-commit myself to chanting the Lord's name, remembering Him, and surrendering to His will. I want to be determined in the face of Death, and constantly remember Sri Krishna against all odds.

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!

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.

Amar Sudhu Pakhar Haowah

I wanted to narrate a funny story my father-in-law told me, it's in Bengali but I've translated it into American English to be more understandable. It's about a sneaky disciple who engages his Guru's last dime in his own service.  Gosai is short for 'Goswami' or master of the senses. Thakur means 'Lord' or 'Master', these are reverential titles awarded to spiritual masters. When the spiritual master visits the disciple's home, it is customary to offer him worship, service, sanctified foods, clothes, flowers, garlands and money in a pleasing way.

One fine morning a guru arrived at the home of his sisya; the disciple was very elated to see his spiritual master after a long absence. "O' Thakur, please come inside!" he invited the Gosai in and with all hospitality offered him a seat and refreshments. The disciple spoke, "Gosai, please take your bath while I go to market and prepare you a nice feast! I will personally make all the arrangements." While Thakur Gosai changed into his towel, the disciple slipped into his Gurudev's wallet and took all the cash. Happily, the disciple headed off to market to procure the ingredients for a fine feast, garlands, flowers, incense and new clothes and spent every last rupee. Upon his return he toiled over the stove and prepared a wonderful meal, delicious sweets and refreshing drinks. Meanwhile, Gosai returned fresh and smiling from his bath in the sacred Ganga; the disciple seated Thakur Gosai, offered him new silk clothes, currency, opulent worship and prasad. After enjoying the magnificent meal, Thakur Gosai reclined in his seat while his faithful disciple fanned him with a huge peacock feather fan. Appreciating such devoted service, Gosai praised his disciple, "My dear disciple, I am very pleased and flattered by your loving acts of devotion. You offer me your home, food, money, and hard work; everything you have engaged in my service. You are indeed a very dedicated disciple." Speaking in this way the Guru beamed with love, understanding to have acquired a magnanimous student by the favor of Divine Grace. The disciple very humbly spoke, 

"Only the fan's breeze is my own."

"গোসাই, সাব কিছু আপনার, আমার সুধু  পাখার হাওয়া." 

"My Lord, everything belongs to you, I am simply fanning you."

Good Association

Srila Prabhupada says that the basics of spiritual life are devotee association, chanting, and hearing regularly… yesterday I was fortunate enough to get a glimpse into the hearts and minds of great devotees. I want to share what I heard with everyone here today. The topics that were discussed were heavy even for devotees… I suggest that you don’t read it unless you are a hardcore seeker of truth and know how to take it in even when it is hard to swallow.
Yesterday, Kardama Muni prabhu graced our home to drop of some work he had done for my husband’s workplace. Kardama Muni prabhu is a lithographer or printer for those of you more inclined to plain English. Usually, we don’t get any guests of his caliber to visit our home, at least not very often, so I was very happy when they began to chat amongst themselves. Thankfully, I had some work in the kitchen and was within proximity to eavesdrop here and there. The conversation went from material body, material world to more deep and meaningful realizations. He spoke about how we are very proud of our accomplishments as so-called Vaishnavas but how we have little or no understanding of real Vaishnava mood, etiquette and mentality. I wondered if he felt that way about himself and then within a few short moments he said something that blew me away. He was recently reading the Uddhava-Gita,the words spoken by Sri Krishna unto Uddhava, and he said that the definition and symptoms of a devotee described therein alone put him to shame, “Just the symptoms of a devotee, his qualities…..” he said, “I am humiliated.” as his voice cracked, his eyes swelled in emotion and his hands began to tremble. I stared fearlessly into the eyes of an awakened soul for when I heard this I felt an unfathomable gap, an abyss open up within the dark cavern of my heart. It was as if a great quake had shaken my very existence. “I am a disgrace, a shame, worthless.” I thought to myself as the many highways of Deception raced before my eyes, the highways to hell. My very soul was exposed within the matter of seconds and I began to cry streams of tears in great shame. This conversation ensued in what can only be described as radical honestly without any inhibition or shame. Pure unadulterated truth. Now I realize that I have deceived everyone around me throughout the duration of my life. What a fraud I am! It was the truth that I knew inside but was too ashamed to admit to others for fear, anxiety that I would be misunderstood. Here, stood a wonderful devotee who proclaimed this very truth and reassured me from within, “I am a fraud, I am a fallen soul.” I can now admit it aloud without fear and I don’t hide it thinking that I may offend others. I know I am a fraud, a disgrace, a truly miserable mleccha but what other choice have I got? My heart is full of lust and greed and my mind is full of pride and envy. Never in my entire life have I engaged in any pious activities, never have I sincerely surrendered to the Lord or begged for Him through His Holy Name but still I must at least try.