Transcriptions:

Is the spiritual master someone who has descended from the spiritual world? Or is it a Jeeva who has practiced sadhana and attained perfection? If we consider the latter, consider the former, then how do we understand that sometimes there are the spiritual master also falls? The answer, in general, Prabhupada did not encourage much speculation about this. Nor did Prabhupada make repeated definitive claims about this. When Prabhupada was asked the meaning in the Mangalaarthi prayer about Nikunjayunorathikeli Siddhyayi, he simply said, variants of that’s none of your business.

And he did not repeatedly say that he had been sent by Krishna to this world. In the Bhagavad Gita purport, while illustrating the principle of how bhakti is or spirituality in general is continued across lifetimes, in the section from 637 to 45, where the deviated yogi is either born in a wealthy family, a pious family, or if very advanced, in a highly devoted family. So Prabhupada puts both his spiritual master and himself in that category.

Now that could be just like Prabhupada out of his humility, illustrating a principle rather than making a factual statement about his previous life. And his subsequent journey into this life. But the point I’m making is that Prabhupada didn’t put any statements about his spiritual status in his purports.

In Bhaktivinoda Thakura, in his, not spiritual status, his spiritual, his origin in his purports, Bhaktivinoda Thakura, while at one place says that he realized his eternal identity, another place he also says that he didn’t get into, that if you look at his life story, he says as if he came to bhakti gradually and through a long journey. It could be that he was an eternal associate who was arranged by Krishna to go through a journey before he came to bhakti. But then that journey involved worshipping Shakti, worshipping the goddess as a family deity, and even eating meat.

But then this went on to become an exalted soul. So overall, overall, if a disciple wants to have that particular conception as the, as something like a food, faith booster for them, then they have the right to do so. And I don’t think anybody else has a right to challenge or falsify that conception for a disciple.

At the same time, the matter of concern is where, because of the conception of the spiritual master as an eternal associate of the Lord, and has descended from the spiritual world, if the disciple is no longer using one’s intelligence in the practice of bhakti, in the practice of applying the instructions of the spiritual master, then if the disciple ends up outsourcing one’s intelligence to the spiritual master and accepting whatever the spiritual master says without considering shastra, without considering the fact that there is a paramatma in our heart who can manifest as our inner voice to guide us, then that utter rejection of the overall system of checks and balances, which is given in scripture, can lead one either to, can lead one to the kind of blind following that is not recommended at all. So, if some disciples cannot have that conception of their spiritual master as an eternal associate, that should not be considered offensive or even disrespectful. What is important is that they take the guidance of the spiritual master seriously, and taking it seriously doesn’t just mean uncritically doing whatever the spiritual master tells them to do, but following the spiritual master the way the tradition and the scriptures have set an example, the end result of which would be that the disciple gets a deeper understanding of scripture and a disciple comes closer to Krishna, not just comes closer to the guru at the cost of the exclusion of everything else.

So, in many of these spiritually exalted or esoteric domains of spirituality, the origin is, questions of origin are not as important as the questions of effect. That is, what we believe about where the spiritual master came from is not as important as where the nature of our relationship with our spiritual master leads us. Thank you.

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So, in America right now, there is a Sadhusanga festival happening. Every year, it takes place during the long weekend. Many devotees gather there and engage in hours and hours of Kirtan.
I was just talking to one devotee who had been inviting me to attend the Kirtan festival. I told him, “Right now, I’m in my own Kirtan festival.”
It’s wonderful to see all of your enthusiasm for Harinam and Harinam Sankirtan.

Now, I’ll quickly recap what I was talking about yesterday regarding the story of Vishwamitra. I’ll summarize the key points we covered, and then we’ll move forward.
We are exploring how we can learn from scriptures about the challenges we will face in life and how we can handle them. Some people ask, “Scriptures were written thousands of years ago—are they really relevant today?”
Yes, it’s true that our situations may differ greatly from those of the past, but more than the external problems we face, what truly defines our life are the internal challenges.

Today, we see people with phenomenal material comforts still experiencing alarming levels of unhappiness. If you were to describe modern society in two words, it would be “comfortably miserable.” We are far more comfortable than people were in the past, yet we are still miserable. So, if we focus only on improving the external aspects of our lives—whether in the world of today or the world described in scriptures—it may seem like there is a difference, and indeed, there is. But the internal world remains the same.
Just as it doesn’t matter whether we’re flying by plane or walking on foot, the sky is illuminated the same way, with the same sun and moon, whether we’re traveling in one way or another. Similarly, scriptures offer timeless truths. While there may be specific variations that don’t apply to us today, the core principles still hold.

We’re looking at Vishwamitra’s story through the lens of the timeless journey that each of us must go through.
Yesterday, I spoke about how Vishwamitra, when he was a powerful king, became increasingly power-hungry. The nature of power often leads people to crave more. He wanted to seize the source of Vasistha’s power, which was the Surabhi cow. When his efforts were thwarted twice—first by the cow, which produced an endless army of soldiers, and then by Vasistha, who used a mystical staff to counter his weapons—Vishwamitra was stunned.

There are multiple stages to this story. Initially, Vishwamitra tried to overpower Vasistha through Kshatriya means. Normally, if one Kshatriya warrior cannot defeat another, they might seek better weapons. So Vishwamitra performed austerities to please Shiva and gained a whole arsenal of celestial weapons. But when he used them against Vasistha, Vasistha countered them effortlessly with his staff. Vishwamitra was shocked. He realized that Kshatriya power could not match Brahminical power. So, he decided to perform even more austerities to gain Brahminical power, not just to gain more weapons, but to access spiritual power.

During his austerities, he was first tempted by desire. I spoke about Menaka’s arrival, and how even the most disciplined among us can be distracted by desire. Everyone has goals, and even material pursuits often require discipline. I talked about how impulses can distract us. When Vishwamitra resisted that temptation and transcended it, the next challenge that came to him was anger. Desire and anger are often connected. In the Dharmic tradition, it’s said that krodha (anger) is the younger brother of kama (desire). Anger outwardly manifests as aggression, and inwardly, it manifests as depression. When we’re depressed, we’re often just angry with ourselves—“Why am I not good enough?”

In today’s world, we see both of these forms of anger. Sometimes, they manifest as frustrated desires. Vishwamitra was not immune to this either. During his austerities, Indra, feeling insecure, sent another apsara—Rambha. Vishwamitra was now alert and determined not to fall for the same temptation. However, what often happens is that when we gain some level of self-control, we develop the subtle notion that we are the controllers.

When we succeed in controlling our senses, we may begin to think we are in control of everything. This is a dangerous trap. If we cannot control ourselves at all, we don’t have a strong sense of being the controller. But once we start gaining some self-control, the illusion that we are in charge can grow stronger. And when this sense of control is disturbed, it can lead to overreactions. Self-control is important, but when we become attached to the idea of being the controller, we can become intolerant of anything that disrupts our sense of control.

This is why sages who practice spirituality without connecting to the Supreme Lord can be vulnerable to anger. Of course, we should practice self-control, but the purpose of self-control is not to dominate the external world. The purpose is to serve Krishna better. The goal of self-control is to offer our will to the Supreme Controller.

When Rambha came before Vishwamitra, he did not succumb to desire. But when his sense of control was disrupted, his anger flared up. He was determined to succeed, and he couldn’t tolerate any temptation. His anger burst out, and he cursed Rambha. Sometimes, this happens to us too—when we are so controlled that we become hard-hearted. We dismiss all emotions as sentimentality, and this can lead to harshness. Vishwamitra’s curse transformed Rambha into a stone.

Of course, since she had come on Indra’s behalf, he eventually rescued her.

But at this point, what happened? Whenever anyone performs austerity, they gain certain powers from that. However, the nature of power is that, just like Lakshmi is fickle—wealth comes and goes—some people say money talks. If someone arrives in a fancy car or wearing expensive clothes, everyone takes notice. Money talks, indeed, but money talks and walks away while it’s talking. What this means is that the more we display our wealth, the more we spend to show it off.

It’s similar when we focus on showcasing our power. Eventually, if we don’t use it wisely, it will be lost. This is true for any form of power. When Vishwamitra used his mystic power to curse Rambha, what happened? He lost that power and fell back.

Now, what do we mean by “losing power”? Power here is not like a bank account where you can see a withdrawal. It’s not literal. But you can consider that consciousness is our most important resource. When we are distracted, we are disempowered. Whatever we want to do in life—whether it’s studying, speaking, or anything else—good memory, analytical skills, and articulation are helpful, but all these things are effective only if our consciousness is in control. If we are distracted, nothing works. So, consciousness is our most fundamental resource.

When we focus, our consciousness becomes concentrated and purposeful. But when we allow it to get misdirected, we lose that focus, that power. When Vishwamitra gave in to anger, he became frustrated again, losing his focus. He didn’t want to be distracted anymore.

Now, what should we do about anger? We all get angry sometimes. When we feel angry, sometimes our devotion might even justify it. We might say, “My anger is like Hanuman’s anger when he burned Lanka.” But even Hanuman regretted his anger after burning Lanka. He wondered if he had burned the Ashoka Vatika and whether Sita had been harmed. When he realized Sita was safe, a celestial voice reassured him.

The point is, Hanuman didn’t celebrate his anger, but he used it in the service of Lord Ram. Anger, in this sense, can go off course if not controlled. Managing anger is a big topic, but generally, we need to develop our “pause button.”

When we experience emotions like anger, we need to process them. The pause button works by two things: changing the situation or changing our perspective. If the situation is triggering us, we may need to move away from it. If we are in a provocative environment, staying in it may just fuel the fire. We’re all inflammable to varying degrees. Changing the situation can help avoid worsening things.

Alternatively, changing perspective means looking at things in a new light. This is where Krishna consciousness comes in. When anger arises, chant Hare Krishna. Chanting Hare Krishna isn’t just a ritual; it’s a mood where we surrender to Krishna, asking to serve Him.

We must find out which pause button works best for us. For some, chanting may work. For others, recalling verses from scripture or remembering how destructive anger can be might help. For some, just shifting our thoughts—by listening to soothing kirtan music or thinking of Krishna—can calm us. We need to discover our own pause button because, without it, we will be overwhelmed by our emotions.

As Vishwamitra progressed, he gained more and more power. However, as he grew powerful, more people started recognizing him as a great sage. This introduces a different aspect: competition. Competition can be constructive or destructive. Destructive competition is about pulling others down to elevate ourselves, which is unhealthy. Vishwamitra was driven by the desire to prove he was greater than Vashistha. This “other-centered” thinking never leads to peace or satisfaction.

Attachment is usually seen as undesirable because it distracts us from our true purpose. However, aversion can be just as distracting. When we’re averse to someone, we might spend the entire time looking around for that person, wondering if they’ve arrived, just as someone might constantly check for the person they’re attached to. So, aversion can be as distracting as attachment.

Vishwamitra, though, was still other-centered. He wanted to prove that he was greater than Vashistha. He wasn’t concerned with his own growth but with defeating someone else. This leads to unhealthy competition.

One such story involves King Trishanku. He desired to go to heaven while still in his body. Normally, people go to heaven after they leave their body, provided they have lived piously. But Trishanku didn’t want that. He wanted to ascend to heaven with his earthly body. This is where he differed from the norm, thinking that if his body went to heaven, he would achieve immortality.

He went to Vashistha, who told him it was impossible, and Trishanku, dissatisfied with the answer, sought out another solution. He went to Vishwamitra to fulfill his desire.

As soon as Vishwamitra heard that Trishanku wanted to go to heaven in his body, he was about to say no. But Trishanku explained that he had already asked Vashistha, who told him it was impossible, and now he wanted to know if it was possible for Vishwamitra.

As soon as Vishwamitra heard this, he felt an opportunity to prove his power. This is a good example of how questions can be framed to influence the response. For example, if a naïve car salesman simply asks, “Would you like to buy this car?” a more experienced salesman might ask, “Which car would you like, the red one, the green one, or the yellow one?” By phrasing the question this way, the buyer doesn’t even have the option to decline buying a car.

Similarly, Trishanku’s question was framed to manipulate Vishwamitra. “If Vashistha can’t do it, can you?” The question was designed to create a sense of competition and challenge. Trishanku knew that Vishwamitra’s ego might be triggered, and he was right. Vishwamitra, feeling challenged, agreed to take on the task.

Vishwamitra began performing a sacrificial ritual and used his mystic power to send Trishanku upwards. As Trishanku began rising, Vishwamitra noticed he was ascending, higher and higher, eventually reaching the heavens. But this ascent wasn’t simply geographical; it was karmic.

In the Vedic cosmology, “up” doesn’t just refer to physical direction. It refers to a state of spiritual or karmic elevation. Just as a data entry operator has limited access to a computer, a powerful person may have access to different levels of spiritual or karmic realms. Trishanku’s ascent was an elevation of his karmic position, not just a physical one.

As Trishanku rose, the alarms in Swarga (heaven) went off. Indra saw what was happening and used his celestial powers to bring Trishanku back down. Vishwamitra, undeterred, used his mystic powers to send Trishanku back up, but Indra intervened again, sending him back down. This back-and-forth went on for a while, with Trishanku becoming like a tennis ball bouncing between the two.

Frustrated, Trishanku asked Vishwamitra what was happening. Vishwamitra, feeling bound by his word to help, decided to create a new heaven for Trishanku. This heaven would be a temporary one, created using his mystic powers. However, this was not a perfect solution, as creating and sustaining such a place required an immense amount of energy and power.

It’s like someone buying a plane and flying it around, only to realize that the fuel is running out. Vishwamitra’s karmic power began to get exhausted as he sustained the new heaven for Trishanku. This is a reminder of how our ambitions can be driven by ego.

Sometimes, people pursue things just to demonstrate their greatness to the world. I once met someone on a train who had been growing his nails for seven years to set a Guinness World Record. After winning the award, he had to cut his nails, only to find that his hand had atrophied from lack of use. This is an extreme example of how pursuing something for the sake of ego can lead to unintended consequences.

Ambition is natural; we all want to grow in different areas of life. But the key is to grow in a balanced and healthy way. Just as cancer is uncontrolled growth in the body, excessive or misguided ambition can be harmful. Some people, for instance, become workaholics, sacrificing their health and relationships to work. Later, they spend all their wealth trying to regain their health. Similarly, unchecked ambition can lead to destruction.

Vishwamitra had immense power, but his journey was sidetracked by desire, anger, and arrogance. He wanted to prove how great he was to the world, which led him to create a heaven for Trishanku, but at a great cost. This is a lesson that we, too, must be mindful of in our spiritual journey—our purpose is not to demonstrate our greatness to the world, but to deepen our connection with Krishna. If we focus on our spiritual growth, that will be enough, and the rest will follow naturally.

We will be absorbed in Him and we will attain Him.
Finally, after all this happened, as the heavenly planet started crumbling down, Trishanku cried out, “Help, help! Whom should I pray to now?” He began fervently praying to Lord Vishnu, saying, “Oh Lord Vishnu, please help me, help me!”
He was a sage with scriptural knowledge and offered sincere prayers. Upon hearing his fervent prayers, Vishnu appeared before him.

Vishnu, seeing the situation, spoke to Trishanku: “Your desire is unhealthy. It is a disharmonious desire. By satisfying it, you have created disharmony in the universe. You may want to please or satisfy someone’s desires, but it is not just about fulfilling any desire of those we love. Sometimes, love also means saying no to someone.”

For example, if parents pander to every desire of their children, the children might ask for something harmful, like eating a hundred chocolates in one day. Parents, in an effort to satisfy their child’s desire, might inadvertently harm them. In the same way, Vishnu told Vishwamitra, “Don’t pander to these immature desires. Don’t lose your power like this.”

Vishnu also pointed out that even though Trishanku’s desire had been manipulated, the results had been disruptive. Finally, Vishnu declared that Trishanku would be suspended in between heaven and earth, neither here nor there. This state came to be known as the “Trishanku state”—a symbol of something suspended in between.

However, Trishanku’s contact with Vishnu purified Vishwamitra. He continued his austerities, and his power became so strong that fire emanated from his body. The gods looked at each other, worried that they might not be able to control him anymore.

When a problem becomes too big, it’s common to escalate it. A child might first go to an elder brother, then to the parents, or even the school principal. In this case, the gods, realizing they couldn’t control Vishwamitra, went to Brahma. Brahma appeared before Vishwamitra and said, “Your austerities and perseverance have earned you the merit to be a sage. You are now a Brahma Rishi.”

Vishwamitra heard this, but still, his heart wasn’t satisfied. He longed to hear this acknowledgment from Vashistha, his rival. So, Vashistha, a descendant of Brahma, came to Vishwamitra and declared, “You are a Brahma Rishi.” The moment these words were spoken, Vishwamitra felt a deep inner satisfaction, and all the anger, resentment, and competitive mentality within him disappeared.

This moment shows that we may begin our spiritual journey for any motive, but if we persist and connect with the Lord, that connection purifies us.

After attaining the Brahma Rishi status, Vishwamitra realized there was something more—devotion. He deeply longed for a connection with Vishnu. This desire, rooted in sincerity, led him to play a crucial role in the story of Lord Ram in the Ramayana.

The sage Shatananda, the priest of King Janak, narrated Vishwamitra’s story. Shatananda served the dynasty of King Janak, the father of Sita. Vishwamitra’s story exemplifies how a seeker, though reaching the status of Brahma Rishi, might seek something greater—devotion to the Lord.

When Lord Ram incarnated in this world, Vishwamitra was granted the opportunity to be his teacher. Though not a Diksha guru, Vishwamitra became Ram’s Shiksha guru, teaching him martial arts.

One day, Vishwamitra visited the palace of King Dashrath. Normally, kings would visit sages, but when a powerful sage like Vishwamitra arrived, it raised curiosity. Vishwamitra explained that demons were troubling the world and that he needed Ram, not Dashrath’s army, to deal with them. Dashrath was concerned because Ram was just a child, inexperienced in war.

Vishwamitra, however, was insistent. His anger flared up, and his eyes turned red. He said, “You promised to fulfill my wish. Will you dishonor your word?”

At this point, Vashistha intervened and reassured Dashrath that Vishwamitra could handle the demons himself but wanted Ram to fight alongside him. Vashistha explained that Ram was no ordinary child—he was the Supreme Lord Himself incarnate. For those close to the Lord, like Dashrath, the knowledge of his divinity was secondary to the love they felt.

Convinced by Vashistha’s words, Dashrath allowed Ram and his brother Lakshman to go with Vishwamitra. Vishwamitra taught Ram the Atibala and Atibala mantras, granting him supernatural strength. Though young, Ram defeated the demons Subahu and Tataka, and sent Maricha flying far away using the airways. Ram’s victory over these powerful demons was a spectacular display of divine strength.

There are different ways we can glorify someone. One way is to simply speak the glories of a person. Vishwamitra, being an elder sage and Ram being young, didn’t directly glorify Ram in that particular service. One way of glorifying someone is to praise them, but another way is to provide them with a platform where their glories can be manifested.

For example, the devotees would glorify Srila Prabhupada by speaking his praises and also by organizing big programs where Prabhupada would speak and attract people’s hearts. In the same way, Vishwamitra’s service to Ram was not merely to praise him, but to provide opportunities for Ram’s glories to be revealed.

The first way Vishwamitra glorified Ram was by guiding him to overpower great demons at a young age. But Vishwamitra also desired to reveal Ram’s glories to the entire world. To do so, he took Ram to the place where all the great kings had assembled: the Swayamvar of Sita in Janakpuri. There, they had a massive bow of Lord Shiva, which was so heavy that nobody could lift it.

Applause can be for appreciation, or it can be for the conclusion of an event. As the Swayamvar began, many great warriors had assembled, and the bow of Shiva, called the Trambak Bhanjaka, was displayed. It was so powerful that no one could even lift it. When Sita, as a young girl, approached it, she effortlessly lifted the bow to clean it, surprising everyone around her. The maids fainted, and when one ran to inform King Dashratha, he was astonished.

Dashratha, realizing Sita’s immense power, thought to himself, “If Sita has such power, her husband must be powerful enough to handle her strength.” Sita’s future husband had to be able to at least string the bow. This was because to string the bow, immense strength was required. It wasn’t just about lifting the bow; it had to be bent and strung with tremendous force.

When the kings gathered to try to string the bow, they all failed, even Ravana. Then, Ram came forward. He circled the bow, folded his hands in respect, and effortlessly picked it up. A hushed silence fell over the assembly as he took the string and pulled it with such force that a thunderous sound filled the air, causing everyone to faint. As they regained consciousness, they were stunned by what had just happened.

Vishwamitra stood proudly, watching his student Ram, knowing he wasn’t just a student—he was the Supreme Lord. When Sita approached and offered the garland to Ram, Vishwamitra was honored to be a part of this intimate service—uniting Sita with Ram, or Lakshmi with Narayan.

This, in essence, was the ultimate success of Vishwamitra’s spiritual journey. The purpose of bhakti is to unite the resources of this world (symbolized by Sita and Lakshmi) with their source, the Supreme Lord. Our success in devotion comes when we, like Vishwamitra, persevere on the spiritual path and ultimately serve the Lord.

Vishwamitra’s journey exemplifies how, despite starting with impure motives, one can eventually be purified through perseverance and devotion. His story shows that even if we come to the spiritual path with mixed desires, we can gradually purify our hearts and ultimately attain the highest perfection in our lives.

To summarize, I spoke about Vishwamitra’s journey today, highlighting how scriptures guide us with timeless truths. While external situations may change, our real challenges are internal, such as weaknesses and distractions. The scriptures help us overcome these and provide eternal wisdom.

Vishwamitra’s search for power and recognition led him to first seek Kshatriya weapons, then Brahminical powers, and eventually spiritual power. But initially, his desire for spiritual power was driven by material motives. Over time, however, he encountered distractions such as lust, anger, and arrogance. These obstacles were purifying for him as he overcame them through perseverance.

In the end, Vishwamitra realized that material achievement was insufficient. His contact with Vishnu purified him, and even after achieving the status of Brahma Rishi, he realized there was something more—he sought pure devotion (bhakti). His sincere desire led him to participate in the pastimes of Lord Ram, ultimately uniting Ram with Sita.

Vishwamitra’s story teaches us that, no matter what our initial motivations are, if we persevere on the path of devotion and purify our hearts, we can achieve the supreme perfection in life. Like Vishwamitra, we too can serve the Lord in whatever way we are capable, and in doing so, we achieve the ultimate success in our spiritual journey.

Similarly, the ultimate purpose of our spiritual journey is to unite all the resources we have with the source of everything. This is something we can all draw inspiration from in Vishwamitra’s journey. Whatever distractions come our way, we must stay alert to avoid being diverted. But even if we do get distracted, we must recover and resume our journey until we attain perfection.

Thank you very much. Hare Krishna.

Any questions or comments? Hare Krishna.

Question
So, thank you again for a fascinating class. Very inspiring. The question is a two-part question, if that’s okay.

Answer
Yes, please.

First Question
How do we understand the Trishanku pastime, where he tried to go with the same body to the heavenly kingdom, compared to the pastimes we read from the Srimad Bhagavatam, where kings like Muchukunda, Kathwanga, and even the grandson of Vishwamitra go and fight for the demigods in the heavenly planets? Do they get different bodies and then come back?

Answer
The whole point is that there is a cosmic hierarchy, and within that hierarchy, there are certain authorized ways for one person to go from one level to another. For example, if we think of levels of access in a computer system, one way for a data entry operator to get access to confidential files is by growing in position to become a manager. Another way is if the manager specifically allows that data operator to access the files, which is a special privilege.

Similarly, Arjuna could go to heaven, not only visiting but even sitting on Indra’s throne because Indra treated him like a son. Arjuna himself credited his access to heaven to Krishna’s grace, saying that without Krishna’s help, he wouldn’t have attained that position. So, the demigods can grant special permission for someone to go to heaven temporarily and even provide them with power. But it’s not by one’s own force that they can get there.

Second Question
Indra seems to make mistakes again and again. In various pastimes, such as the Govardhan Leela, he seems impulsive and childish. Why does this happen?

Answer
Indra is indeed a very respectable personality, especially in the Rig Veda and other Vedic literature, where he is considered the embodiment of success through the Karmakanda (ritualistic) path. He is a great position, but in the path of bhakti, the literature primarily emphasizes bhakti itself. To glorify bhakti, it often contrasts it with the successes of the path of karma, showing that even the greatest karma yogis, like Indra, can still make blunders.

Indra’s mistakes are not to diminish his greatness but to show that even the greatest karmis can falter in the presence of illusion. The Bhagavatam highlights bhakti as superior because it emphasizes humility, devotion, and surrender to Krishna. Indra’s blunders are meant to show that even the most powerful beings are subject to the influence of maya (illusion) and that bhakti, which is free from such pitfalls, is superior.

Additional Question
Sometimes, the big personalities like demigods are placed in certain situations by providence, which might seem unfavorable from a normal bhakti perspective, but the situation is created for a specific lesson. For example, in the Mohini Murti pastime, Lord Shiva was captivated by Mohini Murti, and from our point of view, that might seem like a fall. However, the purpose was to teach the sages a lesson. Could you elaborate?

Answer
Yes, that’s an excellent point. In the Mohini Murti pastime, when Lord Shiva chased after Mohini Murti, he passed through the hermitages of various sages. The sages observed this and were taught a lesson. While Lord Shiva is considered to be beyond illusion, he was temporarily captivated by Mohini Murti, which served as a lesson for the sages.

What is important to note is that despite this “fall,” Shiva’s consciousness remained focused on the Lord. After being momentarily captivated, he doesn’t feel humiliated or embarrassed; instead, he feels honored that only Vishnu could have captivated him in this way. Shiva’s focus immediately shifts to glorifying Vishnu, demonstrating his devotion and humility. This lesson shows that even if we fall temporarily, we should rise again with humility and gratitude, focusing on Krishna.

The key takeaway here is that Krishna consciousness includes both success and failure. If we fail, it should not make us lose hope or cause us to leave the path; rather, it should make us more humble and prayerful, calling out to Krishna even more. To fail in Krishna consciousness is okay as long as we don’t fail out of it. Failure should not deter us; it should only deepen our devotion.

Shiva’s fall illustrates how even the greatest beings can be subject to illusion, but their ability to recover and glorify the Lord afterward demonstrates the ultimate success in Krishna consciousness.

But Shiva is also so great that even after falling, he is not conscious of his own fall or humiliation. He is conscious of the glory of Vishnu, who made him fall. He falls in Krishna consciousness, not out of Krishna consciousness.

Thank you.

Yes, Paramahamsa.

So, regarding the pastime of Trishanku Swadhaka, how does it fit in the normal cosmic arrangement? It’s not like Vishnu sustains it forever. Does that mean it’s a part of our universe? After death, what is the desired realm where human beings go and what happens to their bodies?

Okay. Is Trishanku a particular level of existence that all souls or humans go through?

Not necessarily. Certain exceptional situations might be created for particular purposes, but that doesn’t mean it becomes a standard for everyone. The way to describe Trishanku’s state is not as a very comfortable one. He is in a state of suspended animation, and how long he remains there depends on his karma. Eventually, he will be elevated. It’s an emergency arrangement created because Vishwamitra prayed to Vishnu to sustain it for Trishanku, but it is not for everyone.

Thank you.

Another question?

Okay, any other questions or comments?

Yes, please.

Question:
My question is, are these understandings that you’re presenting here all substantiated by the commentaries of the acharyas, or are they modern-day understandings? For instance, I like the fact that you give practical examples, such as from cricket. But sometimes, other commentators tend to give more allegorical interpretations. This can sometimes diminish how the original teachings might be understood. So, I’m trying to understand this and playing the devil’s advocate a bit.

Answer:
There are quite a few questions there, but let me try to clarify.

Madhvacharya, in his Brahmasutra Bhashya, states that the Itihasas (like the Ramayana and Mahabharata) can be understood on three levels: literal, ethical, and metaphorical.

Literal means this is what actually happened. Just by hearing it and reciting it, one can purify themselves. For example, reciting the Ramayana is purifying, even if one just repeats the words without fully understanding them.

Now, the word “literal” might be equated with “historical” in modern terms. However, we should understand that the concept of history has evolved. In ancient times, history was not necessarily about precise recapitulation of events. Rather, it was more about imparting wisdom or moral lessons. In the past, whether it’s the Ramayana or even Homer’s Odyssey, the purpose of history was not merely to give a factual account but to teach something worthwhile, to inspire and to edify.

Take, for instance, a historian like Will Durant, who famously said that “what we learn from history is that we don’t learn from history.” The focus of history in modern times is on facts. But in ancient traditions, including Vedic literature, the focus was often on learning moral lessons, wisdom, and insights from the past.

So, are the scriptures historical? Yes, absolutely. But we must recognize that they are not history in the same sense that we understand it today. While modern history is focused on recapitulating facts, ancient history was about learning lessons. Even if the stories aren’t exact replicas of every event, their core teachings and spiritual truths are what matter most.

Regarding allegorical interpretations, yes, there is room for figurative speech in scriptures. For example, in the Bhagavad Gita (2.69), it states, “That which is night for all living beings is day for the self-realized, and that which is day for all living beings is night for the self-realized.” Now, if we take this literally, it would imply that self-realized people are only found in India and materialistic people in North America. Clearly, this is not meant literally. Day and night here are metaphors for knowledge and ignorance, or the areas in which a person is active.

So, while the scriptures are historical, they are also poetic. There is artistic license, and the intent is not always to provide a literal, factual account of events but to impart wisdom and spiritual teachings. As Chaitanya Mahaprabhu mentions in Chaitanya Charitamrita, the great poets glorify Krishna using figures of speech like hyperbole.

This doesn’t mean that everything in scripture is allegorical, but it does mean that scripture uses artistic methods to teach profound spiritual truths. The scriptures aren’t just about giving a dry historical account—they are intended to teach us deeper spiritual lessons.

So, in summary, while the scriptures are historical, they also contain metaphors, allegories, and artistic elements that help us understand spiritual concepts more deeply. This is the key difference between how history was understood in ancient times and how it is understood today.

And poetry includes hyperbole, but that is for a poetic purpose. So, that’s the first point. When we say that it’s historical, it’s not history in the modern sense. Getting caught up in pedantic debates—whether it’s like that or not—is not the focus.

In the first canto of the Shrimad Bhagavatam, it says that Krishna returned from Hastinapur to Dwarka. The Bhagavatam describes the path he took, passing through various kingdoms. Some historians might try to retrace the path of Krishna. However, the earth’s surface is constantly changing due to geology, so retracing the path can be quite a difficult task. As far as we are concerned, we are simply satisfied that Krishna reached Dwarka and is going to perform pastimes with the devotees there.

Prabhupada’s focus is not to deny the importance or validity of research into Krishna’s historicity, but to keep things in perspective. That research is secondary. The primary focus in studying the Ramayana and Mahabharata is to learn the devotional and ethical values that help us remember the Lord.

So, I am presenting it from a literal or historical perspective, if you want to use the term “historical,” but it is not historical in the modern sense. There are ethical lessons, and the primary purpose of history in the past was to teach us what to do and what not to do. And beyond that, because it is poetry, some metaphorical elements may also be present.

What is of concern, especially for Srila Prabhupada, is when the metaphorical is used not to supplement the historical but to supplant it—to replace it. For example, if someone says the Kurukshetra war never took place and that Kurukshetra only represents the body, that’s a problem. It’s fine to say Kurukshetra represents the body, and you can say the Kauravas represent our unholy desires and the Pandavas represent holy desires. But when someone uses that to claim that Kurukshetra is not historical at all, that was a serious concern for Prabhupada.

Prabhupada himself has used metaphorical explanations in his works. For instance, he has spoken of how Devaki’s womb represents our heart and how the first six children were killed, symbolizing the removal of six anarthas (undesirable qualities). Balram, as the Guru, comes in to cleanse the heart, and then Krishna appears. We shouldn’t be paranoid about metaphorical explanations, but we shouldn’t turn everything into metaphor either. Some parts of scripture are definitely metaphorical, but we must be careful not to metaphorize the entire text.

As for those who say that the scriptures are just poetic myths, we don’t need to immediately engage in confrontation with them. We understand where they are coming from. Second, while poetry can include exaggerations, not everything in scripture should be seen as exaggeration. Ultimately, our goal is to help them accept the wisdom in the scripture.

For instance, if someone says, “I can’t believe demons exist,” we don’t tell them that they have to accept the existence of demons before chanting Hare Krishna. Instead, we encourage them to chant, and through purification, they will gradually come to understand deeper truths.

Prabhupada once asked a devotee in Hawaii, who was concerned about how scholars laughed at the idea that King Ugrasena had thousands of bodyguards. They wondered, “Where did they all live? Where were their houses and toilets?” Prabhupada didn’t respond by saying Krishna can do anything. Instead, he asked, “Did you find only that verse to talk about with the scholars?”

Prabhupada’s approach was always to focus on what’s most important in our limited time with others. Our goal is to give them the most essential message, not to engage in endless debates about the historicity of every detail.

Even if someone isn’t ready to accept that everything in scripture is historical, we can help them appreciate the principles and teachings. As far as the explanations I gave, they depend on what we’re discussing. Generally, Prabhupada said that realization means presenting things in a way that is interesting and relevant to the audience. For example, the concept of a mainframe computer may not be in scripture, but using it as a metaphor can help make the teaching more accessible.

Scripture is not just about being correct, but also about getting the message across. If someone gives a perfect class in Sanskrit but no one understands it, they’ve achieved nothing in communicating the message. Prabhupada’s emphasis was always on communicating the essence of the teachings in a way that is understandable to the audience.

For example, in the Bhagavad Gita (15.6), the literal translation says that the spiritual world is not illuminated by the sun, moon, or fire. But Prabhupada adds “electricity” in his purport. A literalist might question where electricity fits into the spiritual world. But the point is to convey that the spiritual world is self-effulgent, not dependent on external sources of light, as is the case in the material world. Since most people today live in a world dependent on electricity for light, Prabhupada used “electricity” to make the point clearer to modern audiences.

The point is that it’s not just about getting everything right, but about getting the message across. Prabhupada emphasized that the purpose of presenting scripture is to increase people’s interest in Krishna Bhakti. As long as contemporary examples help people understand and practice Krishna Bhakti, they serve the purpose.

Thank you very much.

The post The story of Vishvamitra – part 2 – Overcoming anger and arrogance appeared first on The Spiritual Scientist.

The Ramayana is primarily the journey of Lord Ram, but it also includes stories that describe how various characters in the Ramayana reached the positions they were in. I’ll divide this story into three parts. First, we’ll look at the obstacles we face on our spiritual path and how we can overcome them.

Vishwamitra was originally King Kaushika, the ruler of the Kusha kingdom. He was a Chandramamshi, belonging to the lunar dynasty, while Lord Ram was a Suryamamshi, belonging to the solar dynasty.

In any society, certain authorities are required, and in ancient India, within a dharmic society, there were two primary centers of power: the Kshatriyas and the Brahmanas. The Kshatriyas were the political leaders, and the Brahmanas held spiritual and intellectual authority. This setup mirrors today’s systems of government, where we have the separation of powers between the legislature, the executive, and the judiciary.

Just as these divisions ensure checks and balances, the separation between political and spiritual power was meant to prevent corruption. Power, as they say, corrupts, and absolute power can corrupt absolutely. While it’s easy to criticize politicians, it’s important to remember that most of us, if we were in positions of power, might be equally susceptible to abusing it.

Vishwamitra was a powerful king, but like anyone in a position of power, he began to feel insecure. He feared that someone might challenge his authority. One day, he was passing through a forest and came upon a hermitage where the great sage Vasishta resided. Vasishta was a very powerful sage, and he welcomed Vishwamitra warmly, offering him food and hospitality.

Vishwamitra, impressed by Vasishta’s hospitality, noticed that Vasishta’s hermitage was modest, yet he seemed to have everything he needed. Vasishta explained that he had a divine cow named Kamadhenu, a miraculous cow that could grant any wish. When Vishwamitra expressed his amazement, Vasishta explained that the cow could provide everything necessary for the sage’s rituals and sacrifices, including grains, ghee, and food.

Seeing the cow’s power, Vishwamitra, who had an entitlement mentality due to his royal status, became greedy. He demanded that Vasishta give him the cow. Vasishta refused, explaining that the cow was essential to his sacrifices. But Vishwamitra insisted, feeling entitled as a king. When Vasishta stood his ground, Vishwamitra grabbed the cow.

As soon as he did, the cow began to cry out in distress and, to Vishwamitra’s astonishment, started producing soldiers who battled and defeated Vishwamitra’s army. In the face of defeat, Vishwamitra had to flee in humiliation.

But instead of learning from the experience, Vishwamitra returned, more determined than ever. He came back with an even larger army, but this time, Vasishta, in his frustration, invoked a curse. Vishwamitra again suffered defeat and humiliation.

What is important to understand here is not the magical elements of the story, such as the cow granting wishes or the curse, but the deeper lesson. The focus of the scriptures is not always on proving the literal events; rather, they aim to inspire us to improve and grow spiritually. In today’s world, we might not believe in talking cows or curses, but we can appreciate the lessons they offer.

For example, in our modern context, we have technology that can seem almost magical. We might say, “Okay, Google, open the door,” and the door opens. Someone unfamiliar with technology might question how that happened. Similarly, in ancient times, events may have appeared magical, but the purpose of such stories is to convey spiritual truths, to guide us on our path, and help us understand the deeper meaning of life and our journey toward self-realization.

No, no, don’t send this message.

So, what happens in this case is what we can call a performative utterance. When we speak, if there is no technology or device around us, our words may not lead to any immediate action. However, in certain cases, the words we speak can have a direct impact. For example, if a judge sentences someone to ten years in prison, that utterance leads to action because the judge holds a position of authority and power.

The connection between the utterance and the action may not be immediately clear to us if we don’t understand how the judicial system or technology works, but the point is that an utterance can lead to a performance. When this happens, it’s called a performative utterance.

So, when something seems unbelievable, it simply means we don’t understand the mechanism behind how it happens. Sages, for example, could connect with higher powers in the universe. When they spoke or gave blessings or curses, their words would activate subtler energies in the universe, leading to actual events.

In this case, Vasishta twice overpowered King Kaushika (Vishwamitra). After this, Kaushika realized that the Brahmanas were much more powerful than the Kshatriyas. Vasishta was a Brahma Rishi, the highest among the sages, and Kaushika decided he wanted to become one too. He wanted to become great and powerful.

Ultimately, everything we do, if it is not spiritually oriented, is a search for power. Even for an infant, it’s a discovery to realize the power of crying. Initially, the infant cries due to discomfort, but over time, it learns that crying will bring the mother running. Eventually, the infant might cry just for attention, even when it’s not in distress. From infancy, we’re all driven by a desire for power.

Seeking power itself isn’t inherently bad; the important thing is the purpose for which we seek it. We all need some power in life. In Kaushika’s case, he sought power so he could become more powerful than others. He wondered, how did Vasishta become a Brahma Rishi? Vasishta had become a great sage, so Kaushika thought, “If I can become like him, I’ll have the power I desire.”

Kaushika realized that to become a Brahma Rishi, he had to perform austerities (Tapasya). Austerity is an interesting concept. All living beings are driven by their immediate needs. A cat, for instance, doesn’t think, “Today is Ekadashi, let me fast.” The cat is driven by its instincts, reacting to impulses. Similarly, we too have impulses, but as humans, we have the capacity to resist them.

For example, on Ekadashi, we may decide not to eat grains. If we see a plate of delicious food with grains, the impulse to eat might arise. However, we can resist that impulse. The ability to resist our impulses is what differentiates humans from animals. The question is, how well developed is our ability to resist, and for what purpose are we resisting?

If we resist impulses to grow spiritually, that’s beneficial. But if we do so simply to show others how self-controlled we are, it might not lead to spiritual growth. For instance, someone fasting on Ekadashi might criticize others who are eating, thinking they lack self-control. Though the person is fasting, their ego is feeding on the pride of their self-discipline. This is not helpful for spiritual growth.

Now, Kaushika’s reason for fasting and performing austerities was to become more powerful. His goal was to best Vasishta. Austerity, in general, is something that anyone striving to achieve something worthwhile must practice. Athletes, for example, perform their own form of austerity by working out. Austerity is about sacrificing immediate pleasure for future gain.

Humans have the ability to trade the pleasure of the present moment for something better in the future, something that animals cannot consciously do. While animals may instinctively prepare for the future (like burrowing to stay warm), humans can consciously plan and negotiate with reality. As students, for instance, we might sacrifice leisure to study and build a career.

I can enjoy, but I want to create a good life for myself in the future.
So, the capacity to sacrifice, to practice austerity, is what defines humanity. In fact, if you look at any person who inspires us in life, it is often their capacity for austerity and commitment that stands out. In any field, if you want to be successful, you must, to some extent, trade the present for the future.

We all desire pleasure in life, but pleasure comes in many forms. However, pleasure is often too shallow a purpose to sustain us through life. Most of us enjoy humor. Is there anyone who doesn’t like jokes or laughter? It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t. But consider this: if we had no financial obligations or responsibilities, and someone told us, “For the rest of your life, just watch comedies and laugh,” would you enjoy that?

Maybe for an hour or two, yes, but after that, you’d likely feel the need to do something more meaningful, right? So, while we all want pleasure, we don’t just want any pleasure; we want worthwhile, meaningful pleasure. Watching comedies and laughing is not a very meaningful pleasure in the grand scheme of life.

Sometimes, to experience meaningful pleasure, we might have to give up what gives us immediate pleasure. Pleasure, in this case, is too cheap a purpose to sustain us. We will eventually get frustrated with it. If we do something just for immediate pleasure, we often find ourselves in trouble, as with addiction. People who drink, smoke, or take drugs do so for short-term pleasure, but it leads them into problems.

Pleasure is too cheap a purpose. Vishwamitra realized that if he wanted to become a Brahmarishi, he needed to perform austerities. As a Kshatriya (a king), he already had determination. Some people claim they lack determination. Do you think it’s possible for someone to have zero determination?

No, it’s not. Why not? Even someone who is addicted to a substance demonstrates determination. They may lack the willpower to stop, but they have determination to keep indulging in their addiction. If someone fails to wake up early, they lack the determination to rise, but they have the determination to keep sleeping. People may mock them or criticize them, yet they continue. So, everyone has determination; it’s just often misdirected.

Determination means continuing to do something, even if it’s troublesome. The positive side of determination helps us persevere, while the negative side, like obstinacy or stubbornness, leads us to persist in harmful behaviors.

As a Kshatriya, Vishwamitra certainly had determination, and he began performing austerities. His austerity gained him immense power. This power made others, especially Indra, insecure. Indra, the king of the gods, was always fearful of someone usurping his position.

Austerity essentially means giving up immediate pleasures for a higher purpose. In any field, consistent, diligent practice leads to power. By doing something regularly and trying to improve, we gain expertise. With talent and practice, some individuals become extraordinarily powerful, like athletes or gymnasts who can perform feats most people couldn’t even imagine.

If we want to improve in any area, we need to commit ourselves to consistent practice and austerity. The more we commit, the better we become at it. But with power comes the potential for others to feel insecure and try to take it away.

When Indra saw Vishwamitra performing austerities, he sent Menaka, a celestial nymph, to distract him. Menaka was extraordinarily beautiful and used her powers to transform the place where Vishwamitra was meditating into a beautiful garden, complete with flowers, a lake, birds, and a soothing breeze. She began to dance and sing.

When Vishwamitra heard the sound of her ankle bells, he became distracted. For us, it might not be ankle bells that distract us, but rather our mobile phone notifications. A small beep is enough to disrupt our concentration. Imagine you are trying to focus on something important, whether it’s a lecture or meditation, and suddenly, you hear that beep.

Distraction, in any form, disempowers us. Our most fundamental power is our consciousness. If we remain focused on a task, we perform better. But if we are distracted, we lose our power. When we are focused, we can read a page in a few minutes and fully understand it. If we are distracted, it might take us an hour to understand the same page, and we might even find ourselves holding the book upside down.

To be distracted is to be disempowered. Our consciousness is our greatest strength, and it is essential to maintain focus. In today’s world, distractions come in many forms. Let me explain distraction using two metaphors.

The first metaphor is a road. Imagine we are on a road and come to an intersection. There are multiple options, multiple ways to go. We might pause to decide which way to take. Similarly, distractions are like multiple options that demand our attention. We must choose wisely.

The second metaphor is that of a river. When a river splits into different distributaries, the water flows toward the path that is easiest, like the downhill path. In the same way, distractions in life pull our attention toward the easiest, most tempting options, and it’s up to us to choose which path to take.

So, just like that, for all of us, our consciousness is like a river that is constantly flowing.
When we are attached to particular objects, that means those objects have a broad, downhill path, and our consciousness will naturally flow in that direction.

For example, let’s say someone is an alcoholic, and their home is here, their workplace is there, but there’s a bar in between.
Now, someone who has never drunk might not even notice the bar, but for someone who drinks regularly, passing by that bar triggers a desire.
They might think, “I have a lot of work to do,” but then the temptation comes, and they think, “What difference does one drink make?”
Even if they try to resist, their mind might argue: “No, last time you had one drink and it turned into more than you planned. Shouldn’t you stop now?”
But eventually, their consciousness has already moved toward that bar. Even if they don’t physically go in, the mental pull is strong.

To be distracted is to be disempowered. Some distractions are passive, just waiting outside for us to choose them, while others are more active, luring us in.
In this case, when Menaka came to Vishwamitra, she was an active distraction.
It’s important to note that this is not about a male being distracted by a female; both males and females experience distractions in various forms.

When Vishwamitra opened his eyes and saw Menaka, he had come to the forest to perform austerities, yet he was captivated by her beauty. He was so drawn to her that he lost his focus and forgot about his meditation.
This is the nature of temptation—it grips our consciousness and makes us forget everything else.

The Bhagavad Gita says we are meant to give up everything else and surrender to Krishna:
Sarva dharman parityajya mam ekam sharanam vraja
(“Abandon all varieties of dharma and surrender to me alone”).
But when temptation comes, we often forget everything else and are drawn into it. That is the nature of temptation.

Vishwamitra had left his royal pleasures for a higher purpose. However, when temptation came, he got so caught up in it that he forgot his original purpose.
This is something we all face. Initially, when we come to spirituality, we may not be truly interested in God or spiritual goals. Many come to spirituality seeking peace of mind, self-control, or personal growth. This is not bad—at least they are coming to spirituality for some purpose.

In our life journey, temptations arise constantly, and there is no guarantee that we will resist them at any given moment.
Everything comes down to choices and circumstances. While our choices are ultimately up to us, circumstances significantly influence our decisions.

When Vishwamitra got distracted, he completely forgot his austerities and purpose. This story is told in the Ramayana, but something more is shared in the Mahabharata.
Vishwamitra, known as Kaushika until then, became completely captivated by Menaka. He was so infatuated that he lost all focus.

This is how we also get captivated today. When we become infatuated with something, it completely pulls us in.
For example, at a very advanced American university, which specializes in AI, they’ve developed a sophisticated technology. Normally, if we’re watching a YouTube video, related video suggestions appear on the screen. We can choose to click on them.

However, this new technology tracks where your eyes are looking. If you glance at another video for even a few seconds, that video will automatically start playing.
The experiment revealed that people watching videos this way end up spending three, five, or even six hours in front of the screen. It is as if you are being pulled into the next distraction without even having to click anything.

In the same way, technology can provide many temptations, but our mind itself can present distractions as well.
As these distractions grow and grow, we can become completely overwhelmed.

Vishwamitra, after uniting with Menaka, had a daughter named Shakuntala, whose story is quite illustrious. She eventually became the mother of the Bharata dynasty.
But the main point here is that Vishwamitra got distracted. Once he realized this, he turned away from Menaka.

Most pleasures in life promise a lot, but in the end, they often lead to disappointment. They seem to offer endless fulfillment, but they fall short.
Vishwamitra realized this and, feeling regret, sent Menaka away. She, too, confessed to him that she had been sent by Indra to distract him. Vishwamitra felt upset by her actions and cursed her, saying, “You will never be with me again.”

Then, he returned to his austerities.
Now, in our spiritual journeys, we face similar obstacles. Our minds go through binary responses—desire and anger.
Desire arises when we want something, and anger follows when we don’t get what we want.

In Vishwamitra’s case, the first obstacle he faced was desire. Desire distracted him, and the same happens to us. We might say, “I want to study,” but then we find ourselves distracted by our phones or other things.

Then I get distracted, and then they get distracted.
Sometimes, especially in India, when the Cricket World Cup comes, passions run high. I remember in 2000, during a particular World Cup where India performed poorly, something remarkable happened. It was about 10–15 years ago, and a world record was set when around 5000 TV sets were smashed by angry people in just one hour.
People were so upset that India lost the match, they smashed their TV sets. It wasn’t just one or two TVs—it was widespread.

At that time, India was not as affluent as it is now. Due to liberalization and economic growth, some people in India are well-to-do, but back then, it was quite different.
However, the other side of desire is anger. We often get what we think we want, but it’s not truly fulfilling, and this leads to frustration.

Desire is one side of the coin, while anger is the other. So, how did Vishwamitra fall prey to anger? How did he succumb to it, and how did he eventually overcome it?
Then, there’s how he was tempted by pride and tried to disrupt the universal order because of his arrogance—and how he overcame that too. After all this, he attained spiritual perfection. I’ll discuss these topics in tomorrow’s class.

To summarize today’s lesson, I spoke about how to focus on our spiritual journey using the story of Vishwamitra.
In Vedic society, there is a balance of power between the Kshatriyas and the Brahmanas—martial and political power alongside spiritual and intellectual power.
Whenever we hold power, there is a tendency to seek more and more. Kaushika (Vishwamitra) was a powerful king, but he wanted the power that Vasishta had, symbolized by the Kamadhenu cow. His attempt to seize that power backfired, leading to defeat. After trying again and failing, he realized that his Kshatriya might alone couldn’t help him achieve his goal, so he decided to become a Brahmana.

I discussed the concept of Brahmanical curses and blessings—these are performative utterances. Just like a judge can pronounce a sentence, or technology can be activated by certain actions, these utterances lead to actions in subtle ways. Vishwamitra wanted the power that the Brahmanas had, so he began performing austerities.
Austerity means negotiating with reality, giving up present pleasures for something greater in the future. All living beings are driven by impulses, but humans have the unique ability to resist these impulses and aim for something higher. The extent to which we do this is what shapes our humanity.

However, resisting impulses is not the goal in itself. If we resist only to appear self-controlled, it’s counterproductive because we become proud. We must resist impulses to persevere in a higher purpose. Vishwamitra’s original motive was the desire for power.
Indra, feeling insecure about Vishwamitra’s growing strength, sent Menaka to distract him.

To be distracted is to be disempowered. We all desire various forms of power, but our most fundamental power is our consciousness. And in today’s world, our consciousness is pulled in a million different directions.
There are two kinds of distractions: passive distractions, like pathways at an intersection, and active distractions, which allure us.
If we repeatedly indulge in something and become attached to it, our consciousness will naturally flow in that direction, like a river following a broad, downhill path.

Thus, we need to stay focused and purposeful. Vishwamitra, too, got distracted and experienced pleasure, but that pleasure turned out to be an anticlimax.
This is what happens with most pleasures in life—they promise a lot but often deliver very little. We talked earlier about how we all seek pleasure, but what we truly want is meaningful pleasure. Pleasure alone is too trivial to give our lives true purpose.
Nobody would enjoy watching comedies forever. We need the kind of pleasure that comes from doing something meaningful in our lives.

On the spiritual path, desire is often the first distraction we encounter. If we overcome desire, anger often follows, and then pride. I’ll discuss anger and pride in tomorrow’s class.
Any questions or comments?

At what stage did Vishwamitra request King Dasharatha to send Rama?
That happened much later in his life, after he had become a great sage and a devotee. Vishwamitra was performing sacrifices and was inspired by the Lord to seek Rama’s help for an important task.

Thank you. Any other questions?

Regarding the question of whether anger and depression are twins—
They’re not exactly twins, but they are closely related. Depression can be seen as anger directed inward.
Anger directed toward others often leads to aggression, but when directed at oneself, it becomes depression.
Depression often stems from the belief that we are not good enough. We may be in a reasonably good situation, but the mind keeps repeating the thought, “I’m not good enough.”
This thought can apply to many aspects of our lives—relationships, health, appearance, income, and even our spiritual progress.
These thoughts make us feel inadequate, and that is a core cause of depression.

It takes courage to accept our weaknesses, but there is another kind of courage needed—to accept ourselves as we are, even with those weaknesses.
If we don’t accept ourselves, we lose our most fundamental resource: ourselves. Even when seeking shelter in God, it is ultimately we who must take refuge in Him.

Some people are so arrogant that they refuse to accept their weaknesses. I remember a person I counseled who had serious anger issues. When I spoke with them, they said, “I don’t need anger management. Other people just need to stop making me angry.”
This person was outsourcing responsibility for their anger. It’s important to recognize our weaknesses, acknowledge them, and have the courage to improve.
If we don’t accept our flaws, we cannot improve or grow. Depression, in that sense, is often the anger we feel directed toward ourselves.

Why am I like this? Why can’t I do this? Why can’t I do that? Why couldn’t I achieve it? Why did I make that mistake? Why? Why? Why?
The anger directed outward becomes depression when turned inward. Depression is a complex phenomenon, but in broad terms, we don’t see as many people in the past getting depressed as we do now. Why is this happening more today? There are many reasons, but one broad understanding is that we all have unrealistic expectations.
The world around us is structured in such a way that everyone is made to believe they can be controllers, achievers—they are meant to be. However, there are many things that are simply beyond our control.
Failure is something that can happen despite our best efforts. Only our endeavors are in our control, but the results are not. This is the essence of karma, where Krishna says, “Do your duty, but don’t be attached to the results.” What He means is that we don’t solely determine the results.
However, in today’s world, society has removed the understanding that there are higher forces influencing the results. I have an entire talk on the relationship between actions and results, which you could call the “4D formula”:
Duty + Destiny + Duration = Desired Result.
In Sanskrit, we can express this as karma, daiva, and kala leading to phala (result).
These three elements—duty, destiny, and duration—must come together for the desired result.
For example, when a couple gets married and hopes to have a child, their union alone is not enough. Conception must happen, and that’s not in their control—it’s destiny. Similarly, a farmer may plow the field and sow the seeds, but rain is necessary, and that’s also destiny. Even after rain comes, time must pass for the crop to grow—duration is also a key factor in bringing about the result.

What has happened in today’s world is that we often believe, if we do our part, the other factors don’t matter. If I’ve done my duty, I should get the result. When results don’t come, we start thinking something must be intrinsically wrong with us.
Yes, sometimes we go through a rough patch in life. Destiny can be unfavorable, and no matter how much we try, we don’t get the results we expect. We try one thing, and it doesn’t work. We try another, and that fails too. We might think, “My life is doomed.” But that’s not the case.
When we look back at the times we’ve been successful, we’ll realize that many things worked out beyond our own efforts. Of course, we worked hard and did our best, but other factors contributed too.
To the extent we claim credit for our success, we must also accept responsibility for our failures.
If we have a broader understanding of life—that results don’t solely depend on us—we can accept when bad things happen. We can understand that we’re going through a bad phase, and it will pass.
Failure is an event in life, but it doesn’t define who we are. People are not failures; they sometimes meet failure. When we take life’s events too personally, that’s when depression sets in.

Having a broader philosophical understanding can help. When you understand that you’re going through a dark phase, you realize it will pass. But when we’re depressed, we tend to take small events and attribute far too much meaning to them.
For instance, one of my friends is a suicide intervention counselor. He shared a story about a girl who tried to commit suicide after a phone call went unanswered. She called the boy, but he didn’t pick up.
Is not picking up a phone a reason to end your life? She didn’t see it that way. She thought, “He doesn’t care about me, maybe he’s with someone else. Maybe no one will love me. All my friends will have happy relationships, and I’ll be alone, pitied by everyone. Better to die than live such a pitiable life.” And she attempted suicide.
This illustrates what happens when we take one incident and extrapolate far too much from it. Depression grows when we ascribe overwhelming meaning to a small event.

When we keep perspective—recognizing that small things are just that—small things, we can avoid spiraling into depression. Yes, sometimes things go wrong because of factors beyond our control, but we need to understand how important or unimportant certain things really are.
When the mind is in control and intelligence is not, small things can blow up in our minds. One small failure leads to another, and before we know it, we think our whole life is a failure.
But life is not doomed. It’s not the life that’s the problem—it’s the perspective. Understanding the principles of karma and destiny helps us realize that we’re just passing through a phase. It’s a tunnel, not a dungeon. We must keep walking forward, and we will come into the light.

Thank you. Any other questions?

I hope this explanation didn’t add to anyone’s depression.
Do you have any other questions?

Okay. So, thank you very much.

The post The story of Vishvamitra – Obstacles on the spiritual path – Part 1 appeared first on The Spiritual Scientist.

Let us take this wonderful opportunity to come together and listen to Prabhu’s enlightening discourse. Without further ado, let’s welcome him by chanting:

Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna! Krishna Krishna! Hare Hare!
Hare Rama! Hare Rama! Rama Rama! Hare Hare!.

Thank you all for gathering here today. Let us quickly recap what we discussed in our previous session.

Yesterday, we explored the four levels at which scriptural stories can be understood: Literal, Ethical, Allegorical, and Devotional. We also analyzed the positives and negatives of each perspective. It’s important to note that scriptures are not limited to one perspective; they are multi-dimensional.

We approached the Ramayana from the ethical perspective, focusing on the events leading to Sita’s abduction. Two primary themes emerged:

1. Complex Causes of Adversity: Often, multiple factors lead to adverse outcomes. Instead of blaming a single person, it is more constructive to seek solutions while understanding the causes.
2. Managing Tension in Relationships: Lakshman did not internalize Sita’s harsh words spoken in tension. This teaches us not to assign malicious intent to words said during moments of stress.

Moving forward, as Ram and Lakshman rushed back to the hermitage, Ravana, disguised as a sage, approached Sita. Observing her beauty, he initially sought to win her over through deceit, believing that his charm would suffice. However, his ego and uncontrollable desire led him to plan her abduction.

Here we delve into the concept of Kama (desire) and its relationship with Dharma (righteous boundaries):

• Kama and Krodha: Desire becomes destructive when it rages against boundaries, often leading to anger (Krodha) when unfulfilled or obstructed.
• Boundaries: Boundaries—whether physical, social, cultural, or legal—are essential for harmonious living. Dharma, at its core, signifies the principles of harmonious coexistence and belonging to a larger whole.

Even in libertarian societies, there are boundaries, such as consent in relationships, which Ravana blatantly disregarded. His demonic nature rejected these boundaries, leading to his downfall.

In scriptures, explicit descriptions may appear shocking, but they serve specific narrative purposes. For instance:

1. Romantic: Attraction as part of a deeper relationship.
2. Erotic: Sensual aspects are more prominent but still contribute to the storyline.
3. Pornographic: Aimed solely at arousing desire, with no narrative depth—this is absent in scriptures.

The explicit descriptions in scriptures like the Ramayana or Srimad Bhagavatam are part of the storytelling and often highlight the consequences of unchecked desires. For example, in the Mohini Murti pastime from the Bhagavatam’s 8th Canto, the interplay of beauty and desire conveys profound lessons on detachment and devotion.

At that time, there are certain descriptions of Mohini Murthy that are a bit explicit. These descriptions are required to emphasize the dramatic change in the behavior of the demons. Many people are beautiful, but why would the demons—who had fought so long, first collaborated with their enemies, the Devatas, and later fought among themselves for the nectar—suddenly give it up? Her beauty was so captivating that it had a profound impact on them, and the description conveys this intensity.

Similarly, when Hanuman was in Lanka searching for Sita, he peered into various chambers. During this search, there are explicit descriptions of what he observed. The purpose of these descriptions is not to provoke impure thoughts but to highlight Hanuman’s steadfast devotion and purity of mind. Despite being in such situations, Hanuman remained undisturbed, focused entirely on his service to Lord Ram.

In the case of Ravana, when he approaches Sita, his initial goal is to win her over. He first praises her beauty. In many cultures, praising someone’s beauty is a common way to express admiration or interest, though the nature of the praise varies. However, Ravana, consumed by lust, forgets that he is in the guise of a sage. Sita, who has interacted with many sages, finds his behavior shocking and inappropriate.

When Ravana notices Sita’s reaction, he changes tactics. He reveals his true identity and boasts about his wealth and power, claiming he is the King of Lanka and has more wealth than anyone in the universe. He promises Sita comforts and luxuries beyond imagination. However, instead of impressing Sita, his words horrify her. Ravana’s immense ego prevents him from understanding why Sita is not impressed. Being consumed by materialism, he assumes everyone else is motivated by the same desires.

Frustrated, Ravana begins criticizing Lord Ram, claiming that Ram is weak, impoverished, and incapable of protecting Sita. This infuriates Sita, who is disgusted and angered by Ravana’s audacity. Ravana’s criticism of Ram only strengthens Sita’s resolve and devotion. Seeing that his words have no effect, Ravana decides to abduct her forcibly.

This account broadly follows the Valmiki Ramayana. However, there are later embellishments, such as the story of the Lakshman Rekha (Lakshman’s protective line). These embellishments are not found in the original Valmiki Ramayana but have been accepted over time as they align with the spirit of the original text.

The Lakshman Rekha story adds a mystical element to the narrative. Before leaving to search for Ram, Lakshman draws a protective circle around the hermitage, instructing Sita not to step outside it under any circumstances. When Ravana, disguised as a sage, arrives, he cannot cross the protective barrier. Sita, following her values of hospitality, offers to serve him food but asks him to wait until Ram or Lakshman returns. Ravana manipulates the situation, exploiting Sita’s virtuous nature. He insists he is hungry and demands food immediately. Unable to step outside the circle to hand him the food, Sita eventually crosses the boundary to fulfill her duty, inadvertently allowing Ravana to seize her.

The Lakshman Rekha story serves as an embellishment that enhances the narrative without contradicting the original. It illustrates Sita’s virtue and the cunning manipulation of Ravana. Similarly, stories like Shabari offering berries to Ram, although not found in the Valmiki Ramayana, are widely accepted because they align with the devotional essence of the epics.

As we discussed yesterday, Shurpanakha exploited Ravana’s lustfulness to set events in motion. However, the nature of the world is such that even virtues can be exploited. While vices like greed or anger make us vulnerable, even positive traits such as a tendency to do good can be manipulated by others. For example, a charitable person who is always willing to help may become a target for exploitation. Instead of working to improve their own situation, someone might repeatedly depend on this charitable person, potentially leading to their exhaustion or even financial ruin.

In this story, Ravana exploits Sita’s virtuous service attitude and respect for sages. Disguised as a mendicant, Ravana approaches Sita and demands food, insisting, “I am very hungry. Please give me food immediately.” When Sita requests him to wait for her husband and brother-in-law to return, Ravana pressures her further, saying, “Have you not heard of the anger of sages? If you offend a sage, you and your entire family will be cursed.”

Already burdened with anxiety over Ram and guilt for sending him into the forest in pursuit of the golden deer, Sita feels deeply unsettled. She begins to think, I don’t want to cause further trouble for Ram or my family. Overwhelmed by fear and confusion, she steps out of the Lakshman Rekha—the protective line drawn by Lakshman—and unknowingly exposes herself to Ravana’s treachery.

The moment Sita crosses the boundary, Ravana reveals his true form and intentions. Her reluctance to go with him enrages him, and he forcibly abducts her. This betrayal of Sita’s virtue is especially painful because it highlights a deep truth about the world: the possibility that our good qualities may be exploited.

In life, we encounter different kinds of suffering. There is adversity, such as losing money in a stock market crash or a job during a pandemic. This kind of suffering arises from natural or circumstantial events. Then, there is atrocity, which involves a human agent actively trying to harm us. The pain of atrocity is often greater because it is targeted and deliberate.

Now, imagine doing good for someone—helping them, trusting them, elevating them—and in return, being betrayed by them. This type of suffering is the most damaging because it not only shatters our trust in that individual but can also shake our faith in human nature itself.

Sita’s situation illustrates this point painfully. Her respect for sages and her service attitude—virtues that should be cherished—are exploited by Ravana for his malicious purposes. This serves as a reminder that virtues, like vices, require boundaries. Without discernment, even the best of intentions can lead to harm.

In relationships, we must strike a balance between trust and caution. Too much trust makes us naive, leaving us vulnerable to exploitation. Too little trust makes us cynical, closing our hearts to love, trust, and meaningful relationships. To find this balance, we must combine good intentions with good intelligence.

For example, during a pandemic, our desire to help others must be accompanied by caution. If we offer help without taking proper precautions, such as wearing a mask, we risk harming ourselves and potentially others. Similarly, in spiritual communities, the desire to serve is important, but we must also recognize our human limitations. Overcommitting to everyone’s requests can leave us overwhelmed and feeling abandoned when we need help ourselves. Saying “no” when necessary is not a lack of service—it is an understanding of priorities and boundaries.

Boundaries are essential not only for controlling vices but also for protecting virtues. In Sita’s case, her virtue of serving sages is what Ravana manipulates to gain access to her. Once she realizes Ravana’s true identity, she tries to escape, but his strength and speed overpower her. Ravana drags her to his chariot and abducts her.

At this point, Ravana has not brought his Pushpaka Vimana (his magical aerial vehicle) but instead uses a regular chariot to remain discreet. As the chariot races away, a chilling silence falls over the forest, as if all of nature is horrified by the calamity. Yet, Ravana’s terrifying power ensures no one dares to intervene.

While fleeing with Sita, Ravana encounters someone who attempts to stop him: the mighty vulture Jatayu.

Sita sees Jatayu resting atop a tree. Despite being in distress, her Kshatriya upbringing allows her to quickly assess the situation. She realizes that Jatayu, though valiant, is no match for Ravana. Still, desperate for help, she calls out, “Oh Jatayu, please help me! But don’t fight him—just inform Ram that I have been abducted.”

Jatayu hears her plea and notices Ravana’s chariot racing away. Despite Sita’s warning, Jatayu cannot simply stand by. Though he is old, his fierce Kshatriya spirit and his bond of friendship with Dasharatha compel him to act. To Jatayu, Sita is like a daughter, and the thought of her being abducted fills him with righteous fury. He knows he might not succeed, but he cannot bear the thought of living with the guilt of inaction.

Jatayu takes flight and approaches Ravana, determined to stop him. As he nears, Jatayu chastises Ravana, trying to provoke his Kshatriya pride. “You call yourself a hero, Ravana? What kind of coward abducts a defenseless woman? If you want Sita, challenge Ram! Fight him and prove your strength!”

Ravana, however, is consumed by lust and dismisses Jatayu’s words as mere noise. He is confident in his victory and sees no reason to engage. But Jatayu’s sense of duty propels him forward—he decides he must fight. His position as a protector of dharma and his disposition as a fierce bird of prey leave him no other choice.

With unwavering determination, Jatayu launches his attack. Initially, Ravana underestimates him, dismissing him as a pesky bird. But Jatayu fights with ferocity born of love and righteousness, tearing at Ravana’s hair and humiliating him. Ravana realizes too late that Jatayu is far more formidable than he had assumed.

The battle intensifies. Jatayu even destroys Ravana’s chariot, forcing him to the ground. This is a significant feat, as it disrupts Ravana’s escape. However, this victory inadvertently leads to Jatayu’s downfall. Fighting in the air had allowed Jatayu to swoop and retreat, but now, battling Ravana on the ground, he must repeatedly descend and ascend, which begins to exhaust him.

Ravana, observing this, decides to fight dirty. He dodges Jatayu’s attacks, forcing the aging bird to expend more energy each time he swoops down. Gradually, Jatayu’s movements slow. Finally, in a critical moment, as Jatayu charges forward, Ravana sidesteps and slashes one of Jatayu’s wings. Jatayu trembles, trying to fight on, but Ravana strikes again, severing the other wing. Jatayu collapses to the ground, bleeding and powerless.

Ravana, seeing Jatayu incapacitated, doesn’t bother to kill him. He sneers, leaving the noble bird to die slowly, and resumes his flight with Sita. Despite her efforts to escape, Ravana drags her back into his grasp.

Jatayu lies on the ground, gravely wounded. To some, his fight may seem in vain—after all, he couldn’t stop Ravana. But Jatayu’s sacrifice is not meaningless. His actions carry profound significance in three ways:

1. A Moral Victory: Jatayu upheld dharma to the very end. Even knowing the odds were against him, he fought to protect what was right. His actions serve as a timeless example of selfless courage and duty.
2. Critical Information: Jatayu, though gravely injured, survives long enough to convey the vital information about Sita’s abduction to Ram and Lakshman. This becomes a turning point in Ram’s journey to rescue Sita.
3. Divine Recognition: Jatayu’s sacrifice earns him eternal glory. Later, when Ram finds Jatayu, he personally performs the last rites for him, granting him liberation (moksha). This extraordinary act demonstrates the Lord’s appreciation for Jatayu’s devotion and valor.

Jatayu’s story reminds us that success is not always measured by immediate results. Sometimes, the true victory lies in the courage to stand up for what is right, even in the face of overwhelming odds. While setbacks and losses are inevitable in this world, the spirit of sacrifice and devotion leaves an indelible mark—both in the hearts of those who witness it and in the eternal service of the Divine.

In Vedic times, rituals like yajnas were common. While today we often associate yajnas with religion, back then they were more akin to technology. Through yajnas, individuals could access extraordinary powers, regardless of their moral standing. Even demons performed yajnas to gain strength. For example, when Ravana fought his battles, he had his own priests, known as Yatudhanas, performing yajnas to secure his victories.

Yajnas, like modern technology, were neutral tools. Their value depended on the user’s intent. Just as technology can be used by the military to protect people or by terrorists to harm them, yajnas could serve both righteous and unrighteous purposes. That’s why Krishna, in the Bhagavad Gita, explains that yajna, dana (charity), and tapa (austerity) exist in three modes: sattvic (goodness), rajasic (passion), and tamasic (ignorance).

Interestingly, Ravana consulted an astrologer before abducting Sita—a heinous and utterly inauspicious act. He wanted to know the best muhurat (auspicious time) for such a deed. However, there is no “right time” for committing something so wrong. The delay caused by Jatayu’s fight with Ravana disrupted Ravana’s timeline. Later, when Jatayu confronts Ravana, he recalls astrological principles and states, “Anything lost during this time will eventually be regained.” Thus, Jatayu’s sacrifice played a significant role in Sita’s eventual rescue.

Jatayu’s Three Successes

1. Astrological Delay: Jatayu’s brave resistance delayed Ravana’s flight, ensuring that the astrological window favored Sita’s return to Ram.
2. Fulfilling His Duty: Despite being gravely wounded, Jatayu remembered Sita’s plea to inform Ram about her abduction. He held onto life long enough to fulfill this duty, demonstrating that even if he couldn’t prevent Sita’s abduction, he could still complete the task she entrusted to him.
3. A Glorious Departure: Jatayu’s death was not ordinary. He departed in the lap of Lord Ram, who personally performed his last rites. Ram even honored Jatayu as a father figure, a distinction greater than Dasharath Maharaj, whose last rites Ram could not perform due to his exile. To die in the presence of the Lord, embraced by Him and receiving His gratitude, is the ultimate blessing.

Thus, while Jatayu may seem to have failed in stopping Ravana, his sacrifice had profound and lasting significance. He delayed Ravana’s plans, relayed crucial information to Ram, and achieved an auspicious departure that few could dream of.

Ram and Lakshman’s Search for Sita

After Jatayu’s passing, Ram and Lakshman continue their search for Sita. They reach the clearing where Sita was taken but find no sign of her. As they search, they notice subtle signs of a scuffle but no definitive clues about her fate. Ram’s anxiety grows, and it soon transforms into anger. Consumed by his emotions, Ram threatens to destroy the universe if the gods, nature, or celestial beings do not reveal Sita’s location. His rage is so intense that the entire universe trembles.

This scene highlights a striking role reversal. Typically, Lakshman is the one known for his fiery temper, while Ram remains calm and composed. For instance, Lakshman grows angry when Ram is exiled, when Bharat arrives with his army, and in other instances where Ram has to calm him down. However, in this moment, it is Lakshman who plays the role of the peacemaker.

Lakshman consoles Ram, saying, “Oh my brother, I understand your pain. But I will speak the words I have heard from you before. If we give in to anger during distress, what example will we set for the world? How will people learn to handle difficulties without resorting to destruction? Let us first do everything we can to find Sita. If we fail, then you may unleash your fury. But first, let us fulfill our duty.”

Ram, despite being God incarnate, humbly accepts Lakshman’s advice. This shows his role as an ideal being, one who is willing to take good counsel, even from someone younger. It is easier to accept instruction from elders or sages, but taking advice from juniors requires true humility. Ram’s anger was justified, given the circumstances, but even when anger is justified, it is not always right to act on it.

In contrast, Ravana’s behavior later demonstrates the destructive consequences of arrogance. When Vibhishan offers him good advice, Ravana rejects and humiliates him. Ram’s humility stands in stark contrast, showing the importance of controlling one’s emotions and being open to guidance.

A Lesson in Humility and Control

Even when we have a right to be angry, acting out of anger can often make things worse. Ram’s ability to calm himself and accept Lakshman’s words highlights the deep humility required to navigate distress without causing destruction. This incident teaches us the value of self-control, especially in moments of great pain and provocation.

This quality of Ram serves as an example for all of us. Whether the advice comes from elders, peers, or juniors, what matters is its validity, not the source. True greatness lies in setting aside ego and embracing wisdom, even when it challenges us.

During a fire sacrifice, Prabhupada noticed that several arrangements were not done properly. Flowers, fruits, and ghee were missing, and he began chastising the devotees. At that moment, a hippie who had come to watch the ceremony approached Prabhupada and said, “Swamiji, don’t get angry. Just chant Hare Krishna.”

Initially, Prabhupada glared at him in anger, but then he paused, picked up his bead bag, and began chanting. Without saying another word, Prabhupada walked away from the scene. This incident illustrates that even Prabhupada’s anger was transcendental—it stemmed from his concern that Krishna’s service should be performed properly. However, it also shows his ability to calm himself and accept a lesson, even from someone seemingly insignificant.

This ability to take good advice—even from juniors or unexpected sources—demonstrates true character and humility. Similarly, we see this principle in the Ramayana, where Jatayu, Ram, Lakshman, and even Sita each did what they could within their capacity.

Jatayu’s Role in the Ramayana

Jatayu fought bravely to stop Ravana from abducting Sita. Although he was defeated and mortally wounded, he delayed Ravana long enough to disrupt his plans and provided vital information to Ram about Sita’s abduction. Jatayu’s sacrifice highlights that even in apparent failure, there can be success when one does their best under difficult circumstances.

Sita’s Resourcefulness

Sita, despite being in a dire situation, displayed remarkable composure and resourcefulness. As Ravana was abducting her, she realized that screaming for help was futile—her throat was hoarse, and there was no one nearby to rescue her. However, as they passed through the Madana Parvat region, she noticed beings who appeared to be half-human, half-monkey. These were Sugriva, Hanuman, and their Vanara companions.

Sita, using her presence of mind, ripped a piece of her cloth, tied her jewelry in it, and dropped it where the Vanaras could see. This was done in mere moments, as Ravana did not slow down for her. Her quick thinking provided Ram with a crucial clue later, proving that she was alive and leaving a trail for him to follow. When Ram received her jewelry, he was deeply moved, understanding her resilience and hope.

Sita’s actions teach us an important lesson: even when circumstances seem overwhelmingly out of our control, we should focus on what is within our power. Instead of panicking or lamenting over what couldn’t be done, Sita utilized the limited resources available to her to ensure Ram could find her.

Resourcefulness: A Key Virtue

The Sanskrit word Dakshyam signifies expertise or resourcefulness. While resourcefulness literally means being full of resources, its true essence lies in making the most of whatever is available. Even when we have very little in our control, we can choose to focus on what we can do, rather than fixating on what we cannot.

For instance, when life throws us into unexpected and uncontrollable situations, our natural tendency might be to panic or get angry. But instead of succumbing to frustration, we should ask ourselves, “What can I do in this situation?” This attitude enables us to act decisively and make the best of challenging circumstances.

Prabhupada’s Resourcefulness in Adversity

When Srila Prabhupada first came to America, he faced tremendous challenges. After arriving in New York, he stayed briefly with David Allen, a hippie who seemed receptive to Krishna consciousness. Prabhupada even wrote to his Indian sponsor, Sumati Morarji, saying that David might become the first American Vaishnava to take initiation.

However, David eventually relapsed into drugs and, in a crazed state, attacked Prabhupada. Alone and vulnerable, Prabhupada fled down three long flights of stairs into the dangerous streets of the Lower East Side. This area was notorious for crime, drug abuse, and homelessness. Prabhupada found himself homeless, surrounded by unconscious or stoned hippies lying on the streets. The atmosphere was grim, with crows circling above and gun violence rampant.

For a moment, Prabhupada must have wondered whether his efforts were futile. The person he had hoped would become a devotee had turned against him. Prabhupada had come to America on a two-month visa, which he extended multiple times, and he had an open invitation to return to India on the same cargo ship he had arrived on. It would have been understandable if he had chosen to leave, given the hardships he faced.

But Prabhupada’s resolve and resourcefulness shone through. Despite feeling discouraged, he stayed in America and persevered. He adapted to his circumstances, engaging with the people he met, no matter how challenging they were. From those seemingly hopeless beginnings, the Krishna consciousness movement began to grow, eventually spreading worldwide.

Lessons for Life

Whether it’s Sita’s quick thinking, Jatayu’s sacrifice, or Prabhupada’s perseverance, these stories teach us the importance of doing our best with what we have. Life may place us in situations where we feel powerless, but there is always something within our control. By focusing on what we can do, we can rise above adversity and make a meaningful impact.

When David attacked Prabhupada in a drug-induced frenzy, Prabhupada quickly left the building and went to a nearby phone booth—there were no mobile phones back then. He called one of the people who regularly attended his programs. This individual wasn’t particularly serious about Krishna consciousness, as no one at that time had shown significant commitment.

Prabhupada explained what had happened. Initially, the person was skeptical, saying, “David? He’s not a dangerous person.” But Prabhupada insisted, “He’s mad with drugs. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Hearing this, the individual offered to return to the apartment with Prabhupada. However, Prabhupada said, “I cannot stay there.”

They arranged for Prabhupada to stay temporarily at someone’s house, and later they found a new location for him—a small storefront on 26 Second Avenue. This place would become the foundation of the Krishna consciousness movement in the West. It was here that Prabhupada began attracting serious followers and where his efforts started bearing fruit.

At that time, Prabhupada had no followers, no permanent residence, and seemingly no prospects for expanding his outreach. Yet, he didn’t give up. Being resourceful means not lamenting over what we lack. It’s the opposite of being resentful. Resentment focuses on what we don’t have and leads to anger: “Why don’t I have this? Why was this taken from me?” But resourcefulness focuses on what we do have and asks, “What can I do with what I have?”

Despite the severe setbacks, Prabhupada used the limited resources available to him and pressed on. This spirit of resourcefulness is an essential lesson, not just from Prabhupada’s life but also from the Ramayana, especially during the traumatic events surrounding Sita’s abduction.

Lessons from Sita’s Abduction

Sita’s abduction was a terrible and tragic event. Yet, every character involved—Ram, Lakshman, Jatayu, and even Sita herself—responded with remarkable resilience and resourcefulness. While the situation was undoubtedly painful, it ultimately led to the great victory of good over evil and the liberation of the universe from Ravana’s tyranny.

What’s notable is that there was no miraculous intervention during Sita’s abduction. Instead, the story teaches us how to navigate tragedy by making the best of a bad situation. Each character did their part, and through their collective efforts, something extraordinary emerged.

Key Lessons Discussed

We explored four key points today:

1. Virtue and Boundaries
   • Ravana exploited Sita’s virtue—her hospitality and compassion for a guest—to kidnap her. This highlights the need for balance. Too much of even a good quality, without proper boundaries, can lead to harm.
   • We discussed avoiding two extremes: naïveté and cynicism. Instead, we should aim to be caring yet careful, extending trust in small steps rather than blindly or distrustfully.
2. Jatayu’s Martyrdom
   • Jatayu fought valiantly against Ravana, sacrificing his life in the process. Although his efforts seemed futile, they were not in vain. His actions delayed Ravana, provided Ram with vital information, and enabled him to depart this world gloriously.
   • This reminds us that success doesn’t always come in the forms we expect. Even apparent failures can carry profound significance.
3. Ram’s Anger
   • Lord Ram’s response to Sita’s abduction shows that even the noblest individuals can feel overwhelmed by painful situations. His initial anger toward Lakshman reveals that even righteous anger can lead to improper reactions.
   • However, Ram’s willingness to accept counsel—even from juniors like Lakshman—demonstrates humility and gracefulness. It shows the value of seeking and accepting guidance, regardless of the source.
4. Sita’s Resourcefulness
   • Sita’s actions during her abduction were a testament to her composure and resourcefulness. Instead of panicking, she thought quickly and dropped her jewelry wrapped in her cloth as a clue for Ram to find her.
   • This teaches us the importance of doing what we can, even in seemingly helpless situations. Resourcefulness is the antidote to resentment.

Resourcefulness vs. Resentment

When adversity strikes, our mindset determines how we respond. A resentful attitude focuses on what we lack, leading to frustration and despair: “Why is this happening to me? Why isn’t God intervening?” A resourceful attitude, on the other hand, asks, “What can I do in this situation? How can I serve God even now?”

For instance, Prabhupada could have asked, “Where is Krishna when David is attacking me? Does Krishna care?” Instead, his focus remained, “Am I there for Krishna? What does Krishna want me to do in this situation?” This shift in perspective enables us to turn even the most difficult situations into opportunities for growth and service.

Conclusion

Adversity is inevitable in life. But through the examples of Sita, Jatayu, Ram, and Prabhupada, we see how resourcefulness, humility, and unwavering faith can transform tragedies into triumphs. By focusing on what we can do and asking, “Am I there for God?” we allow ourselves to become instruments of the divine, capable of extraordinary achievements.

Thank you very much. Hare Krishna.

Q&A

Question: You mentioned anger and how it can overwhelm us. But sometimes, isn’t anger necessary, especially in situations of survival or self-defense?

Answer: That’s a very important question. When faced with mistreatment or injustice, there are two extremes to avoid.

1. Aggressiveness: This is often driven by rajoguna (passion) and involves retaliating impulsively—“You did this to me, so I’ll do this to you.”
2. Passiveness: This is often driven by tamoguna (ignorance) and involves complete inaction—“What can I do? This person is too powerful. I just have to endure it.”

Both extremes are unbalanced. True strength lies in responding with sattvaguna (goodness)—acting with wisdom and composure.

For example, when Lord Ram was exiled, Lakshman suggested leading a rebellion against Dasharath. He was even prepared to shoot arrows at anyone who stopped him. But Ram, in his calm wisdom, told him, “If you shoot arrows at Dasharath, those arrows will have to go through me.” Ram chose to honor his father’s word, demonstrating that not all battles need to be fought with aggression.

This doesn’t mean we should passively accept abuse. We need to assess each situation wisely. Sometimes, taking a firm stand is necessary, but it should be done thoughtfully, not impulsively.

Since this is destiny, it should be accepted.
When Lord Ram was exiled to the forest, he accepted it as destiny. It’s a long and elaborate incident, but essentially, he saw it as a service to his father and a part of his duty. However, when Sita was abducted, he did not accept it as mere destiny.

How do we respond when bad things happen?
When adversity, tragedy, or an atrocity strikes, the focus should not be on assigning blame or trying to figure out whose karma caused it. Nobody told Sita that it must have been her karma that led to her abduction, and nobody told Draupadi that her suffering was solely her karma. Instead, the focus in such situations should be: What is my dharma in this moment? What is the right thing for me to do now to fix the situation or act constructively?

For Lord Ram, his dharma while being exiled was to serve his father. As an obedient son, he was ready to ascend the throne if his father wanted him to, and equally ready to go to the forest when instructed to. His focus wasn’t simply, “This is all karma; I must accept it.” Rather, he acted according to dharma.

Similarly, when Sita was abducted, Lord Ram pursued her relentlessly. He fought Ravana and did whatever was necessary to bring her back because that was his dharma.

This teaches us that while understanding karma can make us tolerant, tolerance does not mean passivity. Tolerance doesn’t mean we just accept everything that happens and do nothing. Tolerance means we don’t react impulsively or aggressively but act with a sense of duty and purpose.

For instance, if we fall sick due to past karma, our dharma is to take care of our body by seeking treatment. Accepting karma doesn’t mean we don’t address the problem. Similarly, in difficult situations, we shouldn’t be aggressive or passive. Instead, we should be assertive—focused on our dharma, playing our role effectively.

If someone says everything is karma and we should tolerate it, consider this: Imagine someone giving a spiritual discourse, and a baby starts crying loudly. The speaker might ask the mother to take the baby out so the audience can focus on the talk. Does that mean the speaker is not tolerating karma? No. The dharma in that situation is to ensure the class is heard, and the obstacle is dealt with gracefully—without aggression toward the mother or passivity in letting the disturbance continue.

Assertiveness means handling situations constructively. It is about responding with clarity and purpose. Anger, for instance, is a natural emotion, and sometimes we have a right to feel angry. But how we express that anger or act on it makes all the difference. Lakshman told Lord Ram to channel his anger into searching for Sita and confronting Ravana rather than venting it aimlessly.

Anger as a Messenger, Not a Master
As one of the devotees mentioned, emotions like anger are like pain—they serve as messengers providing valuable information. Just as pain warns us of a problem in the body, anger signals that something important to us is wrong. For example, if we see a bully harassing a smaller child, we feel anger because we care about justice and fairness.

However, emotions should be messengers, not masters. When they become masters, they dictate our actions, often leading to destructive outcomes. Anger, when allowed to control us, can harm not only others but also ourselves. Instead, we need to process the emotion:

1. Listen to the message it conveys (e.g., something is wrong).
2. Deliberate on how to act using intelligence and patience.
3. Respond constructively, not impulsively.

Repressing emotions—ignoring their message—is unhealthy. But blindly acting on emotions is equally unhealthy. Between repression and expression lies processing: understanding the emotion, acknowledging its message, and responding thoughtfully.

Conclusion
In summary, whether it’s anger, fear, or any other strong emotion, it is a natural part of being human. The key is to neither suppress nor blindly act on emotions but to process them and act according to dharma. Lord Ram exemplifies this balance—he remained assertive, purposeful, and dharma-focused in every situation.

Thank you all for your time and attention. Hare Krishna.

The post Life Lessons from the Ramayana – Part 2 by HG Chaitanya Charan Das appeared first on The Spiritual Scientist.

Today, we will address a common challenge we all face in life: what to do when things go wrong. We plan for one outcome, but something completely different happens. Sometimes things go slightly wrong; other times, they go severely or even catastrophically wrong. And often, our reactions to these situations can make things even worse.

To explore this, we’ll look at a traumatic incident in the Ramayana and analyze how the characters involved responded. The session will have three parts:

1. Four Approaches to Understanding Sacred Texts – We’ll explore how to interpret stories from the Ramayana, Mahabharata, and Bhagavatam.
2. The Incident Analysis – We’ll discuss the specific event, the underlying psychology, and the thought processes of the characters involved.
3. Virtue and Aversion to Fault-Finding – Inspired by Bhagavad Gita 16.2, we’ll explore how to avoid blame and focus on resolving the situation.

Today, we’ll cover the story up to the point where Sita is abducted. Tomorrow morning, we’ll discuss what Rama, Lakshmana, Jatayu, and Sita herself did afterward. We’ll see how each contributed, in their own way, to resolving the crisis.

Understanding Sacred Texts: Four Levels of Approach

When we hear stories from sacred texts, we often enjoy their novelty, adventure, and moral lessons. These stories are woven with drama, action, romance, betrayal, and intrigue. Many of us might have grown up hearing these tales from the Ramayana or Mahabharata or encountered them through movies, TV shows, or as part of our journey into Bhakti.

The richness of these stories allows us to approach them at different levels. I use the acronym LEAD to explain these levels:

1. Literal
2. Ethical
3. Allegorical
4. Devotional

Each level offers unique insights, but each also has its limitations. Think of these approaches as different perspectives—just like when buying a house, we examine it from various angles to get the full picture.

1. Literal Level

The literal level involves understanding the story as it is—what happened, where, and to whom.

Positive Aspects:

• Entertainment: These stories are not only engaging but also filled with pious values.
• Appeal to All Ages: They serve as enjoyable tales for children and often convey good moral lessons.

Limitations:

• Repetition and Boredom: Knowing the story beforehand might reduce interest.
• Superficial Understanding: Intelligent or analytical individuals may dismiss them as unsophisticated or overly miraculous.

For example, when I first heard these stories, I sometimes felt intellectually underwhelmed. It was only later, as I studied the works of great Acharyas like Vishvanath Chakravarti Thakur, Baladeva Vidyabhushana, and Bhaktivinoda Thakur, that I saw the depth in these stories.

2. Ethical Level

At this level, we analyze the actions of characters to extract moral lessons and guidance for decision-making.

Examples:

• Kaikeyi’s downfall illustrates the danger of listening to biased advice, as seen when Manthara poisoned her mind.
• Rama’s obedience to his father serves as an example of filial duty.
• Lakshmana’s devotion to Rama demonstrates the importance of loyalty to one’s elders.

Even Srila Prabhupada emphasizes ethical principles in his purports. For instance, in the first chapter of the Bhagavad Gita, he praises Arjuna’s thoughtfulness, which qualifies him to receive Krishna’s teachings.

Limitations:

• Judgmental Views: We might unfairly criticize sacred characters for perceived flaws (e.g., questioning Yudhishthira’s decision to gamble).
• Focus Shift: Ethical analysis might shift our focus from learning lessons to judging who was right or wrong.

To avoid this, our focus should remain on what is right, not who is right. These are sacred personalities, and we must respect them.

3. Allegorical Level

At the allegorical level, we interpret the deeper symbolic meanings behind stories.

Examples:

• Bhaktivinoda Thakur explains how demons in Krishna’s pastimes represent various anarthas (inner impurities). For instance, Putana represents a false Guru.
• Similarly, Madhvacharya and other Acharyas provide allegorical insights into the Ramayana and Mahabharata.

This approach enriches our understanding by revealing the stories’ spiritual significance.

4. Devotional Level

Finally, the devotional level focuses on the characters’ relationships with the Supreme Lord and the transcendental emotions involved.

This level inspires Bhakti by showing how sacred personalities demonstrate devotion in their actions, thoughts, and lives. At this level, we see how their stories are not just lessons but reflections of their love for the Lord.

Each level of interpretation has its place and purpose. When we combine these perspectives, we can fully appreciate the depth of sacred texts and apply their wisdom in our lives.

Tomorrow, we will continue exploring the responses of Rama, Lakshmana, Jatayu, and Sita to Sita’s abduction and learn how their actions exemplify the ideal balance of Dharma and emotional intelligence.

Thank you for your attention, and I look forward to continuing this discussion.

At the same time, these sacred characters exist in the material world, which is inherently a messy and unpredictable place. As a result, they may sometimes make decisions that seem flawed or questionable. We will explore the reasons for these decisions from different perspectives later. However, our primary focus should not be on judging these characters or placing ourselves in a superior position—thinking, “This character was foolish” or “This character was short-sighted.” Instead, we should focus on what we can learn from their experiences. The emphasis should be on understanding what is right rather than who is right.

This is why Śrīla Prabhupāda, in the first chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā, highlights Arjuna’s thoughtfulness and deliberate reflection, encouraging us to be thoughtful like Arjuna. However, in the second chapter, the focus shifts. While being thoughtful is important, without a foundation of knowledge, thoughtfulness alone cannot guide us effectively. Thoughtfulness needs to be anchored in spiritual knowledge to be meaningful and transformative.

Prabhupāda often employs this dual perspective. For instance, in the sixth canto of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, during the pastime where Maharaj Citraketu laughs at Lord Śiva’s unusual behavior and is subsequently cursed by Pārvatī, Prabhupāda offers nuanced lessons. When Citraketu laughs, Prabhupāda remarks that great sages present in the assembly refrained from laughing—highlighting the importance of not passing judgment or acting disrespectfully toward great souls, especially when we do not fully understand their actions. However, when Pārvatī curses Citraketu, and Citraketu responds with composure and devotion, Prabhupāda emphasizes that Pārvatī could have considered the restraint shown by the sages and Lord Śiva himself before rushing to judgment. From this, we learn two key lessons:

1. Avoid being quick to judge or mock others, especially when their actions appear questionable.
2. If someone does act disrespectfully, those in positions of power should avoid immediate punishment and instead seek to understand the situation more deeply.

The focus, therefore, remains on discerning what is right rather than assigning blame or determining who is right.

Moving on to the third approach: the allegorical level. This level appeals to those with an analytical and intellectual inclination, as it explores the symbolism in the sacred texts and the universal themes they represent. For instance, rather than focusing solely on who Rāvaṇa is, we consider what Rāvaṇa represents. While Rāvaṇa is historically a demon from a particular time, he also symbolizes uncontrolled lust—a destructive force when it disregards dharma.

Similarly, in the story of Devakī’s six slain children, the six children are said to represent the six anarthas (lust, anger, greed, envy, pride, and illusion). Devakī’s womb symbolizes the heart, and once these anarthas are removed, the spiritual master (symbolized by Balarāma) and the Supreme Lord (symbolized by Kṛṣṇa) manifest fully in the heart, enabling spiritual transformation.

This allegorical approach can enrich our understanding of these pastimes, providing deeper insights. However, it also carries risks, especially when taken to an extreme. Excessive reliance on allegory can lead to deconstruction, where the stories are stripped of their historical and literal significance. For example, some commentators have interpreted Kurukṣetra symbolically as the human body, with the Pāṇḍavas representing virtues and the Kauravas representing vices. While such interpretations can offer additional meaning, Prabhupāda cautions against reducing these sacred texts to mere symbolism, insisting on recognizing their historical reality as well. The symbolism should complement the literal understanding, not replace it.

Finally, at the devotional (or transcendental) level, the stories are viewed as divine pastimes (leelas), where everything that happens is understood as the Lord’s arrangement. This perspective emphasizes the glory of the Lord and His devotees, as well as the Lord’s reciprocation with His devotees. For example, Prabhupāda explains that Arjuna’s initial confusion in the Bhagavad Gītā was orchestrated by Kṛṣṇa to set the stage for sharing this profound spiritual wisdom with the world.

While this perspective fosters deep devotional absorption, it can sometimes feel ethically or intellectually unsatisfactory. If everything is attributed to the Lord’s arrangement, it may seem to negate human free will or the need for deliberate action and decision-making. For instance, if a plane crashes, one could superficially claim that gravity caused it. While gravity is undeniably a factor, the real question lies in identifying why the mechanisms of the plane malfunctioned. Similarly, while acknowledging that everything is ultimately Kṛṣṇa’s arrangement, we must also consider the human choices and circumstances that play a role in these events.

Thus, the devotional approach should inspire reverence and absorption in the Lord while still leaving room for thoughtful ethical and intellectual deliberation. By integrating these four approaches—literal, ethical, allegorical, and devotional—we can gain a more holistic and enriching understanding of sacred texts and the lessons they offer.

Especially for someone who is approaching these stories and has not yet accepted the supremacy of Krishna—or, more specifically, Krishna’s benevolence—this can be challenging. Krishna is described as suhridam sarva bhutānām—the well-wisher of everyone. For such a person, they might think, “The way you’re looking at these stories neglects the moral aspects.” So, the devotional approach is especially valuable for experiencing a transcendental level of understanding.

Different approaches to these stories can be used. Which approach is appropriate depends on the individual. For children, a literal approach works well. This is also true for people who are not very analytical or those who seek thrill and entertainment—someone who can be a good storyteller would resonate with them. For people who are more analytical, the ethical and allegorical approaches are more fitting. These analyses can come from various perspectives, often focusing on learning life lessons or values.

As Bhaktivinoda Thakur explains, the literal approach is suitable for the kanishtha devotees—the first level of devotees. They take everything literally and focus primarily on worshiping the deities in temples without associating much with other devotees. At this stage, their focus is on the literal meaning. The madhyama level devotees, who are a bit more analytical, can delve into the non-literal or symbolic meanings of these stories.

In the course of these teachings, Bhaktivinoda Thakur recognizes that analytical individuals may sometimes dismiss the kanishthas, seeing their focus on literal meanings as primitive or naïve. But he encourages respect for their level of devotion and acknowledges that being analytical and thoughtful is important. However, he also highlights that the devotional level, which encompasses the experience of rasa (spiritual bliss), is the highest. At this level, the stories transport us into a deeper reality, allowing us to experience Krishna’s love and intimacy in a profound way.

For pure devotees or those aspiring to be, the devotional approach is the most enriching. For example, during Janmashtami, devotees may focus deeply on the appearance of Krishna and relish the details of that moment, immersing themselves in the story again and again. This kind of love for Krishna allows us to experience ever-new realizations, as Krishna is eternal and expansive.

Now, in our discussion here, we will focus on the ethical level. We will explore how to deal with challenges and mistakes in life. While the devotional perspective is important, we will focus more on the ethical side, analyzing how we handle difficult situations. If someone suffers because of a mistake, it wouldn’t be helpful to simply say, “It’s Krishna’s arrangement.” That could sound dismissive or even offensive, especially when someone is genuinely suffering due to our actions.

In such cases, rationalizing with phrases like “It’s Krishna’s arrangement” can be harmful. While philosophy can help us understand certain aspects of life, it should not be used to justify our wrongdoings. Sometimes, we may try to justify poor actions with seemingly rational explanations, but this only leads to more confusion.

Let’s now explore the story of the Ramayana, particularly the sequence that leads to the abduction of Sita. When the exile began, there was heartbreak for everyone except Kaikeyi. Ram, Sita, and Lakshman went to the forest, initially staying in Chitrakoot. This period brought them closer together, as they had more time for each other in a peaceful environment. But eventually, they moved southward to explore more of the forest and meet with sages.

This is when the traumatic events occurred that led to Sita’s abduction. It’s important to analyze where the causal link begins. Some might say it was Kaikeyi’s plot that set everything in motion, but how far back can we trace the origin? It could be said that if Ram and Sita had stayed in Chitrakoot, nothing would have happened. But the chain of events continued, and soon they encountered Shurpanakha, who was wandering the forest.

Shurpanakha, after smelling human flesh, followed the scent and saw Ram. At first, she was attracted to him and proposed a relationship, but Ram politely turned her down. He explained that he was already married and had taken a vow of monogamy. She then approached Lakshman, but he also rejected her, leading her to become furious and act impulsively. In her anger, Shurpanakha attacked Sita, which led to a series of unfortunate events.

The story highlights the difference between divine and demoniac natures. Divine beings live within boundaries, respecting them even when angry or hurt, while demoniac beings disregard boundaries altogether. Shurpanakha’s actions, fueled by lust and anger, led to violence and the eventual abduction of Sita by Ravana.

Through these stories, we see the consequences of crossing moral boundaries. While it is natural to feel hurt or angry when rejected, it is how we respond that defines us. Respect for boundaries is essential, and the actions of Shurpanakha show the dangers of ignoring this principle.

In this discussion, we will continue to analyze how ethical and moral boundaries are important in dealing with life’s challenges and mistakes.

And when he saw the power of Ram, he just ran away. He ran all the way to Lanka. His name was Akampan. But when he came before Ravana, he was trembling in fear. And then he told Ravana what had happened. Ravana was enraged. He said, “I will destroy all of them.”

Akampan, however, told him, “I have seen Ram’s powers. He is an extremely powerful warrior. It might be very difficult to face him in battle.”

Akampan spoke cautiously because he was a king and did not want to downplay Ravana’s power. Ravana also respected Akampan as a skilled fighter. But Ravana, feeling insulted, responded, “Do you expect me to take this advice? I will never back down.”

He added, “I have a strategy. I saw that Ram brought his wife with him. This shows he must be very attached to her. If you can abduct his wife, he will become mad. He will be so dejected, his attachment will become his weakness.”

This logic, though, is flawed. Generally, when someone attacks the family of a hero, it only makes them angrier. But Ravana, confident in the security of Lanka, believed this could work. He thought, “We are protected on this island. They will never be able to reach us. And when Ram is unable to find Sita, he will become disheartened, and then we can defeat him.”

Ravana then went to Maricha, and when Maricha heard the word “Ram,” he said, “Who told you to mess with Ram? Ram’s arrows are so powerful that they threw me miles away. I live in constant terror. Just hearing the name ‘Ram’ makes me tremble. Whatever has happened, forget it.”

At this point, Ravana no longer had any personal interest in Sita. He saw her only as a means to provoke Ram. He returned to Lanka, but when Shurpanakha came back to him, she was furious. She said, “What are you doing? Enjoying the music of dancers, when your own army has been destroyed, and your sister humiliated?” Ravana, feeling embarrassed, needed a way to save face. He asked her what had happened, and Shurpanakha recounted the events.

However, Shurpanakha, not expecting Ravana’s reaction, quickly spun the story. She told him, “I didn’t go there just to attack them. I saw how beautiful Sita was. She would be the perfect jewel for you. I went to get her for you.”

As Ravana heard about Sita’s beauty, his desire grew. The mention of her beauty sparked his lust, and he became interested in Sita not to get back at Ram, but to have her for himself.

Initially, Ravana’s motivation was his pride, which was hurt when Ram rejected Shurpanakha. But once his lust was triggered, his pride was overshadowed. This is a reminder that our attachments, our desires, can often become our weaknesses, and others can exploit them.

Shurpanakha’s manipulation had worked. Ravana, now obsessed with Sita, disregarded Maricha’s warnings and commanded him to help abduct her. Maricha, understanding the danger, thought, “My end has come.” But he resolved that if he was going to die, it would be better to die at the hands of Ram, as that would lead to a more auspicious end, rather than dying at the hands of Ravana.

At one level, Maricha’s actions show a certain understanding that being killed by the Lord brings auspiciousness. But what is he doing? He is seeking his own elevation or liberation at the cost of harming the Lord. So, he is becoming a pawn in the hands of the one who wants to hurt Ram. This is a knowledgeable but selfish calculation. It is not a service-oriented one. You could say it is Maricha’s miscalculation. This was also a contributing factor to what happened next.

Maricha came to Ram’s hermitage in the form of an extraordinarily beautiful and enchanting deer. Sita, sitting in the hermitage, looked out the window and said, “Hey Ram, Lakshman, come here. Can you see how beautiful this deer is?” The deer pranced around, capturing her attention, much like a small pet that looks so cute and attractive. Sita asked, “Can you bring this deer back as a pet for me? We can have a nice time with it. When we return to Ayodhya, we can give it as a gift to Mandarakaikai.”

Now, one might say that Sita’s desire for the deer was the cause of the problem. Was her desire selfish? Not necessarily. You could argue that it was innocent. She was in the forest and simply wanted something for recreation—a lighthearted wish. It could even be seen as a selfless desire, given that it was not about personal gain but more about enjoyment.

Laxman, ever watchful, had always been on guard duty and found the situation suspicious. He said, “This deer seems too good to be true. Normally, a deer is an innocent creature, and when it plays, other animals are usually around it. But this deer is alone. It doesn’t seem right. It could be a demon in disguise.”

Sita, however, dismissed his concerns, saying, “Laxman, you are too suspicious. It’s just a beautiful deer.” She then turned to Ram and said, “Please get it for me.”

Ram, moved by Sita’s request, thought, “She has sacrificed so much for me—she left the kingdom to come with me into the forest, and she’s never complained about the hardships of forest life. She’s asking for something simple, so I should get it for her.” He disregarded Laxman’s warnings and decided to chase after the deer.

We can say that Ram’s decision to chase the deer led him farther away, but it wasn’t the sole cause of what eventually happened. Rather, it was a contributing factor.

As Ram pursued the deer, it seemed to leap just out of his reach, jumping enormous distances. Slowly, Ram’s suspicions began to rise. He still wanted to catch the deer for Sita, but he could no longer ignore the growing doubts in his mind.

At one point, after a particularly large leap, the deer turned around, grinning mockingly as if it were enjoying itself at Ram’s expense. This pushed Ram to the breaking point. He thought, “Enough is enough.” By now, he had been led far away from Sita and Laxman, and the time for patience had passed.

He decided to use his arrow. Ram is known as the “Amogha Sharana,” whose arrows never fail. His arrow struck the deer, and it fell to the ground with a loud thud. Immediately, the deer’s body transformed, revealing Maricha in disguise. As Maricha fell, he cried out in a voice that mimicked Ram’s, calling, “Hey Sita! Hey Laxman!”

Upon hearing this, Ram realized that this was a full-blown conspiracy. Something deadly was afoot. He quickly rushed back to where the sound had come from, determined to put an end to it.

I once told this story in Australia, and a devotee asked me, “If Maricha screamed, ‘Hey Sita! Hey Laxman,’ why didn’t Ram immediately tell them, ‘That was not me?’” The answer is that while the Lord is indeed God, He does not always act as God in His Leela (divine play). If Ram were acting as God at that moment, He wouldn’t have needed to chase the deer. He could have simply commanded it to stop.

Instead, Ram demonstrates how an ideal human being would act. He stays within human limitations and doesn’t rely on divine powers unless necessary. Thus, while Ram is God, He acts according to the role of an ideal human in this story.

In the universe, there are many hierarchies—physical and ethical. In the ethical hierarchy, humans are above demons, and devatas (gods) are above both. However, in the physical hierarchy, devatas are above humans, but demons are almost as powerful as devatas. This explains why Maricha’s voice was much louder than Ram’s.

Ram’s decision to chase the deer was guided by human limitations, and this ultimately led to the tragic sequence of events.

Meanwhile, Sita grew more anxious. Although she had initially dismissed Laxman’s warning as unnecessary suspicion, his words lingered in her mind. She thought, “Ram should have caught the deer by now and returned.”

As time passed, Sita’s anxiety deepened. In a way, this mirrors a scenario where you ask someone to do something small, but then they don’t return as expected. You begin to wonder: Is something wrong? Has something happened to them? What if the storm is worse than we thought?

As Sita waited, her feelings became more complex. She was not only anxious, but also guilty. “Was I responsible for bringing this trouble upon Ram? Was my desire for the deer the cause of this?”

Eventually, when she heard the voice calling, “Hey Laxman! Hey Sita!” she immediately told Laxman, “Your brother is in trouble. Please go and help him!”

Laxman, however, remained calm and unshaken. He said, “That is not Ram’s voice. It is likely the demon imitating him.” Sita, desperate, pleaded, “Don’t you recognize his voice? It is my husband’s voice! Go immediately and help him!”

Laxman, though firm in his decision, was not ready to leave his post. He explained, “Ram told me to stay here and protect you. There is no danger. Ram is powerful and can take care of himself.” But Sita, growing increasingly upset, insisted, “Please go! Ram needs help!”

Laxman, trying to calm her down, remained steady. However, Sita, overwhelmed by her fears, could not understand why he wasn’t reacting as she thought he should. As Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita, self-destructive desires often cloud our judgment, making it difficult to think clearly or rationally in times of distress.

It can refer to any desire or emotion, any self-destructive desire or emotion that arises within us. It exists at the level of the senses, the mind, and can also manifest at the level of the intelligence, as described in verse 3.40 of the Bhagavad Gita.

So, what does this mean? At the level of the senses, we see something and become agitated. At the level of the mind, what we have seen keeps replaying in our thoughts. When it reaches the level of intelligence, we begin to scheme—thinking, “How can I do this?”

If we know something is wrong, but we think we can get away with it without getting caught, we start scheming. For most of us, when there is some temptation, the mind pulls us towards it, but the intelligence says, “No, don’t do it; it’s not good for you.” However, sometimes the mind becomes so powerful that it not only drags the intelligence along, but it also uses the intelligence to justify the action.

For example, the mind might say, “This isn’t really wrong. Why do people consider this wrong? Everyone does it.” We rationalize our actions by coming up with various justifications.

For Sita, her mind was extremely agitated. Now, at an ethical level (not a devotional one), we see that Sita, in her anxiety, was trying to make sense of things. When we are under stress, we often don’t even realize what we’re doing. In her state, she somehow convinced herself that Lakshmana wasn’t going to help because he had evil intentions toward her. She accused him of wanting to possess her, even though Lakshmana had served them faithfully for years. These words were like a thunderbolt to Lakshmana.

To be accused of something we haven’t done is painful enough, but to be accused by someone we trust—someone who should trust us—is even more unbearable. Lakshmana, trying to pacify Sita, said, “Oh, Sita, please don’t speak such words. Ram will come back soon.” But Sita was so consumed by her anxiety that she shouted, “You will never fulfill your evil desire. If Ram doesn’t come back, I’d rather die than be touched by you.”

Hearing these words, Lakshmana could no longer bear it. He said, “I cannot stay here and hear what you are saying. I must leave.” And with that, he left.

As Lakshmana ran toward Ram, he was deeply hurt by Sita’s accusations. He hoped he would find Ram and explain everything. When Lakshmana found Ram, he was relieved, but Ram was agitated and asked, “Why are you here? Why aren’t you with Sita? Is something wrong?”

Lakshmana could not immediately repeat the painful words Sita had spoken. He tried to find the right words, but as Ram pushed him for an answer, Lakshmana finally shared the harsh words Sita had said. Ram, however, was calm and said, “She must have spoken out of anxiety. Why are you taking her words so seriously?”

Lakshmana could have turned back and said, “But Ram, you should have listened to me when I warned you about the deer.” However, they didn’t dwell on it. They turned around and began looking for Sita.

Even though Ram had told Lakshmana not to take Sita’s words seriously, he didn’t blame him. Similarly, Lakshmana didn’t blame Ram for chasing the deer. Instead, they both focused on the real issue: Sita was missing.

When something bad happens, people often look for someone to blame. However, in moments of crisis, both Ram and Lakshmana understood the importance of perspective. Sita’s hurtful words were painful, but the far greater danger was her abduction. At that moment, neither Ram nor Lakshmana blamed each other, but instead, they focused on finding Sita.

Finally, it’s important to note that human nature often leads us to personify problems. Instead of addressing the root cause, we tend to blame or give our troubles a “face,” often making them seem more personal than they really are.

When a problem arises, if it doesn’t have a face, it becomes difficult to deal with. Often, we want to pin the blame for a problem on a person and target them. This tendency can lead to scapegoating.

Now, regarding the Lakshmana Rekha, in the Valmiki Ramayana, there is no mention of it. The concept of Lakshmana Rekha appears in later retellings, especially in the Ramcharitmanas. Sometimes, it is said that Sita’s abduction occurred because she stepped outside the Lakshmana Rekha, and that it was her mistake. This analysis can sometimes lead to victim-blaming, as if to suggest, “What did you do to bring this on yourself?” Such thinking is harmful.

The Valmiki Ramayana, however, does not support such an interpretation. It clearly states that Ravana abducted Sita, and it doesn’t suggest that Sita had any responsibility in this. The important point here is that neither Ram nor Lakshmana blamed anyone for the situation; they focused on what could be done now that the problem had occurred.

Our natural tendency is often to find someone to blame when something goes wrong, but real life is far more complex, with many factors at play. The primary cause of Sita’s abduction was Ravana, not any of the other circumstances surrounding it. Sometimes, when bad things happen, we excuse the wrongdoer, saying, “They’re just bad people, and this is what they do,” but we shouldn’t shift the blame onto those who are not at fault, especially good people. It’s crucial to avoid this tendency to blame others for every misfortune. While we can learn from mistakes, we shouldn’t let the habit of blaming others worsen the situation or damage relationships.

In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna speaks of “Aparigraha”—the aversion to fault-finding, which is considered a characteristic of a godly nature. We should avoid jumping to conclusions and blaming others without understanding the situation fully.

Even Lakshmana, after the war was won and they were reunited, didn’t hold a grudge. He could have said, “When are you going to apologize for the words you spoke to me?” But there is no mention of this in the text. Often, words spoken in tension should not be taken as the person’s true feelings. Sometimes, life is so stressful that even the best of us may say things we regret.

For example, I once met a devotee in America who was hosting me. He had brought his father to the U.S. in hopes of helping him immigrate. However, his father was emotionally distant and unresponsive, which troubled the devotee. He confided in me that no matter what he did for his father, the father remained cold. I spoke to the father, and he shared a painful memory. He said that when his wife passed away, he was doing his best to care for his son, despite the grief he felt. One day, during his son’s 10th-grade exams, the son had asked him to wake him up early. The father did so, but the son was upset when he was woken up late, and in his frustration, he said, “It would have been better if you had died instead of my mother.”

The father explained that this hurtful remark had remained with him, and since then, he had found it hard to show affection. I spoke with the son, who didn’t even remember saying such words. He explained that he had been under immense stress and didn’t intend to hurt his father. After hearing each other’s perspectives, they reconciled.

This is a clear example of how words spoken in tension can be misinterpreted. While the son’s words were harsh, they came from a place of anxiety and not malice. Similarly, the harsh words spoken by Sita to Lakshmana during her anxiety were not reflective of her true feelings.

So, we need to understand that, especially in times of tension, we should not read too deeply into harsh words spoken in the heat of the moment. People may say things in such moments that they don’t truly mean. It’s important to let these things go, as long as the overall relationship is affectionate and respectful.

When we focus on how to avoid blaming others, we need to understand the difference between being responsible and blaming. The key difference lies in the focus. In blaming, we focus on the cause of the problem, while in being responsible, we focus on the solution. Understanding the cause is important, but the focus should always be on how to resolve the issue.

Sometimes, in life, we may not be able to understand the cause of a problem. I have a friend in California who is a firefighter. California is prone to wildfires, and when a fire breaks out, the first question is always, “What caused the fire?” Was it an accident, or was it intentional? But sometimes, the cause of the fire is unclear, and there are no clues. However, even if the cause is unknown, the firefighters still focus on putting out the fire and saving lives. The priority is always the cure, not the cause.

Life can be the same. We might not always understand why something happened, but we should focus on resolving the problem, not blaming someone for it.

When a problem arises, it’s difficult to deal with if we can’t assign a face to the problem. Often, we want to pin the blame on someone and target that person, which can lead to scapegoating.

Regarding Lakshmana Rekha, in the Valmiki Ramayana, there is no mention of Lakshmana Rekha. It is only introduced in later retellings, especially in the Ramcharitmanas. Sometimes, people argue that Sita’s abduction happened because she crossed the Lakshmana Rekha, implying it was her mistake. This kind of analysis blames the victim, as if to say, “You must have done something to provoke this.”

However, the Valmiki Ramayana doesn’t blame Sita. It simply states that Ravana abducted her, without assigning fault to her. Neither Rama nor Lakshmana tried to blame anyone. Instead, they focused on the bigger picture, which is a healthier approach to problem-solving.

In real life, problems often arise from multiple factors, and it’s important not to jump to conclusions or immediately place blame. While there may be contributory factors, the primary cause of Sita’s abduction was Ravana, not Sita’s actions.

Blaming others, particularly the victims, can make matters worse. We need to avoid this tendency. Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita says that aversion to fault-finding is a characteristic of the godly nature. So, we should avoid blaming others, especially in moments of tension.

Lakshmana’s reaction after the war was an example of this. When he asked Rama, “When will you apologize for what you said to me?” it was after they had won and their emotions had calmed. Similarly, during tense moments, people can say hurtful things, but we shouldn’t take those words as definitive. Instead, we should consider the circumstances.

I had a personal experience with a devotee in America. His father was very cold towards him, and the devotee couldn’t understand why. The father, when we spoke, revealed that many years ago, after the devotee’s mother passed away, the son, in his anxiety, said some harsh words to his father, including, “It would have been better if you had died instead of my mother.” These words had scarred the father, who had never been able to show affection towards his son since then. The son, when he heard this, was shocked, as he didn’t remember saying it. After apologizing and understanding the situation, they both embraced, clearing up the misunderstanding.

This example shows that in times of tension, we can say things we don’t mean. We must avoid seeing those words as reflective of someone’s true feelings.

In the Bhagavad Gita, Arjuna faces the difficult situation of fighting his own relatives. Krishna doesn’t dwell on past lives or causes but instead focuses on the present: “What can we do now?” The focus is on the solution, not the cause. This is a powerful lesson for us. In life, when faced with problems, we should ask, “What can I do to solve this?” rather than getting lost in why it happened.

Take the example of a forest fire. Fires can happen naturally, and we may not always know the cause, but we still need to act. The first thing we do is fight the fire, and only later do we look for the cause. Similarly, in life, the focus should be on the solution, not on finding the cause, especially when it comes to blame. Being responsible means focusing on fixing the problem, even if the cause is unclear.

To summarize, we discussed three main points today:

1. Approaches to Scripture: We looked at the four approaches to studying scripture—Literal, Ethical, Allegorical, and Devotional (L, E, A, D). Each approach has its own value depending on the person’s level of understanding.
2. Blaming and Responsibility: We discussed how to avoid the tendency to blame and instead focus on responsibility. Blaming only worsens the problem, while responsibility focuses on the solution.
3. Words Spoken in Tension: We also discussed the importance of not taking words spoken in moments of tension personally. We all can say things we don’t mean when under stress.

The key takeaway is that when we face a problem, we should focus on finding a solution, not on blaming someone. It’s important to take responsibility and act with a constructive mindset.

Thank you very much.

The post Life Lessons from the Ramayana – Part 1 by HG Chaitanya Charan Das appeared first on The Spiritual Scientist.

So, today I will speak on the topic, “From Darkness to Light.”
Is it better now? Still not clear?
You can come a little forward, if you’d like.
Yeah, maybe a little ahead. If you can.
Okay.
Last time, I was sitting there, wasn’t I? You changed it?
No, but how does that make a difference?
No, no, but why should that lead to a change in the seating arrangement?
Okay, from an acoustic point of view, that might be better.
Because if I’m there, both sides can hear me.
Is it okay, or is it too much echo?
No, no, don’t say “okay” just for the sake of saying it.
Should we do that?
Yeah, then I think everybody can hear properly.
No, no, stop. Here.
Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna!
Is it better now?
Okay, thank you.

So, you know, when we are not able to hear a class clearly, three things happen.
One is that we lose interest.
The other is that the mind starts filling up the gaps.
What happens is, researchers have found that even if people are very attentive, they only get about 20% of what the speaker says.
And if they hear 20%, they only get 20% of that.

I was in one place near New York, where I gave a class, and after that, there were so many questions about things I had not even spoken about in the class.
I was wondering, it’s good to have questions, but why so many?
Everyone had misunderstood and thought they heard something I hadn’t said.

Is it better now?
Thank you. So, I’ll speak today on the topic, “From Darkness to Light.”
We’ll talk about a story from the Ramayana on this topic.

When I was studying in college, about 25 years ago (more than that), I found that most students were confused.
What should I do with my life? How should I move forward?
This confusion is still common today.

Just recently, I gave a talk in Stanford, and after the talk, a mother, a Western lady, came to me. She told me her daughter had been at Stanford for 12 years. It’s not that her daughter couldn’t clear exams—she just kept thinking, “What is my calling in life?”
For 12 years, she had changed her major 12 times just to find what really felt right for her.

I told her, “Old age is calling you now.”
So, what happens is that many people, especially teenagers and youth, are confused about what they are meant to do with their life.
In fact, most people are confused.
But there are some special people who are confidently confused. They don’t know what to do, but they’re confident this is what they will do.

Broadly speaking, we talk about “darkness.”
There is physical darkness and metaphysical darkness.

Physical darkness blinds us. We can’t see. If the power goes out, we touch the wall or move carefully, thinking, “How can I move ahead?”
But metaphysical darkness is different.
Here, we are not just in darkness, but we are unaware that we are in darkness.
This can be particularly disorienting.

The Isha Upanishad has one of its bewildering verses, which hints at this:
Andham tamaha pravishanti ye vidyam upasate tato bhuyayivate tamo yau vidyayam rataha.
It says, “Those who are in ignorance will enter into darkness. But those who are in so-called knowledge will enter into greater darkness.”

You might wonder, “What’s going on here? How can knowledge lead to greater darkness?”
If we look at the overall flow of the Isha Upanishad, it is saying that not those who are in genuine knowledge, but those who are in so-called knowledge—those who think they are in knowledge but are still in darkness—will enter into deeper darkness.

What does this mean?
When we are born and live our lives, all of us are given some purpose.
We are told to grow up, build a career, have a family, get financially secure, and gain a good position in society. This is our goal, and we move forward accordingly.

This purpose is important for our life.
But what about after that?
What happens when we achieve all of this? There’s old age, there’s death. What comes after that?

We have a purpose for this life, but what about beyond it?

Those who are in rajas (the mode of passion) become completely consumed by their purpose in this life.
But those in sattva (the mode of goodness) think, “This is important, but is there something more to life?”
This leads them to seek knowledge.

On the other hand, those in tamas (ignorance) are so lethargic, so lazy, that they don’t even pursue a purpose in life.
Many children, especially those born in privileged families, spend their childhood and youth just playing video games, watching movies, and surfing social media without doing anything constructive in life.

Especially in welfare states, where the government supports people who can’t earn, many people become apathetic and don’t do anything.
Having a material purpose is better than having no purpose at all. At least you’re moving forward.

To achieve something materially respectable in life, one has to work hard, discipline oneself, and restrain the mind and senses.

We could say that tamas (ignorance) is a form of darkness.
At one level, the whole material world is a place of darkness.
But within this darkness, we can be in even deeper darkness.
That means, without any material purpose, we live without any spiritual purpose either.

But some people, even with a material purpose, become so obsessed with it that they don’t think of anything beyond that.
This, too, is a kind of blindness.

Beyond this is sattva, when we start thinking, “This is important, but is there something more to life?”
How can I pursue that?

So, broadly speaking, the scriptures guide us to rise from rajas to sattva.
The mode of goodness and the mode of ignorance can look similar externally.
Some people may not work hard because they are detached, while others may not work hard because they are lazy. Externally, these two can look the same.

I was in the temple in Pune once, and a boy came up to me and asked, “How do you become a brahmachari in this temple?”
I said, “Okay.”
Now, he hardly ever came to the temple, never participated in programs, and seemed not to have the dedication required to devote one’s life. This is a serious question. I asked, “How did you get interested?”
He replied, “Actually, I am going to decide by Sunday whether I am going to become a brahmachari or not.”
I was curious and asked, “Oh, really? What is happening on Sunday?”
He said, “I have proposed to a girl. If she says no, I will become a brahmachari then.”

Now, frustration is no qualification for renunciation. Frustration may direct us toward renunciation, but unless one has a positive purpose, one will not be able to continue. So, this boy’s situation was driven by wanting to form a relationship, which is the mode of passion (rajas). If that doesn’t work out, then he would shift to tamas, the mode of ignorance.

But we want to move towards the mode of goodness and transcendence. That’s why there must be knowledge and a sense of purpose. If I want to renounce the world, why do I want to renounce it? What do I want to do after renouncing the world? There must be a positive purpose. Otherwise, externally, ignorance and goodness can look very similar. Many people who are in ignorance often use spirituality to be irresponsible. When that happens, they create trouble for themselves in the long run and alienate others as well.

Bhakti Siddhartha Thakur, when he encountered such people, spoke about the importance of purpose. He was the first Acharya in our tradition to establish a monastery where many people would live as renunciates. Prabhupada followed this to some extent. Bhakti Siddhartha Thakur once said something astonishing: “I am simply trying to create some mode of passion in our devotees. I am simply trying to elevate devotees to the mode of passion.”

We think we want to elevate people to goodness and transcendence, but often, people settle into lethargy, apathy, and laziness, thinking everything is fine. So, there are different kinds of darkness. There is the darkness of ignorance, where one doesn’t care for anything—material or spiritual—and the darkness of passion, where one becomes so obsessed with material things that spiritual matters are ignored entirely.

A devotee from Russia once told me that he gave a class in which he spoke about how “You are not the body, you are the soul.” After the class, one person asked, “If I am not my body, then whose body am I?” They were convinced they are the body, and this was hard for them to understand.

It’s difficult for people to rise to the level of spiritual knowledge. What will raise us is not just frustration; it is a sense of purpose and strength. A sense of purpose means asking ourselves, “What do I want to do with my life?” We can have a sense of purpose in the mode of passion, or we can have a sense of purpose in the mode of goodness. But the sense of purpose is very important.

All of us are at different levels of darkness, and we are all trying to come to light—trying to understand what is truly valuable. When there is darkness, we can’t see things properly. Imagine a room that suddenly becomes dark, and there is a jewel somewhere on the floor. We try to catch the jewel, but in the darkness, we might pick up a stone and think it’s the jewel.

Similarly, when we are in spiritual darkness, we can’t understand what is truly of value. We might give up things that are very valuable for things that are trivial or less important. Often, when we have a close encounter with death, like when someone near us passes away or we go through a near-accident, we suddenly realize how misguided our priorities were.

I remember a devotee telling me about a time when a Mataji (a lady) was very cleanliness-conscious. Cleanliness is important, but she was driving to work one day and was late, so she rushed out of her house. Suddenly, a truck hit her car, and it spun around. The first thought that came to her mind was, “Oh, if I die and people go to my home, they will see that my house is so unclean!”

Cleanliness is important, no doubt, but in that moment, it wasn’t the right thing to focus on. That’s the time to think about Krishna. So, if we are not in proper knowledge, we can’t see the actual value of things. We might cling to things that seem important to us at the moment, but in reality, they are not the most important.

The mind latches on to something and holds on to it, and it doesn’t have a sense of perspective. What is more valuable? What is less valuable? What is more important? What is less important? If the mind just holds on to one thing and says, “This is all that matters,” we are in a state of darkness.

We might obsess over getting a particular raise in salary, getting a promotion, buying a house, or buying a car. These are not bad things; if we can get them, that’s fine. But if we become so obsessed with them that we can’t think about anything else, it becomes unhealthy.

So, when I speak of metaphysical darkness, it means that in that darkness, we can’t understand what is truly of value.

So, those things that are of little value, we hold onto them so much that we lose sight of what is of ultimate value. Our connection with Krishna, our devotion to Krishna (Krishna Bhakti), is of ultimate importance. That is what will endure forever, and that is what will give us strength, even in this life.

Now, whatever is valuable in this world is still important to us, but it may be lost. And even if it remains in times of distress, it may not necessarily offer us the same shelter that Krishna can. There are two extremes to be avoided: one is where we believe everything in this world has value and Krishna holds no significance, and the other where we think Krishna is the only value, and everything in this world is meaningless. While we live in this world, the things of this world do hold some value, but they should never overshadow Krishna or our service to Him.

With this background, let’s look at the story from the Ramayana, which speaks about moving from darkness to light.

When Lord Ram sent the Vanaras to search for Sita, they were given a time frame by Sugriva to find her. They were instructed to search in all four directions and return within a month. The Vanaras were particularly hopeful about the southern direction because they had seen Ravana heading that way. This was why, when Hanuman was sent, Lord Ram had given him a signet ring to give to Sita, should he find her.

Searching for someone is never easy. I was at a farm community once, where one of the family members’ children went missing. The child had been supposed to get into the car, but when the father went inside and returned, the child had disappeared. They launched a search team, and the community members immediately joined in, offering support. Despite initial reluctance, even the government and police teams eventually allowed the community volunteers to join in. This resulted in a massive effort where almost a hundred people helped in the search. It was a rare example of people coming together to help in times of trouble.

Searching for someone who is lost requires great effort, and knowing where to look is crucial. Similarly, in the Ramayana, the Vanaras searched tirelessly, going through dense forests, caves, and remote mountains, but they couldn’t find any trace of Sita. After a month of searching, they arrived in a place where there was no water or food, and they were exhausted. But then, they saw birds flying out of a cavern with wet wings, which gave them hope that there was something ahead. They decided to go forward and, linking together, entered a dark cave.

Though nervous, they proceeded slowly. Their perseverance led them deeper into the cave, and soon, they saw a light. It wasn’t just any light; it was a bright, shining light that illuminated a grand mansion. They were amazed to see this mansion inside the cave, with luxurious seats, beautiful trees, and a lake. They wondered if they had entered the domain of a demon.

As they explored further, they saw a woman meditating in yogic posture. When they approached, Hanuman, known for his soft-spoken nature, spoke to her gently. “Oh, lady, we are lost and we are hungry and thirsty. What is this place? It is astonishing, and we feared it might be a demon’s lair. But seeing you in deep meditation, so serene, we believe this must not be a place of a demon. Please, tell us where we are.”

Hanuman spoke with great respect and humility, acknowledging her presence and the beauty of the place, and inquiring in a way that was gentle yet direct. His words were not accusatory, but expressed genuine curiosity and respect.

We thought it was like this, but it didn’t seem that way.
So, who are you?

You know, when we meet people, our words can either open windows or build walls. And if we build walls, we then have to work to break them down later. Otherwise, it becomes very difficult to connect.

At that point, Swayamprabha was pleased. She had mystic power, and with it, she understood that these were Ram’s servants. She knew who Ram was.

She said, “This is actually a mansion built by Mayadana.”
Maya is the illusory energy. Maya is the architect of the asuras, while Vishwakarma is the architect of the devatas. Maya is the architect of the demons.

The demons had once tried to conquer heaven, but when they failed, they decided to create a replica of heaven on Earth. Maya created this mansion. Initially, he lived here, and the demons would come and stay occasionally.

When Indra heard about this, he realized that having a heaven on Earth would disrupt the cosmic order, so he decided to attack Maya. But Maya was very powerful, having received blessings from Brahma.

Indra, concerned, consulted Brahma, and they decided to send an Apsara named Hema to elude Maya. Intoxicated by her, Maya lost his senses, and Indra attacked, forcing Maya to flee. Some versions of the Ramayana say that Maya was killed and reborn, but most simply state that he fled.

Afterward, Indra, in gratitude to Hema, told her that she could live in the mansion.

Swayamprabha then spoke, “I am Swayamprabha. I was an assistant and friend of Hema. She lived here for a while, but then Indra asked her to return to heaven. As she left, she asked me to care for this place. I was alone, and I didn’t know how I could protect it.”

She continued, “Hema was an Apsara of Indra, so if anyone harmed her, Indra would intervene. But I will give you mystic powers. Perform this yogic tapasya, and you will gain mystic abilities to protect yourself and this place.”

Since then, I have been performing austerities here. I see that you are hungry and thirsty, so please have as much food and water as you like.”

At this, Hanuman and the Vanaras, who had been looking on from behind, eagerly rushed forward and ate as much food as they could. Their hunger was satisfied, and they felt relieved.

Afterward, Swayamprabha asked, “Now that your fatigue and hunger are gone, can you tell me who you are and why you’re here?”

Hanuman told her the story of how Sita had been abducted and how they were searching for Ram. She listened intently.

Swayamprabha then said, “The Vanaras have traveled a long distance into this cave. Now that you’ve satisfied your hunger, you must take your leave. However, Maya arranged this mansion in such a way that once you enter, you cannot leave. This is the path of no return.”

“But we saw birds leaving the cave,” they said. “Why can they go out?”

“Birds can leave because they won’t cause harm. Humans, on the other hand, cannot leave. You may be called monkeys, but you are not just monkeys. As seen in the Ramayana, the Vanaras speak and possess human intelligence, not just speech. They also have spiritual inclination. The Vanaras are devotees of Ram, and the capacity for spirituality is a human attribute. The word ‘Vanara’ means ‘forest humans,’ signifying that they are more than just monkeys. They are special beings who were highly evolved, some even more powerful than humans.”

“Because you have human consciousness, you cannot leave,” she said.

Upon hearing this, the Vanaras began to panic. “We can’t leave!”

But Hanuman, looking at Swayamprabha, said, “I am sure you know how to help us leave. Please, help us.”

Swayamprabha responded, “The purpose of this arrangement is to keep the mansion hidden. If anyone leaves and tells others, it will be plundered. The rule is that once someone enters, they cannot leave.”

“Please,” Hanuman pleaded. “We are on a mission to serve Ram and find Sita. We need your help.”

Swayamprabha paused and then said, “Okay, there is one way. The purpose of keeping you trapped here is to prevent others from discovering this place. I will use my mystic powers to take you out. But you must close your eyes.”

The Vanaras agreed and closed their eyes.

Within moments, Swayamprabha spoke, “Open your eyes.”

When they opened their eyes, they saw that they were outside. Swayamprabha explained, “Here you see the Vindhya mountain range. And in front of you is the southern ocean. I have brought you out and now I must return to my cave to continue my austerities.”

Hanuman thanked her, and she disappeared.

The Vanaras now realized that the place they had emerged from was not the same as where they had entered. She had taken them into the cave from one side and brought them out on the other, placing them right next to the southern ocean.

Feeling relieved, rejuvenated, and with the grace of Swayamprabha, they were now ready to continue their journey and search for Sita. They were filled with joy. “Yes, now we will find Sita!”

They started charging ahead.

The story in the Ramayana illustrates the principle of obstacles on the path of service. When we live in this world, we all face difficulties. Even when we are trying to serve the Lord and fulfill our dharmic duties, we still encounter challenges. Just like the Vanaras, who, in the midst of their difficulties, entered a cave, hoping to find some relief, we often face problems and look for solutions. But sometimes, as we dive deeper into those solutions, we can end up feeling more lost.

Broadly speaking, there are two types of obstacles in our life journey: trouble and pleasure.

Trouble means you’re walking along a path and suddenly feel overwhelmed by how difficult it is. You want to give up because the way ahead seems too hard.

Pleasure, on the other hand, means you’re walking the same path, but instead of feeling troubled, you start enjoying the journey so much that you wonder if there’s any need to keep going.

Both types of obstacles can deter us. Trouble makes us want to stop because we feel it’s too difficult, while pleasure tempts us to stop because we feel content with where we are.

In this cave, the Vanaras faced both obstacles. As they ventured deeper, it was dark and uncharted. Sometimes in life, we encounter such darkness, not knowing what to do. We may feel lost, unsure of what lies ahead. But, just like the Vanaras, we must keep walking—one step at a time.

In life, we might go through hellish phases. “Hell” doesn’t only refer to a place after death, as many believe. Everyone wants to go to heaven, but no one wants to die. The truth is, we often experience our own hell on Earth, facing extreme difficulties. But if we keep walking through it, just as the Vanaras did, we can find a way out.

If we find ourselves in a tough phase, we must remember that nothing in this world, including troubles, lasts forever. Both troubles and pleasures are temporary. The key is to keep moving forward, step by step.

Despite the Vanaras facing challenges, they didn’t give up. They could have complained, questioning why they were enduring such difficulty when they were serving Ram, not even for their own sake. But instead, they kept walking.

In our own struggles, it’s best to keep moving on, no matter how dark or tough it gets. Faith means taking one step at a time, even when we can’t see the entire path. That’s what the Vanaras did—they kept walking, step by step, even when they couldn’t see what was ahead.

The other obstacle is pleasure. When the Vanaras finally reached the mansion inside the cave, they found comfort—food, rest, and relief from their hunger and exhaustion. They could have stayed there, enjoying these comforts, but none of them chose to.

Swayamprabha offered them what they needed, but the Vanaras remained focused on their mission. Even when pleasure or comfort tempts us to settle, we must remember our higher purpose and keep moving forward.

Sometimes, pleasure can become an obstacle because it leads us into complacency. We might feel content with where we are and forget about the bigger goal. I remember one relative of mine who, when I tried to talk to him about Krishna Consciousness, said, “I believe in God. He’s happy there, I’m happy here.” The problem with this mindset is that comfort doesn’t last forever. Life may seem good, but nothing is permanent. Just like the frog in a drying puddle, even comfort can fade.

Thus, when we find comfort or pleasure, we must continue onward, remembering that no comfortable situation will last forever.

Swayamprabha’s name means “self-effulgent”—she didn’t need external light to find her way. Similarly, our spiritual guide, much like Swayamprabha, helps us navigate through darkness.

Swayamprabha first provided comforts to the Vanaras, much like how a spiritual guide provides relief to a soul that is in darkness. But she also showed them the bigger picture. She did not settle for comfort. Instead, she was engaged in yogic austerities, indicating there’s something beyond temporary comforts.

All of us have basic necessities in life—things like wealth, health, and relationships. Studies show that wealth and happiness are connected, but only to a certain extent. Initially, when people lack basic needs, wealth reduces distress. However, once these needs are met, more wealth does not necessarily bring more happiness.

The Vanaras could have chosen to settle in the mansion, but they didn’t. They remembered their purpose and kept moving forward, just as we must do when faced with comfort or distractions in life.

The correlation between material possessions and happiness becomes hazy.

While making money is important, what we do with it is even more significant. It’s not just about having money; it’s about what we make of it. Imagine someone rushing out of their house to fill fuel in their car. If we ask them, “Where are you going?” they might say, “I’m going to the gas station.” We ask, “And then?” “I’ll go to the next gas station.” “And after that?” “I’ll go to the next one.” Clearly, while you need fuel to run the car, you don’t drive just to fuel up; you drive for a purpose.

Similarly, in life, the material needs—food, clothing, shelter, wealth—are things we live with. These are necessary, but they are not the ultimate purpose of life. Unfortunately, society often glamorizes these material needs, elevating them to the point where we lose sight of their true role. Imagine, if we were to obsess over getting the “best” fuel, the “prestigious” gas station. Fuel is fuel, and focusing too much on it would distract us from the actual purpose of driving.

This is the issue we face when material pleasure and possessions become the goal. Sure, it’s necessary to have some material comforts, but they should not be our purpose. For example, hunger causes distress, and lack of money can be stressful too. But once those needs are fulfilled, how much more do we really need? Just as eating too much food can harm our health, excessive material possession can also bring its own set of problems.

The Vanaras kept moving forward, even after their basic needs were met. Similarly, while we don’t want material deprivation, we must understand that material wealth is not the end goal. The Vanaras did not settle for comfort; they had a purpose, and so should we. Whether facing trouble or pleasure, they continued to move towards their ultimate goal.

When Swayam Prabha helped them out of the cave, they didn’t return the same way they came. Instead, they were closer to their goal. In life, whether we face difficulty or ease, if we remain focused on our purpose, we will continue evolving and moving toward the Lord.

Let’s conclude with an important teaching from Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita (5.20):

“Don’t be elated when joy comes.
Don’t become dejected by sorrow.
Keep your intelligence fixed on the spiritual goal.
Understand that you are spirit and pursue the spiritual path.”

This verse is significant because Krishna doesn’t say we should ignore joy or sorrow—they will come. Sometimes, life gives us joy, sometimes sorrow. Krishna is advising us not to get overly attached to either. When we experience something pleasant, we shouldn’t get carried away by it. When we face challenges, we shouldn’t become disheartened. Both will come and go. The key is to keep our focus on the spiritual goal.

As Prahlad Maharaj says, life can’t always be about avoiding the undesirable and seeking the desirable. If we seek only material pleasure, we end up caught in the cycle of desire and dissatisfaction. We should learn to serve Krishna, regardless of whether our circumstances are pleasant or unpleasant. That’s the path of true spiritual growth.

The example of chasing the five dollars illustrates this principle. Imagine you’re heading to an inheritance worth five million dollars, but along the way, a thief steals your five dollars. You could chase that thief, but in doing so, you waste precious time that could’ve been used to reach your destination. Similarly, in life, material pleasures may seem enticing, but they’re just distractions from our ultimate goal—Krishna Bhakti, or love for God.

Similarly, if we find a five-dollar bill, chasing after it might lead us further away from the real goal. The five million dollars represent our spiritual treasure. As we practice Bhakti—chanting, associating with devotees, studying scripture, doing puja—we move closer to that ultimate treasure.

This treasure is not just a distant goal; it is something we begin to experience incrementally every day. The more we connect with Krishna, the more we are enriched spiritually. So when problems come—when we face challenges or losses, like the theft of our five dollars—we must keep perspective. In the grand scheme of things, they are minor setbacks. Losing five dollars is not the end of the world, just as temporary setbacks in life are not the end of our spiritual journey.

Sometimes people overreact to problems, thinking their lives are over because of a small issue. This is what we call “hyperventilation”—overreacting to a situation. We must keep calm and maintain focus on the bigger picture, remembering that the goal is spiritual progress, not material possessions.

Everything is finished. And what happens is, don’t hyperventilate. There are problems, but look at your own life. If you look at your life five years ago, you would have faced some big problem. At that time, it probably seemed like it was going to end your life. But now, looking back, you might wonder why you got so worked up about it.

Of course, you have to deal with the problem—I’m not saying neglect it—but there’s no need to hyperventilate. There’s no need to think that a small issue, like a five-dollar loss, is so big that you must sacrifice something as valuable as five million dollars.

Don’t get overwhelmed by trouble. It will come, just like a five-dollar loss. Pleasure is also like a five-dollar gain. If you get it while moving forward, fine. If not, that’s okay too. The key is not to get stuck in either extreme. If you experience pleasure, don’t get so delighted by it that you stay stuck. If you face unpleasantness, don’t get so dejected that you remain trapped in it. Stay purposeful.

If you keep doing this, step by step, you are moving toward Krishna, the supreme enrichment. And if we develop our love for Krishna, by the end of our lives, if we love Krishna more than the world, the Lord will take us out of the world, and we will attain His abode. There, beyond all the darkness of the world, is the supreme light. That is the ultimate perfection in life.

Let me summarize. I spoke today on the topic of moving from darkness to light. First, I talked about physical darkness and metaphysical darkness. Physical darkness, like blindness, stops us from moving forward. But metaphysical darkness means not understanding what is truly valuable. People in ignorance are confused, and people in passion are confidently confused. In some ways, having a material purpose is better than having no purpose at all because it at least gives us direction and discipline. But to rise from rajas (passion) to sattva (goodness), we need to start thinking about a spiritual purpose.

Sometimes, people mistake frustration for renunciation. They move toward ignorance thinking it is spirituality or transcendence, but that’s not true. We need a purpose in life.

I also talked about how, due to metaphysical darkness, our minds don’t have a proper sense of perspective, and because of that, we misestimate the value of things. Material things are valuable, but spiritual things are even more valuable. We want to come out of that darkness through spiritual knowledge.

Then, I shared the story of the Vanaras (monkey warriors) who went into the dark cave. Though they were distressed, they kept walking through the dark, and eventually, they found relief and comfort. But they didn’t stay there. Even when they were told there was no way out, they found a way and were mystically transported to a place closer to their destination.

Similarly, in our life journey, we all face two kinds of obstacles: trouble and pleasure. Both of these are like a five-dollar loss or a five-dollar gain compared to the five million dollars that represent our love for Krishna. We must stay purposeful. Even if we go through hellish difficulties, we just keep walking. Everything is temporary. Even the most difficult phases in our life will pass, and even the pleasures we experience will not last forever.

If we keep moving forward, step by step, we are growing toward Krishna. The pleasure won’t last, the trouble won’t last, but Krishna will remain with us forever.

Thank you very much. Hare Krishna.

Any questions or comments?

We were talking about how we have these desires, and when we are spiritually advancing, the way we react to them changes. But sometimes, even though we know we should react differently, or we would have reacted differently in the past, we still fall back into reacting the same way.

That’s okay. Sometimes, despite knowing we shouldn’t react in a particular way, we still do. It’s like when people say, “I’ve made a resolution not to get angry,” and then they get angry. Someone points it out, and they might say, “I’m not angry!” but then they become even angrier because they don’t want to be reminded of it.

I once did a retreat in Brisbane on “Burn Anger Before Anger Burns You.” The point is that if we consider the graph of our consciousness over time, our urges tend to surge. It’s not that anger or greed is always at a high level. It may stay at a normal level most of the time, but sometimes it surges up. When that surge happens, we might just get overwhelmed. It’s good if we can resist it, but we shouldn’t define our spiritual advancement only by what happens during those surges.

So, what are we doing in between the surges? Even if we can’t resist our urges in the moment, we can persist between them. If a surge happens and we react in a way we didn’t want to, what do we do afterward? If in between surges we are practicing bhakti, connecting with Krishna, purifying ourselves, and strengthening our intelligence, then gradually, we will become strong enough to resist the urges when they come.

In spiritual life, we may fall down, but we don’t have to fall away. Falling down means we’re knocked down by the forces, but falling away means we give up the path entirely. Sometimes our urges may come, and we may feel helpless because they’re just too strong in that moment. But what we do in between is crucial. We can either become disheartened and think, “I’m never going to change,” or we can persist and keep trying.

If we think, “I’m never going to change,” and start justifying that this is who we are, that’s dangerous. It leads to the loss of faith in our potential to improve, and that’s the worst loss we can have. Losing faith in our ability to improve is cowardice, as we’re not having the courage to fight. It can also lead to malice, because our conditioning, if we give in to it, won’t keep us at the same level—it will drag us further down.

That’s why, in between urges, we need to keep building ourselves up. Don’t define yourself solely by what happens during the urges. Keep connecting with Krishna, building your strength, and equipping yourself.

There’s also an important insight regarding the urges. When the urge starts coming and we say, “No, I’m not going to do this, I’m not going to get angry,” sometimes it feels like the urge is getting stronger and stronger. We think, “How long can I resist this?” and then, “Maybe I should just give up.”

But the urge is not like an endlessly rising line; it’s like a wave. It builds up and then subsides. Imagine you’re in an arm wrestling match. The opponent is stronger, and they’re pushing your hand down, down, almost to the table. You might think, “I can’t hold on, I’m losing,” but if you know it’s a timed match, you realize that if you just hold on for a little longer, you’ll get a break. When the next round starts, it’ll be from neutral ground again.

Similarly, when urges rise, we may feel like they’re overwhelming us, but we have to remember that they won’t last forever. They will subside. If we understand that the urge is not going to stay at this level forever, we might find it easier to resist. And even if we do succumb to it, we won’t give in completely. It’s like the mind trying to trick us into thinking the urge will last forever. If we just hold on a little longer, we’ll get through it.

Sometimes, when we fall, the mind tells us, “Now that you’ve fallen, just fall completely.” But we don’t have to do that. Even if we fall, we don’t need to go deeper into it. We may be pushed down, but if we don’t let go, we won’t stay down for long.

So, these are two important points: we persist between the urges, and when the urges rise, we understand that they are temporary. Just hold on, and they will subside.

Forgiving ourselves:
Yes, definitely. Forgiving ourselves means understanding that we have certain conditionings and we can’t change overnight. In spiritual life, self-control is important, but even more important is humility. Sometimes, when we fail to resist our urges, it may make us feel more humble, which can actually be a bigger spiritual advancement than simply succeeding in self-control.

Forgiving ourselves doesn’t mean we just accept that “this is how I am” and remain the same. It means recognizing that we couldn’t resist in that moment, but still, we remain connected to Krishna and keep trying. We may have failed, but we can move forward, leaving that chapter behind.

Spiritual life is subtle. What we see as success or failure may not be as clear as we think. For example, sometimes people may fast strictly on Ekadashi, avoiding even water, but it’s not just about physical control. Spiritual success is more than just overcoming urges; it’s about developing a deeper connection with Krishna, even in the moments of failure.

And then everyone who is not fasting starts saying, “This is nirlaj, so attached, so hopeless, glutton.” Now, when someone is fasting but their mind is filled with judgment and condemnation towards others, what’s happening? Their body may be fasting, but their ego is feasting. Such fasting doesn’t lead to spiritual advancement.

On the other hand, someone who tries to fast but feels weakness, maybe even fainting or acidity, and decides to eat something to continue their service — they might succeed spiritually. Why? Because they have grown in humility. We don’t have to judge ourselves solely by how much we resist our urges. What matters more is how much we strive to connect with Krishna.

Question:
Earlier, you mentioned that someone said they would become a Brahmachari only if a certain person refused them. Is that wrong? We’ve seen many examples of people who’ve faced rejection and then decided that the true path in life is spiritual life. So, is it wrong for frustration to be the driving force for spiritual practice?

Answer:
Frustration can definitely be a reason why some people turn to something higher in life. In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna mentions four kinds of people who turn to Him: those in distress, those seeking knowledge, those wanting wealth, and those who are inquisitive. But, actually, distress is the common denominator here. In today’s world, if someone is inquisitive, there are millions of things they could be curious about. Why choose spirituality? It’s often because something has gone wrong in their lives. Similarly, when people need money, they might go to a bank for a loan rather than pray to God.

There has to be some dissatisfaction with life as it is, which pushes people to seek something higher. So, distress can be the starting point for spiritual life, but it cannot sustain spiritual life. To stay on the path, we need to develop a positive attraction to Krishna.

I would say that if someone starts or intensifies their spiritual life because of frustration, that’s fine. But if someone thinks they can make spiritual life a lifelong practice just based on frustration, that’s unlikely to work. This world is a place of distress, and no matter what ashram you’re in, you’ll still face challenges. If you go from one ashram to another due to frustration, eventually you’ll face difficulties there too. So, while distress can start spiritual life, to sustain it, we need a positive attraction or conviction about the value of spiritual life in its own right, not just because we are running from life’s problems.

Question:
Does that mean one is going from idealism to cynicism?

Answer:
Not exactly cynicism. This morning, we were talking about how we might either be naive, believing anyone, or cynical, believing no one. You can become cynical about people and the world, thinking there’s no happiness here, so let me seek something higher. But even on the spiritual path, there are difficulties.

If the purpose of practicing spiritual life is just to escape life’s problems, then we won’t be able to sustain it. There will always be challenges on the spiritual path. So, we need to have a higher purpose: the evolution of our consciousness, the growth in wisdom, and the development of our devotion.

Cynicism may help us see what’s wrong, but it cannot guide us toward what’s right. If someone is extremely cynical, they might even deny the existence of God. They may say, “This material world is an illusion,” but then dismiss the idea of God as an illusion as well. The problem with cynicism is that it’s very unhealthy overall.

Being cynical is like trying to drive a car with the brakes fully pressed. All it does is make a lot of noise and waste fuel without moving forward.

Question:
Any last questions?
Yes.
Thank you so much for the wonderful class. You compared $5 million to Krishna Consciousness, saying that it is the ultimate goal. But for many of us, understanding that Krishna Consciousness is like $5 million is sometimes difficult. How do we get convinced of this?

Answer:
That’s a great question. So, how do we get convinced that Krishna Consciousness is like $5 million? Right now, many of us may feel that Krishna is important, but so is Maya. That’s our state at the moment.

There are broadly two ways to get convinced. One is by associating with those who deeply value Krishna Consciousness, especially those who have already achieved what we are striving for. When we see that they don’t value material things as much, but they value Krishna Consciousness more, it can give us great conviction.

When I was introduced to Krishna Consciousness, I wanted to be a top student from a prestigious university and be an academic achiever. I met many devotees who were also academic achievers, and yet they practiced bhakti. This attracted me.

We all have our own definition of success, and we push hard for it. If we meet someone who has already achieved that definition of success and is still pursuing Krishna, it shows us that Krishna Consciousness is of greater value. That’s why they are pursuing it. This can help us understand the true value of Krishna Consciousness.

As Bhaktivinoda Thakur says, associating with like-minded devotees is very important. “Like-minded” doesn’t just mean we agree with each other. It means our minds work in similar ways. If we value something deeply, and the other person doesn’t value it at all, they can help us see that it’s actually not as important as we think. They understand our desires, dreams, and aspirations, and can present the spiritual message in a way that resonates with us.

That’s why some devotees’ words may enter our hearts more easily than others. We might hear the same message from different devotees, but some will speak in a way that connects with us immediately, while others may not have the same impact.

Being “like-minded” means that someone’s mind works in a similar way to ours, but they are more advanced on the spiritual path. Through their association, we can begin to appreciate Krishna Consciousness as more valuable than what we currently value.

Another way to get convinced is through personal experience. If we value something right now, but it lets us down, we may start to realize its true worth. For example, I once met a devotee from Zimbabwe, where the economy had gone through significant ups and downs. He shared a story of how, at one point, the currency had depreciated so much that he had to bring a bucket full of Zimbabwean currency notes to buy bread. The shopkeeper threw away the notes and took the bucket in exchange for the bread.

What was once considered valuable became worthless due to depreciation. Sometimes, we find that something we valued highly isn’t as important as we thought. This realization can help us understand that material things are temporary, and Krishna Consciousness is more valuable.

Organic renunciation is also an important concept. The way we think at the age of 15 or 20 is different from how we think at 40, 45, or 60. Many of us may need to go through certain life experiences before we fully appreciate the value of spirituality. As we progress through life’s various stages and ashrams, we may begin to understand the value of Krishna Consciousness more deeply.

At the very least, even if we don’t feel that Krishna Consciousness is “5 million dollars” right now, we can at least recognize that it is valuable. We may not fully grasp its worth at first, but with practice, our understanding will deepen. Advancing in Krishna Consciousness essentially means increasing our appreciation of Krishna Consciousness.

As we continue to practice, our understanding and appreciation will grow. Even if we can’t digest everything right away, by associating with devotees and hearing the philosophy, the value of Krishna Consciousness will become more apparent over time.

I once gave a class at the Bhakti Center in New York on centering our life on Krishna. People come to Krishna for various reasons — social, psychological, cultural, or intellectual needs. Some seek community and belonging, some want to pass on their culture, some come for peace of mind, and others for answers to their questions. Regardless of why we come, sooner or later, that reason will be challenged.

For example, if we come to Krishna because the devotee community is caring, but later experience unkindness, we may start questioning the value of the community. One devotee once said, “When I first came, devotees fed me five pakoras, but now they are frying me like a pakora!” The point is that the very thing that brought us to Krishna may become our challenge. But if we hold on to Krishna despite this, we strengthen our connection.

Even Draupadi, in her distress, turned to Krishna when no one else could help her. She didn’t reject her husbands, but she sought Krishna’s shelter when she needed it most. Sometimes, we must let go of the things that initially drew us to Krishna in order to hold on to Krishna Himself.

As we go through these experiences, we may find that we value different aspects of Krishna bhakti or eventually appreciate the core of it. It’s an incremental process. We may come for one reason, but as we progress, we come to value the essence of Krishna Consciousness itself.

I hope that answers your question. Thank you very much.

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The second half of the verse states, “Vedaishcha sarvair aham eva vedyo”, which means that by all the Vedas, it is Krishna who is to be ultimately known, and “Vedantakrit vedavid eva chaham” explains that He is the author and knower of the Vedas. How can Krishna claim to know the goal of the Vedas? The Vedas are a vast body of literature, but Krishna asserts that He knows them because He is their creator. As the author, through the literary incarnation of the Lord, Vyasadeva, Krishna composed the Vedas. Now, what is the link between these two sections? One is that Krishna resides in the heart and acts within it while the other is that He is the goal and author of the Vedas. The connection lies in the fact that these are two broad sources of guidance for the soul in the material world. Krishna asserts that He is the guiding force in both ways.

This section is part of Chapter 15, often referred to as “the eyes of knowledge.” Chapter 15 comprises 20 verses, making it one of the smallest chapters in the Gita, along with Chapter 12. Despite its brevity, Chapter 15, also known as Purushottam Yoga, succinctly covers the philosophy of living. The chapter is divided into four parts. Verses 1 to 5 describe the world as a place of illusion, exemplified by the upside-down tree metaphor discussed in the last class. Verses 7 to 11 delve into the soul’s transmigration in the material world, explaining how the soul is entangled and moves from one life to another, seeking worldly pleasures. This section concludes by explaining how we can raise our consciousness to a spiritual level and begin to see the divine by observing how even our material needs and desires are fulfilled by a higher arrangement.

The verses 12 to 15 focus on perceiving the divine action within the material world, explaining how one can see non-material or divine influence in sustaining the material. This section concludes with verse 15.15, the most important verse in this chapter, which we will analyze today. The final section, verses 16 to 20, discusses the various features of spiritual reality, ultimately identifying the Supreme Lord as the highest reality. The entire chapter presents a condensed philosophy of living in material existence by addressing four aspects: entanglement in material existence, transmigration, perception of the divine within material existence, and realization of ultimate spiritual reality.

Today, our topic focuses on how to see God’s action in our lives, based on verses 15.12 to 15.15, with verse 15.15 as the centerpiece. We’ll explore three aspects: appreciating how God sustains us materially, understanding how God reciprocates with our desires, and recognizing how He bestows His grace. The term Jnana Chakshu (“eyes of knowledge”) is significant here, as mentioned in 15.10 and implied in 15.11, describing how one with spiritual vision can perceive the soul’s entanglement in the material world and God’s actions within it. The Jnana Chakshu enables us to see how our existence depends on many factors beyond our control, even if we are not fully aware of them. This perspective forms the foundation of our discussion today.

How many of us are constantly aware that we are breathing? Usually, we only become aware of it when the air is no longer fresh, or we start feeling suffocated for some reason. That’s when we realize, “I’m not getting enough air.” Air is a basic necessity for existence, yet we often take it for granted. It’s not just air; there are many other things we need. We often think of basic needs such as food, clothing, shelter, air, and water. However, beyond these, there are numerous subtle factors necessary for life to exist on Earth. For instance, the temperature has to be regulated enough to support life.

When analyzing material existence, the Vedic texts often describe three levels: Adhi Atmik (pertaining to the self), Adhi Bhautik (pertaining to the social and material world), and Adhi Daivik (pertaining to natural or divine forces). At the Adhi Atmik level, for us to exist, our body must function properly. At any given moment, countless processes within the body occur without our awareness, such as digestion, blood circulation, and respiration. If any of these processes fail, we cannot control them much, and significant harm could occur. At the Adhi Bhautik level, social factors play a role in our existence. For society to function, there must be peace, but history has shown us that wars, crimes, and brutalities are all too common. Social harmony is essential. Lastly, at the Adhi Daivik level, nature must function harmoniously. Natural disasters such as tornadoes, heavy rains, floods, or famines can disrupt life. Our existence depends on countless factors beyond our control, even if we are unaware of them.

In recent times, the environmental movement has made us increasingly conscious of human impact on the environment. This awakening began roughly 50 years ago, while significant human impact on the environment started about 200 years ago with industrialization. Gradually, people are becoming more aware of the need to protect and preserve the environment, though there is still much progress to be made. This growing awareness is akin to a newborn’s gradual understanding of the world. A newborn cannot survive without immense parental care and protection. Initially, newborns cry when they are hungry, need a diaper change, or feel physical discomfort. At this stage, they are unaware of the world beyond their immediate needs. Gradually, as they grow, they begin to recognize their caregivers, particularly their mother, as someone who loves and provides for them. This growth in awareness reflects a broader truth: as we grow, we start to understand and appreciate the factors and people that sustain us.

Awareness and growth go hand in hand. Biological growth happens automatically, but psychological and spiritual growth require effort. As we mature, we are expected to recognize how much others do for us and to reciprocate. However, during adolescence, children often become more critical of their parents, focusing on what they perceive as shortcomings. It is usually only after they become parents themselves that they truly understand the challenges of parenting and develop a greater appreciation for their own parents.

Growing biologically means physical changes such as hormonal shifts and an increase in size. Growing psychologically means learning to manage emotions more effectively. For instance, children cry when they are angry, displeased, or lose a game. They may throw tantrums, but as adults, we are expected to handle emotions with greater maturity. While biological growth is automatic, psychological growth requires conscious effort. Similarly, spiritual growth is not automatic—it demands conscientious effort and introspection. A person may grow physically but remain emotionally immature or spiritually stagnant. Childlike innocence is a virtue, but childish immaturity is not. True growth involves progressing at all levels—biological, psychological, and spiritual.

Growth must happen conscientiously. There are various levels of growth: physical growth, psychological or emotional growth, and spiritual growth. Psychological growth primarily involves learning to manage our emotions better, so we don’t get swayed by everything that happens to us or around us. For example, when a small baby is uncomfortable, they may start crying immediately. However, when an adult is uncomfortable, they may not cry but instead seek help more consciously, perhaps by calling someone specific. This reflects greater awareness and emotional maturity.

At a spiritual level, growth involves an increasing awareness of life’s spiritual dimensions. We begin to recognize that life couldn’t be sustained without a sustaining principle. We become aware of the supreme spiritual reality—God—and His role in our lives. Spiritual growth is not merely about external practices like chanting more rounds, memorizing verses, or spending more time worshipping deities. While these activities stimulate and manifest spiritual growth, the essence of growth is connecting our consciousness with Krishna. These practices make our consciousness more receptive to Krishna’s presence—not just in specific manifestations like a deity or a sacred activity but throughout our lives.

The phrase “always remember Krishna” doesn’t necessarily mean constant factual recollection of His form as a bluish-black cowherd boy playing a flute and wearing a peacock feather. While such a visualization is helpful, especially during moments of quiet reflection, the deeper meaning is to become conscious of Krishna’s role in our lives while functioning in the world. For instance, as I speak now, my body is functioning—my throat is producing sound. I do not fully understand how this happens, but if I become conscious of it, I would feel grateful. Remembering Krishna in this context means recognizing His role in enabling us to function, grow, and exist.

Spiritual growth involves seeing Krishna’s hand not only in the extraordinary moments of life but also in the ordinary ones. We often attribute God’s presence to special events, such as when a prayer is answered, a disease is cured, a relationship progresses, or we achieve a career milestone. While it’s good to see Krishna in these moments, we should also see His hand in everyday occurrences. For instance, the fact that we have food to eat or that we are alive—both are signs of God’s grace. So many things could go wrong, yet they don’t. As we grow more aware of this, we naturally develop gratitude.

Gratitude arises when we focus on what is right in our lives rather than what is wrong. If we dwell on what is wrong, we may feel resentful instead. Unfortunately, many things that are right in our lives go unnoticed because we take them for granted. The material world is such that everything eventually declines over time unless we make a conscientious effort to maintain or improve it. Recognizing what is right helps cultivate gratitude, and gratitude is a very healthy emotion to nurture.

The Bhagavad Gita explains how God sustains us materially, offering specific examples at the cosmological, terrestrial, and physiological levels. In verse 15.12, Krishna says:
“The light of the sun, which illumines the whole universe, and the light of the moon and fire—know that these originate from Me.”
The Gita highlights how the energy of the sun sustains everything. The moon reflects the sun’s light, and even fire and electricity ultimately derive from solar energy. For instance, stored solar energy in plants provides fuel and energy, and many modern energy systems indirectly rely on the sun. Krishna declares that the energy of the sun, the fire, and all sources of light originate from Him.

The sun is the source of all energy, and without it, nothing could exist. Science has confirmed this reality in various ways. For instance, solar flares—powerful surges of energy from the sun—can disrupt Earth’s atmosphere. If a solar flare penetrates the Earth’s atmosphere significantly, all electrical and electronic devices could stop working entirely. That this rarely happens demonstrates how the universe sustains us in a delicate balance.

From a non-theistic perspective, some might call this a “lucky accident.” However, this term is misleading. Lucky accidents merely prevent bad things from happening; they don’t create or sustain the intricate systems that make life possible. For example, a lucky accident might prevent a car crash but wouldn’t transform a car into a luxurious Rolls Royce. In this context, the intricate harmony sustaining life isn’t a random occurrence but evidence of a purposeful design.

While Krishna consciousness transcends the mere acknowledgment of God’s existence, understanding this sustaining principle is valuable. Krishna states in the Bhagavad Gita that the sun’s energy originates from Him. The sun does not have independent energy; it is powered by Krishna’s divine energy. This understanding elevates our awareness to see how Krishna sustains material existence at various levels.

At the terrestrial level, Krishna highlights the Earth’s unique conditions that support life. The Earth floats in space, and while science attributes this to gravity, the nature of gravity remains a philosophical question. Science often names phenomena rather than fully explaining them. For example, gravity is described as the force that causes objects to fall or planets to orbit. But what is gravity? Newton offered a mathematical formulation of observed phenomena, while Einstein proposed that gravity is a feature of space-time distortion caused by massive objects. However, even these explanations are constructs within scientific models, not ultimate truths.

Krishna and gravity are not competing explanations—they are complementary. Science helps us quantify and utilize phenomena like gravity, but Krishna consciousness provides the ultimate sustaining principle. For instance, the Earth’s precise distance from the sun ensures a temperature suitable for life. If the Earth were closer, it would be too hot; if farther, too cold. Similarly, the Earth’s rotation speed is perfect for maintaining a balance between day and night. These factors align in ways that make life possible, demonstrating divine orchestration.

Krishna further explains that He nourishes vegetation as the moon. Some studies suggest that moonlight makes vegetables juicier and more nutritious. Beyond such specifics, the very growth of vegetation is a miracle. From tasteless soil and water, we get fragrant fruits like mangoes, which are not only nutritious but also visually appealing and aromatic. As Einstein noted, we can either see nothing as a miracle or everything as a miracle. The existence of plants that produce edible food is remarkable and depends on numerous factors beyond human control.

Human ingenuity, such as irrigation systems, has reduced dependence on nature to some extent. However, these systems still rely on the basics provided by nature, such as the availability of water. We can channel water but cannot create or ensure its presence. This dependence points to a higher power sustaining nature itself. Nature’s intricate balance cannot be explained as a purely mechanical force because, according to the scientific law of entropy, systems tend to disorder over time unless guided by an overarching principle. That principle is Krishna.

From a physiological perspective, Krishna explains in Bhagavad Gita 15.14 that He is the fire of digestion. Digestion, or metabolism, is a miraculous process. While we may take pride in earning our food, the effort required to digest it far surpasses the effort to procure it. The elementary canal’s peristaltic movements and other digestive processes involve an extraordinary amount of work. Despite advances in science, creating artificial digestive systems has proven nearly impossible due to their complexity. A digestive machine would need to be the size of a factory several miles long.

Many of the processes sustaining our existence operate below the radar of our awareness. Krishna says that if we see these processes spiritually, we can recognize them as divine arrangements. By acknowledging God’s hand not only in extraordinary events but also in the ordinary details of life, we can deepen our awareness of His action in our lives.

Krishna describes how we can see his presence in the world, whether it’s through the extraordinary (as in Chapter 10, Vibhuti Yoga) or the ordinary elements that sustain us (as in this discussion). While Chapter 7 highlights Krishna as the essence of things (e.g., the taste of water), each chapter emphasizes different facets of his interaction with the material world. Beyond the physical, Krishna also acts at a psychological level, especially in our hearts.

Extraordinary Manifestations

1. Inspiration:
   Inspiration is an extraordinary phenomenon that often feels like a sudden, complete answer placed within us by a higher source. This is seen in creative and scientific breakthroughs, such as the work of Gauss and Mozart. The cognitive leap in such moments suggests a divine intervention, which many great minds have acknowledged as God’s grace.

Similarly, gifted individuals, like Shakuntala Devi, exhibit remarkable talents that seem beyond explanation. This sudden clarity or “knowing” in various fields is an example of the Super Soul’s guidance in our lives.

2. Instincts in Animals:
   Instincts, or “programmed intelligence,” are another example of divine guidance. For instance, bird migration demonstrates remarkable precision, with birds traveling across continents and returning to the exact tree their ancestors lived in. While mechanisms like Earth’s magnetic field may offer a partial scientific explanation, they don’t fully account for how such intelligence is passed down or executed. This reflects the divine hand guiding even animals’ lives.

Ordinary Manifestations

Krishna’s actions are also present in the everyday aspects of life, though these often go unnoticed. For example:

• Nourishment: Ordinary food sustains us far more than occasional delicacies, yet we overlook its significance. Similarly, the divine sustenance in everyday life is often underappreciated.
• Digestion: The complex process of metabolism, which science struggles to replicate artificially, is another miracle of divine arrangement.

Super Soul’s Role in Our Lives

Krishna, as the Super Soul, not only sustains us physically and psychologically but also inspires and guides us through both extraordinary moments and the ordinary flow of life. Recognizing his hand in these aspects allows us to deepen our connection with the divine.

Knowledge, Remembrance, and Forgetfulness: Krishna’s Role

Krishna states that he provides knowledge, remembrance, and forgetfulness. These three aspects operate not only at the spiritual level but also in our daily functioning and even across lifetimes. Let’s explore how these principles manifest.

1. Knowledge:

Knowledge enables us to function in the body we have received. For instance:

• Transmigration of the Soul:
  When the soul moves from one body to another, the new body comes with an entirely different environment. However, the soul adapts seamlessly. In humans, some knowledge is taught by parents, but in animals, much of it is instinctive. This innate ability to function comes from Krishna.
  • Example: A child prodigy playing a complex musical instrument effortlessly, or a baby animal knowing how to walk shortly after birth.
  • Even everyday skills, like speaking or walking, require complex coordination, which we perform without conscious effort. These abilities are manifestations of knowledge granted by Krishna.
• Daily Life:
  When we perform tasks, consciously or unconsciously, Krishna provides the knowledge we need. For example:
  • While speaking, we instinctively choose the right tone, pause, and grammar without analyzing every rule.
  • Similarly, musicians, artists, or athletes often “just know” how to do things, which is a reflection of the innate knowledge Krishna provides.

2. Remembrance:

Remembrance allows us to access relevant knowledge or tendencies from this or previous lives:

• Unfulfilled Desires and Talents:
  • Desires from past lives influence the kind of body and tendencies we acquire in this life. For instance, someone with a deep inclination toward music may have practiced it in a previous life, and Krishna facilitates this remembrance to continue their journey.
  • This is why certain individuals feel drawn to specific activities, such as art, science, or service, from a young age.
• Practical Functioning:
  • Krishna ensures we remember what is necessary at the right time. For example, when interacting with someone, we recall relevant interactions to engage meaningfully. However, we do not recall everything at once, which could overwhelm us.

3. Forgetfulness:

Forgetfulness is a necessary blessing that helps us focus and function effectively:

• Avoiding Cognitive Overload:
  • If we remembered every single detail about someone or every interaction, it would lead to cognitive dysfunction. Krishna ensures we forget irrelevant details, allowing us to function without distractions.
  • For example, we forget past traumatic events over time, which helps us heal and move forward. Forgetfulness thus becomes a gift, especially in cases where people struggle to let go of painful memories.
• During Transmigration:
  • Forgetting past-life memories prevents us from becoming overwhelmed by unnecessary baggage. This allows us to focus on the life and body we currently inhabit.

Daily Application of Knowledge, Remembrance, and Forgetfulness

1. Knowledge:
   • Enables us to function unconsciously, such as walking, speaking, or writing, without analyzing every step.
   • Talents like music, art, or athletic ability reflect Krishna’s role in providing innate knowledge, further refined through practice.
2. Remembrance:
   • Allows us to connect to our talents, tendencies, and experiences from this and previous lives.
   • Guides us toward fulfilling our desires or pursuing our innate inclinations.
3. Forgetfulness:
   • Protects us from distractions, unnecessary memories, or traumatic experiences.
   • Enables focus by discarding irrelevant information and ensuring mental clarity.

Krishna’s statement—”I provide knowledge, remembrance, and forgetfulness”—highlights his active involvement in our lives at every level. Whether it is the innate instincts of animals, the talents of prodigies, or the ability to focus and function daily, Krishna’s divine presence orchestrates it all. Recognizing this allows us to approach life with gratitude and a deeper understanding of his grace.

So there is knowledge we could say is more of the reservoir of relevant information, wisdom, whatever you want to talk about. Remembrance is what we draw from it, and forgetfulness is what is withdrawn from it—withdrawn from our consciousness. So this is constantly happening and enabling us to function, and that is the super soul doing that. Now, what is the role of the super soul in our spiritual growth? Basically, the same things—remembrance, knowledge, and forgetfulness—if you consider, depend on what is our desire. If you want to enjoy sensual desires, we will get the remembrance of how we will get the remembrance of the pleasure of enjoying. Oh, you enjoyed this; you enjoyed this food at this time; you enjoyed that particular TV show at that time; oh, you enjoyed that particular activity at that time. And those desires will keep coming to us, and quite often, the consequences of enjoying will be forgotten. Oh, you wasted so much time; you felt so miserable after that. And then the basic knowledge about how to go about enjoying—so somebody, somebody’s an alcoholic, and they get an urge again. And now when they get the urge, oh, I want to drink. They might have gone; they might have embarrassed themselves by drinking too much and abusing alcohol and made a mess of things, lost money, but whatever, they forget all that. And then they might not even consciously palate, you know, okay, maybe if I go there, there are probably no friends over there, nobody will detect me. Sometimes they may think consciously; sometimes they will not even think consciously—it will just happen.

So this knowledge, remembrance, and forgetfulness is in reciprocation with our desires. Now, if you have a desire to grow spiritually, then what we’ll remember is the joy of spiritual experiences, yes, and what we’ll forget is the pleasures of sensuality. We’ll forget the troubles, the austerities in spirituality. Oh, they don’t; this joy is so fulfilling; I want it. And knowledge is, okay, if I want that, how do I go about serving Krishna? So basically, remembrance, knowledge, and forgetfulness happen very dynamically and reciprocally for us, and that’s how we are able to move on. And now, if you are practicing bhakti and we are still getting remembrances of past sensual indulgences, what that means is right now, we just have to strengthen our devotional desire. And as the desire becomes stronger and stronger, then at a particular time, when we’ll come, the remembrance itself will go away, and it has happened to us for many things. Some of us might have been eating meat before we started practicing bhakti, and now even if we see meat, we’re not tempted by it. So that remembrance of the pleasure, remembrance of the enjoyment may not come, and that is not done by our effort; that is done by divine grace.

Just like every day, when we are tired and when we sleep, sleeping is a very routine activity, but how extraordinary it is, we realize when we are not able to sleep. Many times, if you’re not able to sleep, what happens? We might lie down in bed; there might be no noise around us; we might close our eyes, but it’s the switch that turns off our consciousness so that we can go from a wakeful state to a sleeping state. That switch is not in our control. So then, even sleep is a gift of God. Similarly, forgetting is a gift of God; remembering is a gift of God. Now, just because these things happen normally, in an anomaly, or effortlessly for us, that doesn’t mean that they are not having some higher arrangement behind them.

Thus, in our day-to-day lives also, we can start seeing Krishna’s action dynamically. And, of course, Krishna doesn’t just reciprocate with our desires; Krishna goes beyond reciprocating with our desires also. Krishna’s presence inside is that he is not just our destination, who exists in the spiritual world higher, far away from us—he’s also our companion; he’s present in our hearts. Suppose you take a flight, say you are in New York, and you go to LA to meet someone. Now, we have not met that person, and maybe we’ve not seen their photo, but we’re eager to meet them. And then somebody sits next to us in our flight, and we chat with them, but we’re not; we’re too eager to meet this person. And we get there, we go to the address, we knock on their door, and when they open the door, we find that person—the same person who was sitting next to us in our flight—but we didn’t know about them, and so we thought we didn’t really regard them very much.

So like that, we are on a journey; we are trying to go to Krishna, who is in the spiritual world, but actually, Krishna is right now next to us in our heart itself. So Krishna, if we even have a little desire for serving him, Krishna will magnify that desire. If we have a little desire to offer our thoughts to him, he will attract us. So now, when Krishna guides—in this verse, I said that there are two aspects: one is he’s present in the super soul, and the other is he’s present in the Vedas. So actually, both of them are ways in which Krishna is guiding us. Now, of course, not every voice that comes from within is God’s voice. There can be the voice of our ego or our mind also. That’s why we need education, purification, and devotion. We need to study scripture to understand what God’s plan and purpose overall for life is. Then we need purification—so that the voices of, say, greed, anger, or ego, they decrease—they’re not so blatant or loud. And then when there’s devotion, then that becomes our direct connection with Krishna. And then, “I’ll give you the intelligence by which you can come to me.” It is inside us; they become one with our consciousness. So the voice of the Lord, as it manifests externally through our guides, and as it manifests internally through our inner guide, it all becomes one, and then our life journey becomes very clear and confident.

So Krishna is actually very close to us. How close or how far is he from us? He’s just one thought away from us. He’s there in our hearts. If you just turn to think about him, he is there. And we may think of practicing bhakti as very difficult: I have to chant so many rounds; I have to read so many books; I have to do so many activities. Ultimately, bhakti is just about offering Krishna one thought—just offer him one thought. And then, after that, offer one more thought. Actually, if we offer him one thought…

He will give us many more thoughts about how to offer him many more thoughts, and then in this way, gradually, we will become absorbed. So Krishna is always reciprocal. However, with a devotee, Krishna is reciprocal but not always proportional. We may take one step toward Krishna, and he may take a hundred steps toward us. We may offer one thought to him, and he may give us a hundred thoughts about how we can remember him more, how we can become attracted to him more. In that way, he is not just reciprocating on the basis of law—”okay, I’m meant to be here; I’m functioning.” He is personally there, caring for us, and he will help each one of us to become elevated, to become attracted to him, and to ultimately attain him.

So Krishna’s presence as the super soul in our heart is for our sake. He is, we could say, the personal avatar of Krishna for each one of us. By looking at the dynamics of how the world functions externally and by looking at the dynamics of how our thoughts function internally, we all can see Krishna’s action around us—inside and outside—and thus become inspired and guided to move toward him.

So I’ll summarize. I spoke today on the topic of how to see Krishna’s action in our life. I talked about three broad sections: how to see Krishna’s actions materially, Krishna reciprocating with our desires, and lastly, how to see Krishna going with our desires.

First, I talked about how Krishna sees our desires and how we can see his action materially. Our existence depends on many factors beyond what is in our control, and as we grow from a newborn baby to an adult, we realize how much those around us are doing for us. Those physical, social, and environmental factors shape our existence. As we grow psychologically, we become aware of what others are doing, and we feel like reciprocating. When we grow spiritually, our awareness goes beyond just the people around us to the ultimate Lord, to the spiritual level of reality.

Then we talked about 15.12, 15.13, and 15.14, which describe Krishna sustaining us cosmologically, terrestrially, and physiologically—through the sun, through the suspension of the earth through gravity, through digestion, and through photosynthesis for getting edible food and vegetation. Then we discussed the super soul’s action in our life. We discussed how instinct and inspiration are examples of the super soul’s guidance in animals and humans. He reciprocates by giving us knowledge, remembrance, and forgetfulness—during transmigration from one life to another, during our functioning in life, in terms of habits, our tendencies, and our desires.

Beyond that, he helps us and goes out of his way to reciprocate with us if we try to turn toward him. If we have a strong desire, then he will give us the forgetfulness of whatever is undesirable. Forgetfulness, like sleeping, is a switch not in our control—it is in Krishna’s control. He is just one thought away, present in our heart as a guide. Internally and through scripture externally, both guide us together. Through education, purification, and devotion, these voices will become one for us. If we offer him one thought, he will offer us many more thoughts in return, and that’s how we’ll ultimately be able to attain him.

So thank you very much. Hmm, I can see there are some questions here. I’ll keep a record of these questions and try to answer them in the next session because today, I have to rush for another class in about 10 minutes. I have a class and have to go to the temple hall from here. So thank you very much for your attention and participation.

The post 42 How to see God’s hand in our life – Gita 15.15 appeared first on The Spiritual Scientist.

Thank you for joining today’s discussion. We’re going to explore a concept that has often been misunderstood and debated—the idea of multiple Gods within the Vedic tradition. Specifically, we’ll address the question: why are there so many Gods in Indian tradition, and what does this mean for us in understanding the Bhagavad Gita and applying its teachings in our lives?

The Gita’s View on Polytheism

In the Bhagavad Gita, particularly in verse 7.21, Krishna says:
“As one desires to worship whatever form, I make their faith unshaking.”
This verse indicates that Krishna himself is behind the worship of various forms of divinity. He ensures that the faith of devotees remains strong in the particular form they choose to worship.

So, the question arises: why does the Vedic tradition present the worship of many Gods? And how does this system work harmoniously under Krishna’s divine guidance?

Three Key Topics to Address:

• Why Are There Many Gods?
• How Do They Serve a Common Purpose?
• How Does This Reflect Krishna’s Compassion?

We will explore these topics by examining the conventional understanding of religious systems. The two broad categories for understanding worship are monotheism (the belief in one God) and polytheism (the belief in many Gods). The Vedic conception, however, is distinct—it can be described as polymorphic monotheism, which means that there is one Supreme God who manifests in many forms at many levels.

Monotheism vs. Polytheism

Monotheism, as seen in the Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam), centers around the belief in one God. These religions often criticize polytheism, which was prevalent in the ancient world, particularly in Europe before Christianity became dominant. With the rise of Christianity in Europe, the idea of multiple Gods was considered a form of chaos, with gods allegedly competing for supremacy. This notion was spread further by European colonists, who, upon arriving in India, saw the worship of multiple deities and mistakenly labeled it as polytheism.

In contrast, the Vedic conception of divinity is not polytheistic. It is a form of polymorphic monotheism, where there is one Supreme God, Krishna, who manifests in various forms and at different levels through many divine personalities, such as Indra, Surya, and Shiva.

The Vedic Approach: One Supreme God with Many Subordinate Gods

Unlike the Abrahamic view, which holds that there is one true God and many false gods, the Vedic tradition teaches that there is one Supreme God (Krishna) and many subordinate Gods. These subordinate Gods are not false but are real divine personalities who serve a common purpose in the cosmic order.

In the Vedic system, the many deities are seen as cooperating under Krishna’s guidance, rather than competing for power. Each deity has a specific role in maintaining the balance of the universe, and they function together harmoniously under the supreme direction of Krishna.

The Abrahamic Perspective on Idolatry

In contrast, the Abrahamic religions often viewed idols or deities as false gods. When conquering new territories, the rulers in these traditions would destroy idols, believing it was a righteous act. This destruction of idols is celebrated in many religious texts, including the Old Testament and in the life of Prophet Muhammad.

However, in the Vedic tradition, deities like Indra, Chandra, Surya, and Shiva are not considered false or inferior. They are seen as real, powerful entities who are part of Krishna’s divine plan.

The Vedic conception of divinity doesn’t fit into the Western categories of either monotheism or polytheism. It recognizes one Supreme God, Krishna, who manifests in various forms across different levels of existence. These manifestations are real divine personalities, and their worship serves a common purpose of bringing devotees closer to Krishna. This system reflects Krishna’s extraordinary compassion, allowing people to worship Him in forms that resonate with their particular inclinations and needs.

The Abrahamic View vs. Vedic View of Divinity

In the Abrahamic religions, the concept of false Gods is often associated with the idea that these false Gods detract from the worship meant for the one true God. To the extent that these false Gods are destroyed or rejected, the true God’s glory is enhanced. This idea was historically put into action, such as in India, where many mosques were built by demolishing Hindu temples. The sacred imagery from these temples was often repurposed for mosque construction, symbolizing the idea of stepping on the false Gods to reach the true God.

While this intolerance is often enacted by extremists, the intolerance in conception is mainstream in Abrahamic religions. The idea is that no other Gods should be worshipped because they are considered false and compete with the true God. Understanding this mindset is crucial in appreciating the differences with the Vedic conception of divinity.

The Vedic Conception: Cooperation Rather than Conflict

The Vedic tradition differs significantly from this view. Instead of seeing other Gods as false or competing with the true God, the Vedic conception can be understood as a cosmic cabinet ministry, where there is one supreme God (Krishna) who serves as the “prime minister” and many subordinate Gods who are like cabinet ministers, each with their own roles and responsibilities. Just as ministers may have occasional conflicts over minor issues, all the Gods in the Vedic tradition work together under Krishna’s leadership to administer the cosmos and help elevate the lives of the devotees.

Intrinsic Cooperation for Cosmic Administration

In the Vedic tradition, despite any occasional disagreements, the Gods work cooperatively for the administration of the universe and the elevation of individuals. This cooperation reflects a deeper, cosmic harmony. It is not a matter of one deity competing against another, but of each divine personality fulfilling their role to help individuals progress on their spiritual journey.

The Role of Different Forms of Worship

The Vedic tradition also recognizes that people are at different levels of spiritual consciousness. This is why there are different forms of worship to accommodate various stages of personal development. For example, the Matsya Purana explains that the 18 Puranas are divided into three categories based on the three modes of nature: goodness, passion, and ignorance. Six Puranas correspond to each mode, recommending different deities and forms of worship depending on the devotee’s state of consciousness.

This system is not rigid, and it is not to say that every worshiper of Shiva is in ignorance or every worshiper of Vishnu is in goodness. Rather, this typology serves as a guide for understanding how the practice of worship is designed to help people progress spiritually according to their nature and stage of consciousness.

Krishna’s Compassion in the System of Worship

Now, let’s look at how this system reflects Krishna’s extraordinary compassion. A story from the Abrahamic traditions can help illustrate this. Many of you may know the story of the Prodigal Son, a parable from the Christian tradition.

In the story, a wealthy father has a son who, feeling constrained by his father’s control, demands his share of the inheritance and leaves to live independently. The son squanders his wealth on indulgence and eventually ends up in poverty, working for an exploitative master who makes him feed pigs. At his lowest point, the son remembers how even his father’s servants were treated better than he is now. He decides to return home, hoping for some mercy from his father.

When the son returns, despite having rejected his father and squandered his wealth, the father joyfully welcomes him back, celebrating his return. This story reflects the unconditional compassion of the father, who represents Krishna in the Vedic tradition. Krishna, like the father in the story, is always ready to welcome back those who have gone astray, regardless of their past mistakes, as long as they come back with a sincere heart.

The prodigal son story, found in biblical literature, illustrates how great God’s love is. Despite our rejection, God does not turn away from us but instead accepts us back when we return. While this is true, the Vedic tradition goes further, suggesting that God doesn’t simply wait for our return—He actively works to help us return. One of the ways God does this is by creating the system of worship of the devatas, or gods, as part of a divine arrangement to guide us back.

Let’s extend this metaphor. Imagine the prodigal son is not simply a wayward son, but the son of a king. The father, seeing his son’s suffering, understands that if he approaches directly, the son may not return. So, the father sends his representative—a minister—to invite the son back. The minister’s role is to offer something better than what the son is currently receiving. By returning to the kingdom, the son is coming back under the king’s influence, even if he hasn’t yet returned to the royal palace itself.

This is how the worship of the devatas works in the Vedic tradition. When individuals are not yet ready to directly worship Krishna or serve Him, He arranges for them to worship representatives of His—gods who serve as administrators in His cosmic system. These gods, though serving as intermediaries, are still connected to Krishna and, by worshiping them, individuals are elevated to higher levels of consciousness, even if they’re not yet ready for direct service to Krishna.

The worship of these gods often starts with a desire for material benefits. People may seek relief from fear, desire, or other needs, which are common motives for worship. By worshiping the devatas, individuals are participating in an authorized system and are indirectly engaging with Krishna’s cosmic administration. Over time, however, they may begin to question: “If I’m worshiping these gods, do these gods themselves worship someone?” This inquiry often leads them to discover that the gods, too, turn to a higher divine power—specifically, Vishnu. In moments of cosmic danger, the devatas themselves approach Vishnu for protection and guidance.

In this way, the system of worship, as arranged by Krishna, provides a pathway that helps individuals gradually elevate themselves, moving from worship of the devatas to eventually seeking Krishna Himself. This arrangement reflects the profound compassion and care Krishna shows in guiding every soul back to Him.

In the Vedic tradition, the idea of worshiping the devatas (gods) is understood as part of a gradual progression toward Krishna, much like a person who serves a king’s minister and wonders if the minister has a higher authority. Over time, the individual may realize that there is a greater power above the gods—the supreme Lord, Krishna. This awareness might lead them to worship Krishna directly. However, even when they come to Krishna, they may do so with mixed devotion, much like the prodigal son returning to his father but not yet fully ready to accept his role as a prince.

This mixed devotion is an important stage in the spiritual journey. People may come to Krishna seeking material benefits, much as the son initially returns to his father out of necessity rather than pure love. However, through association, purification, and gradual understanding, they begin to see that Krishna is not merely a giver of desires, but the fulfillment of all desires. This marks a shift from mixed devotion to pure devotion.

Krishna, in His compassion, sets up the system of worship by giving power to the gods and faith to their worshippers. The gods do not compete with Krishna but are part of a divine arrangement that helps souls progress toward Him. Krishna provides the necessary tools for this progression by granting faith to those who worship the gods. This process is not about Krishna’s glorification; rather, it’s about elevating souls toward Him. Even if a soul doesn’t return to Krishna immediately, any step closer to Him is considered a success.

Krishna’s approach is selfless—He is not concerned with personal glorification. Unlike worldly rulers who may want to be recognized as the ultimate authority, Krishna’s goal is the elevation of the soul, even if it means using intermediaries like the devatas. The system of worship is not about forcing worship of Krishna; it’s about creating pathways that eventually lead souls back to Him.

This is in contrast to the biblical view of God as a jealous figure who punishes those who worship other gods. In the Bible, worshiping false gods leads to calamities, as God is depicted as fiercely protective of His honor. The Vedic tradition, on the other hand, does not portray God as jealous but as zealous for the welfare of the soul. Krishna is not concerned with whether He is directly worshipped but with whether the soul is progressing and being elevated. His compassion is manifest in the systems He has set up to guide souls toward their ultimate spiritual destination.

To clarify the concept of Krishna giving faith to the worshippers of the devatas, there’s some confusion that arises from different interpretations. While the verse itself doesn’t explicitly mention the Super Soul in the heart, Prabhupada in his purport connects it to the Super Soul, suggesting that Krishna grants faith through this divine presence within. Another interpretation, like that of Madhvacharya, points out that even the Puranas glorifying the devatas ultimately come from Vishnu, as all scriptures, including the Vedas and Puranas, are considered to emanate from the divine breath of Vishnu.

One challenge that arises from this is when reading certain Puranas, such as the Shiva Purana, it might appear as though Shiva is supreme. Similarly, other Puranas might elevate different gods. This can seem contradictory, but the purpose of such glorifications is not to establish the supremacy of one devata over others but to inspire wholehearted worship. The idea is to encourage faith in people, motivating them to worship and thus progress spiritually.

While the different texts may emphasize the glory of individual devatas, this isn’t a contradiction but rather a paradox. On the surface, it may seem that the devatas are being positioned as supreme, but deeper understanding resolves this apparent contradiction. Just as an academic paradox might state that “the least corrected papers are the most correct,” where fewer corrections indicate greater accuracy, the paradox here suggests that the glorification of the devatas is a means to elevate people, not to undermine the supremacy of Krishna.

Ultimately, all forms of worship point toward one common purpose: the elevation of the soul. The devatas are not rivals to Krishna but part of a divine system to guide souls toward Him. The distinction between Vishnu and Krishna lies in their moods. Vishnu, in His role as the cosmic administrator, can be seen as “God in office,” while Krishna, as the playful and loving deity in Vrindavan, represents “God at home.” Despite this difference, they are ultimately one and the same, and all worship serves the overarching goal of the soul’s spiritual elevation.

This passage delves into the complexities of the worship of devatas (gods) and their relationship with Krishna, specifically addressing the different levels of spiritual devotion and how these forms of worship fit into the broader picture of spiritual elevation.

The first part of the passage highlights the unique way Vishnu and Krishna are glorified in the scriptures. In the Bhagavata Purana, for example, Vishnu is described as “Anantakoti Brahmanayak,” the source of countless universes, emphasizing His supreme status. On the other hand, Shiva is called “Vishvanath,” the master of the universe, yet his role is seen as subordinate in the grand scheme of things. This difference in glorification doesn’t contradict the essence of devotion; it simply reflects the different roles that each devata plays in the cosmic order. Vishnu and Krishna are often depicted as being the ultimate source, with other devatas having specific roles to fulfill.

As the passage continues, the focus shifts to understanding the role of devata worship in spiritual development. The key point here is that worship of devatas is not inherently wrong, but it depends on where someone is in their spiritual journey. To illustrate this, the passage uses a metaphor of a father with two children. One child gets 80% marks and the other gets 40%. Both children come home with a 60% score, but for the child who usually scores 80%, this is a regression, while for the one who normally scores 40%, it’s an improvement. Similarly, if a person who worships Krishna with mixed devotion (80%) turns to devata worship (60%), it’s a step down, but for someone who starts at the level of materialism (40%), moving to devata worship is a step up.

The passage also emphasizes that Krishna, while teaching that worshipping the devatas is for those with “meager intelligence,” has created this system of devata worship as a stepping stone for souls to gradually elevate themselves. Krishna’s system of worship isn’t something to be patronized but understood as part of the divine plan. The devatas, like Shiva or the goddess Chandi, are still respected figures, and worshipping them can lead to higher spiritual understanding.

There are examples in the lives of saints like Vallabhacharya and Chandidas to show how devotion to the devatas can ultimately lead to a deeper understanding of Krishna. Vallabhacharya, for instance, initially worshipped Shiva in distress but was guided by Shiva himself to worship Krishna. Chandidas, a devotee of the goddess, was later honored by other Vaishnavas, despite initially worshipping another deity. These stories demonstrate that even worship of the devatas can be part of a broader spiritual progression.

The passage concludes with a reminder that Krishna’s compassion is reflected in the system of devata worship. While Krishna may say that worshipping the devatas reflects “less intelligence,” He still encourages this system because it can lead people closer to the ultimate goal of pure devotion to Krishna. The idea is not to argue about who is supreme but to understand that the various forms of worship in the world all serve a purpose in elevating souls. The ultimate goal, however, remains pure devotion to Krishna, without material desires.

While worshipping his Shaligram Sheela, he looked across his brother’s garden and saw a beautiful flower. In his mind, he thought, “This flower is so beautiful, let me offer it to my god, the Shaligram Sheela.” So, he mentally offered the flower. The result was that when Chandidas was worshipping Goddess Chandi, he used the same flower for her worship. As he was worshipping, Chandi immediately appeared before him and said, “I am pleased with your worship. What do you wish?” Delighted and thrilled to see Chandi, he replied, “I am grateful that you have come, but before I ask for anything, please tell me why you are pleased today. I have been worshipping you for so many years, but this is the first time you have appeared.”

Chandi replied, “Today, you have offered me the prasad of Vishnu.” Surprised, Chandidas asked, “What do you mean?” She explained how her brother had mentally offered the flower to Vishnu, and there is a form of worship called manas puja, where if we can’t physically perform an offering, we can at least do it in our minds. Chandi continued, “By mentally offering the flower to Vishnu, you have given me the prasad of my Lord.”

Chandidas then asked, “Does that mean worshipping Vishnu is better than worshipping you?” Chandi replied, “Of course. Vishnu is not just my master; he is the master of my master.” She further explained that her Lord is Shiva, and Shiva is often depicted with meditation beads in his hands. Once, Parvati asked Shiva, “So many people chant ‘Om Namah Shivaya,’ but whose names do you chant?” Shiva replied, “Rama, Rama, Rama, I chant the name of Rama.” Rama, of course, is another manifestation of Vishnu.

As Chandidas understood that worshipping Krishna is better than worshipping Chandi, he became a great devotee of Krishna over time, writing extraordinary poetry glorifying Krishna. His poetry became widely celebrated, and Lord Chaitanya heard it.

The key point of this story is not just that Chandidas, who was worshipping Chandi, became a worshipper of Krishna. It is also that Chandidas did not reject Chandi. He still respected Chandi as the teacher who guided him to Krishna. He kept the name Chandidas and did not change it to Krishnadas. This illustrates the progression: someone may begin by worshipping a deity, and with sincere devotion or blessings, they can rise to worship Krishna. It shows the importance of respecting the gods, as they play a part in Krishna’s plan.

So, how can we make this progression work? Suppose we have acquaintances who worship the devatas (gods). How should we approach it? We must recognize that we need to respect the gods. If we pass by a temple dedicated to a deity, we can offer our respects there. We don’t need to see them as the Supreme but can respect them as great souls who can bless us to worship the Supreme better. We have the example of the gopis, who were the topmost devotees and worshipped Katyayani (a form of Goddess Durga) to attain devotion to Krishna.

The gods are much more powerful than us in the cosmic hierarchy. We exist at the terrestrial level, the gods exist at the celestial level, and Krishna exists at the transcendental level. I will talk more about the structure of the cosmos in the eighth chapter. But for now, suffice it to say that the gods exist at a higher level than us and need to be respected.

Often, we may respect the gods but disrespect their worshippers. We might only focus on Krishna’s teaching that those who worship the gods are unintelligent, but we must also recognize that they are still more intelligent than the majority of people who don’t worship anyone at all and may be godless materialists. We must understand that if someone worships a particular deity, Krishna is in their heart and guiding them. Krishna has a plan for their journey, and we should play our part in that plan.

I’ve spoken before about the Abrahamic religions, which have a strict idea of one true God and false gods. They often destroy the false gods. As devotees, we may not be intolerant toward the gods, but sometimes we are intolerant toward their worshippers. This intolerance can come from the mentality of the Abrahamic faiths, which many of Srila Prabhupada’s early disciples came from. They had grown up with the idea of one true God and false gods, so when they encountered the system of various gods in our tradition, they were often intolerant.

Prabhupada taught that we should respect the gods, so they would do so, but they would often demean the worshippers of the gods. We might carry this intolerant mentality not toward the worshipped gods, but toward their worshippers. We need to understand that people can be quite elevated at their level of worship. Someone might be a very devoted worshipper of Shiva, Durga, or Ganesha, and their devotion should be respected.

Now, if we can provide a proper philosophical understanding to help them gradually move toward worshipping Krishna, that’s excellent. But if we can’t, we don’t need to condemn them. They are at the 60% level, and if we can help them progress to 80%, that’s great. But if we insist on quoting scriptures and debating, and they become confused and eventually reject the process, we’ve done a disservice. Instead of helping them progress, we’ve pushed them backward, from 60% to 40%.

We don’t need to be intolerant. We can present the philosophy as clearly as possible, and if they accept it, that’s wonderful. If they don’t, we must accept that Krishna has a plan for them, and they may need to evolve more before they are ready to worship Krishna, just as a prince estranged from his father needs to be gradually brought back to the kingdom without force or resentment.

Our purpose is ultimately not to disrupt people’s faith but to elevate their faith as much as possible. By doing so, we help them understand this profound system of worship. Just as Krishna is zealous in guiding us, we can also be zealous, not by pushing people, but by expertly helping them rise to a higher level of consciousness.

To summarize, today I spoke about the system of worship of the devatas. I focused on three key points:

1. Understanding the system of polymorphic monotheism: Traditionally, in Western thought, there was monotheism in the Abrahamic religions, and prior to those, the Greek and Roman traditions endorsed polytheism. However, the Vedic system doesn’t fit neatly into either category. It is more accurately described as polymorphic monotheism—there is one divine being who manifests in many forms at different levels through many persons.
2. The difference between Vedic conceptions and other traditions: In the Vedic conception, it’s not a matter of one true god versus many false gods. Instead, there is one Supreme God and many subordinate gods. Understanding this system reveals a progression of faith and devotion, reflecting compassion. We used the metaphor of the Prodigal Son to illustrate this. In the Abrahamic tradition, the father waits for the son to return, symbolizing love. In the Vedic tradition, Krishna doesn’t just wait but actively works by sending his representatives. If the prince is not yet ready to return to the king, he starts by working with the king’s representative or minister. Similarly, Krishna gives faith to the worshippers of the devatas and power to the devatas, setting up the entire system for the soul’s progression.
3. The progression of worship: Krishna is not jealous; He is selflessly compassionate. He doesn’t seek His own glorification but wants the soul’s elevation. I also talked about how Krishna’s system works. Worshipping devatas may be seen as less intelligent compared to worshipping Krishna, but Krishna Himself has created the system through the Vedic scriptures. The level of worship depends on the individual. A materialistic person (40%) is at one level, worshippers of the gods (60%) are at another, and worshippers of Krishna (80%) are at a higher level. The ultimate is pure devotion to Krishna (100%).

I also discussed how this progression has historically worked with figures like Vallabhacharya and Chandidas. For us to make this progression work, we need to respect the gods and those who worship them. We should not disrupt their faith but elevate it as much as we can.

Thank you very much. Are there any questions?

Questions:

1. Why did Krishna allow the system of worship of the various gods?
   Doesn’t having so many gods and scriptures about them create confusion?
   Well, if confusion were to be created, even the four sampradayas would also create enough confusion. If you read the history of Vaishnavism, for example, Madhvacharya’s writings indicate that he refuted various previous teachers who taught incorrect ideas. Among those he refuted was Ramanujacharya. Sectarianism doesn’t require a sectarian ideology—it requires a sectarian mentality. The human mind is vulnerable to sectarianism, and it can arise over any pretext. For example, if tomorrow all racial differences were removed, new reasons for quarreling would arise by the afternoon. In Christianity, there are over 55,000 Protestant groups despite the acceptance of Jesus as the savior. Sectarian division can arise even in systems that promote unity.

So, we understand that Krishna’s purpose is compassionate. The system of worship of various gods is designed to help people gradually rise to higher levels of consciousness. Krishna creates the system, and it is ultimately for the elevation of the soul. The confusion arises because of the sectarian nature of the human mind. Even though Krishna’s system might lead to confusion, this confusion is an unfortunate byproduct of the human mentality. As people become more purified and rise to the mode of goodness, sectarianism can be overcome.

2. Why didn’t they write just one scripture?
   This is a question that often comes up. While the Vedic scriptures are vast and varied, they offer different paths to the same ultimate truth. The existence of multiple scriptures caters to the different spiritual capacities and inclinations of people. If there were only one scripture, it might not address the diverse needs of different individuals. Moreover, the existence of multiple scriptures allows for a variety of interpretations and approaches, ensuring that everyone, based on their level of understanding, can progress on the path of devotion.

I wouldn’t say that there should only be one scripture. As I mentioned earlier, the idea that there should be just one scripture is an oversimplification of reality. Reality itself is complex, and the human mind is even more so. There are various shades of gray within black and white, and the hope that everything should be black and white reflects a naive understanding of reality. As finite, fallible beings, we must learn to live without absolute certainty. In which area of life do we have absolute certainty? For example, during the current COVID-19 pandemic, if a vaccine were to be developed tomorrow, could we be sure that it will work for everyone? In no area of life do we have absolute certainty.

The Vedic system is created with an understanding that people are at different levels of consciousness. The Abrahamic understanding often presents a binary—right and wrong, one and zero. This way of thinking is also prevalent in us. We have inherited the Abrahamic understanding, which sees things as strictly right or wrong. However, reality does not operate based on digital logic; it is more like analog logic. Attempting to reduce reality to a digital framework often leads to confusion. We need to expand our intelligence to understand how broad and magnificent reality truly is.

Confusion can result because life is complex, but reality itself is complex. Therefore, the systems designed to elevate people must also be sufficiently complex. If someone is not able to worship Krishna at the moment, we might see it as confusing, but for others, it may be a stepping stone toward greater understanding. In the Abrahamic tradition, there is the idea that if you don’t accept Jesus as your savior, you will go to hell. But this is not the Vedic understanding. The Vedic system is much more accommodating. Rather than asking why reality cannot be reduced to fit our binary framework, we need to expand our understanding to embrace the complexity of the world.

Regarding Worship and Participation in Other Festivals:

When it comes to worshipping Lord Shiva, for example, if we have family or friends who worship him or if we need to participate in social events, such as festivals of Lord Shiva, we can do so respectfully. Bhaktivinoda Thakur mentions that a devotee may participate in three kinds of festivals:

1. Festivals related to Lord Vishnu/Krishna, where the devotee’s heart is primarily focused.
2. Festivals of other devatas, such as Kali or Durga Puja, out of social convention. During these festivals, a devotee can mentally remember that these devatas are ultimately devotees of the Lord and can pray for the enhancement of their devotion.
3. Local or cultural festivals, such as national holidays or social events, can also be participated in, out of deference to social convention.

A devotee can respect Lord Shiva as a great devotee and a powerful being who can aid in the spiritual journey. In places like South India, where people follow the traditions of the Sringeri Sharadamba Temple, there is a specific disciplinary succession.

In my next session, I will talk about the worship of the impersonal manifestation of the divine. But for now, let me emphasize that it is not easy to fit people into certain conceptual categories.

On Categorization:

Rather than trying to fit everything into neat categories, we should see categories as guides. Every person within a category is still an individual. If we look at a cross-section of Christians, for instance, their understanding of Christianity can vary widely. The same holds true for devotees—no two devotees have exactly the same understanding of bhakti. We shouldn’t simply reduce people to categories. Even in times of war, such as the American Civil War over slavery, it wasn’t as simple as all people in the North being good and all people in the South being bad. Some families were torn between the two sides, and many people were neutral, trying to bring about a peaceful resolution. While politically the North and South were at war, individually, people had different mindsets.

Similarly, we must recognize that people are individuals and cannot be reduced to categories based on their affiliation with a particular group. Groups may have certain ideologies, but that doesn’t mean every individual within that group adheres to the ideology in the same way. We must approach people as human beings, not as abstractions, and help them in their spiritual journey accordingly.

On Exclusivist Religious Statements:

When other religions claim that if you don’t worship God in a specific way, you will go to hell, why is this said, especially when the ultimate goal of all religions is to attain love of God?

I think I explained this in my 4.11 class. Exclusivist statements like these often have a purpose—they are meant to encourage focus. For example, imagine a patient who has visited many doctors without committing to one. He goes to a 13th doctor, who gives him a diagnosis and a treatment plan. The doctor might tell the patient to forget what the other doctors said and follow his treatment. This is not meant to reject the other doctors outright but to help the patient focus on a single course of treatment.

Similarly, in exclusivist religious contexts, the statements that if you don’t follow a particular doctrine you will go to hell are designed to help focus the followers’ attention. However, these statements can sometimes be overemphasized by followers, leading to a prevailing ideology that if you don’t worship in a specific way, you’re condemned. In reality, these statements are more about focus than categorical rejection of other paths.

On Worshiping Krishna vs. Worshiping Other Deities:

Is someone who worships Krishna intrinsically or automatically higher than someone who worships other deities?

This is a nuanced question. Worshiping Krishna is the highest path, but that does not mean those who worship other deities are automatically lower. The Vedic system allows for various paths, and different levels of consciousness lead to different practices. The key is not simply what deity one worships but the level of devotion and understanding with which they engage in that worship. Krishna Himself is merciful and accommodates those at different levels of consciousness, guiding them gradually toward higher understanding.

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In the previous two sessions, we discussed how Krishna, in the 7th chapter, begins giving a more affirming understanding of God. To connect with Krishna, we don’t necessarily need to detach ourselves from the world, but we can attach ourselves to Krishna, and we can do that through the world as well. By “through the world,” I mean that we can look at the world and see God in it. In that connection, we discussed in the second-to-last session how science approaches the world, and in the previous session, we looked at how even sexuality can be incorporated into the Gita’s vision of spirituality.

Today, we will continue that theme and examine how people approach God, often with different conceptions, and what happens when our prayers are not answered. This is a continuation of the same theme because the underlying idea is that most people, including us, approach God because something in our life is wrong and we want it to be fixed. To some extent, this is a material conception with which we approach God. So, let’s explore this further today.

Krishna says that after many lifetimes, some people become full of knowledge, surrender to Him, and understand that He is everything. Such great souls are extremely rare. The underlying idea Krishna is expressing is that those who surrender to Him realize that He is everything. Verse 7.19 is the culmination of a four-verse sequence starting from verse 7.16, where Krishna talks about how people approach Him for different purposes. We will use these verses as a starting point for our discussion on how we can perceive God in different ways when we approach Him in prayer.

I’ll discuss understanding the purpose of prayer, how our vision of God changes, and how we evolve in our understanding of God’s help. Some of the points in this class I may have mentioned briefly earlier, but here they will be more specifically focused on prayer.

Prayer is almost like a universal language of humanity. Across the world, different people in different situations, including tribals or aborigines, may have different ways of trying to appease the unknown. Some may perform dances, others might engage in voodoo worship, or whatever rituals they follow. Most of these are done with a material conception. What does that material conception mean? It means we pray so that we can get God to change something that we cannot change. For example, if there is a drought or a famine in a particular place, certain rituals or forms of prayer might be done to ask God to end the drought. In modern times, during cricket matches in India, people may pray so that India wins the match. The idea is to get God to change something that we cannot change.

However, there is also a separate, deeper spiritual understanding of prayer. That understanding is to connect with God and, in doing so, change ourselves. The purpose of praying is to connect with God. We see this in our bhakti tradition, where many prayers are offered with no request at all. Consider the Brahma Samhita prayers, often recited in our temples: “Govindam adipurusham tamaham bhajami” – “I worship Lord Govinda, the original person.” The idea here is that we simply adore and worship, seeing prayer as a means to connect with Him and become absorbed in Him. This is the primary purpose of prayer, with nothing beyond that.

So, we also see this in the teachings of Prahlad, where he mentions that there are nine ways of connecting with Krishna, and one of them is prayer. Let’s explore how one moves from a material conception to a spiritual conception, and whether the material conception is wrong. We’ll look at these things a little later.

Basically, let me explain: I may have a problem, and I need it fixed. Yes, we do need to be fixed, but among our needs, there are material needs, which are like painkillers, and spiritual needs, which are like curative medicines. Earlier, we discussed what we live with and what we live for. In a similar way, our material needs and resources are like what we live with—they are important but they are painkillers. Spiritual needs, on the other hand, are like the curative medicine. When we have a divine purpose to live for and connect with the divine, with Krishna, it provides us with a sublime satisfaction that takes us beyond any other agitation we may have.

This is a diagram we have discussed earlier. Let’s look at this pattern with specific examples. Suppose someone is sick and they don’t have a painkiller or any medicine—then they will be miserable. That’s the bottom left quadrant, which we’ll call the first quadrant. Now, suppose someone is in pain, and the main thing they think about is how to become free from that pain. They don’t think too much about what the disease is or what the cure for it is, they just want relief from the pain.

Now, why are material needs compared to painkillers? For example, we all have certain needs like breathing, hunger, and thirst. Hunger can be unbearably painful, and thirst can be unbearably painful. It is important to have food, water, and other basic needs. But think about it: after we get food, what happens? People who are starving are unhappy, but are people who are well-fed truly happy? Not necessarily. Once the need is taken care of, it’s like a painkiller—when the pain is numbed, we need another dose soon after.

In this way, our material existence is like a disease condition, and our material needs are like painkillers. We keep needing them again and again. Of course, we need them, but they are not the primary focus. Now, if someone takes only painkillers, this means their material needs are fulfilled, but their spiritual needs—connection with Krishna—are not. In such a case, they might be comfortable or happy for a time, but not for long.

On the other hand, if our spiritual needs are fulfilled, and we are connected with Krishna and absorbed in Him, but our material needs are not completely fulfilled, it is not easy, but it is bearable. We may get some glimpses of this, say, when we fast on certain holy days. Normally, we think we can’t fast, but on those days, we fast and realize it’s not that impossible. We discover that it is bearable, but not sustainable. Sustainability happens when both our material and spiritual needs are taken care of.

One vision of prayer is that it provides for our material needs, acting like a painkiller. If we consider Krishna like a doctor, then no doctor wants their patient to be in pain. But the doctor doesn’t just want the pain to be covered up; the doctor wants the pain to be cured. Therefore, a balanced approach involves taking care of both material and spiritual needs. A proper doctor would give both painkilling medication and curative medication. That’s the balance.

Sometimes, in certain phases, if one of these is not present, it is far better that the painkilling medicine is not there because at least the cure is going on. So, what happens to us? We often have a limited conception of prayer. The idea is that if God doesn’t fulfill the particular thing I want, then what’s the use of worshiping Him? Let’s explore this further.

Now, let’s talk about our material and spiritual needs. What exactly do we mean by spiritual needs? For that, we need to evolve in our vision of God. God is not just the fulfiller of our desires; He is the fulfillment of our desires. God’s greatest blessing is that whatever we get from Him is no match for God Himself. This was the point discussed in this particular verse. Evolved spiritual seekers understand this. It might take many lifetimes to realize this, but once they do, they understand that God is everything. If I have Krishna, I don’t need anything else. Whatever attractiveness might exist in the world, all of that is present in Krishna.

So, this is about the four levels at which we might approach God: fear, desire, duty, and love. At the first and second levels, it’s a material conception, at the level of beauty, it’s a transitional conception, and love is the highest level. Let’s look at these quickly.

Most world religions function at the level of fear, meaning that if I don’t worship God, He may punish me, so let me pacify Him by worshiping Him. This is better than atheism, but it is based on a very negative conception of God as a stern judge or a punisher.

Fear is the level at which many religions are criticized for inducing fear in people about some hell in a future life, or fear of other consequences. Some argue that religion manipulates through fear. Fear can be a very dangerous tool for power, and it can be easily abused. This is not a healthy or sustainable way of relating to God. In fact, many cults, when they try to control their members, create a lot of fear about the afterlife and dehumanize and demonize anyone who doesn’t belong to the cult. There is fear of God, and fear of everything that isn’t connected with God in the way prescribed by that particular religion or group.

Now, when we talk about these levels, it’s important to understand that they are not confined to any particular religion. Fear-based approaches to God exist in Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, and even in tribal groups. In some ways, this might be better than atheism because at least it includes some conception of God. Fear also takes different forms. For example, consider the fear of law. Should ordinary citizens be afraid of the police? Ideally, the police shouldn’t be violent or act like terrorists, but there should be an understanding that if I do something wrong, I will be punished. For instance, people often break traffic rules with impunity in India, but when they go to the US, UK, or Australia, they follow the traffic rules carefully. Why? Because they fear they can’t just bribe their way out of trouble. Fear, in this case, is a tool for order and discipline.

In the Bible, it is said that “the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom,” but that is only the beginning. If fear is all that’s present in our religion, then how can we have a meaningful relationship with God?

The next level is the level of desire. This is what we discussed earlier, where most people approach God because they have many desires. They think, “If I can’t get these things, maybe if I pray to God, He will give them to me.” This conception of God is more positive, not as a cosmic punisher, but as a source of fulfilling desires. The problem with this conception is that it’s utilitarian. If God doesn’t fulfill my desires, then what’s the use of worshiping Him? And if God fulfills my desires, then what’s the need to worship Him after that? It becomes a transactional relationship, which is very utilitarian.

Within this approach, deception can also arise. For example, if people think that all they need is to have their desires fulfilled, they might end up worshiping someone who claims to be God, but is actually just a magician who does tricks for them. This is a very naive understanding of God. When the conception of God is primarily based on desire, the problem is that people might think that if they can get their desires fulfilled from some other source, there is no need for God.

For instance, “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, give us our daily bread.” This is a good prayer at one level, as people are going to God and praying to Him. But a rabbi might say that this shows a love for bread, not for God, because the primary interest is in getting bread from God. If that bread can be obtained by some other means, then what is the need to go to God? This is the level of desire, a utilitarian concept.

Krishna talks about four categories of people who come to Him, and we can place them in these categories we are discussing. He says there are people who are inquisitive, people who are in distress, and people who are seekers of well-being. Those in distress or seeking well-being generally fall into the categories of fear or desire. Even those who are inquisitive are often still seeking information, driven by desire, and are not beyond personal interest.

The next level, beauty, is a steadier conception of God. This level represents a more mature understanding of one’s relationship with God. If we consider a child-parent relationship, should a child have some fear of the parents? Yes, there should be some discipline and fear, but fear shouldn’t be the sole basis of the relationship. Similarly, with desire—if a child only relates to the parent to get things, such as money or gifts, then that is not a very pleasant relationship. A child who calls the parent only when they need something is not nurturing a healthy relationship.

The level of beauty, then, involves a more balanced and mature understanding of God. We recognize that we have so many things we need for our existence, and they are provided for us without our making any effort. We may think that we work hard and earn money to get our food, but no matter how hard we work or how much money we make, if nature doesn’t provide the basic ingredients for our food, we will get nothing. We can’t create air or sunlight, or many of the foundational necessities for our living. God has already provided us with so much through nature.

The Gift of Nature and the Importance of Gratitude

Imagine if we had to pay a bill to nature for everything it provides. A science magazine once suggested that if we had to pay the sun for the energy it gives, just a week’s worth of electricity in one state, like Oklahoma, would cost more than the entire annual budget of the world. This illustrates the immense abundance provided by nature and by God. Everything we receive is a gift, and our relationship with God should be rooted in gratitude for what has already been given, not in craving for what we don’t have.

Often, the word “duty” has a negative connotation, as it can become burdensome over time. The highest level, however, is one based on love. At this level, we approach God because He is so lovable. We realize that it is Krishna, the all-attractive form of God, whom we desire to pray to. At this level, we seek no material gain, yet God reciprocates our devotion. This pure love satisfies the heart because the heart longs for love above all else.

Pure Devotion: The Example of Prahlad Maharaj

Prahlad Maharaj is an example of someone who had pure love for God. He was the son of the emperor of the world and had everything anyone could desire. Yet, despite his material prosperity, he wanted something more—devotion to God. He was willing to give up everything for that devotion. In his prayers, there is no material request; instead, there is loving reciprocation and complete absorption in God.

Three Levels of Devotion

Devotion can be categorized into three levels:

1. Circumstantial Devotion: This is devotion driven by fear or desire. For example, someone might pray to God when they are in trouble, asking for help out of desperation.
2. Intelligence-Driven Devotion: This type of devotion is rooted in intelligence and understanding. It involves recognizing God’s greatness and wanting a personal relationship with Him. Even if one doesn’t yet have that connection, their devotion is sincere and driven by a desire to develop it.
3. Transcendental Devotion: This is the highest level of devotion, based purely on love. It is characterized by selfless devotion to God without any material expectation.

Understanding God’s Responses to Our Prayers

As we grow in our understanding of God, we also evolve in our understanding of how God answers our prayers. To illustrate, consider the relationship between a parent and child. A child might want a toy from their parent, but the parent’s love for the child is not dependent on whether the toy is given. If the child reduces the parent’s love to the gift of a toy, they miss the greater love the parent has for them.

Similarly, when we pray to God, it’s important not to reduce our understanding of His love to simply whether or not our material desires are fulfilled. The issues we face, like career setbacks or health problems, may seem serious, but from the eternal perspective, they are temporary. While it’s natural to feel concerned about them, we must also recognize that God’s love for us goes beyond these temporary struggles.

Limited Resources, Unlimited Desires

In the material world, we live in a situation where resources are limited, but needs are unlimited. A good example of this can be seen in the Second World War, where both German and British soldiers prayed for protection, yet casualties occurred on both sides. Similarly, if we look at a situation like a cricket match between India and Pakistan, children in both countries may pray for their team to win. However, only one team can win, and this highlights the reality that not all desires can be fulfilled.

God is unlimited, but the material world is limited. While God may sometimes intervene and perform miracles, He does not typically alter the natural course of events. Thus, there are times when our prayers may not result in the outcomes we expect. Understanding this is key to deepening our relationship with God.

God’s Protection: A Divine Example

In scriptural examples, such as the story of Parikshit Maharaj in the Bhagavatam, we see that God’s protection transcends the material world. Even before Parikshit was born, the Lord protected him in the womb. This demonstrates that God’s intervention is not bound by material circumstances. He is capable of performing miracles to protect His devotees, and this is a glorious example of God’s love and care for His devotees.

Parikshit Maharaj: Protection Beyond the Physical

Parikshit Maharaj began his life as a child in the womb, protected by divine intervention. However, as he grew older, he was cursed to die within seven days. The Bhagavatam recounts his life, beginning with his protection and ending with his death. Initially, his protection was physical—protected from dangers in the material world. But later, when he was cursed, protection came in a different form.

When a snake came to bite him, Parikshit Maharaj’s body was attacked, but his consciousness was no longer attached to it. Instead, he had become absorbed in Krishna by hearing the Bhagavatam. This absorption in Krishna’s presence became his ultimate protection. The snake bit his body, but his consciousness was focused on Krishna, which shielded him spiritually. This illustrates that the greatest protection comes from being absorbed in Krishna, not merely in physical safety.

Absorption in Krishna: The True Protection

Lord Kapila in the Bhagavatam teaches that those who take shelter in Krishna and become absorbed in hearing His pastimes are shielded from worldly troubles. They are not disturbed by life’s difficulties because their consciousness is rooted in Krishna, transcending the material world. Absorption in Krishna is the highest form of protection.

Miraculous Interventions: Protection Beyond the Physical

Throughout religious traditions, there are stories of miraculous interventions. For example, Lord Nrsimhadeva protected His devotee Prahlad Maharaj from countless attempts on his life, such as being thrown into fire or hurled off a mountain. Similarly, in the Bible, Moses parted the sea to protect the Israelites from the Egyptian soldiers, showcasing that God can suspend the natural laws to protect His devotees.

These examples, while miraculous, are often seen as temporary physical interventions. However, they highlight the divine protection that transcends the material realm. God’s protection is not limited to physical well-being; His true protection is spiritual.

Understanding Protection: Material vs. Spiritual

Sometimes, we may experience distress in life—whether through serious accidents, illness, or loss. We might wonder why God isn’t protecting us, especially when other devotees seem to have miraculous protection. However, protection doesn’t always mean physical safety. Sometimes, God’s protection is spiritual, shielding us from negative consequences and elevating our consciousness, even amidst difficulties.

For example, some devotees may pass away in peaceful settings, surrounded by others chanting the holy names, while others may suffer tragic accidents. Does this mean one is protected and the other is not? Not necessarily. Protection can manifest in many forms. While physical protection is important, it’s not the ultimate form of protection.

The Story of Prahlad Maharaj

The story of Prahlad Maharaj is a perfect example of spiritual protection. Despite being subjected to brutal treatment by his father, Prahlad remained absorbed in Krishna. His devotion was so deep that, even though he faced great physical danger, he was spiritually untouched. His ultimate protection came from being fully absorbed in Krishna’s love.

Absorption in Krishna: The Key to Spiritual Protection

When we understand that Krishna is all-attractive and the source of all desires, we can become absorbed in Him. This absorption is the greatest form of connection with God and brings us spiritual protection.

When we pray to Krishna, we should not view prayer merely as a means to get something. Sometimes our prayers will be answered in the way we expect, and sometimes they won’t. However, if we see prayer as a means to connect with Krishna, it will always work. Prayer will lift the burdens we face, not by necessarily removing our problems, but by elevating our consciousness above them.

The Power of Prayer: Shifting Our Focus

Often, the real problem isn’t the situation itself, but how we obsess over it. The more we focus on our problems, the larger they seem to grow in our minds. It’s not that the problem becomes bigger, but that our consciousness becomes consumed by it.

In prayer, we must shift our focus away from the problem and turn towards Krishna. When we focus on Krishna, we are reminded of His greatness, and this makes the problems in our life seem smaller and more manageable. Prayer connects us to Krishna and lifts us above our problems.

Release or Relief?

There are two types of relief that prayer brings:

1. Release from the Problem: In some cases, the problem will be resolved entirely, and the difficulty will vanish.
2. Relief Amidst the Problem: In other cases, the problem may persist, but our consciousness rises above it. The problem remains, but it no longer burdens us as it did before.

This can be likened to entering an air-conditioned room after being in a hot environment. If you stand at the door, expecting the entire room to cool instantly, you will be disappointed. However, if you enter and let the cool air surround you, you’ll find relief. Similarly, when we turn to Krishna, we experience a gradual shift in our consciousness that offers both relief and, sometimes, release from the problems we face.

Prayer: A Path to Spiritual Connection

In the world, we often face a mix of challenges and distress. When we pray to Krishna for relief from these challenges, sometimes our problems are resolved quickly, but other times, they might not be removed immediately. However, the act of prayer doesn’t necessarily change the external circumstances right away. Instead, it opens the door to a deeper spiritual experience—allowing our consciousness to enter a space of peace, like stepping into an air-conditioned room. This room represents the place where our consciousness can be absorbed in Krishna.

When we approach prayer in this way—not just asking for material changes but seeking to deepen our connection with Krishna—we will find that prayer always works. It brings us strength and helps us connect to Krishna, offering a spiritual protection that transcends material solutions.

Should We Pray for Specific Problems?

This raises the question: if we face particular issues, such as health problems, relationship challenges, or career instability, should we pray to God for these things? Some might argue that God already knows our needs, so why pray? While it’s true that God knows everything, prayer is not just about conveying our needs. It’s an expression of our relationship with God. Just like in a parent-child relationship, saying “I love you” deepens the bond. Similarly, expressing our concerns to Krishna helps deepen our connection with Him.

When we are burdened by something in our heart, it can be hard to focus on Krishna alone. By praying about our problems, we unburden our hearts and create space for Krishna in our consciousness. Even if our focus is initially on the problem, we can use it as a starting point to pray for Krishna’s guidance.

A Story of Devotion: Guru Maharaj

Consider the story of Guru Maharaj, who was deeply insulted and felt devastated. He wanted to sit on his father’s lap, but his stepmother refused, declaring that only children born through her could do so. Feeling humiliated, Guru Maharaj vowed to not only sit on his father’s lap but to sit on a throne greater than hers. Desperate, his mother advised him to worship Vishnu, and under the guidance of Nadanmuni, he meditated and performed austerities to gain Krishna’s blessing.

When he finally had a vision of Vishnu, he became spiritually enriched and realized that, having attained Krishna’s presence, he no longer desired anything else. His prayer transformed from asking for material desires to pure devotion.

This story demonstrates that while we may start praying for material desires, prayer can purify our heart and elevate our devotion to a higher level. Initially, Guru Maharaj sought Krishna for material reasons, but through his devotion, he transcended those desires.

The Evolution of Devotion

For us, it’s important to recognize that it’s not wrong to pray for relief from our troubles. Prayer may not always bring an immediate solution to our material problems, but it connects us with Krishna. The key is to remember that we are gradually working toward a pure devotion, but we must first start by connecting with Krishna, even if our motivations are initially material.

Through association with devotees—those who are motivated by transcendental love for Krishna—we can elevate our consciousness. Devotional practices, even if circumstantial at first, will eventually purify our hearts and deepen our connection with Krishna.

The Best Prayer: Service to Krishna

When Srila Prabhupada was asked about the best prayer to offer, he replied: “Please engage me in Your service.” Our eternal relationship with Krishna is one of service. Prayer, in its purest form, should be an expression of our desire to serve Krishna. Even if nothing external changes, offering our consciousness to Krishna through prayer is an act of service. When we pray with this attitude, we align ourselves with Krishna’s will, and the burden of our problems decreases.

The purpose of prayer is not simply to ask God to change our external circumstances. At the material level, prayer may start as a request to change something, but at the spiritual level, prayer connects us to Krishna. As we deepen our devotion, our prayers become less about asking for specific material outcomes and more about establishing a relationship with Krishna.

Like a patient going to a doctor, we may seek relief, but if we reject treatment just because it doesn’t meet our expectations, we are sabotaging ourselves. Prayer is like the doctor’s treatment—it might not always give us what we expect, but it always works in ways that help us grow spiritually.

Ultimately, prayer is a tool for spiritual evolution. It brings us closer to Krishna, and as we grow in our devotion, our problems become less overwhelming. Prayer may not always change our material circumstances, but it transforms our consciousness, and that, in itself, is the greatest blessing.

The Balance Between Material and Spiritual Needs

When both our material and spiritual needs are unfulfilled, life becomes unbearable. If our material needs are met but our spiritual needs are neglected, it’s like taking a painkiller—it may relieve temporary discomfort, but it’s unsustainable in the long run. On the other hand, if our material needs are unmet but our spiritual needs are fulfilled, it becomes bearable. This is the situation where we might pray to Krishna for something, and it doesn’t happen immediately, but through prayer, we are at least connecting with Krishna. This connection itself is uplifting, providing relief even if the material issue persists.

What Are Spiritual Needs?

In this context, spiritual needs refer to our deeper connection with Krishna. We often approach God not only to fulfill material desires but also to deepen our understanding of Him. We talked about the four levels at which we approach God—desire, duty, and love. Additionally, devotion progresses in three stages: circumstantial, intentional, and transcendental. These stages reflect the evolution of our relationship with God, from seeking help for material needs to serving Krishna with pure love.

What Happens When Our Prayers Are Not Answered?

When our prayers go unanswered, we might wonder why. The scriptures describe God’s intervention in various ways—sometimes in miraculous forms, but often in subtle ways that may not align with our expectations. If we reduce our relationship with God to simply fulfilling our desires, it’s like a child seeing a parent’s love only in the toys they are given. A deeper relationship with Krishna is about more than material fulfillment; it’s about spiritual connection.

Relief Amid Problems: The Role of Prayer

Even if we don’t get an immediate resolution to our problems, prayer can still bring relief. The problems we face might feel like a blazing heat, but prayer can offer relief, like entering an air-conditioned room. When we pray, we connect with Krishna, and that connection helps to alleviate the inner distress, even if the external situation remains unchanged.

Praying for Material Needs: The Story of Dhruva

We can look to the story of Dhruva to understand how material prayers can be answered. Dhruva prayed to Krishna for a kingdom greater than his father’s, and through his devotion, he ultimately achieved his material desire while also attaining spiritual realization. This demonstrates that material prayers, when offered with devotion, can lead to spiritual growth.

The Importance of Association

When we are in the association of devotees, we learn the proper attitude toward prayer and develop a continuous relationship with Krishna. By praying to serve Krishna, we position ourselves auspiciously for spiritual growth. True prayer is not about getting God to fulfill our desires but about deepening our connection with Him.

Absorbing Ourselves in Krishna Through Work

One common question is: How can we absorb ourselves in Krishna when we have to engage in work? The key is to approach our work with the understanding that it is an offering to Krishna. Before starting, remind yourself that the work is for Krishna. After completing the task, express gratitude to Krishna for giving you the ability to serve through that work. Even during the work, recognize that your abilities are gifts from Krishna.

This approach can be applied to any task, as long as we reorient our lives with Krishna as the ultimate purpose. For example, Arjuna, during the battle of Kurukshetra, didn’t chant Krishna’s name while fighting, but his purpose was to serve Krishna through his actions in the war. Similarly, we don’t have to constantly chant while working, but if we remember that our work is meant for Krishna, it can be done as an offering.

The Role of Distress in Devotion: The Example of Prahlad

The distress that Prahlad Maharaj faced was due to his devotion to Krishna, and it set an example for others. Devotees may face suffering, not because they’ve done something wrong but because Krishna has a higher plan. Prahlad himself acknowledged that his suffering was part of Krishna’s plan to teach others the principles of pure devotion. Sometimes, suffering comes upon us even when we haven’t done anything to deserve it, and through it, we learn how to maintain our devotion despite challenges.

What Does It Mean When Krishna Takes Away a Desire?

Sometimes, when we pray to Krishna for something, it may seem like He fulfills our desire only to take it away shortly after. This could be a sign that the material desire was not truly beneficial for our spiritual growth. Krishna may remove the desire to guide us toward a deeper connection with Him, helping us detach from material things and focus on spiritual fulfillment instead. It’s important to trust that Krishna’s decisions are always in our best interest, even when they don’t align with our expectations.

In summary, prayer is not just about seeking material fulfillment; it is about developing a deeper, spiritual relationship with Krishna. Even if our material desires are not fulfilled, prayer can provide relief and strengthen our connection with God. Through prayer, we can move from circumstantial devotion to intentional and transcendental devotion, allowing us to navigate life’s challenges with a sense of purpose and peace.

Understanding the Role of Krishna’s Arrangement and Karma

When something happens in our lives, we can view it in three ways:

1. It comes due to our past karma.
2. It comes by Krishna’s arrangement.
3. It comes through Krishna’s arrangement acting through our past and present karma.

The key is to always maintain a mood of serving the Lord. If we are given particular resources, we should use them to serve Krishna. If we don’t have those resources, we continue to serve Krishna in whatever way we can. When Krishna provides something, we recognize that it’s given so that we can use it in His service. When Krishna takes it away, we understand that He now desires us to serve without those things.

The Case of Chitraketu Maharaj

An example of this is Chitraketu Maharaj. He desperately wanted a child, and after performing rituals, he finally had a son. However, his son was taken away shortly after birth. This taught him that nothing, apart from Krishna, can truly satisfy us. Desiring anything more than Krishna is not beneficial. Chitraketu’s attachment to having a son as an heir, even though it was for service to Krishna, was a lesson in realizing that what Krishna wants is what we must accept.

If we approach life with a relationship centered on serving Krishna, we can more easily accept the arrival and departure of material things. Whether we have or lack material resources, the goal is to always be focused on serving Krishna.

The Dynamics of Karma and Prayer

Karma is not a simple or static concept. While we carry the reactions of past lives, how we act in this life also matters. Karma is dynamic—it’s not like a fixed path where we simply face the inevitable consequences of past actions. Instead, we also have the opportunity to act in ways that influence our current and future circumstances.

Praying to Krishna is part of this process. We may not fully understand how prayer interacts with our karma, but prayer is a tool that helps us connect with Krishna. We should not view prayer simply as a way to change our material circumstances, but as a way to deepen our connection with Krishna. Through prayer, we can learn to use material circumstances as an impetus to serve Krishna.

Is Prayer Meaningless in the Face of Karma?

Some might ask, “What’s the use of praying to Krishna if everything is determined by karma?” One way to view this is through the example of a sports player. In a long career, players often face wrong decisions, where they are given out unfairly or not given out when they should be. Over time, the total number of “wrong” decisions evens out. Similarly, even if we can’t change all our karma, prayer can still help us navigate it more gracefully. If we face 10 problems and prayer helps reduce it to 9 or 8, that’s still a benefit.

The key takeaway is that prayer helps to soften the burden of karma, even if it doesn’t eliminate it entirely. It’s not about avoiding all suffering but finding spiritual relief through our relationship with Krishna.

Balancing Material and Spiritual Needs

Sometimes devotees enter spiritual practice with high expectations, thinking their material needs will be fulfilled automatically. For example, someone may join an ashram expecting their material desires to be taken care of, but then they feel disillusioned when those desires remain unmet. The solution lies in realistic understanding: Bhakti is not a quick fix for material problems, but a path to spiritual fulfillment.

Practical education is important to help devotees understand the balance between material and spiritual needs. Bhakti is not about rejecting the material world entirely, but about seeing everything as an opportunity to serve Krishna. While spiritual growth might not immediately resolve material problems, it provides a deeper perspective on how to navigate them.

Realistic Expectations in Bhakti

Bhakti is about cultivating a deeper connection with Krishna, not about expecting material rewards. Sometimes devotees may misinterpret the teachings or expect the material world to become perfect through bhakti. However, Bhakti encourages a holistic approach that includes both spiritual practice and practical solutions to worldly problems. Srila Prabhupada, when departing, emphasized the importance of organization and intelligence in spreading Krishna Consciousness. This means providing holistic care for devotees, addressing their material needs while nurturing their spiritual growth.

Ultimately, we are learning how to balance our material and spiritual needs, and how to accept whatever Krishna arranges for us, knowing that He desires our well-being. Karma, prayer, and service all interact in ways we may not fully understand, but the key is to approach all situations with a mood of serving Krishna. Even in difficult times, the practice of bhakti helps us maintain spiritual focus and offers relief from the burdens of life.

Balancing Material and Spiritual Needs in Bhakti

In the practice of bhakti, it’s important to recognize that spiritual growth is a lifelong process. Sometimes, devotees may find that only their special spiritual needs are being met, but their material needs remain unaddressed. This is something that needs to be communicated to help devotees make arrangements for their material needs as well.

As devotees gain more experience, they also become more mature in understanding how bhakti is to be practiced. Bhakti is not just a short-term endeavor; it’s for a lifetime. While we should be serious about practicing bhakti, it’s also possible that we may live longer than we expect. Therefore, it’s essential not to neglect our health or other practical aspects of life. If we don’t take care of our body now, we may not be able to serve Krishna effectively in the future, no matter how enthusiastic we are.

Practical Example: Vajendra’s Story

Srila Prabhupada often referenced the story of Vajendra, the elephant caught by a crocodile. Vajendra struggled in the water, but if he had been on land, he could have fought the crocodile. This story illustrates that we must also recognize the practical aspects of our situation in life. We should understand how best to balance our practice of bhakti with the realities of our circumstances.

The Importance of Personal Responsibility

Blaming authorities for our challenges is a common reaction, but we must understand that our movement is still young, and both the authorities and the devotees are learning together. The locus of responsibility for our spiritual lives always rests with the individual. It’s not the responsibility of our spiritual master, the authorities, or the institution to manage our spiritual growth. Arjuna didn’t outsource his responsibility to Krishna; instead, he learned from Krishna and made his own choices.

We must approach bhakti with the understanding that while we learn from authorities, we must also use our intelligence and take personal responsibility for our spiritual journey.

Cultivating Gratitude in All Circumstances

Being grateful in all circumstances is not easy, but it is possible. Even if we can’t be grateful for every situation, we can still practice gratitude by looking beyond the situation itself. There are three key steps to cultivating gratitude:

1. Look for the good around the bad: Even in difficult situations, look for positive aspects. For example, if you’ve lost your job, instead of focusing solely on the loss, find the good around it, such as marketable skills or new opportunities.
2. Look for lessons and growth: Often, bad situations lead to personal growth or lessons that will serve us in the future. Reflect on how challenges can help you grow spiritually.
3. Look for the good that may emerge from the bad: Sometimes, difficult situations bring unexpected benefits. Reflect on how challenging times in the past may have led to better opportunities later.

By practicing these three steps, we can begin to see the good in even the most challenging circumstances, helping us maintain gratitude even when it’s difficult.

Inquisitiveness and Duty in Bhakti

In bhakti, inquisitiveness can come from different motivations. If a person is merely curious or intrigued by devotional practices without a deeper understanding, this is often a form of superficial inquisitiveness. However, if the inquisitiveness is driven by a sincere desire to connect with Krishna, it becomes more aligned with duty.

The sages who asked profound questions were motivated by duty and intelligence, seeking to understand the ultimate reality and connect with Krishna. Their inquisitiveness was purposeful, rooted in their practice of bhakti, not just for personal curiosity.

Karma and Absorption in Krishna

The difficulty we face in absorbing ourselves fully in Krishna is often due to the momentum of our past karmas. Our minds have developed patterns based on previous actions and conceptions, making it challenging to focus on Krishna. However, by practicing bhakti gradually and with intention, we can overcome these obstacles.

The key is to start with what we can do, even if it’s just a small effort, and then gradually increase our focus on Krishna. Over time, through consistent practice, we will develop greater absorption in Krishna.

Thank you very much.

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हरे कृष्णा!
And we are all going to be quiet today.

Today, we will try to cover the last three verses of this section of the Gopi Geet. In the previous verse, we discussed how the gopis felt abandoned by Krishna, expressing their longing to Him by saying: “Do we give up everything for You, only to be abandoned by You?”

Here, Krishna seems so cold-hearted and apathetic. But previously, He was so loving. The gopis describe this in their private discussions: रहसी संवितम् — He spoke words that deeply touched their hearts, रुच्योदयम् — expressions of affection, intimacy, and great, great love. These words have remained as permanent treasures in their hearts. It is by remembering Krishna’s words of love that they endure separation from Him.

However, the loving words of the past and Krishna’s present actions, which seem so unloving, just don’t align. प्रहसिताननम् प्रेमवीक्षणम् — It wasn’t just soft or sweet words spoken to deceive them; they saw His expressions. Sometimes, people can be deceptive, but it’s very difficult to be a liar 100% of the time—something always gives them away. It was not just the words Krishna spoke. Sometimes, a person may speak warm, welcoming words, but their eyes are cold, and the welcoming words don’t match their expressions.

But Krishna’s words were affectionate, His face was smiling with joy, and His eyes were filled with love. It was with love that He glanced at them. वीक्षणम्, specifically, refers to a sidelong glance. The gopis repeatedly mention Krishna’s वीक्षणम् because one-on-one moments with Him are very rare.

While Krishna interacts with the gopis, other Vrajavasis, or herds the cows, He often casts sidelong glances. It’s a way of looking at one thing while secretly looking at something else. These glances reflect Krishna’s hidden affection. While He fulfills societal obligations—because Krishna and the gopis are not formally related through marriage—His heart longs to be with them.

This longing is conveyed through the sidelong glances. For example, imagine you attend a ceremony or meet someone, but someone else you want to meet is also there. Out of politeness, you talk to the first person, but your eyes are searching anxiously for the other. In the same way, Krishna’s sidelong glances reflect His longing for the gopis.

प्रेमवीक्षणम् — Krishna’s heart is with the gopis, and they have inferred this from His loving glances.

बृहद उर: श्रीयो

The gopis say to Krishna, “You embraced us, and You gave us shelter on Your chest—a chest so large and broad, offering immense comfort and refuge.” ब्रूहद उरश्रियो—When we were sheltered there, we remembered वीक्षधामते, the abode of the Goddess of Fortune. It is on that chest, where Lakshmi Devi resides, that You gave us shelter. Remembering those intense expressions of love and those profound experiences we shared with You, we find ourselves recalling them again and again.

मूहोर—We are remembering them repeatedly. अथी स्प्रूहा—Our desire, स्प्रूहा, grows increasingly intense. Generally, desire can exist in varying degrees. For example, a mild desire may not prompt immediate action: “I feel like eating something, but maybe I’ll do it later.” However, as desire becomes stronger, it compels movement. When the urge is powerful—such as an alcoholic’s craving for alcohol—it drives a person to act.

When desire becomes overwhelming, it can bind or blind us. Binding desires are like a puppeteer’s strings—they control and pull us in specific directions. Blinding desires, on the other hand, render us incapable of seeing consequences or even deciding what to do. For instance, if an alcoholic is placed in a recovery center with no access to alcohol, their overwhelming craving might leave them bewildered, unable to think or act. Similarly, मूहियते मनः—our minds become bewildered by such strong desires.

Desire can differ across the three gunas. In सत्त्व, desire is mild and refined. However, in रजस, desire drives intense activity, while in तमस, desire leads to lethargy and inaction. Externally, a person in सत्त्व and one in तमस may appear the same—both may be sitting quietly. However, the one in सत्त्व is absorbed in contemplation, while the one in तमस is aimlessly waiting, thinking, “When can I stop thinking and just sleep?”

The gopis express that their longing for Krishna has reached its peak. मूहोर अथी स्प्रूहा—The desire has become so strong that they don’t know what to do anymore. This brings up an important connection between memories and desires. Memories can deeply influence desires. In bhakti, we are instructed to “always remember Krishna.” This remembrance can either be intellectual or emotionally infused.

While both forms of remembrance are important, the emotional aspect is more significant in bhakti. Emotionally surcharged remembrance intensifies the connection with Krishna. For example, on Janmashtami, I once wrote a beautiful article describing Krishna for the Times of India. I detailed His hair, His face, and His divine appearance, feeling very pleased with the description. The next morning, during darshan at 4:30 am, I found myself recalling the words I had written and immersing myself in them. But then it struck me—I was relishing the words describing Krishna more than Krishna Himself.

This realization wasn’t entirely negative; after all, Krishna’s beauty and His descriptions are interconnected. Sometimes, we may focus on Krishna’s attire or decorations, appreciating the artistry behind them, but forget to see beyond them to Krishna Himself. Similarly, the gopis’ memories are deeply personal, centered on Krishna’s attributes and their intimate connection with Him.

The ultimate test of our remembrance is whether it leads to an increase in our desire for Krishna. For the gopis, their longing and love for Krishna grow ever stronger as they reflect on their past experiences with Him. Their emotions, memories, and desires are all directed toward Him, forming the essence of their devotion.

This theme is also discussed by Krishna in Bhagavad Gita 12.9:
अतचित्तम् समाधातु नशक्नुसी मैस्तिरम्—If you cannot fix your mind steadily on Me, then अभ्यास योगेन—practice remembering Me. Krishna says that remembrance must eventually translate into a desire to attain Him: माम इच्छाप्तुम् धनं जया. The practice of remembrance should culminate in a longing for Krishna.

In the Western world, there’s a concept called SBNR—“Spiritual but Not Religious.” This term refers to people who aspire to be spiritual but reject organized religion. It’s a large and growing demographic, increasingly prevalent in India as well. Many popular spiritual teachers cater to this group, often distancing themselves from traditional scriptures like the Ramayana, Bhagavatam, or Vedas. In fact, these teachers gain credibility by admitting their lack of scriptural study, as quoting scripture is often perceived by this demographic as a lack of independent thinking or originality.

The notion of “mind control” is particularly sensitive in the West. Unlike in India, where mind control can mean mastering one’s mind, in the West, it often refers to external manipulation by cults or groups. For this reason, spiritual teachers avoid phrases like “control your mind” and instead use terms like “be mindful” or “manage your mind.” This sensitivity highlights the divide between those who reject institutionalized practices (SBNR) and those who strictly adhere to rituals, often labeled as RBNS—“Religious but Not Spiritual.”

The RBNS critique suggests that some people are overly diligent in following religious rules while neglecting the spiritual values these practices are meant to cultivate. For instance, in bhakti, practices like chanting are meant to foster love for Krishna, compassion for others, and sensitivity. However, sometimes we become so focused on the practices themselves that we forget the values they are meant to nurture. This overemphasis on ritual without inner transformation can lead to judgmental attitudes and a cold demeanor toward others.

Bhakti Thakur explains that bhakti softens the heart. This softened heart, when directed toward Krishna, manifests as prema (divine love). When directed toward others, it becomes daya (compassion). Both are manifestations of the same softening process. However, if we focus solely on rigid discipline without developing these values, we risk losing sight of the purpose of our practices, like missing the forest for the trees.

The ideal state in spiritual life is to balance practices and the values they aim to develop. If we have the practices but not the values, it is still a positive starting point, provided we are moving in the right direction. However, if we stagnate or let our practices foster fanaticism, it becomes counterproductive. On the other hand, having values without practices, while commendable, may not lead to a deeper connection with Krishna or love for God. Practices are essential for transcending mundane goodness and reaching the divine.

This discussion ties into the gopis’ experience. Their memories of Krishna intensify their longing for Him:
मूहोर अथी स्प्रूहा—The gopis’ memories are infused with emotion, leading to a deep and overwhelming desire to be with Krishna. Their longing is not just an intellectual exercise but an emotional and spiritual yearning that defines the essence of bhakti.

The gopis’ expressions in this verse, such as prahasita (smiles), samshita (graceful gestures), and prema vekshanam (loving glances), encapsulate the profound joy they felt in Krishna’s presence. His broad chest (bruhad urahashriya) provided them shelter, symbolizing not just physical proximity but also emotional and spiritual refuge. The gopis reflect on their longing for Krishna, expressed in muhur ati spruha—a deep and intense desire that leaves their minds bewildered (muhyate manaha).

They remember the times when Krishna would interact with the people of Vraja (vraja vanaukasam) through playful gestures and captivating movements (trakate rangate). These memories evoke a mix of pain and joy, as they cherish their experiences but are simultaneously anguished by His absence. Their longing stems from both emotional connection and the spiritual realization of Krishna’s divine nature.

This remembrance is not merely nostalgic; it is transformative. In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna emphasizes the importance of remembrance leading to desire for Him: अभ्यास योगेन—practice remembrance so that it eventually deepens into a heartfelt longing (माम इच्छाप्तुम् धनं जया). Similarly, the gopis’ memories are emotionally charged, intensifying their love and devotion for Krishna.

The power of remembering Krishna lies in its ability to awaken devotion and inspire creativity in His service. For instance, talents like singing, decorating, or crafting beautiful phrases become aids for others to remember Krishna. When someone sings melodiously for Krishna or uses their artistic skills in His service, it creates an atmosphere that fosters remembrance and devotion. Each of us requires such aids to deepen our connection with Krishna, and using our abilities for His service not only enriches our bhakti but also inspires others to connect with Him.

This remembrance, however, is not meant solely for personal spiritual growth. It holds a broader purpose: to bring about jagat mangalam—auspiciousness for the whole world. The gopis’ devotion exemplifies how love for Krishna can radiate compassion and goodwill, benefiting all living beings. By seeking Krishna’s presence in their hearts, they not only nurture their own bhakti but also contribute to the spiritual upliftment of the world.

The gopis, in their intense longing, describe Krishna as their only medicine. They are overwhelmed by desire—an extraordinary longing for Krishna that paralyzes them. Generally, desire functions like a current that activates the body. When the current is too weak, the body remains inert, and when it’s too strong, it overwhelms the system. For most of us, our material desires are excessive, leaving little room for spiritual desires. The gopis, however, experience the opposite—they are consumed by their spiritual longing for Krishna, to the point of complete disorientation and pain.

Their suffering resembles withdrawal symptoms, as if they are separated from something vital to their existence. In such situations, a remedy is needed to stabilize the system. For the gopis, Krishna’s remembrance is that remedy. When they remember Him, even amidst their pain, their longing becomes a source of solace. Through remembrance, they momentarily relive His presence, which alleviates their anguish.

For us, however, the problem is often the lack of sufficient spiritual desire. We may not naturally long for Krishna in the same way, but we can cultivate what Jiva Goswami calls the “desire for the desire” for Krishna. This means that even if we lack spontaneous attraction, we can intellectually recognize Krishna’s value and consciously seek to develop a connection with Him.

This process is guided by the intellect (buddhi). Jiva Goswami explains in the Sandarbhas that until we develop preeti (spontaneous love and attraction) for Krishna, it is our intellect that sustains our practice of bhakti. The buddhi helps us stay on the path of devotion, even when the heart does not yet feel a natural attraction. However, if both buddhi and preeti are weak, maintaining our connection with Krishna becomes difficult.

The gopis’ prayer highlights two important lessons for us. First, remembrance of Krishna is not just a means to satisfy spiritual longing but also a remedy to invigorate and stabilize our devotion. Second, even when natural love for Krishna is absent, our intellect can guide us to cultivate this love. As the gopis plead for Krishna’s return, their remembrance becomes both their solace and their strength, showing us the transformative power of longing for the Lord.

The gopis’ devotion demonstrates a remarkable blend of love (preethi) and deep concern for Krishna’s well-being. Their longing for Krishna is rooted in the delicate balance between emotion and conviction, which is central to understanding devotion.

In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna speaks of buddhi-dhruti-gruhita, the conviction born of intelligence, which is essential for sustaining devotion. For the pure devotees (siddhas), their hearts and minds are fully surrendered to Krishna, described as mayi arpita mano buddhir—where both preethi and buddhi coexist harmoniously. However, for practitioners (sadhakas), while their buddhi (intellect) may be strong, their preethi (spontaneous love) is still developing.

In contrast, the sahajiyas (those who rely solely on sentimentality) might display preethi, but it lacks the anchor of buddhi. This can lead to misdirection or inconsistency in their devotion. Meanwhile, materialists (bhautikas) have neither the desire for Krishna nor the conviction of His presence. Their consciousness remains clouded by insatiable material desires, as described in the Bhagavad Gita: asatyam apratishtham te—they lack faith in Krishna’s existence or concern for them. Such desires lead to an unhealthy and unfulfilled state of being.

For spiritual practitioners, buddhi plays a critical role in cultivating remembrance of Krishna, which gradually manifests as preethi. The gopis exemplify this state in the concluding verse of their prayer, spoken with fervent emotion:

yat te sujata charanam buruham sthaneshu
bhita shanai priya dadhi mahikarkasheshu
te naatavim matasi tadvyathe na kim sve
kurpadi bher brahmati dhir bhavadayusham naham

In this verse, the gopis tenderly reflect on Krishna’s lotus feet (charanam buruham), which are exquisitely soft (sujata). They express concern that even placing His feet on their bosoms may hurt Him, as their bodies feel too rough in comparison. Their anxiety deepens as they think of Krishna wandering barefoot in the forest, stepping on stones and thorns. This thought torments their minds, as their lives are entirely devoted to Him (bhavadayusham naham).

The gopis’ concern transcends their own pain. They call out to Krishna, not merely for their relief but out of selfless worry for His comfort. This mood reflects a recurring theme in their prayers, seen earlier in jayati te dhikam janmanaavraja, where they express, tvayi dhrutasavas tvam vichinuvate—our lives are surrendered to You, Krishna, and every breath we take is in search of You.

In this context, Rupa Goswami, in the Bhakti Rasamrita Sindhu, describes two moods of devotion: tadiyya and madiyya. Tadiyya refers to the devotee’s offering of their entire being to Krishna—”I am Yours.” Madiyya, on the other hand, reflects the sense of Krishna belonging to the devotee—”You are mine.” These two moods create an intimate interpenetration of being, where Krishna resides in the devotee, and the devotee resides in Krishna, as stated in the Gita: ye bhajanti tu mam bhaktya maite teshu chaapyaham—“I am in them, and they are in Me.”

This verse beautifully encapsulates the essence of bhakti as both selfless love and complete surrender, showing how the gopis’ devotion remains the highest ideal of spiritual longing.

This theme highlights the profound connection between Krishna and His devotees—a connection that goes beyond simple bonding. A bond suggests a relationship between two separate entities, but the relationship between Krishna and His devotees is an interpenetration of beings. As Krishna declares:

“Sādhavo hṛdayaṁ mayi, sādhūnāṁ hṛdayaṁ tv aham.”
“The sadhus reside in My heart, and I reside in their hearts.”

This intimate connection stands in contrast to Krishna’s relationship with material nature. While Krishna acknowledges the material world’s dependence on Him (mayi teṣu), He also distinguishes Himself from it. As stated in the Bhagavad Gita (9.4):

“Mayā tatam idaṁ sarvaṁ jagad avyakta-mūrtinā, mat-sthāni sarva-bhūtāni na cāhaṁ teṣv avasthitaḥ.”
“I pervade the entire creation in My unmanifest form; all living entities are situated in Me, but I am not situated in them.”

This verse emphasizes Krishna’s transcendence over material nature. However, when Krishna speaks of His relationship with devotees, the tone is entirely different. In the bhakti section of the Bhagavad Gita (chapters 7 and 9), Krishna expresses a personal, intimate relationship: “I am in you, and you are in Me.”

This relationship is built on mutual surrender:

1. The devotee offers themselves to Krishna, saying, “I am Yours.”
2. Krishna, in turn, offers Himself to the devotee, saying, “You are Mine.”

However, this progression must follow a proper sequence. First, the devotee must surrender with humility: “I am Yours.” Only then can they truly claim, “Krishna, You are Mine.”

If one prematurely asserts “Krishna is Mine” without first offering themselves to Him, this can lead to ego-driven, fanatical claims—“My God is better than your God.” Such attitudes misrepresent devotion and lead to sectarianism. True devotion begins with surrender, as exemplified by the conclusion of the Bhagavad Gita:

“Kārṣṇyaṁ tvam aham śaraṇam gacchāmi.”
“I surrender to You, Krishna. I will follow Your will.”

This attitude aligns the devotee’s will with Krishna’s will, fostering a union of hearts and minds. Krishna values such surrender immensely. While He grants mukti (liberation) easily, bhakti (devotion) is rare and precious because it binds Krishna to the devotee. In bhakti, Krishna does not merely liberate the devotee but allows Himself to become their possession.

This does not mean Krishna withholds His care until the devotee surrenders. Krishna always cares for us, even when we are unaware of His presence. However, His care is not about fulfilling our every wish. “God is on our side” does not mean Krishna will always support us in every conflict or desire. Instead, it means Krishna seeks our ultimate well-being.

Sometimes, we may pursue desires or engage in battles that are not aligned with our long-term good. Krishna’s care is not about granting every request but guiding us toward spiritual growth and fulfillment.

Thus, the progression in devotion is as follows:

1. Faith: Believing that Krishna cares for us and is on our side.
2. Surrender: Choosing to be on Krishna’s side by offering ourselves to Him.

The Bhagavad Gita illustrates this progression through Arjuna’s journey. Initially, Arjuna doubted Krishna’s support and care. By the end, he declared:

“Kariṣye vacanaṁ tava.”
“I will act according to Your will.”

This marks the union of Krishna and His devotee, where surrender culminates in a devotional bond.

The epitome of surrender is exemplified by Bali Maharaj, who offered everything—his kingdom, possessions, and even his own self—to Krishna. Bali Maharaj is celebrated as an emblem of complete surrender, embodying the spirit of “I am Yours.”

This mutual surrender creates the perfect devotional union, where the devotee resides in Krishna, and Krishna resides in the devotee, eternally bound by love.

This theme encapsulates the progression of devotion, where the devotee begins with “I am Yours” and evolves into the deeper union of “You are mine.” This devotional union is not one of entitlement but of spiritual alignment and surrender.

The journey starts with recognizing that Krishna is on our side, which calls for offering ourselves to Him. The more we offer ourselves to Krishna, the more we earn the spiritual right to say, “Krishna, You are mine.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda demonstrated this principle profoundly. When he arrived in the West with meager resources, he constructed a simple shed and prayed to Krishna, “Please stay here. I will build a temple for You.” This personal promise exemplified his spirit of surrender—“I am Yours.”

Had Prabhupāda reversed the progression and claimed Krishna as his own without first surrendering, it could have led to undue attachment to his expectations. Yesterday, we discussed the dangers of being overly attached to expectations, even in spiritual life.

Prabhupāda’s life was a testament to tireless service for Krishna. While his efforts exceeded his own expectations in many ways, one of his most challenging and cherished projects was the Juhu temple. Despite immense struggles, this temple was inaugurated just two months after Prabhupāda departed this world.

Prabhupāda could have easily prayed, “Krishna, please let me stay for just two more months to see the temple opening.” This desire was purely spiritual, born out of a lifetime of selfless service. Yet, when asked toward the end of his life if he had any last desires, Prabhupāda humbly replied: “Kuch icchā nahi” (I have no desires).

This was the exalted level of his surrender. Letting go of material desires is one thing, but letting go of spiritual desires, even those aligned with Krishna’s service, is the pinnacle of devotion. Prabhupāda understood that he was a significant part of Krishna’s plan, but also just one part among many across generations. His surrender was complete:

“Krishna, I am Yours. If You wish for me to live and see this temple, I will live. If You wish otherwise, I am still Yours.”

This attitude reflects the ultimate devotion, where Krishna’s will takes precedence over even the devotee’s purest desires.

Expectations in Devotion

At the material level (karmakāṇḍa), we may see Krishna as an order-supplier, fulfilling our desires. At the spiritual level, Krishna does reciprocate with His devotees’ desires. However, this does not mean that every single desire, even if it is pure and spiritual, will always be fulfilled. True devotion lies in accepting Krishna’s will, regardless of the outcome.

A devotee’s heart is fully surrendered to Krishna. Yet, in their selflessness, their concern is often for Krishna’s well-being, not their own.

The Selflessness of the Gopīs

The gopīs exemplify this selflessness. In their plea to Krishna, their concern is not for themselves but for Him. They cannot bear the thought that Krishna, upset with them, is wandering barefoot in the forests of Vṛndāvana, where His tender feet might be hurt by stones, thorns, and brambles.

At one level, we understand that Vṛndāvana is transcendental, and there are no sharp objects to harm Krishna’s feet. In fact, the pastime reveals that when Krishna first ventured into the forest barefoot, He told Mother Yaśodā, “If I wear shoes, then all the cows must also wear shoes.” Since making shoes for all the cows was impossible, Krishna chose to go barefoot.

By Yogamāyā’s arrangement, the cows, with their hard hooves, pounded the ground, turning any stones into soft, smooth dust. Thus, there was nothing in Vṛndāvana that could hurt Krishna’s feet.

Still, the gopīs’ apprehension remained. Their love for Krishna was so pure and selfless that they imagined and feared even the slightest discomfort for Him. Their plea for Krishna to return was not born out of selfish longing but out of genuine concern for His well-being.

The Concluding Note: Selfless Concern

The gopīs’ love culminates in selflessness. They express:
“Krishna, whether You reciprocate with us or not, our concern will always remain for You.”

Such is the nature of pure devotion, where the devotee’s only desire is for Krishna’s happiness, even at the cost of their own. This ultimate expression of love and surrender is the highest teaching of bhakti.

In any relationship, if we feel that the other person doesn’t care for us, we may question why we should continue caring for them. However, the gopīs, in their love for Krishna, express the opposite. Even if Krishna doesn’t care for them, they will always care for Him. They vow to remain devoted, no matter how Krishna reciprocates.

The concluding verse of the Śikṣāṣṭakam beautifully expresses this sentiment:

“Āśliṣyavā
Pādaratāṁ pināṣṭumām
If You choose to embrace me, I will accept it.
Or, if You trample me under Your feet, I will still be Yours.”

This verse conveys that even if Krishna acts harshly or leaves, the devotee’s love remains unwavering. The devotee’s commitment is encapsulated in the line: “You are the Lord of my life; it is You for whom I live, and for You, I would die.” This profound surrender is expressed by the gopīs, showcasing their selfless devotion.

Summary of Today’s Discussion:

1. First Verse: The Role of Remembrance
   We discussed how remembrance of Krishna leads to desire. In bhakti, remembrance is key, and for the gopīs, their remembrance is filled with intimate recollections of Krishna. For us, cultivating remembrance of Krishna in our hearts, whether through emotional or intellectual means, should lead to a stronger desire for Him. We should strive to reach a place where we desire to desire Krishna.
2. Second Verse: The Blessing for All
   In this verse, the gopīs express their hope that Krishna return, not just for their sake but for the good of everyone. The blessings we give in bhakti should extend beyond our own needs and desires. When we create something beautiful—whether a temple, a class, or any act of devotion—it is a vibhūti (divine manifestation) that can inspire others and help them remember Krishna. The blessings we receive and give are intended to guide others toward Krishna.
3. Third Verse: The Path of Selflessness
   We explored the progression of bhakti:
   • First, we develop faith that Krishna cares for us.
   • Then, through surrender, we commit to aligning with Krishna’s will: “I am Yours, Krishna.”
   • Finally, there is a devotional union, a communion where both the devotee and Krishna claim each other: “I am Yours, and You are mine.”

For a devotee, surrender involves having desires for serving Krishna, but these desires should not limit the devotion. The desire for Krishna should always be greater than the desire to serve Him. This was exemplified by Śrīla Prabhupāda, who despite not being able to see the completion of the Juhu temple, gracefully accepted Krishna’s will and departed this world.

The gopīs’ love for Krishna provides us with the highest example of selflessness. They care for Krishna regardless of His actions toward them, and their devotion remains pure. Through their prayers and actions, we learn that devotion is not about receiving from Krishna but giving our love and care to Him.

Let us all pray that through the gopīs’ exalted devotion, we too can cultivate this selfless love and take steps forward in our own bhakti journey, eventually entering into this intimate realm of love for Krishna.

Śrī Gopijit ki
Śrī Krishna Bhagavān ki
Śrīla Prabhupāda ki

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