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mandag 24. oktober 2016

Befriending the mind, part 2 (25.4.16).



“Entering the
metro:
The bright lights
of the car
burns
at the fabric of
crouching nights
veil,
slanted eyes.”

A sparse
crowd
huddled before
phones,
ears plugged
with mundane
vibrations, or
games.

I become shy,
even before this
oblivious
gathering of
covered souls.

Ignore
mental conditions,
just write
for the pleasure of
guru and Gauranga!

This, then,
are my crow's signs,
recorded secluded
in the grove of
a backpack's shade.

There is a topic
on my mind,
and has been,
lately.

How to reinvest in
devotional service?

I feel that
in many ways
this is the essence.
This is the
positive mood
of the devotees.
To grasp the
moment,
and take a chance
on mercy,
and contribute something from the heart into the assocoation of the assembled Vaishnavas; to make them feel at home; to relieve them in times of distress or burden; to voulanteer, in service, an effort to help facilitate for the ongoing sankirtan mission of
chanting,
speaking,
and more than
anything,
living
the lifestyle of
inspiring others in
commitment on behalf
of Srila Prabhupada.

He has empowered
any sincere follower
to become
a spiritual master,
and lead fellow souls
to the lotus feet
of Sri Krishna.

This investement
then,
is worth considering,
is worth engagment
of energy and
soft consideration.

Challanges?

Are you kidding?!
Take a look at
the situation of
material life.
To fight the
right cause
you need courage,
and a benevolent
support structure,
the Vaishnavas.

I am again
reminded:

“Do not
take for granted
their association.
Lessons are to
be learned
in sadhu's sanga.”

It is a fact
of life.

The destiny of
any given person
is known by
Lord Gauranga alone,
with His associates.

This truth,
for sure,
commands
an emense power
of rock solid
welcoming
honesty.

That thing,
known as
love,
is a truely
rare gift,
in the specturm
of time,
and to pass up
such an opertunity
is certainly
bedazzingly foolish,
if not
heart rendering cruelty,
against Persons of
mind blowing
generousity.



søndag 23. oktober 2016

Observing the natural scenery of a place of childhood past times.



I have come
here,
the summer house,
a property
of some pride,
an heirloom
from my fathers side,
to do some
practical errands.

By the grace
of my dear aunt,
the property's proprietor,
some devotees
have been staying
here
to attend
a handful of programs
in the local
village.

Now,
come Sunday evening,
I am here
to lock up the house,
to see that
the place
is once again
presentable
to my dear aunt.
(She is particular
about these things.)

After climbing
a rocky pathway
a few times
to load the car,
I take the time
to relish a
moment,
taking in the
beauty of the
natural scenery.

It
is
spectacular.

I must have
spent
at least
twenty summers here.
Now I rarely
visit,
being preoccupied
with the activities of
family life.

The late
autumn evening
envelops all
in darkness.
Some crickets
play
in the dew moistened
grass,
a small creek
gurgles
in solitude.

I am standing
on the veranda,
dark though
it may be,
the familiarity
of this place
enables me
to discern
details.

Fruit trees.
The vast fjord,
surprisingly calm,
as if itself
relishes
the last leg
of warm season's
end.
Scattered islands,
where seagulls
nest.
The marina
in the distance,
a few boats only
at this time,
belonging either
to sturdy enthusiasts,
or lazy peons.

At the end of the pier,
a lone
docking light
shines brightly,
extending
a cubic aura
of pale light
over the water.

I feel sometimes
like that
lonely light;
a soul,
wayward and restless,
desperate to
regain my
composure and
inherent
nature of
devotion to Krishna;
trying to light up
the darkness.

The crickets,
grossly embodied,
may be more
unconscious of
their true nature,
busy with
the urges of
body and instinct.

By the mercy
of Srila Prabhupada
I have a small role
in the sankirtan mission
of Lord Caitanya.
This will be
my saving
grace.

There are
a thousand
excuses
and difficulties
on this path,
yet in
essence,
the philosophy and
practice
is so clear,
that despite
a mental disposition
and many a
material condition,
I persevere
and
continue,
again and
again realizing
the urgent need
for this
wonderful and
very profound
movement,
this ISKCON.

As I walk
back to the car
in the dark,
I pray
to remain
always
in the association
of the devotees,
and to be made
able
to reach out,
if in only a
simple and kindhearted way,
to other
wayward souls,
so that many more
might be given
the opportunity
to go home
back to Godhead.

This is the kind
gift of
the Pancha Tattva,
empowering all small lights
to shine and guide
in the darkness of
this world.

torsdag 6. august 2015

The hermit and his cave


I am a hermit
living in the cave
of my own
mind.

Such a secluded
existence
has it's
advantages.

You become quite
articulate
from listening
all day long
to that voice,
always speaking,
speculating,
contemplating.

However,
it is a lonely
reality.

Why?

Because Krishna
is not
manifest
there.

Why would He
go there?
There is no room
for Him.
I take up too much
space
in my narrow mindedness.

I need to
get out more.

Harinama is
nice.
The cave lights up,
and there are
people, devotees.

From the platform
of engagement
for the spreading of
the holy names of
Krishna,
any dwelling can
be utilized.

Kings can embrace
the peoples
of this world.

Sadhus can
change the hearts
of the wayward.

A hermit
can leave his
cave
and venture into
the villages of
simple folk,
and maybe,
by interacting
with a few souls,
by sharing something,
a longing for Krishna,
his life may be granted
value,
purpose.

And although
the world outside
the cave
is a strange one,
in which a hermit
may feel misplaced,
much because of his
awkward appearance,
speaking in riddles, or
broken sentences,
having spent all those years
in that remote cave,
his heart always dwelling
on the secluded comfort
of the rocky floor
and the moldy walls,
he can even dare
to go beyond,
and leave the cave behind
altogether.

This prospect,
to die and part,
far, far away
from the solace
of the cave,
certainly seems
truly unnatural
for a hermit,
but if it pleases
Krishna and
the spiritual master,
this hermit
hereby pledges his life
to that service.


mandag 5. januar 2015

Raw and unedited from the notebook, Warsaw 3rd January, 2015



"Observing a festival in an unfamiliar environment, gives the realisation of own conditionings, as like from a distance."


Suddenly,
I wake up
to a
heart.

Taken
aback,
I don't know
what to do.

I am so
used to
living in
the mind.

The warmth
of a
heart's desire
is a surprise.

I want to
immediately engage,
but I
can't.

I want to
immediately confess,
but there is
no one in
the moment.

All I can do
is to register
and record,
hoping that
future revelations
find me stronger,
more aware,
more surrendered.

And so
the broken heart
leaves the
experience aside,
to continue.

But although
a broken heart,
the continuation
heralds will
and purpose.

What remains
is a broken hope
of reinstatement,
purpose fulfilled,
will dovetailed.


mandag 22. desember 2014

Vrindavan, 20.08.2012


Monsoon humidity.

Rehydrate and 
Ventilate. 
The fan, 
Always the fan 
Is going 
In the background. 
You don’t notice it 
Anymore, 
Until you switch it off. 
Amazing silence. 

For that Krishna conscious 
Perspective, 
Srila Prabhupada
Would sometimes use 
The fan analogy: 

(In my own words) 

“When you switch 
Off the fan, 
Still it will 
Rotate some time, 
Even when 
Unplugged 
From the electricity. 
Similarly, 
We may take up this 
Krishna consciousness 
Process, 
We may unplug the 
Fan. 
Still, material desires 
And conditionings 
Will linger for 
Some time, 
Due only to the 
Power of the rotation 
In the cycle of 
Birth and death.” 


The silence 
Of the fan 
Gives the realization 
Of the real 
Noise 
Of the fan in 
Motion, 
Which you never 
Seem to notice 
While under the 
So called 
Ventilated state 
Of being forced 
Between 
Perspiration and 
Rehydration 
In the humidity 
Of this monsoon like
Reality 
Of material relativity. 
NOTE:

After a time of absence, I desire now to again become active on this blog. Thank you for you patience.

Seated amongst the reeds of coastline Denmark, mid september, 2013


A last sip
of freedom,
in the eyes
of a friend.

Feint whisper
of past pledges,
by coastline view
is seated
windowed you.

Trembling reeds
bent as bows,
who's invisible arrows
make war on
the surging forces
of the almighty wind.

Resolve remains firm.
(“Not on all levels”,
whispers someone,
an observing spectator.)

Still,
resolve based on hope,
hope based on faith,
faith based
on taste.

Seemingly endless rows
of reeds,
flailing their bodies
against the surging forces
of almighty wind.

I have no such
courage.
Risking life and
limb is
not my level.

However,
I can serve
as a mere tool
at the practical end
of the specter
of life.

To loose hope
gives no
meaning,
in our philosophy.

Let the mind have
past and future
for selfish
indulgence.

In the now,
there is always
activity.