January 3rd, 2013Today I went to Tim Carter’s ash immersion ceremony.Our small party took a boat to the other side of the sacred river Ganga. When the actual ceremony began, Tim’s family members gathered around and the ashes were brought out. I had bee…
Author Archives: Bhakti lata
Reflections on the Soul
On Love
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For the past 8 months or so, I have been in a relationship with a wonderful man by the name of Ghanashyam. He has met my parents and sister, and I’ve met his parents, siblings, and extended family in the US. The other day, he told me that his grandpare…
day 2: perch
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I write this in Brooklyn, New York in a room with white walls, high ceilings, and bright wooden floors. My suitcases are lined up against the wall, slightly open.
I look around at this small yet lovely room and breathe in deep. This place shall be my home for the next one to two years.
Today I moved from my temporary home in upstate New York to this room. There is something profound for me to call a room MY room. I have been flying from room to room over the past two years. Now, like a bird that has circled and circled a particular perch, I have come in to land.
Wondrous things shall unfold over the next 1-2 years while I live in this very room, like a bird who constantly flies off to adventures during the day and then returns to rest upon her perch. Tonight is my first night in this place, may many adventures take wing.
Thank you for sharing in this moment with me.
Repacking Suitcases
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I’ve been living out of a suitcase for the past 5 months. Actually, other than a couple months at my parent’s house, I’ve been living out of suitcase for the past 2 years.When I was at my parent’s house in Hawaii, I finally had all my stuff under one r…
Graffiti
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(photo by thingsnobodycaresabout.com)I walk past the gutterslittered with trashand the walls scrawledwith shapeless letters.Music with no melody,only beats and mutters,blares from speakers.Lined, unsmiling facesand crossed armsgreet me on…
Pleading My Case
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Last year in Mayapur…The cold seeped into my fingers. I stitched away at the delicate needlework on the piece of cloth I was embroidering with beads. Other Mayapur Academy students were bent over looms, huddled in their sweaters.Keshavi Mataji came a…
A Morning in Mayapur
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From a journal entry awhile ago…Wow. I am so in love with Mayapur. The deities here emanate love. They emanate sweetness and magnanimity. Every single person that I meet is a true Vaishnava – an example of kindness, sweetness, patience, tolerance, an…
Tell Me Something About Krishna…
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Over a year ago, I received a random text message from my friend Balaram:”Tell me something about Krishna.” I was taken aback. How often do I get asked that kind of question?? I wanted to just write back, “Um, He’s God.” But I took some time to de…
Shelter
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Growing up, I had intense issues with my skin. Rashes, lesions, weeping. One evening when I was around 14 or so, I ate something that disturbed my system, and the next day my face, neck, and chest were covered in searing rashes.The pain was immense. St…
Gift
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February 2013I rarely sing kirtan nowadays. You know, with instruments, call and response, people. For some reason I’m avoiding kirtan situations where I could be asked to sing. I guess I feel this fear of failure – that I’ll sing and feel incomplete a…
Love Letter for Radhe Shyam
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My Dear Radhe Shyam,Oh magnificent Shyam! My gorgeous, life-giving Lord. Your Radharani is a moon in the dark night of my mind. Her beauty is unrivaled in this world.I want to share that You both are my inspiration for connecting with God as a person. …
An Evolution
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Tonight I’ve been meditating how I’ve been keeping Seed of Devotion going for over seven years. With the advent of Facebook and the mechanism to “like” a post, writing for Seed of Devotion has evolved a lot over the years. The reality is that I find my…
Proof
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On my evening walk, I reveled at every step the poetry and power and perfection of nature. I marveled at the red-brown leaves of the maple tree and how when the sun shone through the leaves the tree seemed to be made of glowing embers. Or a field splas…
Wings
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“Where are you from?” I’m asked sometimes.Sigh. I can see that they’re puzzled by my name, dress, accent, and/or hairdo.”Do you want to know where my parents are from, my ethnicity, my nationality, where I grew up, or where I live now?”In fact, none of…
Shadow of Samadhi
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The teacher training weekend with Sondra and Raghunath began with us all sitting in a giant circle, knee-to-knee. Each of us were sharing how the past month had gone. For most of us, the month had been rough, even dire. But we were here.When my turn ca…
Presence
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Tonight I sat down at the harmonium in this quiet, empty house. I sang the holy name, the mahamantra. I submerged myself in the music. The sound of the Lord surrounded me and I became overwhelmed with gratitude that Krishna has given me a voice to sing…
Finish It
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About two years ago, I so happened to be staying the night in a house across the street from Satsvarupa Maharaj. I had never met this swami before. All I really knew about him was that he was one of the very first people to join the Hare Krishna moveme…
Thirst for Wonder
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“Wisdom begins in wonder.” – SocratesThis afternoon, I drove across a bridge and glanced over past the waterfalls. My eyes widened. Mist rose from the rushing, swollen river and the sun glimmered.I crossed the bridge, parked my car, and dashed back out…
Consolation
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“While we are impressed with your qualifications, after careful consideration we have decided not to advance your application in the hiring process at this time.”Two nights ago I read these words and heaved a sigh. My shoulders slumped. I had put so …
Meditation on Ice
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I shrug on my coat, strap on my tennis shoes, and fasten on a furry cap. I step out into the golden afternoon and the wind pinches my cheeks.I wander out past the town streets towards the creek. Patchwork snow drapes the forest floor. My feet squish in…
Clearing My Throat
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“To withhold is to perish.” – Khalil GibranA friend of mine recently told me that I often clear my throat. In fact, over the years I have had the constant experience of losing my voice. As one of the seven chakras is located in the throat – the capacit…
Towards the Sun
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I write this flying over the Pacific Ocean suspended in a universe of stars. I just spent two months within the cocoon of my parent’s home in Hawaii. I withdrew from the world to spend hours and days and weeks with myself. Those quiet days have been th…
Quiet Adventure
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Sometimes adventures come of the quiet kind. Here in Hawaii with my parents, I have ventured inward into deep and quiet terrain. Lots of reading, writing, walks, dance practice. Connecting with my parents, connecting with myself.In outward ways, I am s…
The Critical Moment
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In the valley community of Nova Gokula in Brazil, electricity had been out all evening. I had just put my journal aside for the night and was about to blow out my candle. I looked at the flimsy column of wax and felt a flutter of unease. How easy to knock this candle over, I thought. I carefully waved my hand to extinguish the little flame and the room fell dark.
My mind was drifting off to sleep when bloodcurdling screams shattered the night. Shrieks, one after another after another.
I jumped out of bed, flung open my door. Across the way in the other half of the guesthouse, a woman burst from her door, screaming. Powerful orange flames poured from the door and window.
The woman dashed away and up the hill towards the temple.
The candles, I thought.
Immediately, instinctively, I knew that this fire was all-consuming. I gaped in disbelief. Parama Karuna, the gurukuli who owned the guesthouse, had also emerged from his room in his pajamas. It took several moments for the sight to register. Then, “No, no, no!! Senor Supremo, no!” he cried out. He tried to retrieve a water hose, but it was puny. I sensed that even if we had had fire extinguishers, they would have been useless.
I dashed back into my room, heart pounding. I grabbed my purse, chanting beads, passport – go, go, go, stuff my things in my suitcase and drag it out to the lawn. The flames climbed higher and higher and began to devour neighboring rooms. Wooden rafters began to cave and the ceramic roof tiles collapsed in crashes.
Parama and his wife Katyayani began to dump out mattresses from the rooms. I also grabbed mattresses and whatever else I could. “Oh, Senor Supremo!” Parama kept crying out. He had grown up for some time here in Nova Gokula, Brazil. Only one week before, he and his wife had worked so, so hard to renovate this place as a service to the community. For a week straight they had worked sometimes 15 hours a day, painting, cleaning, buying everything brand new and beautiful.
And now… ashes.
From up the hill at the temple, repeated cries of the conch shell rang out throughout the valley. Help, help. Soon enough, devotees in their pajamas came running, their faces a mixture of shock and determination to help.
I was immobile. I stood at a distance in awe and fear at the awesome sight of the all-devouring inferno. The smoke and flames reached high into the black sky. I was standing so far away but still I could feel the heat on my skin.
I had these moments in the escape and in observing this fire that this is my moment of death. The house is my body, the flames of death are approaching.
The fear goes to the core.
I had had time to save my things tonight, but with death I can save nothing. Nothing. Death is unstoppable, there is nothing and no one for me at that time.
Only Krishna.
Soon enough, I was shaken from my reverie and I dove into the salvage efforts. By the time firefighters arrived, the fire had smoldered down to coals, leaving only a broken shell of what this place used to be.
NOTE: The fire had started from leaving a candle unattended. No one got hurt.
Parama Karuna and his wife Katyayani are in the process of rebuilding the guesthouse. Their deep intention is to usher in fresh hope and energy to Nova Gokula in service of Srila Prabhupad.
They will be rebuilding the guesthouse in a similar way as ISKCON’s Life Membership program – people can invest in the guesthouse and stay for a portion of the year every year. If you are interested in this investment, please contact Vaikuntha Murti Prabhu at vaikmurti@hotmail.com.
On Purpose
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Last summer, at a high-end salon school in New York City, I received a free haircut. Hairdressers are famous for getting their clients to talk, aren’t they? Amanda was a loving, soothing presence who got me to talk. I had gone to the salon in a purple …
Missing Puzzle Piece
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My parent’s deities, Sri Radha Raman, have needed a bath and new clothes for awhile. So this morning I polished Their brass forms with tilak and lemon juice. Cotton balls came away blackish. I dressed Them in fresh clothes. I had actually designed and …
A Wild, Far-Out Idea
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From my journal, November 1st, 2001 (I was 14)I just got this way cool, WILD, FAR-OUT, FANTASTIC totally unbelievable idea. It’s a literary magazine that’s Krishna Conscious and you get kids from all over the world to write in it… all talking of Kris…
Carry Me
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Exactly one year ago, I was in the holy land of Mayapur in India. I was snuggled in my bed, and while my roommate was sleeping, I was reading the Bhagavad Gita by flashlight. I write this now in a dark car in Hawaii, waiting to go inside a temple for a…
Upside Down
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On my way to Hawaii, I get a window seat. For over 5 hours I mostly stare out the window while we fly over the Pacific Ocean. There’s something strange and surreal to be hurtling through the air at 500 miles per hour and the landscape never changes. Th…
Wonder
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When I was 17, for several months I lived at this quiet retreat center / temple in Hawaii, doing some accounting service. Some days would go by when I would not see or talk to another soul. I lived in a deep, otherworldly silence. I would go on long ja…
No Other Way
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I write this in the midst if the 12 Hour Kirtan in Atlanta. The mridanga beats surround me in waves and pulse with the rhythm of my heart. I can feel the vibration in my chest. The kartals ring through the night. The singer’s voice twirls and dances th…
The Sound of Silence
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I walk through the cold and dark streets, the city night so quiet to me. I enter the park and walk past sludgy snow piled up against empty benches. Round street lamps bob in the night like so many candle flames. The almost full-moon hangs in the sky, s…
The Art of Invitation
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Love is the art of invitation. We can’t force invitations – that’s why the experience of lack of invitations in our life can hurt so badly. It’s a lack of love. But, we are surrounded by invitations every day, all day, like beautiful cards flying aroun…
Humble Service
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“One’s greatest weaknesses have the potential to become one’s greatest strengths.” I coined this phrase when I was in a phase of my life when I was deeply struggling with emotional eating. I was experiencing so much mental, emotional, and physical pain…
Winter Bus Tour Photo Essay
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A big silver bus outfitted with bunkbeds and filled with youth will head out to Mexico tomorrow for the 2013 Winter Bus Tour. Two years ago I had the honor of going on the Tour to perform bharatanatyam dance, sing kirtan with Madhava Prabhu, and connec…
Moments with the Moon
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Moments of beauty flash before my eyes like someone spinning the Rolodex of my life. Choose one, Bhakti. Choose a moment. I close my eyes and the images speed up and whirl. Choose one.There. My mind has landed upon one evening in the holy lan…
Choose Beauty
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I used to hate my hairline. It creeps forward where my temples are and then tapers back out for my forehead. I used to think that it made my face look narrow and imbalanced.For years and years, ever since I was in elementary school, I wore my hair part…
Marathon
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Imagine – your name is Phillipides and you’re a soldier and professional runner in the Greek army. One fateful morning, the general of the army summons you: You must deliver the news that we were victorious over the Persians, but they are fast approach…
Vyasa Puja Offering 2013
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Dear Radhanath Swami,Please accept my respects. All glories to our beloved Srila Prabhupad.When my mother sits down to play the harp, she brings out her electric tuner and tuning fork. She plucks each and every string and checks the sound against her t…
Open Secret
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Today over lunch, my friend Amal Kirtan asked me how I’m finding his home country of Brazil. “I am feeling so deeply fortunate.” I replied. “Amazed. The devotees here seem to live with their hearts on their sleeves. They give their whole hearts in serv…