The Disciple's Vow

At times I feel overwhelmed, alone and afraid. I don't even recognize myself sometimes and I feel as if I've transformed into an entirely different person. I've learned that, like a marriage, it is impossible for one to truly know their spiritual partner. One could spend his or her entire life with someone and still have a shallow or incomplete understanding of that individual. A spiritual master may see only what representation the disciple portrays of him/herself. (The eternal spiritual master who resides in the heart, Sri Guru, however, is never fooled.)
Disciples frequently lack the maturity or complexity to understand the desire and wishes of the spiritual master. Likewise, it is daunting to understand the Self. While the pact between master and disciple is before God to each other, allegiance in spiritual life is also an allegiance to the Self. The disciple is obligated to act always in his spiritual best interest. By no exaggeration, it is the primary priority of the initiated disciple to remain chaste to her eternal spiritual identity and duty. Failure to do so would hamper all progress and lead her astray; in fact, such misgivings could turn her away from the spiritual path entirely if given to offenses and accumulated misconceptions.
I do not know my Self. I do not understand my Self. I've often succumbed to doubt, temptation, fear and, most of all, hesitation. I fear to act, speak, feel or think for fear that it may not be palatable to others. I fear that my actions could be misconstrued or condemned or deemed reckless. I've found few things that truly bring me joy-- music, martial arts, and dedicated study. I've found that often I learn more valuable lessons in pursuit of mundane knowledge than in a dry discourse. I've seen drug addicts, addicts of the flesh, gamblers and so-called lost souls with more humanity, compassion and wisdom to offer than even the most weathered practitioner in temple. I find their lessons most valuable, relevant and influential-- for they remind me that the Lord can lead anyone back Home just as easily as illusion can lead her astray.
O Keshava! I've seen You staring back at me in the pages of a book. I have seen the Lord-- He was hidden between scribbled notes on the page. The Lord was found in careful arithmetic and calculations, in the relaxed breath between poetic phrases, dancing amid notes on sheet music. He was intelligence, beauty, an exasperated sigh and fluent understanding breaching forth from the page. I felt the Divinity within myself, around me, encoded within the multiverse, and brimming forth unbounded! I felt alone in this realization as I feared no one else had this same vision and yet I felt swaddled, safe in the Divine Feminine's arms.
Of all my identities, I found that the one I treasure, protect and keep hidden is the one that I should nurture and cultivate. She is locked away in a tower, accessible only with great effort. She is appalled and frustrated and distrustful of the outside world. She lives in her own imagination, in a fantastic faery-tale realm with ivory towers that offer her fortification from the grotesque. She is alone and peaceful, and yet restless and yearning for escape. She remains chaste, loyal and faithful to her spiritual master and awaits patiently his orders and instructions!

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?

Quiéreme

Te quiero mucho corazón, tanto que hasta me duele el alma. 

Quiéreme, cariño, tanto como te quiero yo¡

Adoración, cariño y fieldad, esto si te lo puedo prometer. 

Solo deseo tus últimos besos antes que duermas y las primeras al amanecer.

Tengo las cicatrizes de tu último rechazo firmemente impresionado en mi alma, corazón. 

Quiéreme, mi alma, tanto como te quiero yo!

Jazz Head

This Party Is On
So my latest dream takes place at a party and it begins with my my son and I showing up to the venue of an arts and crafts themed children's party. The host set up crafting stations for every craft imaginable. For example, one table was fully equipped with felt puppet making supplies like googly-eyes, hot glue guns, felt, etc. while another was a paper crafting table. The host even hired chaperones for each table-- most of them retired teachers and volunteers. My son was enamored with all the tables and decided to make a rouched black pencil skirt. After machine stitching the skirt panels, he hand-basted some loose gathers at the center front and back to get an idea of what the skirt would look like. I really loved the skirt, it looked great, especially for a nine year old's first try at sewing. The stitches were straight and even, the tension on his thread looked perfect, but the basting was a little slanted. The only thing he worried about was the size of the skirt because he hadn't taken my exact hip measurements before starting. "I think it looks fine, babe, but I can try on the skirt if you want." I said as I ducked into a nearby bathroom.
Rouched Mess
What I hadn't taken into account was that the material was stretchy and he hadn't used elasticized thread on the gathers or stretched the material as he stitched the vertical basting stitch so the hem was too high at the center front and back. When I tried on the skirt, my crotch and butt were completely exposed while the rest of the garment rested snuggly on my thighs. I have to disclose that I wasn't wearing any under garments, so I couldn't even model the skirt for him because there was a room full of nine and ten year olds that surely would laugh at my humiliation. It was like third grade all over again. I tugged hopelessly at the front of the skirt until the basting thread popped and the skirt front fell near my knees. Krishna Chandra knocked and peeped from behind the door and giggled at the silly sight. "It's alright, I can fix that later." he reassured me. He only saw the front of the skirt and I explained to him that I couldn't possibly come out because the back was more embarrassing; the basted gathers bunched up to the point of least resistance somewhere along my lower back. He got the picture and just had a fit. Besides the mishap with the basting stitch, the skirt was well-made. I assured him that we could finish the project at home where we had more materials and measuring tape. He laughed and I looked for my lover to show him Krishna Chandra's outfit.

Social Butterly

As it turns out, I knew plenty of people at the party, and by 'people' I mean intelligent adults with whom I could converse with for more than three minutes at length. Apparently, I was single because everyone at this party either kept asking me if I was seeing anyone yet or they would flirt and ask me out. I was seeing someone, and by 'seeing' I mean I was having casual sex with someone I knew but we weren't an official couple. My dream self is not very complicated but she confuses me. I really enjoyed the attention at the party but as the party went on, I started to feel guilty about lying to my friends about my relationship status. I wanted them to know the truth but I didn't know if my lover wanted to be my boyfriend yet. I looked for him everywhere as he assured me that he would be at the event, which, as I already related was more like an Arts and Crafts fair than a kid's birthday party. I started to feel bored and frustrated without my partner and so I left search for him. I wondered if he had fallen asleep or if he was sick, or if something terrible had happened to him.
Mountain Cabin
Around that time, someone mentioned to me that a huge storm was headed toward my lover's house and several attendees got emergency weather alerts from the National Weather Service in close succession on their smart phones. Thunderstorm warning. Flash floods. Hail. Heavy Rain. Flood warning. The jarring sounds of emergency alarms resonated in the corridors, which amplified the cacophony and my trepidation. I jumped into my car and drove to my lover's part of town and then hiked the rest of the way up to his cabin. He lived in a log cabin with a beautiful scenic mountain near a lake or river. As I hiked up to his place, I noticed the emerging thunderstorm clouds nearing the mountain and remembered that terrifying sound of resounding alarms so I ran up the rest of the way. I saw my lover's vehicle nearby and an unknown car as well. I thought that he must've gotten tied up with unexpected guests and was hosting them. Being cut off from cell towers and internet, he must not have received my texts of any weather alerts. It all made sense; I just had to warn them that the storm was on its way to this part of town and get them out of here before the flood water washed away the mountain side. Images of landslides and a collapsing mountain side wiping my lover's cabin from the face of the Earth rushed through my mind. As I approached his window side, I caught a glimpse of him in bed with a young blonde woman. As it turns out, my secret lover is none other than my husband, Chandaneswar. I should relate that is a recurring theme in my dream. It is unclear whether Chandaneswar and I are divorced, separated or if we were ever married in the dream. I just know that I'm an available single mother, a flirt, and I'm sleeping with an asshole. I don't know what it means, and it doesn't matter because we're at the scariest, darkest, most sinister, disturbing part of the dream. I hiked up the mountain trail past my lover's cabin and looked down at the view.
As I stood on the mountain side, a deep sense of calm detachment washed over me. I realized that his cabin was a perfect bachelor pad. I began to contemplate my life and wonder if it I wanted to make a scene or confront them. I grew apathetic and indifferent and concluded that it really didn't matter. I was using him as much as he was using me; perhaps I only wanted him for the purposes of filling a void in an uncomfortable social scenario. After all, I wasn't accustomed to handling social events alone. Eventually I would have to accept this new identity and social dynamic. As the storm descended upon that mountain, I decided to let my lover and his lady friend brave the storm and its wrathful destruction on their own. I didn't have to warn them, after all. Maybe they would perish in the flood water and resulting landslide. Who knows? Who can say for sure? Who knows the future?
Creative Destruction
I ran back to my car, got in and drove back to the party. As I drove, I remained eerily calm and determined that I would write my own future. I would go back to that party and get some phone numbers of people who wanted to be with me, who had no problem asking me out in public, and who didn't keep their cards to themselves. When I got back people were looking for me and asked me where I went and why I took off. I told them that I went to pick up a friend but got scared when I saw the approaching storm so I turned back. They all assured me it was wise that I had come back to the party quickly, I have a young son to care for after all. Krishna Chandra was still hanging out at the sewing station so I sat at an empty bench, grabbed some scrap paper and started jotting down lyrics, chord progressions, and a simple melody line. In my melancholic trance, it quickly turned into a jazz chart and song about murdering my lover and his mistress. I showed it to a couple of jazz guys and musicians at the party and asked them if they thought it was any good. The consensus was that it was inexplicably brilliant. "Have you ever written jazz before?" someone asked. "No, but I guess I should." I replied.

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 Two Lovers

I had two lovers; I loved them both dearly and they loved me. One lover was tall, dark and handsome while the other was shorter, fair and pleasing. They both had very different resolve and character. The dark and handsome one was more passionate, assertive and confided his deepest thoughts to me. He was also rather grave and severe in temperament. The fair and pleasant lover was yielding, passive and accepting. He rarely expressed himself in a strong voice and often accepted or comprised to my demands. I couldn't make up my mind about who I loved more so I decided to keep them both. I informed both parties and, predictably, one lover spoke out against the idea while the other accepted my decision without argument. Their starkly different reactions only seemed to endear them more to me and this made me feel even worse. My fair lover and I had a child together; we both cared for the baby and I made sure he got to know his father. I carried on as a couple with my dark love but lied about the nature of my relationship with my fair lover. He was under the impression that we had broken up and I was only seeing him out of obligation to our baby. This was, of course, far from the truth; I used any pretext to visit my secret lover when I was pining for him. The secrecy seemed to intensify my passion for him, not only did I love him, and lust for him deeply, but now I had to carry on in secret and the separation from him was unbearable. One day, as I walked across the parking lot to his apartment, I saw my child's car seat smashed to piece. I recognized it instantly and it frightened me. I searched out my secret lover's car in the parking lot but his usual space was empty and my intuition told me that something terrible had happened. After all, he didn't live in a good neighborhood and there had been frequent break-ins at his apartment complex. When I called his cellphone, it went straight to voicemail and I ran to his apartment to look for clues. His apartment was an empty, filthy mess with no sign of our baby or him. I called my boyfriend to ask him if he'd heard from my 'ex' or knew if he'd left out of town. He consoled me and said that my 'ex' had just called and told him that someone stole his car but the baby was fine and everyone was alright. He soon returned in a different car to the apartment with our baby and I felt relieved that my child was unharmed. 

Just Do It

Fucked up dream. I woke up scared and almost in tears. I had an dream about a really awesome festival and an older kirtaniya devotee was visiting Dallas. I knew him back in my ashram days, he led really energetic, powerful Kirtan that usually swelled to a climax wherein everyone, men, women, and children, would start holding hands and jumping up and down. It was going to be ecstatic chaos and I couldn't wait!
Anyway, my friend Dolly didn't know about this devotee or the event so I urged her to come because it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. On her way to the festival, she overheard some devotees talking about me so she eavesdropped and was shocked to hear what they were saying. I texted her to find out if she made it to the temple and she said she had but it was an emergency and we needed to talk in person right away.
Apparently, my beloved husband, Chandaneswar went about town bragging about how he had found a new love and he was plotting to break up with me. Of course, he needed it to look like I was mentally or emotionally unstable and he was just a good, loyal husband so he was going to gaslight me and do horrible, cold shit just to get me to leave him first. Then, he would be free to pursue this new mistress without any criticism from the community. His friends knew this was his plan for some time; Chandaneswar was waiting for the perfect time to strike and they decided to keep it to themselves and not warn me.
For the record, the plan failed miserably. It totally backfired. He kept being mean and saying horrible things to me so I confronted him about it. I asked him if what Dolly heard was true and he confirmed that it was. I didn't want to believe that Chandaneswar could be so cruel to me after almost ten years of marriage. What could have changed in just the past week for him to completely turn around like that? He said that he never really loved me, he just married me because I was "marriage material" and the best candidate. Its not like he could bring just anyone to meet his parents. I was a great housewife but just a placeholder until someone better came along. The past ten years was just a very elaborate ploy to establish his reputation as a good, upstanding husband and father so he could get away with his affairs. I was extremely useful to that end, he added; he exploited my natural obedience and loyalty to religious and social dogma to build himself a social status that was above suspicion. After all, a man was only as good as the woman next to him.
I was in tears sobbing violently and he consoled me by saying, "Hey, take it as a compliment, it did take ten years to find someone better." I told him that he could be with her if he wanted her so badly, he could have confided in me and I wouldn't mind his sexual indiscretions but I would not walk away from him. I gave everything to him and I wouldn't be able to move on after giving my entire heart. I told him that our union was sanctioned by the Lord and witnessed by the entire body of devotees so our marriage took precedence over his lust. "She can be your seva-dasi, I'll even spare an allowance for her, but she is subordinate to me first. I'm not budging."
At this point, Chandaneswar became desperate to get rid of me. He didn't want anyone to find out what he did. He continued berating me, saying the most hurtful things he could come up with. I desperately told him, "I'd rather die than lose my honor. I vowed to be your partner in this lifetime and the next before the Lord. If I can't follow through on my word of honor, I'd rather kill myself." Suddenly, Chandaneswar's eyes lit up as he realized that he stumbled on a easy solution. I ran for a knife or dagger of some sort and asked him to recant. "Please tell me you're mistaken, prabhu. I know you love me. If you don't love me, if you don't want me as your wife, I'll gladly die." Chandaneswar fell silent for a moment before he spoke the awful words, "Do it."
When I woke up, it was 6am and Chandaneswar was standing next to the bed, "Babe, I made some fake tuna, you can make tuna sandwiches for sona's lunch." I told him the nightmare, that he was trying to get me to commit suicide so he could be with another woman. "Never! You worship Vrinda Devi, tell her everything and she will protect you. It will never come true. Tell Tulasi Devi." I held on to him tightly before he left for work and he squeezed me to his chest. I wanted to cry but I had no reason to do so. It was just a dream, after all.

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

Anxiously Awaiting You

I saw you again today. I had almost forgotten all about you, and put you out of my mind when I saw you again. My mind was thoroughly exhausted today. I was blank, empty and alone but then I spotted your lovely face. I wanted to turn around and run to you, hug you, kiss you, embrace you, and tell you everything. I wanted to gush out all my thoughts, feelings and emotions. I wanted to cry in your arms and tell you how I missed seeing you around. I wanted to scream in happiness and jump for joy simultaneously. Alas, I don't think you felt the same, or at least, you were good at hiding it. I don't know whether you even recognize me anymore. Have you forgotten all about me? I know I haven't. I don't want to forget you ever again, darling. Please don't ever leave me again. You have no idea how intensely I've missed you and craved seeing you and hearing you. Why can't we just see each other on the side? We could sneak out at night and rendezvous in confidential meeting places. We could hold each other near and whisper all the deepest longings of our hearts. I'm left here panting and panicking over you, and you hardly notice me at all.

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.

Color Me

Well, last night I started doodling on the back of my hand with mehendi and I have photos to prove it. It's not as fancy because I wasn't sure if this cone was still any good but I did my best.

I've been thinking a lot about color, complexions and so on these past few days so I looked up color seasons and how to find your season online. All you need to know is your natural hair color, eye color and skin tone. After you've analyzed your features, you'll know what season and type you fit into and can get an idea of what colors suit your coloring best. This is especially handy if you're not fashion savvy like some people out there and need a little more guidance on what colors to wear. I know I do.

Today I dyed my hair blue-black after feeling nostalgic and realizing that, though I've stopped applying mehendi to my hair, it still has a reddish, copper-glow and highlights on the ends. Don't worry, my natural color is raven black with blue so I just want to go back to my basics. I want to create a bolder version of myself with vivid, bold and daring hues to match my 'dark' coloring. I hope this darker me helps reflect that aspect of my personality as well. I have to say, I'm kind of digging this Victorian glam/opium-den-madam look. It works. It totally works.

Anartha Nivritti

Duplicitous
Passive aggressive
Ahankar
Possessive
Over-reacting
Dramatic
Projecting
These are all qualities and attributes present within my own self.
I attribute tendencies, intentions etc. to others and ignore the very same in myself. I am full of ego and pride, I am possessive and domineering. I am controlling and envious. I am full of rage.
I am not a bad person, I hold negative views of the world and remain very pessimistic even in the best conditions. I dismiss praise and compliments as mere "flattery" or "sycophancy" or regard them as "insincere" when in reality I am full of said faults. Anarthas. Anarthas and more anarthas.
Anartha nivritti .
I don't want to associate with negative people or negativity. (Anymore) I am making a conscious effort to eliminate those things from my life, one by one. It will be a painful because I will have to acknowledge my faults, flaws and projections in a conscious voice in the process. Sometimes unpleasant things will surface. In the process of polishing a tarnished object, the cloth will become dirty. I have to accept that dirt, that grit and grime, oil and slime and accept my past. Renounce the past. Just like removing soiled garments.
I have to look at the cleansing of my heart and not become bewildered or disillusioned by that which soils the polishing cloth.
I want my power back. I want supportive, friendly, open, honest, sincere and loving friends, well-wishers and acquaintances. I want to develop a healthy relationship with all-- to whatever degree possible. If we are acquaintances, I want to develop a mutually beneficial relationship in that context. Friends, lovers, siblings, parents, whatever, I want to cultivate those relationships to the fullest possible extent.  I want to expand on already existing relationships, build on solid foundations. I want to push the boundaries of my psycho-emotional self. I want to understand my innate proclivities, even those that are subconscious or unconsciously decided. I want to understand why I make the choices that I do, I want to make better decisions. I want to be informed. Re-educated. Hare Krishna.

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.