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!

The Grief of Separation

Do you know what happened to me? Do you want to know what happened to me? Let me tell you... it wasn't pretty. I woke up around 11pm or so... (when I say "woke up" I mean, I laid in bed for hours trying to fall asleep). I was thinking and pondering about what might happen on the trips, what I'll need to pack, and my heart started pounding. I mean it was pounding out of my chest until I eventually got up and started pacing the house. The more I paced, the more racing thoughts occurred, the more anxious I became, the faster my heart raced. I didn't want to go on this trip to India and I really wasn't even sure if I wanted to hangout with Purandar Acharya so much, what to speak of this whole 'one-roadtrip-per-week' nonsense. How much can one drive in a month? I mean, that's the only time we have left together.
And then it happened.
I don't think I've ever told you about it; I may have alluded to it, hinted at it, beat around the damn bush, but I haven't ever given you the details because the details are excruciating. My heart started to race along with my thoughts and so it continued until I couldn't keep track of my own mind. Suddenly the flood gates were open and every possible disastrous end that could happen troubled my anxiety-addled mind. I started to panic. I couldn't breath, I couldn't sit, I couldn't even think straight. I wanted to stop myself. I wanted to slap myself across the face and tell myself to calm the fuck down... but I couldn't. Could I?
So I checked my blood pressure because unlike most people, I still have the intellectual aptitude to think my way out of this whole debacle, right? I'm superwoman. Fuck this panic attack.
I checked it three times, each time hoping that it would come down and it did, with the help of pranayam and mantras. I chanted silently as to not wake the men-folk. They weren't capable of talking me down, they would only get in the way. Except, it did wake one of the men-folk-- Chandaneswar-- and he asked me what was going on. Naturally, he assumed that my blood sugar or blood pressure dropped (he says I have un usually calm demeanor) so he advised me to drink sugar water or some electrolytes but I couldn't entertain his nonsensical idea because I was fully engaged in  panic mode. I calmed myself down with more deep breathing and chanting in lotus position until I was "nearing" normal range. I stayed in meditation for some time actually, and when I got down to the bottom, I realized why I was terrified.
I wasn't scared of the trip. I wasn't worried about what to pack, or that it was last-minute, or that my passport wasn't here or that I needed to transfer my Indian visa.. none of that shit mattered, only time mattered. I knew in my heart that we were running out of time. We were out of time and I was very much in love with Purandar prabhu. I mean, at this point, it's excruciating for me to realize just how much he means to me. Much like a young girl is crushed when she is separated from her lover, I was obliterated inside. I all saw was darkness and all I felt was solitude. At that time I started to sob and cry and wail like a damn child. I knew I might not see him again, except for rare trips to India. But what of it? Who cares, right? Except... if I'm this crushed and torn about it, I imagine Chandaneswar is a thousand times that. If Purandar was this important and dear to me, he's a thousand times more important to and bonded with Chandaneswar. So, if I'm in love with Purandar prabhu, Chandaneswar and Purandar are eternal soul-mates, lovers. I even joke that Purandar is Chandaneswar's first true love. I know he will just about die of grief when Purandar leaves. I'll die of grief as well, but Chandaneswar is well, I don't know how to explain it. They're soul mates, best friends, brothers. Chandaneswar told me to hold it in just a while longer. "If you get depressed, he'll get depressed and this whole time will be miserable for everyone. Be strong until he leaves, then you can cry."
As I sobbed and cried into Chandaneswar's shoulders and ruminated over how we would return back empty-handed and heavy-hearted, I meditated on the Supreme Lord. I begged and pleaded with Sri Nityananda Ray and asked Him what would become of us. "If Purandar leaves us, I'll die. I'll die of separation. Prabhu, help me. If he goes, I'll go to India too and I'll just follow prabhu wherever he goes. I'll be the annoying little sister he couldn't have. I'll be good, Thakur; make it happen, please." When I disclosed my thoughts to Chandaneswar prabhu, his only reply was, "If you leave me here, then I'll leave too."
Today my friend came to the house and confided the very same thoughts, almost in tears, "If Purandar leaves, you can't stay here, Chandaneswar can't stay here. They're too close, like lovers. You'll leave to India, and then Chandaneswar will leave to India, and I'll be alone."
And so the cycle continues. 

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

I'd Like To Say

I've spent my entire weekend reading, writing, and revising my psychology paper about correlational studies on anxiety disorders and suicidal ideation and suicide attempts. While i thought the information shows an overwhelming correlation between baseline anxiety disorder and suicide risk, I also felt that there needed to be more research on comorbidity within anxiety, mood, substance abuse, and personality disorder because comorbid disorders show the highest risk for suicidal behavior and strongest correlation in suicide attempts. Only about 10% of suicides are attributable to anxiety disorders, but this number is still significant. This is to say the research is invaluable, but moreover I think there should be further studies researching specific anxiety symptoms, cognitions, and behaviors, so clinicians would better serve their patients in managing and treating their disorders.
Another thing, PTSD has the strongest correlation to suicide risk, and this should be another longitudinal study in itself due to the high volume of veterans returning home from the war. There will be ample populations to study, and if comorbidity is present, researchers to focus on finding specific blah blah blah. My brain has shut off.
On another note, psychological autopsies should be improved, there needs to be a more effective method of quantifying the percentage of anxiety-related suicides, and investigating the mechanisms of anxiety symptoms and their effect on sufferers.

Mesmerized

I dreamt another mesmerizing, lucid dream about you. The tenderest, loving-est, sweetest dream of you. I felt your delicious and tender kisses upon my breast and sensed the urgent longing within yours. I couldn't look away from you. I gazed deeply into your eyes, and though it was but a fleeting moment, I felt that we traversed the entire cosmos with our gaze. I couldn't wake up again. I knew the hour was late and I felt like prolonging our rendezvous. It was too late, however. I woke up to the smell of freshly brewed ginger tea and knew it was time to rise. Once again, I felt your delicious and tender kisses upon me, but not from you.

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.

Radha Madhava-Kalachandji

This morning, at 3:51 am, I woke up from a strange dream. I dreamt I was at a temple, possibly Mayapur, during a large festival gathering. From what I could tell, this was not an American temple, it looked like Mayapur Chandradaya mandir,  except Radha Kalachandji stood where Radha Madhava stand amidst the sakhira. I scanned the temple room to find familiar faces, but to no avail. I pondered if this would be my last opportunity to see Them once again, and gasped for breath. The thought alone petrified and paralyzed me in fear. I threw myself upon the floor, offering astanga pranam, and began rolling my entire body, such as the Bangladeshi mothers do in full, loving surrender.
"I may never see you again, my Lord. I don't know when I will see you again." It seems from my behavior, that this was a special darshan, meaning, no one else saw Kalachandji; this was a special significator for something amazing and rare. When I looked up, I saw a familiar face, a devotee from our community was taking darshan of Radha Madhava-Kalachandji; she was completely alone, and she was wearing non-devotional attire. I thought this was strange because she usually wears saris.
When I looked up to see Kalachandji, I noticed that He was taking darshan of Mataji; Sri Radhe and Kalachandji were having darshan of their devotee, and Kalachandji gracefully smiled at her. I could understand that only by special mystic vision could I witness this occurrence, and I bowed before Their Lordships once again, rolling on the ground.
I typically don't journal these dreams publicly for the same reason, but I thought I would write it anyway. I don't know whether I should reveal this dream to this Mataji or if I should keep it secret. I have a feeling this dream has a deep significance, and it may be better if I keep it to myself. 

Self Delusion

This week we had a pre-writing assignment for English Comp. that I was not sure I would be comfortable doing. We were supposed to write about a song that elicits vivid memories, emotions, or a person, and describe every detail of that memory. Immediately upon reading the assignment, a specific song and its associated memories came to mind: suddenly my mind filled with dense smoke, the smell of a diesel engine, and anxious anticipation.
At first the assignment seemed exactly like the kind of evocative release I need in my life. Typically I do not realise how much I suppress my emotions, thoughts, and opinions until I have the opportunity to resist my defensive self. This assignment forced me to speak outside of my comfort zone on a topic that I usually like to avoid: self-destruction, lies, illicit acts, and manipulation. For one, I don't like to admit being duped, on the other hand, I know that I played an active role in allowing myself to be made a fool. I temporarily ignored all logic and reason, and in silent ignorance, I pursued bliss. There is nothing more pleasurable than deluding yourself into believing something, even if it destroys you in the end.

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. 

Nothing To It

Today I finally checked my Intense Debate account and moderated the one comment in my moderation folder. One, single, lonely comment. How sad. Can you hear the crickets chirping over there as loudly as they are here? Though my blog views aren't sky-rocketing and I'm not getting a million comments here, I still want to write stuff. It doesn't have to be groundbreaking or introspective or emotionally revealing... blah blah blah. I may have set some precedents here that I'm not necessarily comfortable with all the time. I realise I haven't written anything in a while and there's good reason for it.
Well, I've been trying to get my shit together. Really and truly. So, there isn't any drama or projects or breaking news or tragedy to share but that's a good thing. The most tragic thing that happened to me recently was that I got sick and then my kid got sick. I took him to the doctor and then we had to wait a really long time to fill his prescription. I couldn't remember to take my own medicine, let alone be responsible for another living being. Complete and utter misery, I know.
I need my eyes examed soon. I'm starting classes this spring semester and I'm  ready for this next phase of my life. I'm not jubilant, I mean, it's not gushing out from my every pore but I'm happy with my life. Satisfied. But that's about it... don't ask me specifics about my education because I don't have a damn clue. Don't you dare ask me what I'll study or what majors I'm considering because I'm not even ready to be tied down yet! I'm heading in the general direction of my goal and that's sufficient for now-- Arts. Sciences has too much mathematics for me. Not that I hate Math but I don't LOVE Math. Me and Math aren't gonna get hitched or move in together and have a bunch of rug-rats out of wedlock. Math is more of an acquaintance of mine... we're not even that close anymore. I don't even feel like striking up polite conversation with Math. We just leave each other the hell alone. It's awkward when we see each other and there isn't a third party to act as a social buffer. Especially in lonely corridors. : \
Yep. 

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.

If I don't let you in...

If I don't let you in....


it's not because I don't like you.
it's not because I don't trust you.
it's not because I don't respect you.
it's not because I don't want your friendship
it's not because you're not worth my time.
it's not because I think I could do better.
it's not because I think you're beneath me.
it's not because I think it's waste of energy.


It's all of the above. 



I don't like you. 
I don't trust you. 
I don't respect you. 
I don't want your friendship because
You're not worth my time.
I could do much better.
You're beneath me and
a waste of energy. 


 I bet you guys thought I was going to say some idiotic pseudo-inspirational, "It's not you it's me/I'm afraid of showing you the real me." self-conscious, emo-bull. Well, no, as a matter of fact I'm in the mood for validating my reasons and genuine feelings. So, in that sense I guess it is a little 'emo'. In all seriousness, though, I don't have time for certain things lately. I've cut back on a lot of indulgences and honestly, I didn't think I'd be able to sacrifice so much. I have a desire to serve more, read and write my devotional feelings. Krishna Consciousness is hard. Really. You have to push yourself constantly or you don't grow. You fall stagnant and lazy and dull. DULL. I heard someone say once that the body can endure all kinds of conditions, you just have to push yourself. It's a matter of conquering the mind and I believe Krishna Consciousness is exactly the same. We don't push ourselves. We're lazy and dull-headed. Some even more than others.
I don't mind if you share this rant but please link back to my blog. Busy day today, that's all I have time for this entry. Sorry, everyone, I haven't been keeping up with the blog and I apologize sincerely. I will try and transfer some of my personal journal entries into the blog so you know what I've been thinking and writing lately. They're mostly prayers and stuff like that but it's appropriate for this blog so I'll go ahead and bring it in. Hare Krishna, yo.

My Secret

Isn't it strange how, sometimes, you'd much rather talk to yourself than interact with other human beings? I don't know but I feel that they're increasingly irritating to deal with, especially since Kali-yuga makes them more and more bereft of intelligent thought. The other day someone asked me a question and I gave my honest and open answer, the repetitive, 'Practice, practice, practice.' answer. I remember thinking, "Again with this question? Does she think I'll give a different answer each time? Does she think I have a top-secret formula I'll divulge with repeated interrogation? She must have asked me a half dozen times already." 
It seems like common sense to me, why is it so hard to understand? If you want to improve on something, you practice it again and again. You have to make a habit of it daily, repeat the process exactly the same way each time, show up on time and set yourself on a schedule. It can apply to a whole world of things. Do you want to learn to play an instrument? Study a foreign language? Improve your skill-set? Change your entire lifestyle? The answer is always the same: Practice! Set goals. Scrutinize yourself. That's it, that's my "secret".

It's not you, it's me.

Something simply hilarious occurred to me today. I deactivated my Facebook account because I wanted more privacy and I get carried away and spend too much time there. Well, I've been deleting 'friends' as a routine 'friend-check'. A few months ago, I almost told someone, "It's not you, it's me." when she asked me why I deleted her. It sounded like I was breaking up with her...so I stopped myself and gave her an explanation; she wasn't mad, in fact, she laughed it off and we talked about facebooking, culture etc. This kept happening, I'd delete acquaintances, vamp up my security settings and fall back into the Facebook trap. Eventually people would ask me why I deleted them, we'd catch up offline, I'd them as friends online again, we'd distance ourselves again and I'd delete them again. It was stupid. I knew it wasn't their fault, it's was my fault. The deactivation is temporary (at least, that's what I told Facebook, shh) but it's okay if you pass this message along. Tell that no-good, opportunistic bastard that I said, "It's not you, it's me."
Today, Krishna Chandra went telling someone our weekend plans to watch some karmi movies... my husband told me that we have to teach him how to keep his big, fat trap shut. I said that, not Chandaneswar. I realised that it doesn't matter if I have Facebook or not because Krishna Chandra will never learn to control his tongue. He'll go around telling everyone our personal information and yakking all over town about what movies we're gonna watch at the drive-in and what snacks we're gonna eat while we're there. If someone wanted to spy on us, all he'd have to do is coax Krishna Chandra into talking with some maha cookies or cake. Simple. I think most kids are like that, they don't shut their mouth and they air all of their parents dirty laundry publicly. Thankfully, Chandaneswar and I don't have any actual dirty laundry or secrets. The worst of our secrets being that we drink coffee on the rare occasion, if I have a migraine or something. Oooohhh. Big whoop. 

Trepidation

Diary entry:

January 25, 2012 Tritiya, Gaura paksha, Madhav mas...

I can't believe I'm jealous of a man. I think my jealousy is rooted in insecurity over my marriage. Sometimes I feel caged in and at other times I feel like I'm powerless or have no control over anything, especially my marriage. Sometimes I feel as if I have nobody to talk to around here except for Chandaneśwar prabhu. I guess I try too hard to impress Chandaneśwar. He doesn't seem to care... anyway. I could make other friends, cultivate relationships outside of my married life. Find others with shared interests.

বাবা মা স্বামী বউ পুরুষ মহিলা প্রেম ঘৃণা 

I love him, I'm still madly in love with him and it drives me insane. I wish I had a friend to talk with, someone who could listen for hours and remain eternally interested. Only Krishna. 

কৃষ্ণ কৃষ্ণ কৃষ্ণ কৃষ্ণ! বলরাম বলরাম! নিত্যানন্দ গৌরাঙ্গ গৌরাঙ্গ নিত্যানন্দ ! নিত্যানন্দ গৌরাঙ্গ! 

আমার সুধু পাখার হাওয়া. 

Is it wrong to feel lonely and alone when you're in a committed relationship, even happily married? Is it wrong to desire, nay, wish otherwise? To fall in love again and go mad with desire again! To feel young and invincible, rash and adventurous, bold and uninhibited by mundane social stigmas? We are limiting ourselves; we have ridiculously degrading standards for everything. I can't even believe it when I think about it. I want to run away. 

Normally, I'd pack a single bag and head for the hills, mountains, bleak isolation in the country, a farm. Alone with my thoughts--Love and Serenity, contemplating the important things: water-splashing, skinny-dipping, frolicking in the grass and sunbathing in the nude!  flowers in my hair. oil on my skin. massages. massage circles. danger. fear. trepidation. lust.

and plenty of Krishna. কৃষ্ণ কৃষ্ণ কৃষ্ণ রাম রাম রাম রাধে রাধে রাধে শ্রী রাধে, আমার রানী, প্রানেস্বরী! কৃষ্ণ আমার হৃদয়, হৃদয়নাথ!  I spoke with my friend and god-sister, Prema-rupa. I feel much better!

Kabe Habe

I just have to update you on the happenings around the house. Just a couple realizations and some advice too, if you want it.

1) Knitting is for losers... I much rather crochet. Learning a new craft is tedious, knitting being the worst of needle crafts, in my opinion. I have to work hard and after only a couple weeks of practicing my wrists are hurting and I have approximately ten inches of knit fabric (in fingering weight wool, no less) I'm thinking to quit while I'm still "ahead" and count my blessings. I still have a several thousand years to prepare for the end of Kali-yuga; hopefully, I'll be in the spiritual oasis or preaching somewhere on another planet when the final curtain drops.

2) I'm finally catching up on my reading and critical thinking, particularly with Sri Bhaktivinoda Vani Vaibhava. While I was wasting my precious energies trying to prepare for the apocalypse, I also fell behind on my reading and writing (and thinking, to some extent). Part of the reason is lack of time management but the other is simple dull-headedness. I have a hard time understanding the full purports of some deeper topics; in order to fully grasp and absorb the information in the darkest recesses of my brain, I read and re-read paragraphs, sometimes entire chapters until it has become downloaded, fully analyzed and comprehended.

3) I'm as frustrated as ever, maybe even more heartbroken than before. When I was in India, I had the luxury of visiting many holy places, temples, saints and associate with them more intimately. This gave me an understanding of pure, unalloyed devotional service, an appreciation and taste for devotees of the highest caliber and, most of all, for this most secret and illusive goal. My wonderful friends in Braj and Gaud mandal are self-evident truths in human form but without them nearby, I feel extreme separation and irreparable damage done to my psyche. I feel debilitated and a pervading feeling of estrangement from my general surroundings. My mind is disturbed now more than ever and I honestly don't know what I will do; it seems there is no practical solution for my current dilemma. Sri Nityananda and Gaura-hari are at the momentmy only solace, refuge and ultimate shelter. The ground trembles and crumbles away while the two munificent brothers remain and pacify my aching heart.

Last, I just want to add, "kabe habe, bolo, se din amar?" and all the lamenting that goes with feeling deprived...

Refresh

Do you ever lie awake at night for no apparent reason? I don't know.. but sometimes I do. maybe I'm just going insane. I'm having trouble sleeping at night, thoughts seem to come rushing back to the surface. Tonight I'm haunted by things from my past, things that happened that I thought I could push out of my mind. Some of it is surreal and some of it is so lucid-- its as if the past came back to life. It's almost like I can re-live my experiences again; I see the same sights, hear the same sounds, even feel the same sensations. Maybe its a good thing, to have my memory resurface and gasp for fresh air... refreshed, if you will. It's not like I have a 'refresh' button for my brain and all the contents within but today I'm coming close to spilling the mental-beans. I've spent all these years trying to kill the demons, trying to stifle feelings inside me, hiding them and running away. I would much rather release all those stifled and repressed memories inside me. Unleash the demons inside me. Resuscitate them, nourish them. Ask them how they like their coffee. We have a lot to talk about.

Guru Business

I got annoyed with someone today when the first question he asked me was "which is your guru?" I may have over-reacted but still, how would you feel if someone walks up to you on the street and asks your political affiliation, your insurance, etc and makes a decision about you based on that alone. Of course, this always annoys the hell out of me, in ISKCON it has become acceptable to greet someone thus, "Haribol, who's your guru?" WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE? Haven't you any manners or etiquette? I don't even know your name, and you don't know mine but you think its okay to introduce yourself like that? I don't like this guru-business.. "This guru" "That guru" "His guru" "My guru" "Their guru" "our Guru" and most of all guru-preachers. You've probably met a guru-preacher but were too shocked and dismayed to say anything and were probably at a loss for words. You probably couldn't even believe the audacity of the person or that he was saying these things so you had to slap yourself once or twice through the duration of the whole ordeal.
"MY gurudev is very advanced, he is a pure devotee, he has this bhava, he has that rasa, he is so nectarean, he is so transcendental, he's a maha-bhagavat, most merciful" its an obvious materialistic comparison that I dislike altogether.You can not compare rasa and bhava like material qualities, you can not compare gurus against each other, because all spiritual qualifications are equally important and relishable. Its like saying "More pregnant, most pregnant etc." Preggers is preggers... idiots. Yes, some mellows are more intimate but that doesn't mean that your guru is better than someone else because he relishes a particular taste. Indirectly it means, "My guru is better because of such and such reason, other gurus can not compare with mine because his spiritual mellows are obviously superior." Sometimes the guru-preaching is not even so subtle, sometimes the disciples will come right out and say it. "Our gurudev is far superior, he is offering something that you can not get elsewhere, he is a pure devotee of the Lord. You should take shelter of my guru and accept initiation only from him." Luckily, this is also a good way to sort out the people to avoid from those you want to approach for siksha and guidance. I was lucky to run into a Prabhupada disciple who sat down with me and discussed at length my attraction to many gurus. He didn't say I had to stick with only one but that they were all wonderful Godbrothers and very qualified but I would eventually have to chose one diksha guru, that didn't mean I had to give up my attachment for the other Gurus as well. Then he asked me "Did you have a particular one in mind?" I said, "Yes, I have an inclination towards one" He was so elated to find out and continued to tell me all about how he loved my spiritual master so much and that I had made a good choice. I took it as as Krishna's indication and fixed my mind that day.
Another thing, there is a huge clique culture and segregation system within devotee communities that is rooted with Guru. "If you're my godbrother that automatically makes you my best friend" and everyone else is unqualified somehow. Godbrothers will sit and talk together during programs and festivals, they only talk to other devotees if they are aspiring for their guru or they actively preach their Guru to newcomers without restraint. Not just gurus though, devotees segregate themselves according to nationality and race as well, I've noticed how the Russians sit with other Russians, Asians with Asians, Indians with Indians, whites, blacks, Latinos, etc.. and you can't say its a language barrier because everyone in ISKCON regardless of nationality and race speaks some English if not excellent English. How embarrassing... and we say we're not these bodies.

Insecurity

Sometimes, I wonder if other people like me at all, especially fellow devotees. I'm always under the impression that no one likes me or something. I'm not popular or friendly or charismatic or outgoing. I don't even think I like myself. I wish I could be better at everything, or at least a couple of things. There is only one thing that I was pretty good at but I gave it up and I'm not even sure why anymore. I guess I was a perfectionist and also a pretty tormented one. I'm very conscious of the fact that I was just stressing myself out and getting into more trouble than anything else.